Sherlock stared at the white door in front of him. His heart pounded against his chest and his ears rang as his pulse sent the blood thrumming around his veins. He remembered what had brought him here, what terrible events had lead to this moment.
He saw now, plainly, the coffin, the inscription on the lid, the size of the interior. He knew at once who it referred to. He had stared at her, of course he had, she was beautiful, but he had never thought about it, not until now.
"Irene?" asked John.
Sherlock shook his head, the coffin didn't fit her measurements. As he stared at the empty coffin he closed his eyes. John and Mycroft's discussion faded into the background as he planned what to do. He dreaded the conversation he would soon have to have. He couldn't stand to think what this would do to her. He entered his mind palace and found himself in Molly Hoopers living room. Sherlock turned to see Molly standing in the kitchen chopping onions, her hand shaking. He heard her phone ring, saw his name pop up on the screen, saw as she turned and looked at the screen and turned back again. He saw her look slowly up and meet his eyes. She stared at him tiredly.
"Sherlock." she said, tightly. "Please, just leave me alone."
Sherlock forced himself to move forwards, to step into the kitchen.
"Molly." he said sadly as she stepped away from him.
Sherlock closed his eyes. He couldn't look at her to do this. He knew he had to tell her he loved her, but he couldn't, he couldn't say that to her, he couldn't be sure. He knew she wouldn't say it, not unless he said it. He knew it would be the most destructive thing he had ever done to anyone, and he couldn't bear it for Molly to be that anyone. She was such a loving, caring, human being.
"Molly, Please. This is important, please, you must listen to me."
"Sherlock, I can't. I can't play your games anymore."
"Please Molly." his voice barely a whisper. "I promise you, this is not a game."
"It's always a game, Sherlock, please, leave me alone." said Molly as she walked out of his mind palace.
"Molly!" he shouted. His voice raising with desperation. "Please, I love…"
Suddenly a loud ticking filled his ears and his mind palace imploded.
"MOLLY!"
He stared around him, John and Mycroft were looking at him. He realised he had shouted aloud.
"It's Molly," he explained. "I need to get her to say that to me."
As he looked at the screen in front of him, the numbers disappearing before his eyes, he began to understand, it was not so difficult to say. He turned to look at John and Mycroft and felt a wave of an unfamiliar emotion overcome him. They were still standing with him. One, his colleague, the one who could understand him, his best friend, And the other. His protector, his teacher, his brother. Both scared, both angry, both supporting him, both people he could not live without, both people he would do anything for.
He looked back at Molly and realised that he felt the same about her as he did about John and Mycroft. She was the one who had tried to be his friend, even when he had thought he didn't need one, she was the one who had stayed by him, even after all the despicable things he had done to her, and to his friends.
He closed his eyes and was standing in her kitchen again, the ticking in his ears deafeningly loud. He took a step towards her, his pulse racing, making his hands tingle as he reached out to touch her face, to keep his own hand steady.
"I love you." he breathed.
The ticking got faster. Molly began to fade as the seconds dribbled away till the bomb went off.
She choked back a sob and stepped forwards. Although he knew she wasn't there Sherlock was sure he could feel her breath as she leaned next to his ear.
"I love you.' She whispered.
Then he was back. Back in that awful room. His sister's sick, smiling face grinning as though this was first class entertainment.
But, his sister was better now. He was better now, most of those he cared about were better again. There was just one person who wasn't. He had never been able to stop thinking about that phone call. Molly was, he realised, the reason he understood what he felt for his friends. He owed it to her to see her, face to face to talk to her, to tell her, not just over the phone what he truly felt.
He stared at the door again, wiling it to open, an awful nauseating anxiety in his stomach. He heard shuffling inside, the unlocking of the door and his stomach twisted in sympathy for they key in the lock. The door started to open. Sherlock panicked and turned to leave finding himself face to face with John. He cursed under his breath. He had forgotten he was there.
"Stop me from running." he had said when he had told John what he had planned to do.
"Sherlock?" It was Molly. Her voice was so soft, but he heard it from the road.
He turned slowly his hands folded behind his back, to disguise that they were both shaking and sweating. He swallowed hard and cleared his throat.
"Molly." he said formally. "I trust you are well?"
Molly saw he was intently uncomfortable and smiled shyly.
"I'm fine, and you?"
"Yes, thank you, Molly."
Sherlock looked at John unsure of what to say next. Molly saw John behind Sherlock and walked past Sherlock, tightly embracing John.
"So good to see you, hows Rosamund?"
"She is doing really well thanks. Looking more like Mary by the day. She is going to be beautiful."
Sherlock stared at them, frowning, annoyed that he could not talk to people like that. John smiled at the look on his face.
"Sorry Sherlock. Molly, Sherlock has come to tell you something, but as you know, he is a little hopelessly ignorant about some things, and is not sure how to explain to you. I am here to make sure he doesn't run away, and to give him pointers, on the understanding that he will let Rosamund call him Uncle Sherlock."
Sherlock frowned again at John. John laughed and held up his hands in surrender.
"Okay! Okay. I'm joking."
Sherlock cleared his throat again and turned to Molly.
"Molly. I know I have not been kind to you. I know I have drawn you into my games countless times, and I am sorry for that, I am sorry for the pain it has caused you. But that phone call, that was not a game."
Sherlock turned to John and he smiled encouraging him to go on. Sherlock turned back to Molly.
"Firstly I want to say thank you, for always being willing to help, even though I now understand I have hurt you many times. Secondly, you helped me realise that I could not ever be the same without my friends. And thirdly, you helped me to understand how I feel about my friends. You helped me to understand that I love everyone of them, in a way I didn't think I could ever feel about anyone."
He broke of, clearing his throat once again.
"I want you to understand, you are one of my friends. Please understand."
Sherlock turned. He could think of nothing else to say. Molly reached out and took his hand. His face coloured as he realised it was slick with sweat. Molly however was smiling. She turned to John and rolled her eyes playfully.
"Blissfully ignorant."
John grinned and they both laughed at Sherlocks expression.
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" Molly asked.
Sherlock looked confused, but wanting to please Molly accepted and followed her down the path. He turned to find John getting back into the cab.
"John? Where are you going. Molly asked us in for tea."
"Not me, just you. Go on, in you go, your tea will get cold."
"What? John, why?"
John just laughed and closed the cab door leaving Sherlock, feeling for perhaps the first time in his life, incredibly confused and un reasonably anxious, to follow Molly, closing the white door behind him.