Author's Note: This is inspired by the song, Evermore, from Beauty and the Beast. I couldn't put the lyrics here because this site does not allow it. If you want to read the version that contains the lyrics, find me on AO3 under the same username. Thank You and Enjoy!

"She's gone," Sherlock's voice cracked. "I've lost her."

"Sherlock, what's happened to Molly?" John asked, extremely worried that his best friend was on the precipice of a danger night.

"She left; moved away and is being transferred. I don't know where," Sherlock sighed in defeat. He kept the tears in though his eyes were welling up to the brim. "If only I had figured out how I felt before this whole situation, things would be different. I learned the truth of my heart too late. I never got the chance to tell her it was true."

"It's never too late, mate," John offered, comforting Sherlock with a hug just as he did for him when they reconciled after Mary's death. "Surely Mycroft knows where she's headed. Find out and go to her."

Sherlock had broken sleep that night. He was surprised he could even sleep at all. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Molly. Sweet, perfect Molly. Sherlock Holmes was not the cry-yourself-to-sleep type but he allowed the tears to fall as he laid there, willing sleep to come. His heart ached, oh how it hurt, and he had never felt such an agony as this.

When did Molly Hooper capture his melancholy heart? He couldn't even pinpoint one particular moment. It was, rather, a string of little moments that built up and bloomed into something beautiful. He mapped them out in his head like the way he solved a case. The Case of His Stolen Heart he thought; a very important, possibly the most important, case of his life. Sherlock felt something was missing. It was as if she had taken his heart with her whether she realized it or not. He felt he should let her go, for what good is he for her?

He had called Mycroft as John suggested and found she had transferred to Cambridge. Sherlock did not feel right if he were to just go after her and intrude upon her new life, so he did something he never thought he'd ever do. He began to write her a letter, confessing his love and the agony he felt in her absence.

Darling Molly,

I understand why you had to leave. I had hoped to tell you in person, but I hope this letter will suffice, as I do not wish to intrude upon your life unexpectedly. I do not want to waste precious ink explaining every detail of that night (I will explain in person) but I do need you to know something very important. Whether you choose to act upon it is entirely up to you. You can ignore it if you'd like. I'm not quite sure when any of this truly began, but what I do know is that seven years of passing glances, mistaken deductions and intentions, along with the most memorable of moments spent with my favorite pathologist, my friend, I fell in love. Molly Hooper, you have unlocked my heart.

I do apologize that I had not realized the true nature of my affection for you until that awful, agonizing night. I never wanted to hurt you, ever. It tore me apart seeing you so overcome with pain and not being able to do anything about it. You are my heart and soul, Molly, and I would do everything to make sure you were happy…even if it means letting you go. I just couldn't bear to not tell you the nature of my heart; you deserve to know the truth and so there it is. My heart is open to you and will remain that way, forevermore. I miss you terribly, as I always dream of you each night. I wish I had had the chance to taste the sweetness of your lips and to love you the way you deserve.

I am longing for your embrace, dearest Molly, and my heart aches for you, my love. I understand that love, alone, is not always enough. I know that a relationship takes hard work but I am willing to put in all of the effort I can muster to live a long, happy life with you. You are the secret wish my once frozen heart kept from me. I see us married, starting a family and growing old together. Whether anything transpires between us or not, know that I will always love you, Molly Hooper. Never forget that.

All my love,

William S.S. Holmes

Sherlock had sent out his letter as soon as he had finished writing it. He kept himself distracted over the next couple of weeks with the renovations of 221B. Each day he waited for a letter in response and each day, he was met with a stronger feeling of defeat. He still dreamt of her every night he could manage to sleep. Some nights, he stayed up and composed music for her. He would weave the very threads of his heart and soul into each agonizing note.

One afternoon, the work on 221B was continuing wonderfully. Still no response from Molly, but even if she didn't want to come back, he still chose to have her guide him in his daily life. She continued to still be a part of everything he did. Sherlock barely left the flat, choosing to remain alone like the tortured artist he felt he sometimes was. Every single day, he kept his door open, always waiting for the moment Molly Hooper would walk through it. He had sat in his chair as the workers cleared the remaining charred pieces and his phone alerted him to a text.

I'm in London. Let's talk. I choose the when, you choose where. MH

She was using his style of texting, but he'd take whatever response from her he could get.

You know where to find me. SH

A couple more days passed and the finishing touches on 221B were placed; spray painted smiley face with the perfectly placed bullet holes. Sherlock smiled in amusement. The workers had left and Greg had come in with a case. Sherlock had it solved without so much as moving an inch in his chair.

Then it happened.

Molly Hooper practically skipped through the open door of 221B just as Sherlock dreamed she would every night for the last month and a half.

"Molly," Sherlock barely managed to get out.

"Hello, Sherlock," she greeted sweetly before making her way over to him. He stood up from his chair, eager to wrap her up in his arms and never let go. He did just that and then some. They held each other in a warm embrace.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Sherlock repeated as he kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheek, not daring to reach her lips unless she initiated it. Molly stood on her tip toes to capture Sherlock's lips in an all-consuming kiss. She was fervent and he returned the same intensity. They melded together, not wanting to let go and constantly craving more. Her lips danced along his jawline, traveling to the crook of his neck and back up to his lips. They held each other a moment longer before she looked up into his eyes.

"I love you too, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, forevermore," Molly spilled out from the depths of her heart.