A/N: This was inspired by a photo manip by sherlolly_pop on Instagram I found of Sherlock and Molly hugging on the front steps of 221B. Therefore, this story is dedicated to sherlolly_pop.

Disclaimer: Not mine, it all belongs to the BBC.

Sherlock glanced at his watch. Seven minutes and thirty-six seconds before the drugs kick in. Just enough time to text Molly. He picked up his mobile, aware of his brother's eyes on him.

2:03p God spare me from future family gatherings. SH

2:04p You're an atheist. Molly

2:05p I'm open to whichever invisible sky friend is listening. SH

2:06p It can't be that bad, you've got John and Mary with you. Molly

2:07p Now, yes, but what about next year? They'll be busy with the sprog. SH

2:08p Then you'll just have to find another friend/human shield to take with you. Molly

I'll ask Molly next year, he thought. She'll charm my parents and even Mycroft within two minutes of her arrival, then they won't bother me.

Molly had forgiven him for the drug abuse when she'd visited him in the hospital. Instead of flowers, she'd brought a book of unsolved crimes. "To tide you over," she'd said.

Always so thoughtful. I'm glad she broke it off with Meat Dagger, she needs a man who can challenge her intellectually. Not that those are thick on the ground, just myself and Mycroft. He grimaced. The thought of Molly and Mycroft together is almost enough to make me lose Mum's excellent Christmas brunch.

Sherlock glanced at his watch again. His brother was right, the day was dragging.

He texted her again during the helicopter ride to Appledore.

2:31p Molly, do you have any secrets you've never told anyone? SH

2:33p Just little things. My biggest secret isn't actually a secret. Molly

He was about to ask what she meant by that when it hit him. Her crush on me. She's right, that's definitely not a secret. I'm surprised it hasn't faded by now.

After the shooting, Mycroft shoved Sherlock into the back of his black sedan and got in after him. "I'm taking you to prison, little brother," he said darkly, the barely controlled anger evident in his eyes. "You're in deep, Sherlock." After a moment, he pulled Sherlock's mobile from the pocket of his overcoat and put it in Sherlock's cuffed hands. "One phone call, make it count."

Sherlock dialed Molly's number then raised the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Sherlock," Molly said cheerfully on the second ring.

In spite of everything, Sherlock couldn't help smiling, but it quickly faded. "Hello, Molly."

"Is something wrong? I was going to drop by Baker Street later, if you'll be home. I made too many ginger nuts and I know they're your favorite."

She's always thinking of me. "Normally, I would love that, but I'm not going to be home tonight. Or anytime soon."

"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Molly asked quietly. "Don't hide it from me."

He swallowed hard and considered just hanging up but he owed her the truth, or at least some version of it. "I've done something, Molly. Something terrible. I have to go away for a little while." He glanced at Mycroft's dark expression. "A long while, actually."

"Sherlock, what… I don't understand." Molly sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"This may be the last conversation we'll have, Molly," he said gently, desperately wishing for privacy. "I wanted … to wish you all the best. You deserve it."

"Sherlock…" Molly's voice was choked with emotion. "Wherever it is you're going, whatever it is you've done, you have to come back to me … to us. Do you understand?"

"You know I would if I possibly could," he replied, his own voice husky with emotion.

"I love you, Sherlock," she whispered. "Keep that thought with you for however long you're gone. Promise me."

"I promise," he whispered back, blinking back tears. It's not just a crush, she loves me. After everything that's happened, Molly loves me. "Goodbye, Molly Hooper."

"Goodbye, Sherlock…"

As soon as Sherlock was locked in his prison cell, he went into in his Mind Palace. The confrontation with Magnussen, everything he'd learned about Mary, the two years he'd spent in hiding, all of it was analyzed and reanalyzed, over and over. It allowed him to ignore his surroundings and kept him from thinking of other things.

Things like Molly Hooper and how she'd looked the last time he had seen her – fire in her eyes and no ring on her left hand. How her voice sounded when she was happy, or sad, or telling him she loved him. How much his chest hurt to think of her now.

He left his Mind Palace to find Mycroft glaring down at him. Sherlock blinked at him from where he sat on the hard and narrow bed, grateful that his eyes were dry. It wouldn't do to have him think this place broke me. "What is it?" he asked gruffly.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "That six-month mission in Eastern Europe? I've changed my mind – you're taking it."

"I see." At least I know my method of execution. "I need to go to Baker Street first, I have what I'll need there."

By the time the car pulled up to his building, he'd convinced Mycroft to let him enter the flat unaccompanied. After showering, shaving, and dressing, he called Molly.

She picked up on the first ring. "Sherlock?" she asked, incredulous. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," he said softly. "I'm at Baker Street but only for a few more minutes. I'm going away again, Molly."

"Where were you, Sherlock? Where are you going?" She was on the verge of tears again.

I wish I didn't keep doing this to you, Molly. "I can't tell you either of those things, I'm afraid."

"Then why-"

"I needed to hear your voice again."

"Sherlock…" She swallowed hard. "Can I see you again before you go?"

"There isn't enough time," he admitted. "The plane takes off in less than an hour."

"Then can I go with you to the airport?" He could hear the desperation in her voice.

"No, Molly," he said gently but firmly. "I want my last memory of your face to be as you were when you slapped me for being a complete idiot."

"You're still being a complete idiot," she said weakly. "Sherlock, please…"

He took a deep breath. "Molly, I love you. I need you to be strong for the next six months. Can you do that for me?"

There was dead silence on the other end for a solid minute. "What is going to happen six months from now?" Her voice was shaking.

"It'll all be over." He tried to sound as gentle and soothing as he could.

"And you'll come back? Don't lie to me, Sherlock."

"I'll come back." In a casket, but she doesn't need to know that yet.

There was another long pause. "You love me?" Molly asked in a voice that was barely audible.

"Yes, Molly," he said softly. "I know my timing is beyond atrocious and I apologize." At least in this I can be honest with her.

"Sherlock Holmes, we are going to have a long talk when you get back."

"I look forward to it. I need to go, Mycroft's waiting."

"I love you, Sherlock." He could hear her heart breaking through the phone.

"I love you too, Molly." Sherlock hung up, feeling worse than he had before he'd called. Drugs will take care of that.

Despite the emotional goodbye to John and Mary, all he could think of on the plane was Molly. He stared out the window but in his drug-fueled haze, he saw only her face as it must have been during their call – tears running down her cheeks, her eyes sadder than he'd ever seen, but in her eyes, there was also hope for a future.

A future that will never be, he thought. I shouldn't have called her.

One phone call from Mycroft was enough to change everything. After a drug-enhanced trip to 1895, Sherlock knew exactly what to do. He texted Mrs. Hudson as they rode back to London, asking her to have Molly over for tea. No one ever declined an offer of tea from Mrs. Hudson.

His timing, as always, was impeccable – Molly was knocking on the door just as the car pulled up. Sherlock was out of the car before it had even stopped. The smile on his face rivaled the sun, but the smile on Molly's face when she saw him was even brighter. Before he was even on the top step, she was in his arms.

"Welcome home, Sherlock," she whispered.