OH ALRIGHT! I know I said this was a One-shot...but you know what? Enough people want a second chapter...so let's go for two, yea?

I still don't own anything or anyone. That all belongs to other people. Sigh...I am jealous of them.

Right-o!

Chapter Two: Sight

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Sight. Perhaps the most important sense, as far as Sherlock was concerned. Seeing. Observing. His life's work. It all came down to the accuracy of his eyes, and how his brain perceived those images at an alarmingly stronger level than the average human. So, when it came to realizing that he did, in fact, have...feelings for Molly Hooper, it only made sense that he discovered the fact by sight.

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Her key role in killing him was wiped away in light of her helping him to come back. Molly had been there for him when he revealed himself to Lestrade, telling the inspector not to arrest him like he'd seemed so keen on doing.

Molly had been there to help calm a very flustered Mrs. Hudson, who, upon seeing Sherlock walk through her front door, nearly fainted. She'd helped to clean up the broken dish that the older woman dropped during her shock. Molly had even made tea for them all, and was a driving reminder to Sherlock about how he should best approach explaining the whole ordeal.

Finally, and most imperatively, Molly Hooper had stopped John from entirely beating Sherlock to a pulp. Sure, he'd managed to get in a few swings, even landing two solid hits to the detective's mouth and nose. Then, he'd advanced again, when she stepped in between them, literally becoming a barrier to shield him.

"John! Stop! He did it for you! We had to! He had to, or you all would have died!" She said in a loud voice that he thought her incapable of. He saw the look of confusion wipe to John's face, and nodded his head as his friend looked his way. John stood up, and walked to the door.

"I'm sorry. I just...I need some air." He said under his breath, before storming out. Molly immediately turned to look over Sherlock's injuries. That's when it had happened. The collective amount of knowledge he held about her came flying to the forefront of his mind, and it seemed to piece itself together automatically.

She was perfect. She was miraculous. She was gorgeous.

Sherlock simply watched Molly as she tended to his cut lip and bleeding nose. Her focused brown eyes, softly attentive just as much as her personality was. The way she breathed was equally gentle, her breaths seeming to gracefully stream into one another as she inhaled. She'd looked up at him every once in awhile, offering a sweet half-smile, before blushing and turning away once more. Another fact that he'd not taken into account before.

The way she blushed. It didn't seem to stay confined to her cheeks. It would start there, and slowly spread down her jawline, sloping to her slender neck, and alighting her chest with a rosy fire that Sherlock found very intriguing. He wondered how far down -

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"Sherlock, are you even listening to me?" The voice of his flatmate snapped Sherlock out of his mind palace, the door to Molly's room slamming shut frantically to hide away his secret adoration for her.

"What?" He responded, a stoic beat of a word.

"I said, what was that all about?" John asked, expectation in his eyes.

"What was 'what' all about?" Sherlock snapped in response.

"Oh, don't play that. You know what I mean, Sherlock. I mean, what was that whole thing with your snout buried in Molly's hair? I mean, what were you doing standing within a centimeter of her, seemingly trying to melt into her?" John's grin had grown as the next several moments of tense silence passed. By the time Sherlock even let out a heavy sigh, John was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Ha! I knew it! You do love her, don't you?" Sherlock looked up at his friend. His sharp glare was cut off quickly however, as he met John's equally intense gaze.

"Don't you dare say you don't. Remember, you're not allowed to lie to me anymore. We had a deal." The detective was stunned. After another moment, he nodded, a slight grin on his face.

"Quite right...it's true. I...I care her, John. Deeply." His voice was quiet in his confession, but John knew he had heard right. In a quick motion, he slapped Sherlock on the back with a strong hand.

"Well, of course you do, mate. She saved your life. She's your pathologist. She's lovely. Why wouldn't you care for her?" The doctor smiled at his friend, and gave an approving nod. He then turned and walked toward the staircase that led to his bedroom.

"Well, I'll leave you alone to your thoughts for now. Just do me one favor, Sherlock."

"What's that?" Came the stoic question.

"If you're going to be dreaming of her, try not to make too much noise. The other day you woke me up with all your moaning." Sherlock's eyes widened, and he looked to the staircase, just in time to catch a positively evil grin on John's face, before he retreated up the steps.

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Hehehe...so it seems that John has known for some time now what Sherlock is thinking about. Hm...well, I hope you liked this chapter! More to come, so stay tuned! Oh, and if you could please leave a review and tell me what you think, that would be great. Thank you, my darlings! See you next chapter!