A/N: Here's another. So, the next won't come as soon, unfortunately. But, I'm on break right now, so it might be within the next few days if I get enough reviews *wink wink* Haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

"Thanks again for your help, Sherlock."

"Yes, yes. Just don't give me anymore cuff links, please," Sherlock droned, but with a slight smirk. Lestrade just laughed, turning back to his paperwork. The consulting detective and his blogger took this as their cue to leave.

"Ugh, I can't wait to get home to Mary. She's been beside herself with worry every time I called her."

Sherlock's brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean every time you called her? Why would you call her while you were working on a case? Surely that would just be a distraction."

John threw him an exasperated look. "Sherlock, I call her everyday to let her know I'm alright. You know, to let her know I'm alive, so she's not sitting up worried that some psycho killer that we're hunting down has offed me."

Sherlock suddenly paled, and John stopped win his tracks. "Hang on, do you mean to tell me that in the week and half that we've been tracking down this serial killer, you haven't phoned Molly once?"

Sherlock didn't meet John's eyes.

"Oh, you're dead. Honestly, I'd kill you myself if I didn't think Molly was going to. You're a right bastard for doing that."

He suddenly looked up in what could only be described as panic. "Surely she'll understand, John. Won't she? I mean, I didn't think she would...I don't think about things like that.."

"Sherlock, think about it this way, if Molly was hunting down a serial killer-"

"Irrelevant. Molly would never do such a thing."

"It's a hypothetical situation, you git."

Sherlock bristled slightly, but acquiesced nonetheless.

"Now, let's say she was hunting down a serial killer for for a week and a half and never called or contacted you, leaving you to think she could possibly be injured or dead. Meanwhile you were sitting here powerless to do anything about it except to sit and wait for a call or an obituary. How would that make you feel?"

Sherlock pictured it. Molly disappearing, knowing she was definitely in danger, never hearing from her...he felt his heart drop at the thought. Without another word, he took off down the hall at high speed.

Molly sat on her couch, Toby in her lap. He purred lightly as she stroked him, and she smiled. However, it was a watery smile, tears streaming down her face. She felt a bit disgusted with herself, really. How many tears had she wasted on the consulting detective?

Oh, she knew he was just fine. Mary, John's fiancée and her friend, had been kind enough to keep her informed of John's updates. It was only her pleading that kept Mary from telling John that Sherlock had yet to contact Molly. Secretly, Molly had been holding onto hope that he would give her a call or a text on his own. But no. According to Mary, they were coming home today. He never called once.

She had hoped that after all the progress they had made, after everything he had said, things would be different. But now she felt all her old insecurities creeping in. Maybe she didn't count. Maybe, at the end of the day, the work was the most important thing. Maybe-

Her thoughts were cut off by a knock on the door. She was thankful she still had a few more month on the lease for her apartment. She was also thankful he didn't have a key. She ignored the knocking, not ready to face him yet. The knocking continued, however, growing into a rapid pace until he was pounding. She closed her eyes, more tears streaming down as she did.

"Molly, let me in."

She stayed silent, hoping he would go away. She was suddenly glad she had been acting depressed, leaving the lights and telly off.

"Molly, I know you're in there. There are fresh prints from your favorite sandals leading up the stairs."

Bloody bastard.

"Go away, Sherlock," she croaked. She groaned internally at the sound of her own voice, hoarse from days of crying.

"Molly, please. I need to talk to you."

"Well I don't want to talk to you."

She felt a sense of deja vu, remembering the last time he stood outside her door, begging for entry. That night, he told her how he fell in love with her. Now she wondered if it was all a lie. She certainly felt like it, considering how the past several days had gone. He couldn't really love her if he just went gallivanting off the first time an interesting case came along, forgetting about her completely. And he certainly couldn't love her if he wouldn't even let her know he was alright. Did he not even care that she was driving herself crazy with worry?

"Molly, I know you're upset with me-"

"That's an understatement," she growled, now walking to the door. She had no intention of opening it, but she found herself being drawn to the sound of his voice. She hated it.

