I do not own anything Sherlock.

Sherlock had given in too easily to the comfort and the numbness of his mind while he held Molly. He had no clue how much time was going by and his mind seemed not to bother. He could smell Molly's aloe vera shampoo/conditioner. He could feel her hands slightly trembling in his hair. He could hear her breathing gently against his neck. None of it bothered him.

Until his phone rang. It was John.

The both of them quickly let go of each other and avoided eye contact while Sherlock answered his cell. "Ah, John, about time you rang. You on your way yet?"

John hesitated on the other line, surprised that Sherlock picked up that quickly. "Actually... I won't be able to come by today. Mar-"

"Good to know. Just come right in when you get here."

"You alright Sherlock?"

"Yes, of course. Laterz." He did not wait for a response from John before he ended the call. However, when he did end the call, he continued to stare at his phone while he realized what moment he and Molly had just shared. His mind was delayed and it frustrated him immensely. He tried to find his mind palace to figure out how to handle with the aftermath, but he was drawing a blank. In all the movies he has seen, they have never explained the aftermath of affection, unless it was sex. That wasn't going to happen of course. He swore that all away a long time ago. He had to get Molly out of there so he could gather himself together; he doesn't like his mind in shambles like this.

"Sherlock, I actually have to get back now. Here's your eyeballs."

"Oh," she knew of course how he was going to handle it, "Just leave it on the table."

Molly set the parts where he requested and turned to walk out the door. But she hesitated for a moment, just by chance she had to say it. "If you need anything Sherlock, anything at all, remember that you can talk to me."

"I know, Molly. You remind me that frequently."

Without turning around or saying goodbye, she simply walked out. She didn't want to make a fool of herself any more today. Besides, Tom was waiting for her at her flat.

Sherlock on the other hand mumbled in a husky tone, "Thank you." He felt so vulnerable and didn't like it one bit. He had to block out what she had told him, what she had made him feel. Part of him wanted to hold the feelings, feel them again and again and again, but he had to reason with himself. He reminded himself why he kept it all locked away. And that was the key to becoming himself again.

That night Molly was considering all of the ways that she could help Sherlock learn to embrace emotions. First thing that popped into her mind was John asking Sherlock to be his best man. At first she thought that was going to be perfect for Sherlock, but then she realized that at the wedding would NOT be the best place for him to open up. She kept herself up most of the night worrying about the entire wedding.

At work she made several calls because of her worries. Lestrade didn't think that Sherlock would handle it that badly, and Mrs. Hudson burst out laughing. There wasn't anything she could do though. Unless Sherlock asked her to help.

Sherlock managed to brush off the situation with Molly and was instead looking forward to experimenting on his new eyeballs and reporting to John the results of all his new experiments. John did not complicate feelings or friendship. He did not force him to feel emotions. It was not like Sherlock did not genuinely care for his friend, because he undoubtedly did. Simple but not distracting, just the way he liked it.

When John arrived that day and asked him to be his best man he was stunned. The day after he had to lock up all his emotions again, John manages to crack the vault. "Sherlock, are you alright?"

"Alright? Yes, of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be alright? Do I look not alright? Because I'm alright." He rattled off, closing that silly vault again.

"Uhm, nevermind then. Oh, also, about yesterday, why did you answer the phone like that?" John asked, finding his way into the living room to sit in his comfortable chair.

Sherlock paced his way around the flat to follow John's lead into their regular seats. "Oh, yes. Molly was here. I was trying to get her to leave; it was the perfect excuse." He stated, places his hands beneath this nose. He played the moments in his mind again. This time it lacked the intense emotions, but there was more inquiring of why Molly left so quickly.

"To bring you more parts I presume?"

"Sentiment."

John looked perplexed at Sherlock, "Come again?"

Sherlock was too lost inside his mind attempting to decipher why Molly left, or why she came over in the first place. He had to search his banks of his memories to analyze how she usually acts. Does she usually leave before he asks her to? Actually yes, she knows exactly when to leave. If anything, she leaves his company to soon. Why is that? "I don't understand Molly Hooper." He mumbled under his breath.

John looked even more confused, "Sherlock, you're not making sense again."

Then, as quickly as Sherlock become lost in his mind, he snapped out of it. "So John, what are my responsibilities as 'best man'?" John shrugged the strange situation off and teased him for not knowing tradition.

Come to Baker St, if convenient. -SH

Molly read her text with Tom looking over her shoulder. "What does he need now," Tom remarked, slightly annoyed.

"I heard that John finally asked him to be his best man. He's probably shocked," Molly replied. She was contemplating leaving Tom. She didn't want him to end up disliking Sherlock any more than he already does.

"Or he needs you to pour him a cup of coffee. 'Black, two ssugars,'" Tom mocked. "I don't want to see you get walked all over, Molls." He gently rubbed her mid-back, "but go if you want to of course."

Molly was so grateful for Tom. He understood the way she feels and how important Sherlock is to her, regardless of how rude he could be. "You're so great, Tom." She placed several kisses on his face and ended with a grin. "I'll text you when I'm on my way back."

The sound of Sherlock's silky violin skills engulfed Baker St when Molly walked through the door. She didn't recognize the melody, but she was so impressed by the smoothness of the sound that she didn't bother stopping him when she arrived. Instead she wandered around to the sofa and sat softly into the side closest to the door. His playing ran like a river through her, effortlessly but with power. She leaned back and let her eyelids fall as his piece came to an end.

"Good evening Molly," Sherlock addressed her with his deep but smooth voice as he set down his violin.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of her name and replied to Sherlock with a grin, "Evening, you needed me?"

He rolled his eyes and stuffed his hands in his silky pockets, "I did not say need. I simply said to so come if convenient, which it must have been judging by the speed of your arrival and lack of reluctance."

She pursed her lips and gave a soft sigh. She should be used to Sherlock's rude responses, because of yesterday she slightly expected a different tone. Maybe she shouldn't have showed up after all. "I could always leave," she softly replied avoiding eye contact.

"I'd prefer if you stayed." He walked closer to where she was but stopped a good few feet away from her. "I'd have some questions about marriage traditions. John made me his best man. I'd like to know the traditions and my responsibility." He examined her engagement ring. She didn't pay much attention to it, no fiddling with it or hiding it. Sometimes it was as if she didn't remember she was wearing it. "I'm assuming you have knowledge on the subject you could share, since you're engaged yourself." With that last comment, her right hand twiddled with her ring.

Molly did often forget she was engaged. Not in the way that she was looking to hook up with other men, but in a way that it didn't exactly feel real. She loved Tom, of course she did. He was the nicest man she has ever met. He was fun, and he loved her. She couldn't pass up the opportunity to say yes to marriage because he would be a great husband. However, sometimes it felt like something was missing. She couldn't exactly figure out what it was. All this raced through her head, but just as she has done before, she swept it under the rug. "To start off you are expected to give a speech."

Sherlock saw the way she was lost in thought about the statement he made. On the other hand, he was too frustrated about the idea of giving a speech. "Well that's completely unnecessary. And there's more than that?"

Molly took a deep breath. It was going to be a long night. "I can teach you."