Okay, so I decided to do this early because I got such really nice reviews on this story.

thank you sooo much they were lovely and meant a lot to know that you guys liked what I wrote.

so here is the final chapter to this story. I'm doing another Sherlock FF called Like Father, Like Daughter? so the first chapters up for that one.

Again thanks for the response, and hope that this is okay! :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock


It had been a long day for Molly Hooper. She couldn't believe her conversation with Sherlock. She had told him about her dad. Her dad. Her closest kept secret, his unhappiness, and she had told Sherlock Holmes. But the thing that surprised her most was him. He hadn't laughed, mocked or degraded her, hadn't made her feel like she was wasting his time, like she didn't matter. In fact he had been nice and not just by Sherlock's standards, but by normal peoples.

His reaction had affected her so much that three autopsies, one emotional phone call from her sister and a near accident with some test tubes later, it was still all she could think about. She was analysing his response, his words, his face even his posture during the conversation, looking for something that would show him to be uncomfortable with her behaviour. But she couldn't find one.

Molly was still thinking about him when she heard the smash. She turned to see the remains of two beakers on the floor; it took her a moment to register what had happened. Then she realised she had smashed them when she turned away. She sighed, guess she would apologize to Sherlock the next time she saw him. If he would let her.

She got out the dustpan, well used since she had been at Bart's, and she cleaned the glass up. When she was done she pulled on her coat and headed towards the door. She really just wanted to crawl into her bed, wanted the day to end.

"You're wrong you know." A deep voice cut across the silence of the lab, Molly gasped as her hand flew from the door. She hadn't realised she wasn't alone. It took her less than a second to realise who it was. Him.

"You do count." He was facing away from her, staring at the wall, she couldn't see his face. But she could hear. Hear the emotion in his voice. The pain. That shocked her, scared her even. This was Sherlock Holmes, he didn't do pain and he certainly didn't do emotion. This was serious.

"You've always counted, and I've always trusted you." He was speaking quickly the emotion was building. He was sad. It broke molly's heart to hear him like this. So upset, so lonely. But he wasn't alone; she would make sure of it. Even if he could never love her.

He paused. She took in his words. He trusted her. She counted. Normally she wouldn't have believed him, his way of getting a body part, she would have said. But no his voice made her believe. She was important. She was important to him.

"You were right." He turned to face her. She never thought he would say these words to her, but she couldn't enjoy them because of the pain, the hurt, the sadness in his eyes. His pale face paler in the blue light, his eyes empty, like a man starving. Like a man lost.

"I'm not okay."

He finally admitted it, molly wanted to be glad but those eyes. She had always loved his eyes. Bright when he was excited and alive, rushing around the lab, mixing chemicals, hitting bodies with a whip. Yes, that was when his eye shone. That was when he was Sherlock.

But now, he looked like a man with a death sentence, a lost man, no a lonely man. Almost like a child.

He was watching her, walking towards her, it made her feel uneasy there was something he wasn't telling her, something important, something she needed to know and he needed to share. She was determined to make him.

"Tell me what's wrong." She cursed herself, she sounded nervous. Why did he always do that to her? Reduce her to nothing when she tried to talk to him. Even like this she felt her throat close, like she was choking the words out. Maybe that's why he treated her the way he did, she was weak.

But Molly Hooper didn't care, she had never cared. She only wanted to help him, the way she did everyone. Because that's the type of person she was. A kind one.

"Molly," he paused, still moving closer, "I think I'm going to die."

Molly felt her heart stop, her brain freeze. She felt her face twist into shock, but she pushed it away. No. NO. She would not let him die. Never. Her heart ached at the thought of it. No, she mentally shook the thought way, he wouldn't, couldn't. Molly wouldn't let him. Wouldn't lose him.

"What do you need?" she sounded less afraid than she was, and for that she was grateful. A part of her was screaming, her throat closing up. She fought to keep her breathing steady. Sherlock Holmes couldn't die.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am." He was still moving closer, he had paused in speaking. Molly forced her brain to work, to listen, to take in his words. She would help him, even if he didn't want her too, she would and for that she needed to concentrate. He looked into her eyes, his eyebrows creased slightly.

"Would you still want to help me?" she couldn't believe he would ask. They both knew how she felt about him, and they both knew he could never feel the same about her. Her eyes filled with tears. Not because he would never love her, not in that way, but because he really did trust her. When it came down to it, he trusted her, told her what was wrong. She really did count. Molly looked him in the eye.

"What do you need?" she whispered, she cursed herself for it. She wasn't bold or confident and sometimes she hated that. But then, she realised looking at him stood before her, it didn't matter. Her words had the same meaning. He was walking towards her again.

The lab was silent. Time seemed to stop. He stopped walking inches from her, and although she couldn't help it molly felt her heart beating furiously in her chest, she kept her breath steady. Tried not to cry. She couldn't cry or scream. She had to be strong. She had to help.

And then he spoke those words, the ones she never thought he would. His voice low and filled with such sadness, such desperation, it made Molly's heart break. Then there was something else, something that gave Molly courage. Then there was hope.

He stared at her with those icy blue eyes.

"You."


Again hope it was okay!

Reviews are welcome :-)

Rach