12 missed calls.

It needed to stop.

John called me every day, at the exact moment I had to pass Baker Street (as quickly as I could, mind you) to get to my flat. Every day. Like clockwork.

He always left a message, too. Molly, this is Sherlock's phone. And his ringtone. I was alright with that, I knew you cared for him…but why did I hear him? I'm a doctor, Molly; I know I'm not losing my mind. Please, please call me back. Please. Please. And: Molly, I have it figured out! Does your boyfriend sound like him? Is that it? Please tell me that's it. It's not it, is it? Call me back. Please.

I thought about calling him back, I really did, but I'm a dreadful liar, and John couldn't handle the truth yet…yet. It had been a week since the incident, and John's calls never wavered. He knew she'd have to give in eventually…like a child…like Sherlock, I thought.

I stood outside my flat and deleted every call and message, as was routine, before giving Sherlock his phone back. I needed to get one, but I would hardly use it…plus Sherlock insisted on my taking his phone for some odd reason. I walked in to find a very relaxed Sherlock hanging upside down by his feet from my ceiling fan.

'A-are you alright?' I asked, hoping not to interrupt an important experiment. He said nothing but held out his hand. I placed the phone in it, and he looked at me, and the phone. Back to me, then down at the phone.

'You understand that there is no point in trying to conceal something from me on my own phone, right?

'Y-yes. Yes, I know.' I busied myself with putting dishes into the sink, but that only kept me occupied for a few seconds. 'Sherlock, where's my cat?' A pang of fear ran through me…Oh my god. He killed my cat.

'He's slightly preoccupied at the moment.' The corner of his mouth twitched upwards for the briefest of seconds and then added 'He's in a meeting, I wouldn't disturb him.' Disturb him? The only thing disturbing to me at this moment was how oddly kind he was being…

'Where, Sherlock?'

'I believe he's in my bedroom. He was insistent upon going in there…'

I interrupted. 'So you locked him in there?' As I got closer to his door I could hear the pitiful meows of my CID-cat in distress. I opened the door and for the first time saw his room. It was meticulous, much different than she'd expected it to be. His bed was made and looked as if it'd never been used. 'Are you comfortable here?'

'As comfortable as I should be. Why do you ask?'

'Your bed looks like you never used it.' He sighed and I looked at him, upside down and hands running through his hair.

'Sleeping is for the dead. I, contrary to popular belief, am not dead.' All of the sudden he began wiggling around and got a frustrated look on his face.

'Stuck?' I asked, giggling. I was about to go and cut him down when I heard a knock.

'I am not stuck.' He said defiantly, though he was clearly deciphering how to think his was out of his foot noose. I looked through the peep hole on the door and saw a blonde head, short, and wearing a sweater.

'Sherlock!' I half screeched, half whispered.

'Stop talking.'

'But-'

'Whatever you could say right now is not of importance to me.'

'Okay! Well, just know that John Watson is outside of my door right now!' I almost began crying. I was taught never to lie and here I was, possibly in the biggest lie ever. 'Hold on a minute, I'm…uh…naked! Yes, I'm naked!' I yelled at the door.

'Okay, I'll just be out here.' It took me a moment to realize that Sherlock had been uncharacteristically quiet. I looked over and he had turned into an upside down statue, frozen in place.

'Let me get down.' He said, in a voice so quiet that he'd probably not been heard if not for it being so quiet. I walked over to the kitchen, grabbed a knife and began sawing at a rope that was a foot over my head. Eventually, I cut, and all six feet of Sherlock gracefully landed into the floor. He stood up slower than usual, collected his things and retired to his room.

I walked to the door and let John in.

'Why have you been ignoring my calls?'

'You called?' I decided to once again play dumb.

'Where's the phone? I'll prove that I called.'

'Sh-Boyd, Boyd has it right now.' I kicked myself mentally for the almost slip up.

'I know what…who I heard.'

'He's dead. He's dead and he lied to you. I'm sorry, but it's true.'

'He lied to you too, Molly! Because let me tell you one thing…Sherlock Holmes isn't…can't be…dead. He's out the somewhere, and he's alive, and I swear when I see him I'll murder him.' He almost sobbed.

'Sherlock has never lied to me.' I said defiantly, though I knew he had I didn't want to believe it.

'What makes you think that you're more important…that you count?' I smiled.

'I just know.'

'Just know? You think you're in love with him…Sherlock! Don't you get it? He can't be in love with you…he never was, either. I think the closest he's ever been to love is Jim Moriarty.' I mentally looked back upon his face…I was crazy for him too…

'So, I care for Sherlock, bu-'

'More than that…you, how, I'm not sure, but you love him…you've deluded yourself into loving him…even when he's not around…or is he?' John ran to my fridge, and I knew that everything was going to come undone…and then…a text message? John looked at his phone and threw it across the flat.

'John! Are you alright?' I ran to his side.

'Where are you? He called over my shoulder. He then stalked past me and went right through his bedroom door…'You…you…Sherlock…you…bastard!' He walked away from his friend and sat on the couch like a father would do to scold you when you messed up. 'Give me one reason why I shouldn't just kill you.'

'I missed you, too.' Sherlock responded in a sarcastic tone.

'I'm just going to…go to bed.' I stayed up all night listening to them speak. John left at five that morning and that's when I finally emerged.

'Molly? Why are you still awake?'

'Are you leaving?' I asked, praying to God the answer was no.

He looked taken back by my question. 'Why would I leave?'

'Well, now John knows, so…' He walked over to me and awkwardly grabbed my hand.

'I'm not leaving…not for a while. And…thank you…' He bent down and kissed me, not on my cheek, but on my lips, an actual kiss. Before my fantasy was completed, he pulled away and walked to his room. 'Goodnight, Molly.'

'Goodnight.' I said with my head in a cloud of pure bliss.

'And, Molly?' he added. 'John was wrong. I can…do…care about…people.' With that he closed his door and I was suddenly thankful it was Saturday as a wave of drowsiness crashed over me.

Boy, oh boy, oh boy! I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Tell me what you think! Please review, I love hearing from you!

Chapter four will blow your mind, so be ready!