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How could this be? How could it have possibly happened?
He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure about anything anymore. Standing in front of the screen, watching her with such pain rippling through him. He wasn't sure he could take much more. The tremble in her voice as she answered and spoke to him.
She was in misery.
He could tell. Her body was sagging and defeat reflected in her eyes. Heavens, he hated putting her through this. He hated the idea of involving her or endangering her.
She was important to him. The most important person in his life. She may not have believed it when he told her, but he did. In his mind, Molly Hooper was the one who mattered. The one who discovered something inside him he thought he had locked down.
Something very strong and unmoving now. When he gazed at the coffin and saw the words, he knew before deducing who it was meant for. The pain only intensified when he saw her on the screen and heard Eurus' threats.
"Molly, I need you to say these words," he instructed. "I love you."
"Why are you doing this?"
The pain, so evident in her tone, ate at him. Burned his soul with a fire that nearly crippled him. He tried to reassure her it was a game. He had to reassure her. He had to without giving anything away. Time was against him. Everything seemed to be against him. Even as he heard her words, he dared not to believe it had come to this.
"Say it."
His brow furrowed and his body shifted nervously. He wasn't ready. "What?"
"Say it, Sherlock, say it like you mean it." A simple request, but one that had repercussions. She couldn't have known the impact of those words, could she?
He glanced at the clock, wanting more than anything that it would buy him some time, but alas, it couldn't. The sands of time were pouring against him, and he wasn't ready.
He had to save her. There was no choice now. He had to say the words. To beat his sister. To save her. "I…I…I love you," he choked, but not for the reason those around him suspected. Saying the words eased the pressure in his heart. The walls, carefully constructed, collapsed and he felt them. Wishing she was there, wishing she believed him, he said them once more with emotion, "I love you."
Oh, how he meant them. He didn't realize how much he did until the second time he spoke. What was happening? Yes, he felt love. He felt it with every ounce of his soul. Hidden, though it was, he felt it. Brotherly love for Mycroft. Friendship/family love for John and Mrs. Hudson. But Molly was a different story. He waited on thin ice. Sweat dripped down his forehead as the clock ticked. Please let her say them, he prayed.
The faint whisper melted the rest of the walls as the clock ended and he nearly collapsed. She said the words. She loved him.
Hate and joy elated within him, but as he listened to Eurus' confession, hate seemed to win.
Taking a moment, he placed the lid over the coffin and breathed deeply. He nearly lost the woman he loved because of his sister's deadly game. No matter if he just had begun to realize it, he hated that he put Molly through it.
As his fists destroyed the coffin, pain and torment dug into him like the splinters in his knuckles. Molly would hate him now.
Now, the love she held for him was destroyed.
And he would never get it back.
Never would she know of the love she found within him.
Never.
~XXX~
He didn't expect to see her at the old mansion. He didn't expect a lot of things, truthfully.
He saved John and his sister, but they paled to the life that was spared with her.
She ran to him with tears streaking her face. He didn't know what to think as her body hit his with a force that nearly knocked him down. His arms steadied her before holding her close. Her face buried into his chest, sobs shaking her body.
"I thought I lost you," she cried, softly.
He held her tight as the world around them blurred until it was just them. "I'm fine, Molly."
Her face lifted and she searched his tired face. He couldn't read all the emotions shining through her eyes, and, honestly, he didn't want to. "Greg called," she explained. "And then Mycroft."
"So, you know."
She nodded. "I know."
His eyes clenched tight, hating that Molly had been put through this. He hated knowing he caused her such pain.
"I don't blame you, Sherlock."
"You should," he whispered, hating himself. "I put you in danger."
She shook her head. "Can we talk about it later?" she asked, touching his face, tenderly, before looking at his battered hands. "You need the hospital."
Before she could back away from him, he grasped her hands tightly with his own. "Aren't you angry?"
A faint smile touched her lips as she breathed in. "A little, but right now, you need help."
He started to argue to get the truth from her, but the words muted as she pushed him in the ambulance and started tending to his wounds. All the while, he wondered how badly was their relationship damaged.
She bandaged his hands as best she could, and for the rest of the ride, she stayed by his side, silent but relaxed. Sherlock wondered what could be said at a moment like this, and his thoughts plagued him during the ride, keeping him silent as well.
She stood close by, while the doctor examined him and tended to his wounds. As they waited for the papers to be released, he avoided her eyes. He couldn't bear to see her anger or pain from his words. He couldn't even begin to understand what he should say to her or even how to mend the wounds he created with the game his sister constructed.
"Sherlock, look at me."
A simple command which made him flinch before raising his eyes to meet hers, finally. Instead of anger, he saw something he never thought he would see…understanding.
She moved towards him, holding his eyes in a steel gaze before grasping his bandaged hands. "Did you mean it?"
His eyes narrowed, before relaxing as he comprehended her line of questioning. He blinked as he breathed in and out, relaxing his stature even more. "Would it matter if I did?" he asked, deeply.
"You know it would."
His hands, though bandaged, turned and caressed hers as best as he could. "You deserve someone better."
She smiled a tender smile, one that melted him every time. "If I wanted someone better, I would have fallen in love with someone else, Sherlock," she confessed, tears forming in her eyes.
Hearing the words once more, tore at the crumbled wall around his heart. How could she love him? He never gave her a reason too. He always used her in the past, always manipulated her, but he cared for her. He never hurt her, not deliberately, or at least, he tried not to. The disastrous Christmas party always came to mind when he thought of Molly in pain. Now, it would be replaced with the phone call. The one he never wanted to put her through, even if it did reveal their feelings for each other. "I've hurt you twice," he choked, his voice shaking.
