Before It's All Over

"Molly, I just wanted you to know…"

Molly looks up from the book she's reading, seeing the usually confident detective walk unsurely towards her. She gets a feeling of dread: is something wrong?

Does he have to die again?

"Oh, Sherlock. I didn't know you were going to come here today. I'm afraid there are no new bodies or body parts to study…"

"N-no." he says, clearing his throat. "That's not why I'm here."

Molly frowns. "Okay… Then why are you here?"

Sherlock takes a deep breath. "I have come to realize that one is supposed to say what is needed to people who matter before a particularly daunting task."

She really is starting to get nervous. "W-what are you talking about?"

"When I jumped off that building, I told you I needed you, and I told John what I wanted him to think, in addition to saying goodbye. Unfortunately, I'm about to dive into an even more frightening undertaking and I've decided to tell you what I've been meaning to for quite some time now. I wish to tell you this, because the chance might just be snatched from under me after today. So Molly…" he says, walking closer and closer to her, his voice dropping. "Before it's all over—"

"There you are. Sherlock, really, we must go now. Ah, Dr. Hooper, good afternoon. I apologize for my brother's rather uncharacteristic dramatics; he's quite terrified of meeting our mother's wrath because of his faked suicide."

Sherlock's face suddenly warps into one of annoyance and denial. "I am not terrified of Mother."

"Of course. That's why you've been making your rounds amongst your friends trying to give them rather pitiful goodbye messages."

Molly looks back and forth, from Sherlock to Mycroft, confused and just a tiny bit amused.

Sherlock, for his part, snarls at his brother. "Let's just go." he demands, not wanting to get humiliated more in front of Molly, before he marches back out of the morgue.

Mycroft smirks, looking back at the slightly befuddled pathologist with a cheeky expression. "You have to forgive my brother, Dr. Hooper. He thinks he's about to die in the hands of our rather furious mother, and so he saw today as his last chance to confess his feelings for you. Rather pathetic, don't you agree?" He gives her one last smile before taking his leave.

Molly looks, stunned, at his retreating form, only managing to whisper her question once the doors swing close.

"…confess his feelings?"

Note: The author has no idea where she got the inspiration for this. :))

But hey, anything for the 3-a-day, right? Still inviting fellow writers out there who'd like to join her in the mission to fill up the Sherlolly fanfiction archive! :)