It's quite weird that we are mostly not aware of the breaths that we take. Only at the quietest of times we are aware of our lungs expanding and taking in a tiny, less than microscopically small, part of the cosmos into ourselves, absorb the life sustaining oxygen and give back what does not belong to us.

It was one such quiet times and Molly let herself feel each breathe that she was taking. It was that or run around the house in COMPLETE PANIC.

She had finished getting ready a few seconds ago. Only when she looked at the clock did she realize that she had more than five minutes until Sherlock would be there to pick her up. Immediately her mind had begun to conjure various scenarios most of which consisted of her being stood up at best and she had had to question her sanity about the worst. It was ridiculous. Really.

Sherlock had texted her saying her that he would be there and he had even bought her a dress for god's sake. Why? She didn't know. A source of further confusion. But he had, hadn't he? He will be here in a few minutes. Or would he?

"Oh! God. I am going mad" she moaned as she sat heavily on her couch. She was contemplating the benefits of drinking a calming glass of wine or downing the entire bottle when her phone began to ring. It was Mary.

"Please don't tell me he's got a case." It would totally be her luck. The consulting detective getting a ten just that instant, making her go to the wedding alone.

She heard Mary laugh loudly. "No, no. Relax will you. I'm just calling to tell you that he's on his way."

"Thank god!" she said with a huge sigh of relief.

"I knew you would be over thinking this. Deep breathes, Molly. Anyway. I got to go."

"Yeah! Okay. Give Lizzy a kiss from me, alright?"

"Sure love. And Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Enjoy" Mary leered making Molly blush. And of course, making her smile like an idiot.

/-/-/-/-/

"Sir?"

Sherlock was broken from his train of thoughts by the cab driver. It looked like the cabbie had been trying to get his attention for some time now.

"We are here."

What? Here? Already? But hadn't he just hired the cab? He looked out the window and he could see Molly's apartment.

Oh! Well. Knowing that he couldn't stall anymore he paid the cabbie and got out of the cab.

Sherlock didn't bother buzzing the intercom since he had pick pocketed both the keys from Molly. As he climbed the stairs he came up with forty-seven reasons about why this was a very bad idea. But a very selfish side of him refused to just turn around and make a run for it. He had let too many opportunities slide past him.

Before he knew it he was standing in front of her flat.

He reached for the keys in his pocket but the memory of Mary smacking him on his head when he had told her about using Molly's keys kept him from actually using it.

Gulping he knocked on the door.

As soon as the door opened the huge gulp of air he had taken rushed out of him in a whoosh.

Standing in front of him with a small smile adorning her lip was the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life. She had let her hair down and had applied just enough make up to bring out her eyes.

Sherlock realized that he was just staring so he cleared his throat.

"You…Um…You look good." The small smile widened into a grin and her eyes twinkled at his attempt to compliment her. It also distracted her from her own ogling. Molly was glad that she her hand was placed on the wall because the sight of Sherlock in his extremely snug fitting (read: buttons straining) suit was making her knees go weak.

"Thank you, Sherlock" she said blushing. "You have a nice taste in clothing" she said motioning to the dress he had bought her. He truly did. The dress was made of soft yellow lace weaving in and out to make intricate patterns that made Molly look very elegant which was quite a feat. It was cap sleeved and had an empire waist. It fell just short of her knees. Her blush deepened when she remembered that it fit her perfectly.

'Ha! Molly would look beautiful wearing anything' Sherlock thought. Even in her hideous jumpers she managed to make heads turn much to his dislike.

It was after one particularly satisfying case, he had been walking back to Bakers street, that this dress had caught his attention on the display. The color had immediately reminded him of Molly and the agony of watching her with another man.

His life had been just about the work. The cases which gave his whirring brain something to occupy itself with. Just the never ending cases, a sea of black and white.

But when he had begun working with Molly, color started to seep into his life. He wasn't a huge fan of such poetic comparisons but it was the truth. Her compassion and kindness was infectious. He noticed that he had begun taking the feelings of clients into consideration. Well, at least some of them. His heart, the very one which he denied to not possess, began to beat again, began to yearn for her presence. The warmth that she radiated.

But he had no room for feelings. Love, yes love, was found on the losing side. He had been rude to her, tried to push her away with his insults aimed at her insecurities.

Despite all his attempts to distance her from him, Molly continued to help him. It was just the way she was.

But the Fall had changed his perspective. Moriarty had been right about one thing though. Sherlock was ordinary. At the face of death his life did flash in front of his eyes. The moment he took the leap, with his chances of surviving not promising, his only regret had been Molly. That had to change.

When he returned to the world of the living, intent on making things work, she had already moved on. But one look at meat dagger and he knew that it was her desperate attempt at normalcy. He hadn't wanted to take that away. He just wanted her to be happy.

Fate, not that he believed in it, offered him another chance when she broke up with Tom. But what with his fake engagement and the Magnussen business he was unable to do anything.

Now, looking at her, he was glad that he took the chance and hadn't chickened out.

"Shall we?" he asked offering her his arm. Molly was taken aback. She knew that he held out doors for her and performed other gentlemanly actions when they were at the lab but she had chalked it up to him trying to mollify her to get something done.

"Mummy raised me to be a gentleman". He said with a sniff.

"Of course" she said with a giggle and took his arm. A thrill running through their bodies at the innocent contact.

Mycroft had sent a car which was waiting for them. Sherlock opened the door for Molly, making her beam at him. When they were settled the car began to make its journey towards their destination.

Molly tried to sneak a glance at Sherlock. She ducked her head quickly back down when she saw that he was already looking at her.

Why had she been dreading this anyway? She thought with a wide grin.

AN: Your suggestions on what the next course of action should be are welcome! :D