Sherlock sighed as he sank down into the soft leather seat of the car Mycroft had provided. He let his head fall back and his eyes flutter closed. Allowing the images he had stored to come to life against the backdrop of his eyelids.

He was more tired than he'd ever been in his life, but it had been worth it, he was finally going home. Home to John, to Mrs. Hudson and most of all to Molly, his Molly Hooper. He had been as surprised as she was on the night he had gone to her bedroom. In the days preceding, he had frequently had to delve deeper into his mind palace to keep himself from trying to get a waft of the perfume she wore. He felt something he had felt before when he was around her, but never for as an extended period of time, distraction. And then, before he knew it he was leaning on her doorframe, saying thing that he'd meant to leave unsaid, and pushing himself up against her.

He'd almost regretted it the instant he left, if only I'd waited one more day, he'd told himself. Because once he'd left her, those memories were like sharp stabs of pain to rival the physical scars he'd already gained. They mocked him as he drifted off to sleep, often in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun was coming up.

It is going dark now, as they enter the outskirts of London in the blacked out car. He looks out and sees the flicker of the street lights as they pass. Each one gives off a warm glow as it fills the interior of the car, only to vanish as they pass by it with speed. The lights remind him of his memories of Molly and how they were the only things keeping him going for the past three months.

The driver asks him where too, and though this is the same driver that picked him up all those weeks ago, he looks surprised when Sherlock mumbles Molly's address rather that Baker street. The car draws up alongside Molly's apartment and Sherlock notes that it is almost exactly the same place as it was when he departed.

Despite wanting nothing more than to be here, Sherlock begins to feel mildly nervous, what if she's asleep? Found someone else? Though his mind is telling him these suggestions are wildly improbable (it's only half past nine after all), his imagination begins to go haywire. He is trying to summon up the courage to tell the driver that he's changed his mind; he wants to go to 221B after all. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock spots a movement and glancing up, he sees the door open cautiously. Climbing out of the car, he turns to look once more, and sees Molly. He smiles as he takes in the sight of her, cheeks flushed, mismatched pyjamas on and half cowering behind the door, but the hall light shines behind her head and he has never seen anything more compelling in his entire life.

He starts up the stairs and scoops her up in his arms, vaguely hearing the car rumbling off down the street. They stand there, clinging to each other and not saying a word until Molly starts to shiver and Sherlock makes an exaggerated point of pulling her inside.

He pulls her onto the sofa, exhaustion flowing away with every second he's with her. She has some hospital programme that he doesn't bother to remember the name of but knows she likes to shout at on the TV. It's been muted as if she was listening for something and he wonders how many times she's done that since he's been away. Her socked feet come up to rest on his lap and she looks comfortable there as if they sit this way every night. Her eyes are wide with just drinking him in and as a result it is a couple of minutes before she finally speaks.

'So, you're done?' she asks, and seems to be slightly nervous as she awaits his answer.

Smiling, he places a hand on her foot, just to hold her, 'totally done,' he replies and she lets out a breath.

'And John?'

'What about him?'

'How did he react?'

'I,' here he takes his eyes off hers, he knows that she will have expected him to see John first, everyone did. 'I haven't seen him yet, besides, it's late.'

She sits flabbergasted and starts a speech that only lasts until the full force of what he said hits her. Stopping she looks to him and nudges him with her foot, grinning almost cheekily.

'Yes, okay, I'll say it. I wanted to see you first, and nothing was going to stop me.'

She smiles at him properly then, and if anything could make him admit something he didn't want to it would be her blinding smile.


He comes to sit on the end of her bed as she finishes in the bathroom. He has already used her shower and when he tried to persuade her to join him she had insisted on making him something to eat.

He strips down to his boxers before laying his head down on the pillow closest to him. Molly comes to his side not two minutes later, crawling up to rest herself on her elbows, one either side of his head.

He slides a hand up, over her cheek and smooths her hair back behind her ear. Tugging gently at her ponytail he loosens it and her hair cascades down over her shoulders and it brings with it the smell of her perfume he so loves. It surprises him when his stomach tightens before flipping over. His fingertips catch in her hair as the knots gently come undone. She leans down, catching his lips in a tender kiss, and she tries to convey the emotions she felt earlier tonight, when he returned to her.

The lamp that had fallen from the bedside table during their previous encounter had been returned to its original spot and was bathing the bedroom in a soft glow. Her skin glowed a soft orange as he ran his fingers over it, helping her disrobe.

The last time there had been a fiery passion and greediness; this was a slow, soft slide into oblivion. He entered her from below, never taking his eyes from hers as they rode each wave together. It is more intense than their first time, as if they're frightened to look away from each other, frightened of what might happen if they do.

The pressure builds, for both of them, and when they finally hit the crest, they hit it together. Shaking, Molly collapses onto Sherlock's chest, he is still inside her and she almost cries as emotion overwhelms her. She has him back and feels both stronger and weaker than she has in a long time.


AN: Sorry if this was short/ feels rushed / is disappointing in any way. I just sat down like an hour and a half ago to just write it sooo. Thank you for reading you guys! And for commenting if you did so, it is much appreciated. Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have :-)