A.N: Helloooo Mollcroft united.

Surprise! Lu is back! And she is just as amazing as ever. I think this chapter will make you very VERY happy. Anyways as you can expect this story is almost done.

Also I wrote a one shot that will be posted soon. It's an angsty Mollcroft I hope you will read it and let me know what you think.

Don't forget to review I love reading you!

Steffy2106

Chapter 25

Molly felt her legs tiring. She'd been walking for less than 10 minutes and already she felt worn out and this frustrated her.

"Let's sit for a minute," John said, and helped her to the bench by the roses.

Once seated, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool wind on her face and the smell of roses. She'd never realized how much she would miss something as basic as fresh air until she'd been on house arrest for more than two months.

She rested her hands on her lap and let out a sigh of contentment.

"How are you doing, Molly? Really?" John asked, a note of concern in his voice.

She shot him a surprised glance. He never pushed her, and she knew she had kept up the façade well.

"I'm —"

"And don't say you're just fine because I can see right through you and you're miserable. Almost as miserable as the government SOB," he jerked his head toward the house.

"It's complicated."

"Then explain it to me," he said gently. "I took you here to be alone. I know you like Mary but I also know she doesn't really know what we went through during these past years. I thought that maybe you would be more comfortable talking to me alone."

He took her hand in a gesture of comfort. "You know I would never judge you, right?"

Molly nodded, biting her bottom lip.

"Mary thought it might be better for me to talk to you in private, to try to help you. She knows how lost you are."

"Does she?" Molly frowned. She really liked Mary and believed they would become great friends but she wasn't that familiar with her yet. There was no way she picked up on Molly's emotions so well already.

John shrugged looking away. "Her. Sherlock... What difference does it make?"

"You two gossip like old ladies!" Molly teased him. "I thought you were above all that."

John flushed in embarrassment. "We're just concerned about you, and Sherlock said he would talk to you about it. I just thought it would be better if it came from me at least."

Molly chuckled. "And I thank you for that." Her smile faded as she saw the care and worry in John's eyes. "I'm hurting and I'm confused and ..." She sighed looking away to the branches of the trees surrounding them moving with the wind.

"I love him, John."

"And it is a problem because …?" John trailed off. "You know I'm not Mycroft Holmes' number one fan but to be honest, he really seems to be trying to make it up to you. No matter how impossible it seems to be, I think he genuinely cares for you."

Molly looked up for a minute and met Mycroft's eyes from the window overlooking the garden. She rapidly looked away. "The problem is that Mycroft has very high standards on what is proper and what is not. He feels guilty and he feels obligated to claim his own blood."

John shook his head. "I agree with you. Mycroft is a skilled manipulator but I highly doubt that's what he's doing now. He knows what is at stake. So no, he wouldn't be that stupid."

"And I'm scared." She shivered ever so slightly, remembering the pain she felt every time Mycroft acted like his Ice Man persona: cold, distant, emotionally unavailable.

"What are you scared of, Molly?" He took off his jacket and wrapping it around her.

"Mycroft." She replied, hugging the jacket tighter against her.

"Mycroft?" John sounded confused. "Again, I don't like him but he would rather die than hurt you."

She sighed. "No I'm afraid of what loving him will do to me. He makes me vulnerable to a point I can't be allowed to be. I'm pregnant now, John. I'm going to raise a child. It can't be like it was before all this." She gestured to her pregnant belly.

"Being distant when he needs to or wants to, being cold or giving me so little. I thought it would be enough but it isn't and I know it's not fair for me to ask him for more but it's not fair to me to have any less than what I deserve." She shook her head, looking up to the sky to will her tears away. "I love him but he can never love me the way I need him to love me." Her voice broke as she said those words.

"And how do you know he can't if you don't let him try? I'm quite reluctant to admit it but I think the man is crazy about you and believe me when I say Sherlock tortured him enough about it to know he wasn't pretending."

"He's never even told me he loved me," Molly declared. How she would react if he told her that? Would she believe him? Mycroft manipulated and twisted the truth but he had never outright lied to her. Her heart clenched at the idea of him telling her that he loved her. Was it even a possibility?

"And have you?" John asked.

"It's not that simple."

"It's only as complicated as you want it to be, Molly. But think good and hard about the decisions you're about to make. Mycroft Holmes isn't the type to beg. If you want to end this, make sure you close the door firmly on whatever this relationship is or can be, because once you do leave, there will be no turning back."

