...he wasn't there. She felt his absence.

She opened her eyes, and he was gone.

Molly sat up hurriedly and looked around the room, listening for movement.

There was none.

She swallowed. Did he leave? …was he even ever there in the first place…?

Molly got up and went to the loo. Afterwards, she took her dressing gown and wrapped herself tightly. She went back into the room and checked her phone.

No messages.

She went to the window and looked out into the lot…

…and there was the Aston Martin. She sighed. He had been there, she wasn't going mad. She had almost believed it, everything since she had taken that phone call had been so bizarre.

And that made her think of the phone call, and it gave her pause.

She was thinking of it differently since she had learned of his heart…and she recalled the way in which she had reacted when it happened…she had gotten sick and she called off of work.

Molly blushed a bit. She had been so affected…but she couldn't blame herself. She had been in love with him for years. And now…

Now, he was in love with her.

"Molly?"

She turned. "Oh," she smiled. "Hi. I didn't hear you…" he was dressed and carrying a paper bag.

"No," and he walked over to the table by the window, and set the bag down. "I went for coffee…we don't need to check out until noon," he opened the bag. "White. One sugar," he handed it to her with a wink and sat down.

Molly sat next to him and took her cup. "Thanks," she sipped and looked at him. "Still nervous about today?"

He shrugged and nodded. "A bit."

"Any idea what it might be about yet?"

"No…well. I have ideas, but none seem more plausible than the other," he sipped. "Not bad."

"We're going back today," she observed with a swallow.

He nodded, looking at her over his cup, then he set it down. "Yes…"

Molly looked out of the window.

He sighed. "Please don't be nervous, Molly."

"I'm not," and she looked down, playing with her cup.

He cocked a brow as she looked up at him. "Think about what you are saying, and who you are saying it to, then rephrase."

She smiled. "All right. Maybe I am, a little…"

"What can I do?"

"Nothing," she quickly responded. "I just need…I need…to be able to move on, and I can't just do that in a matter of days."

"You've built up sex in your head, and you cannot move past how you envision it will be between us."

"That's not true."

"No. You've got it into that lovely head of yours that once we get home, I'm going to suddenly forget everything that transpired here and will revert back to my previous way of behaving."

She swallowed. "I told you as much."

"Doesn't it sound ridiculous when you hear it? Why would I do such a thing?"

"Dunno," she shrugged.

Sherlock sighed and took her hand. "Molly, if I haven't proven my heart over these past few days, then I don't know how else I can prove it…but I hope that you can believe me."

"Sherlock…can't you see it from where I sit? I never thought this would happen, and yet…"

"…yet here I am," he interrupted. "Sorry," he dropped her hand. "Sorry I interrupted. I'm just…anxious. I feel as though this had been one step forward, two steps back."

"You're anxious?" she responded with disbelief.

"Of course I am."

Molly looked at him, slightly aghast. She dropped her gaze and nodded. "We should pack."

"I…I know that I seem quite different. And it's partly to do with the fragility of the situation. I know that I've hurt you, and I'm wary…my realization was just as shocking to me as anyone, and I don't know what to do…I'm trying to make you believe me in the most delicate way possible."

Molly smiled. "I appreciate that, Sherlock."

He nodded. "It's the truth."

"Yes…I feel your care. Everything that you do and say seems to be very…" she paused. "Premeditated?…deliberate, maybe."

"Deliberate. Yes. That's fair."

"Well…"

"Packing," he said softly. He looked around. "Molly, I'm planning on heading directly to Sherrinford. So…you don't need to wait for me or anything. I'll just head out and see you later."

She nodded. "Ok."

He smiled and stood.

She sat back. "What time…?"

"Not sure. Late, probably. Though maybe not."

"I love a definitive answer," she smirked.

"As do I, when I can offer one," he paused. "How about between six and nine?"

"See you then," she said.

…and he turned after a lingering look, and went downstairs.

She looked at the bed, and then the time. It was still rather early…she could take a nap…

…so she got up and crawled into the bed and breathed deeply. The sheets smelled of him slightly, and she temporarily wondered if this was a good idea…

…and she fell asleep.

There was knocking at the door.

Molly opened her eyes…she yawned and fell on her back.

"Miss?" more knocking. She sat up and looked at the clock. It was one in the afternoon…

She was supposed to check out at noon.

"Oh shit," she got up and opened the door. "I'm so sorry…" she smiled.

"It's ok. Your bill has been handled. Just checking to make sure you were all right," he handed her a receipt.

"Oh…" she took it and nodded. "I'll be out directly," she smiled and closed the door. She was happy that it wasn't that irritable clerk who brought her the charge.

And he had paid her bill! She shook her head and saw to packing.

The ride home went quickly, for she was very much not paying attention. Part of her wanted to hurry and get home, part was dreading it.

