Chapter Four.

Molly arrived back into work with five minutes of her lunch break to spare and nearly expired on the spot as she approached her office. Sherlock Holmes. He was sitting at her desk as if he owned it, as if he hadn't slept with her six months ago and then severed all contact. She turned her back on him and leaned against the wall. She took a deep breath, no, she wasn't having this. He wanted her to be the hopeless, quivering wreck she knew she was inside but there was no way in hell she was letting him see what he'd put her through. With force she pushed open the door.

"Good afternoon Sherlock." She said in the breeziest voice she could manage. He looked up at her briefly.

"Molly."

She was shaking as she removed her coat and flung it on her chair.

"Long time, no see." She eventually managed with a smile, leaning against the desk he was working on.

"Mmm." He grunted, not looking up this time.

She could feel herself getting hot. Don't blush, she commanded herself.

"How are you?" Her voice was getting shakier by the minute. This was absurd.

"Fine." His mono-syllabic answers were beginning to grate on her nerves.

She tapped her fingers on the desk, not really knowing what to say next. She bit her bottom lip in frustration and then stopped with a jump as she began to taste blood. She jumped again as Sherlock's hand slammed down on hers.

"Please stop doing that."

She looked into his eyes. They seemed the same, there was no pain in them, no unshed tears, no evidence of a sleepless night. He was exactly the same as before. Before she could stop it a tear rolled down her cheek. Sherlock sighed and took one her fingers, caressing it gently he said in almost a whisper,

"Don't dream about me Molly. I'm not worth it."

"I know," She said, the tears flowing freely now, "I think I really do know that."

She pulled her finger free and ran out into the air.

Sherlock stared at his hand for a while and moved his fingers slowly in the air that had contained her. Why didn't he say it? Why did he choke on the words? I'm sorry. He was right, he wasn't worth it. He turned back to the microscope and when he switched the light off at the end of the day, he hadn't even noticed that Molly's coat was still on her chair…