John rolled his eyes. "Oh God, I can't believe I'm saying this but, just try to cut him some slack, okay?"

Molly nodded. She was well aware of that, surprised that Mycroft had persisted for so long. He might care about her more than she thought.

John stood up and extended his hand to her. "Let's go back up and just so you know, whatever you decide to do, know that you can always lean on me." He wrapped arm around her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze.

Molly cocked her head to the side, resting it on John's shoulder. "Thanks, John."

'If you can't tell her, show her' Mary had told him. Mycroft waited until John and Mary had gone before going to Molly's room.

"How was the walk?" He stood in the doorway of her room.

She placed the book she was reading on her knees and gave him what seemed like a genuine smile. "It was good, thank you. The fresh air was fantastic."

Mycroft took a tentative step into the room. "Do you have a minute, Molly? There is something I'd like to show you."

She shook her head. "Maybe some other time? I'm tired."

"Please, only a minute. I'll carry you if you're tired." Just the idea of holding her in his arms, being surrounded by her warmth made his body react in still very unsettling ways.

Molly put up her hand to stop him. "Oh no, it's okay! I can walk, really."

He didn't miss the faint flush on her cheeks. Could she just be as affected as he was?

Mycroft extended her his elbow, and she hooked her arm into his. Slowly they walked to the closed door at the end of the corridor.

"Is it where you hide the bodies?" She asked in a lame attempt to break the awkward silence that descended between them.

Mycroft gave her a half smile. "No, that's in the basement. This is something I've been working on for the past few months." He opened the door and gestured for her to step inside, keeping his eyes on her face to see her reaction.

As soon as she walked in, her eyes widened. He couldn't help but smile at the surprise on her face.

"A nursery, for our child." He spoke softly.

"This is beautiful, Mycroft." She walked to one wall where he had set wooden shapes of horses in a meadow. He had read books about cognitive development and that babies surrounded with different shapes and colours tend to develop faster. She touched the black stallion with her fingers before turning to him. "You did all of these?"

Mycroft nodded, coming to stand by the crib. "Yes, but the crib is my favourite piece."

Molly took in all the details in the room and stopped at the rocking chair by the window. "I don't know what to say." She said in a voice thick with emotion.

He could see how much the gesture really touched her.

It was now or never.

"Say you'll stay and not just until you feel better. Stay here with me."

"Why?" Molly asked, standing on the other side of the crib.

"Why what?" He had expected to hear "no."

"Why should I stay?"

"Because every child deserves a father. Because this house is much better than your tiny flat. Because you will be safe here. And because you want to." As soon as he finished, he realized those were not the right answers when her face fell ever so slightly.

She shook her head and walked to the window. "No, I won't stay" she whispered.

"Why? Don't I deserve to be a father to this child?" He cringed inwardly at the harshness in his voice. He couldn't help it. He couldn't believe she was rejecting him again. This was not the outcome he was hoping for with this final desperate effort.

She turned to look at him. "No more than I deserve to be happy and free," she replied calmly.

Mycroft grasped the crib railing so tightly that the wood threatened to break.

"Very well. I see this is all so pointless!" He hissed, gesturing toward the door. Molly recoiled at that, thinking for a moment that he might strike her.

He didn't miss the involuntary flinching of her body. Was she so frightened of him that she would think he would descend into such vulgar behaviour?

"I won't force you any longer, knowing how you feel so imprisoned here. Feel free to leave whenever you like! I will stay at the Diogenes until you move out." He remarked coldly before walking out of the nursery and down the stairs. Such was his self-control that no tears fell even though his eyes had momentarily blurred.

Mycroft ordered his driver to go to the Diogenes. As the car left the Estate, Mycroft felt the wetness on his cheeks. He briefly touched his moist eyes with his fingers. This was impossible. Mycroft had never cried in his life, not even as a child. Men like him couldn't cry and yet he couldn't stop the tears from finally falling.

He had fought and lost. He so wanted Molly to love him and he had failed. Surrendering was not in his nature and he knew that her face would haunt his mind for as long as he breathed. The memory of the hurt and pain flashing on her face – every time he had hurt her, every time he had let her down – was burned in his memory forever.

The lump in his throat made it almost impossible for him to swallow. He never should have walked out like that; he shouldn't have left her alone and hurting. He should have spoken with her. He should have learned from his mistakes. He should have admitted all his faults.