She couldn't decide which was more loud in her ears.

Molly was in a bit of a trance as she made her way to London, and subsequently, the rental place. She handed in her keys, paid the bill, and got on the Tube home.

She was sitting with her bags on her lap and staring at the window opposite.

She caught the eye of a man sitting in her field of vision…he winked at her, and she immediately looked away, shifted, and sat up straighter.

…she was never one to respond to flirtation from strangers, but it felt doubly strange right now.

Molly got off a few stops later and headed home.

She opened the door to her flat slowly and smelled the stale air as it hit her in the face. She turned and locked the door and brought her stuff in.

She checked her phone for the first time since leaving the B&B…

Nothing.

And she wondered about Sherlock.

She set to cleaning up and starting laundry, and then checked the time.

It was six at night.

She thought about texting him to see how it was going, but then she thought the better of it. He'd get in touch with her.

Unless he had decided that it wasn't going to work, after all.

…or she dreamed the whole thing.

Molly shook her head and changed the laundry over.

Everything was going to be all right. He was going to be there shortly, and then…

She closed her eyes.

And she got a glass of wine and sat in front of the telly…she wasn't at all hungry.

There wasn't much on in terms of good programming. She idly flipped through, thinking that she'd likely go mad with anticipation.

…and she thought about the years she'd spent waiting for him. The time she perseverated on him…wondering if it was futile…

…the time they were friends, and how she had convinced herself that that was enough.

And it was.

Mostly.

And how she found Tom. And how she was simultaneously thrilled and revolted. But she wasn't going to be alone, and that was the material point.

Because she honestly thought that being friends would be enough, and Molly didn't want to be alone forever.

And all that time she had spent convincing herself that it would be all right. She'd marry a respectable, if not slightly daft, Tom.

She'd always be there for Sherlock…always.

…but then, after John's wedding, she couldn't. She loved Sherlock too much. It was all overwhelming, and she ended her engagement…and for a moment, she hated Sherlock Holmes.

She hated him for robbing her of the modicum of happiness she thought she had snagged for herself.

She hated him for never loving her back.

…always taking her for granted.

Not valuing her or her needs.

But that hatred was rooted in love, as silly as it seemed.

Molly drank deeply of her wine and sighed…She turned off the telly and set her glass down. She got up and took a book from her shelf.

It was going to be a long night…

She heard something…it made her start and open her eyes. She had drifted…and she looked at her phone. It was a text message, and the time was just after midnight.

I'm outside your flat. Can you open the door, please?

She swallowed and got up, shaking slightly.

Molly went to the door and opened it to see an exhausted Sherlock Holmes standing there.

"Hi," she said, and stood aside so that he could come in.

He seemed to hesitate a touch, then walked in, and took his coat off, hanging it up on a hook. "Sorry it's so late. I went to Baker Street first…needed to think," he sat down on her sofa. He leaned back and looked at her ceiling.

Molly was still standing in the doorway, but closed it and locked the door, then went to make tea. She had a feeling that he might want to talk. "What happened?" she asked as she put the kettle on.

"Well, my parents were being threatened by the families of the people who were murdered by Euros to sue. We had a very long meeting with them all…Mycroft was able to cut some deals."

"My god," she whispered as she readied the tea.

"One can hardly blame them," he sat up and looked at her. "She is a murderer."

Molly nodded as the kettle screamed. She poured the tea and brought over a tray for them. "What did you say during all of this?" she then sipped her tea.

"I'm sorry…what else could I say?"

She smiled. "Why did you go to Baker Street?"

"I needed to reflect on things. On how to move forward with my family. I hadn't really done that," and he sipped his own tea.

"What did you come up with?"

"To love them," he simply said.

Molly looked at him.

And he looked at her. "Sounds unelaborate for me, but what else can I do? I haven't ever just allowed myself the simplicity of love. It was never so plain…"

"No…"

His gaze fell. "How are you?" and he looked at his hands folded in his lap.

"Ok."

"Just ok?"

Molly shrugged. "I'm happy that you're here."

"I told you I would be," and he looked at her, swallowing.

She nodded. "Yes…I know you did."

He seemed to hesitate somewhat…"Molly…" he whispered.

"Yeah?"

He leaned over, and touched her cheek, looking at her mouth. "We can wait if you want…"

She closed her eyes…what good would waiting do at this point? "What do you want, Sherlock?" she whispered.

She saw him swallow…"You," he breathed.

…and she felt tears sting her eyes…and she leaned over and claimed his lips…

…the world fell away, the past…

Sherlock and Molly, and the feel of them, was all there was in the world.

Fear not! This chapter was a bit short, I know, but the next chapter will include some details in their...coupling. I hope to have it posted tomorrow night!