"If you would just let me explain-"

"Explain what, Sherlock?" she said, suddenly yelling at the door. "Explain how you couldn't spare five seconds to send a two word text that says 'I'm alive?' Explain how Mary was my only source of news because John would talk to her every single day? Or how about how I watched the news like a hawk because I was terrified each day that today would be the day I found out you died, but of course I had no way of knowing what was going on on, did I?"

"Molly," he spoke, his voice slightly hoarse. "I-"

"No, Sherlock. I can't do it. Not if it's going to be like this."

Silence, then- "What-Molly, what do you mean? Look, I promise I'll do better, I will. I'll text you twice a day, or call you, please-"

Molly let out a sob. "It's not even about that, Sherlock."

"What are you talking about, then?"

"I understand your work comes first, Sherlock. I knew that from the beginning. I thought I could handle it, but I can't anymore. I just can't do it."

"What? Is that what you think? Molly, open this door right now!" he bellowed, banging on the door hard enough to shake the frame. She let out another sob.

"Sherlock, please, just go away."

"Molly, if you don't open the door I'll just pick the lock."

She would have laughed at his threat if she wasn't crying so hard.

"You have the regular lock, the deadbolt will take you half an hour, then you'll have to get past both the chains," she replied mechanically, feeling numb.

"Molly, please."

"Just go," she whispered, and she wondered if he could hear her because after that she heard his footsteps receding down the hallway. She only felt worse. Yes, she had asked him to leave, but that he had given up on her so easily made her lean against the wall and crumple down to the floor, her sobs taking control of her body.

She didn't know how long it had been, but suddenly, she heard a thump come from her bedroom. Now terrified and alert, Molly grabbed the nearest thing to a weapon at hand, and made her way toward the noise. She heard footsteps in the room, and she wished she hadn't sent Sherlock aways so soon. She threw the door open and-

"Please don't tell me that in the event of a home invasion your plan is to attack to intruder with an umbrella," came the deep baritone.

"Get out of my flat," she barked, dropping the umbrella with a flush, but pointing to the front door nonetheless.

His eyes narrowed sadly as he looked at her. "You've been crying. A lot."

She clenched her jaw to keep more tears from pooling in her eyes. "Get out, " she repeated.

"Molly, you've got to listen-"

"GET OUT!"

Then, without any warning, she felt herself wrapped in his arms. She thrashed about furiously to get free, but his tall frame held her tightly. She continued to fight for several minutes before, finally, she was sobbing as she pounded weakly against his chest.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?" she asked pathetically.

"Because I love you," he answered simply.

"No you don't. Stop saying that and just go back to your stupid cases," she mumbled. He gripped her chin and tilted it up, forcing him to look into his eyes.

"Molly, I can't talk to you when I'm on cases because you distract me - no let me finish. You're a good distraction, you always are, but a distraction nonetheless. And I can't do the work if I'm talking to you, because I know if I start I'll want to keep talking to you. But that does not mean that I'm not thinking of you. I think of you every second. In fact, that's the very reason I can't talk to you. I was working as hard as I could to get that case done as quickly as possible so I could get back home to you. You can even ask John. I've never put so much effort into a case."

Molly stared up at him with wide eyes, daring herself to believe him.

"As for you worrying about me, I'm genuinely sorry about that. That honestly never crossed my mind. I'm not used to this. I've never been away from you this long before and it never occurred to me that you would be worried. John put the situation into perspective for me by asking how I would feel if the situation were reversed and...Molly, I'm so sorry I caused you that pain."

How could she have been so stupid? This was Sherlock! Of course he wasn't going to think about things like a normal human being.

"But Molly, don't ever again doubt for one second that I love you. Do you hear me?"

Molly didn't answer him verbally, but instead with a heated kiss. He found it quite preferrable.

A/N: I know, kinda angsty. I was originally going for a BAMF Molly, but the story just kind of wrote itself. They always tend to do that. But, don't you all worry. I've got plenty of ideas, and BAMF will have plenty of her time in the spotlight ;)