A/N: Here it is! The chapter that I've really been wanting to post. I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think :)

Over the next week, Molly thought Sherlock would be stressed and focused on nothing but finding Moran, but he was at another standstill where all he could do was wait. It didn't seem to torture him as much as it had before though. Molly found that instead Sherlock was spending much of his time close by her. Irene was able to keep up with all that was going on in Scotland, along with Mycroft's men. He was worried more about her at the moment, she was still having nightmares, but during the day she was okay. Their relationship had completely shifted; Sherlock had made her more comfortable around him.

"NO! Get off of me!" Molly yelled out, tears streaming down her cheeks. She started to flail as the nightmares continued. They were getting lesser, but it hadn't been long since the incident happened.

"Molly," he said, shaking her a bit, trying to get her to calm. "Molly, it's alright. Wake up."

Molly woke up, relaxing as she looked up to see Sherlock above her, "you're safe."

He knew she was fine, but he didn't move from his spot, waiting for her confirmation. His eyes looked worried; there was no logical way to deal with this. He wanted to find a solution to these nightmares so she didn't have to deal with them, but it was out of his control; this frustrated him, but he did what he could.

"I'm alright," she exhaled.

He stayed where he was, sitting on the bed next to her, but leaning above her as he stared into her eyes. His brows were furrowing now, and he looked frustrated. "I- don't know how to solve this, Molly. I am at an impass."

Molly misunderstood, not thinking her nightmare situation was important. She sat up, shaking her head, "Sherlock, what do you mean? You know now that it's Moran, and Irene is working with Mycroft to clear enough of the network so that you can-"

Sherlock was shaking his head at her now. "That is something I can solve, I know that… I mean you."

"What?"

"Your nightmares; you have them because of this mess revolving around me. This isn't something I can deduce and eliminate. Emotions do not have one logical solution…" he trailed off. This must be why he didn't like them. Emotions had no definitive answer; they reached beyond the world of logic and were open to interpretation, always changing with each person. He was not fond of things capable of outsmarting him.

Molly found herself close up to Sherlock, cupping one side of his face. "Stop blaming yourself; you have better things to worry about, Sherlock," she said, kissing his cheek. But when she pulled her head back, Sherlock was right there, face close to hers, practically sharing the same breath.

"It is the beginning symptoms of a psychological condition, Molly," he replied.

"It is not important, though Moran and his network are," she tried to assure him.

"Why do you always think that you do not count?" he asked quietly, confusion across his face.

Molly was finding it hard to concentrate with Sherlock's mouth so close to hers, but she remained there. "Sherlock," she began, hesitating for a moment. "When you came back after being gone for six months, I told you that you had never come to me about anything unless there was something you needed me to help with." Her eyes remained intent on his.

She could feel a lump building in her throat again, but not because of the nightmares this time.

"And as far as I've seen, that still remains true. And that's fine, I understand; you are married to your work. But I always think that I don't count, because I don't."

The lump continued rising in her throat, but she was fighting it.

"I've always asked you for things, because I trust you, as much as I trust John. And you do, Molly, you've always counted. Feelings are not my area, but you are like a puzzle. You fascinate me because you're the only one that says unexpected things. I always think that I know what you're going to say, but you become an enigma to me."

Molly's eyes glossed over as she took in what he was saying. Sherlock rested his thumb in the dip under her mouth, pulling her close to meet their lips. He pulled her onto his lap as he continued to kiss her. She giggled contentedly as he kissed her forehead, her nose, her jaw, but always went back to her lips, kissing with such intense passion as Molly threaded her fingers in his curls, losing herself in the moment she had been waiting so long for.

Molly had been calm through the rest of the night, not awaking from her nightmares. She woke up curled up against Sherlock, their fingers laced together. She smiled and just lay there on her side for a few minutes, admiring the detective at peace; it was the only time he was quiet. She kissed his forehead and was slipping out of bed when Sherlock grabbed her hand and pulled her back down, grinning with his eyes still closed.

She briefly brushed her lips against his, with all intents of pulling away quickly, but he pulled her into a more passionate kiss, one like they had the night before. She was finding it hard to pull away, her hand cupped his face again as she moved closer against him.

Molly smiled, finally getting out of bed and going into the kitchen to find Irene sitting on the sofa.

"Molly Hooper," she began, "did I not tell you?" She had the biggest smirk on her face; a quality that Miss Adler shared with Sherlock was her love for being right.

"How did you-?"

"I watched you for a moment before I came back in here."

Molly felt her cheeks turn red as a big smile was spread from ear to ear, but then she turned to Irene. "But he knew you were there? He would have."

"Yes."

"It didn't bother him?"

"No."

Molly felt her cheeks turn red as she looked down to the floor but she found herself grinning ear to ear. "I'm glad you were right."