He should have been a better man. He should have been the man she deserves. He should have been the man he wanted himself to be. For her. For their child.

Apologies meant nothing now at this point. He had lost.

He took his phone out of his pocket. He was supposed to call Anthea, to tell her to collect some things for him at the Estate and tell Molly she was free to leave. But could he really do that?

He called Mary instead. He heard her tell John that it was one of her girl friends.

"Hi Lucy!" She said cheerily.

Mycroft closed his eyes and leaned back on his seat. "What if she can't see it?" The defeat and weakness in his voice evident.

"Then you have to tell her," she whispered. "Sure, okay I'll see you later," she said loudly before hanging up.

Mycroft looked out the window and realized they were almost at the Diogenes. "I changed my mind. Take me back to the Estate."

Mrs Linder gave him a dark glare when he returned but he paid her no heed.

Upstairs, he gently knocked on Molly's bedroom door and felt it open slowly. He could hear gentle sniffles from the bed.

He closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink in his chest. He didn't deserve a single tear from her. He was unworthy of it. He was unworthy of her. But he so wanted to be for her

Her back was facing him and he noticed her stiffen when he walked further into the room and closed the door.

He didn't bother turning on the lights and removed his jacket. She continued sobbing, no longer hiding it from him.

He toed off his shoes on the way to the bed and settled behind her. He expected her to reject him again.

Tentatively, he moved closer to her. Carefully, he settled against her back, spooning her while wrapping his arm around her pregnant belly.

Molly reached for his hand, her fingers cold as ice. He was surprised when she did so. She brought his hand up with her, holding it against her heart. He could feel it beating rapidly.

"Ask me again," Mycroft whispered when her sobbing stopped and her heart rate had slowed down.

She remained silent and he knew she weighing it all in her mind.

"Why do you want me to stay, Mycroft?"

Mycroft felt something within him break free.

He kissed the back of her head and took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, Mycroft let his walls down and let his heart speak.

"The idea of letting anyone close to me is terrifying for reasons I can never explain. But the truth is that I can't imagine waking up knowing that I won't see you." He paused, willing himself to finally acknowledge what he had always known to be true.

"The truth is I love you, Molly Hooper." He heard her breath hitch, and her pulse beat rapidly again. She said nothing but gripped his hand more tightly.

He moved closer to her, her body heat slowly enveloping him.

"I want you to stay because I love you, Molly. Because I am hopelessly and helplessly in love with you. Because I can't imagine this house without you in it. Because I want you. Because I need you. Because …"

For once, Mycroft Holmes' extensive vocabulary and intelligence failed him. There were simply no words left to describe what he felt for this woman.

Molly let go of his hand and finally shifted to face him. "Because?" she encouraged, her voice thick with tears.

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I love you. I'm in love with you. You're the love of my life. I can't breathe without you. I can't sleep without you. I would kill for you and I would die for you. Molly, I exist for you."

Molly kissed him on his lips ever so softly. "For someone who is not good with romance, Mycroft Holmes you're doing very, VERY well."

"I would willingly let the world burn to keep you and our child safe. If anything were to happen to you, I would not survive it. I would not want to survive it. You are the only reason why I am still alive."

Molly brought her hand up to cradle his cheek. "Nothing is going to happen to me or to us. I'm here and I'll stay. I love you too, Mycroft. I love you so much it hurts. All I ever wanted was for you to love me back."

Barriers broken, emotions laid bare, there was nothing else to do but to pull Molly against him. He kissed her slowly, gently but as she responded to him, all the pent-up emotions and desire rose to the surface. His movements became more urgent, more demanding and Molly whimpered in his mouth.

"Make love to me, Mycroft" she whispered against his lips.

He didn't need to be told twice. He had the singularly exquisite pleasure of getting reacquainted with her body again that night, going over familiar curves, planes, peaks and valleys, familiar and yet feeling like it was all so new. He made love to her gently and the feelings they shared made it all the more intimate. He kept whispering in her ear how much he loved her, no longer masking his feelings and revelling how her body reacted to his physical, emotional and verbal declarations, and Molly returned it in every way possible.

She fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and a small smile her face. Mycroft closed his eyes while drawing patterns with his thumb on her lower back idly.

As her breathing deepened, he had an epiphany why people actually craved love. Why they found so addictive, so irresistible.

He now knew. For the first time in his life, Mycroft was happy, completely and fully happy.