Another assassin dead. Another successful venture for the not so kind, not so sweet Molly Hooper, who, by the way, hated her name. It wasn't dangerous or mysterious in the least, to be honest, but it suited the fake her down to the ground.
"Four down, six to go."
"Nearly half way there; soon I'll be able to leave and stop being such a hindrance."
"You're not a hindrance."
"You said I was."
"Yeah, a year ago."
"So I'm not a hindrance now?"
"Well...you're like a pet."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "A pet."
"Yeah, you know, cute, nice to have around, slightly annoying, demanding."
"Cute? Really, Molly, cute? Sherlock Holmes?"
"Oh, yeah, well..."
"Unless you meant cute as in...attractive?"
"No!"
"You might have once."
"Not any more." she lied defensively.
"Don't lie to me, Molly. Just because Jim's dead doesn't mean-"
"I told you never to mention Jim's death."
"Yes, I know...I'm sorry."
Sherlock looked at Molly; he was genuinely sorry, and he could see that she was genuinely upset. He couldn't explain or prove to her that he was truly sorry with words, so he would have to show her. Show her that he cared, that she mattered, that he always had and always would trust her...he took her face in his hands and kissed her, on the lips. She pulled away, looking both happy and sad, elated and aggravated.
"Sherlock, I can't...I'm not ready. I'm sorry."
"You still love Jim. I understand...understand that you always will. But you can't put your life on hold for the sake of his memory."
"I...oh Sherlock, you..." she tried to say, but he kissed her again, and this time, she kissed him back.