Okay story #3...
I own nothing except the mistakes, those are all mine. Enjoy.
He was exhausted. It was a new kind of tired, one he'd not experienced before. Yes, he had spent countless days awake on cases and when he was dead, hunting down Moriarty's network, but this was somehow much worse. Five months, it took five months... but it was done.
Normally his first thoughts would have been Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson's tea, a hot shower and his bed, but not this time. This time he was on his way to Surrey with his brother and best friend no less. They had insisted on tagging along, concerned for his health, they said. At this point he didn't care anymore. He had one more thing left to do and it could be over... finally.
Every once in a while he could feel someone reach over and take his pulse. John, of course, wanted him to go to the hospital, but Sherlock refused. Yes, he was dehydrated, bruised and had taken a stray bullet to the upper arm, it had barely grazed him and anyway the paramedics had patched him up. Now he had one goal in mind.
No one could keep him away from his parents cottage today, not Moriarty, not his brother and certainly not John Bloody Watson, the worlds biggest mother hen. Why was this drive taking so damn long, he thought as he watched out the window.
One message, he had sent Molly one message. He couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't enough. Frankly he was surprised she had stayed with his parents after her injuries had healed. He kept expecting to get a report from Mycroft that she had decided she'd had enough of the country and was going back. Back to Barts, back to her apartment, back to her life.
No, she stayed put. That had to mean something. He tried over and over again to access his mind palace but he was too mentally fatigued to manage it. He knew he needed to get his thoughts together before seeing her again or else he'd make a complete fool out of himself. So he forced himself to focus and think of what to say, how to tell her what he felt and how sorry he was that he couldn't speak to her. He worked out a script in his head, he knew exactly what he needed to say.
When the familiar cottage came into view he suddenly felt more awake than he had been in days. Nerves suddenly blossomed in his stomach and he realized he wanted to run into the house and away from it in equal measure.
"Can you walk?" John asked when the car came to a stop.
"Of course I can walk John. I've told you, I'm fine!" Sherlock said before taking a deep breath and exiting the vehicle.
His mother was waiting at the front door. "Oh look, all my boys." She hugged Sherlock first then Mycroft and John in turn. "William, you look like you're about to fall over. Come, I'll make tea." She led the trio into the house.
Sherlock looked around expecting to see Molly. Doing his best to not appear over-eager he asked, "Where's pappa?"
"Oh, he and Molly should be back from their walk anytime love. Go sit before you pass out, I'll bring the tea.
Sherlock huffed. Damnit, she was suppose to be here. The anticipation was killing him. He sat down and waited for his tea. He could hear Mycroft and John talking but couldn't care enough to listen to what they were actually saying. He decided it was a good time to go over his speech. He was going to take Molly out in the back garden, sit her down and calmly explain that she had become much more important to him than he ever expected. He would tell her how much he cared for her and that he wanted to start a proper adult relationship with her. Good, that was good. As long as she hadn't decided she was better off without him in his absence then they could begin their romantic entanglement right away. Good. Right.
Suddenly the front door opened up and he heard her. Sherlock stood up on very shaky legs bracing himself on the arm of the settee.
"Vi! Vi, is he back? Are they back?" She sounded out of breath. Then she was there, in the doorway of the sitting room. "Oh my God Sherlock you look horrible!" She yelled as she ran toward him.
"I told him to go to hospital, but no, he had to come straight here." John said.
"Why didn't you sedate him?" She asked to John but she hadn't taken her eyes off of Sherlock. Then she was looking over him with an appraising eye, suddenly a doctor again, no longer a house guest. "Sherlock you have to go..." She gasped, "You've been shot!" She said as she moved his suit coat to the said and finally saw the blood. Molly turned to Mycroft and John, "What the hell is wrong with you two?"
"He wanted to come here first Miss Hooper." The elder Holmes brother said sounding slightly defended.
Molly turned onto Mycroft fully now, "Don't you Miss Hooper me! I don't care where he wanted to go, you're the bloody British government. Be responsible! He's in no shape to..." Molly was pulled out of her rant by Sherlock's hands on her shoulders. She turned back to face him.
He was staring at her like she was the 8th wonder of the world. Then he raised his hand up and gently touched her cheek. She didn't even realize she was crying until he wiped a tear away. The room was completely silent.
He tried to focus and remember how he wanted to tell her, he did try, but then...
"I love you." He said looking every bit a lost puppy, "God, I love you so much it hurts. You're so fucking beautiful and lovely and kind and good and... and beautiful." He took a breath.
John said, "You said that already mate." Then got thumped in the back of the head by mummy who he hadn't realize had come into the room.
Sherlock continued, "I'm so sorry you got hurt. It's my fault and you shouldn't love me but I want you to because if you didn't love me anymore..." He took another deep breath. "These five months without were worse than the two years away from everyone else."
"That hurts." John muttered under his breath and giggled, thinking mummy couldn't hear. Unfortunately for John, Violet Holmes has excellent hearing. John got another thump, a bit harder this time. "Ouch!" He said rubbing the back of his head. He heard Mycroft snickering.
All of this had gone unnoticed by both Molly and Sherlock... he was gripping her shoulders tight and she was staring wide-eyed.
"I love you Molly, please move in with me and marry me and have my bab..." He never quite made it to that last request as he lost conscientiousness and the room of people descended upon him in an instant.
One more story in the series, thanks for reading. Let me know what you think!