"You'll hurt me a third time if you didn't mean it," she admitted, a single tear falling down her smooth cheek.
He didn't want that. He honestly never wanted to hurt her. Hurting Molly Hooper was the last thing in the world he wanted. It tore at his heart to hurt her. If he didn't admit this, if he lied to her about it, then he would hurt her more than ever. He couldn't do it. He couldn't.
His bandaged hand wiped the tear away from her cheek. His eyes tormented at seeing Molly cry. He couldn't take much more. "I…" he began, choking on the words. "I…I meant them."
She bit her bottom lip and nodded. "Okay," she whispered, leaning forward. Her forehead touched his and that's how she remained. Neither moved an inch, with Molly holding one of his hands, and his right caressing her face. They stayed in that position until the doctor returned with papers for Sherlock's release. Only then, did Molly straighten, but she never released his hand and he never stopped touching her, though his right hand moved from her face to grasp her other hand.
They rode to her flat in silence, grateful for the car Mycroft had sent. Neither refused to speak, only relishing the presence of each other. Sherlock lowered his head as he realized his own flat was destroyed and he had nowhere to stay.
Molly, understanding the silence, smiled. "I still have the spare room, if you want to stay," she offered, when the car stopped.
He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. He had a feeling if he did, they could talk, privately. For he was sure, Mycroft had swept her flat after the incident, removing all the devices Eurus had implanted. Helping her out of the car, he held her hand as they walked up the stairs to her door. It didn't take long for them to settle in the living area while they gathered their bearings and emotions.
He held her hand, afraid if he let go that the emotions, he kept in check would collapse for the moment. "You know everything?" he asked, breaking the silence.
Molly nodded, though he didn't see, as his eyes remained downcast. "Mycroft explained it."
"Good."
She shifted on the sofa, and he could tell she was not satisfied with his response. One glance in her eyes confirmed his suspicions. Sighing, he began the story from the beginning. As he told her the tale, he noticed how her emotions flickered across her face from sorrow to anger to heartache to finally understanding. He wanted her to understand, even though she knew, that it wasn't a game. His feelings for her were not a game. They were real and new. Though he suspected he had loved her for years, the realization of this love was new.
How could he even begin to confess what he felt for her? It was beyond words to describe the depth of his feelings. How could words even scratch the surface? Watching her, he knew she understood, or at least she seemed to.
"I never wanted you to be hurt, Molly."
"I know," she responded, smiling, lightly.
"I've done nothing but hurt you since we met," he started, hating the words and the memories.
"No, you haven't," she countered. His heart skipped and he dared to believe her words. "You've only hurt me twice. Perhaps intentional, perhaps not, but you've never hurt me so bad that I couldn't forgive you."
"I don't deserve it."
"Yes, you do." Her body scooted closer to his until he had no choice but to look at her. "Everybody deserves to be loved, Sherlock, even you. Emotions are not a weakness. They are a strength that carries us through the dark times."
It was true. His newfound love for her was proof of it. If he hadn't loved her as he did, he wouldn't have carried through Eurus' plans. It was the thought of losing her that made him shake with fear. She was his steady constant. Sure, John kept him sane at times, but Molly was the one who shone the beacon of light on him time and again. She was the one who saw the good inside of him when others doubted. Especially when Mary died and everyone seemingly blamed him. Molly didn't. She saw what Mary had seen and reached out to him when he needed help. She stood by him, even when she hated his plans. She never left his side. She made him stronger.
"I thought you would hate me."
"For what?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. She didn't wait for him to respond before she added, "I could never hate you. No matter what hell you put me through."
"How can you?" he asked, choking, letting his emotions run inside him. He needed to know, even if the confessions were fresh in his mind. He lowered his eyes to their intertwined hands.
"Because I know the good inside you. I've seen it and I know you never intentionally put me in danger. I was angry at the position you put me in because I didn't know the story. Now that I know," she choked, tears filling her eyes. "You proved my point because you risked everything to save me."
"When I thought John was in the bonfire that time, I wanted to run in and save my friend. I didn't care about the consequences," he began, emotionally. "When I saw the coffin with those words engraved on the lid, I knew it was you the second I saw it. That pain was worse than thinking John was burning. I couldn't fathom the pain if you had been there or what Eurus would have done to you. I don't think I would have survived if she had."
She cried freely, tears streaked her face and he could see the hope and pain shining in her bright eyes. He raised his free hand and wiped the tears from her cheeks; his own vision blurring. "You found it inside me, Molly Hooper, and I don't think I can suppress it now. I don't want to because the pain would be worse than any gunshot or torture I've endured."
She caressed his face, wiping the tears as they escaped his eyes. "You did mean it."
Her hope sounded in her voice and he smiled as he breathed out with a nod because words were failing him. He couldn't speak as the love inside him blossomed until his chest tightened. This woman beside him loved him with a strength he never understood and the depth of her love was just as deep as his. He could see it in her eyes.
Now, there was no doubt. He could take the step he wanted to since he discovered his love. Molly Hooper was the only one he could ever love. He knew it now. She opened his heart in ways he thought were impossible.
Closing the distance between them, he tentatively brushed his lips over hers, testing the waters. Sparks coursed through his body at the contact and he felt her shiver when he pulled back. Searching her eyes for permission, he pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Their lips caressed and moved until they were shaking and Molly was lifted onto his lap. He needed her closer, much closer. It was clear how much she was a part of him, now. Their kiss ran deep and passionate but held the sense of longing as they continued to express their love until they could no longer breathe. Her hand brushed over his face and when she pulled back, he saw the love shining brighter in her eyes than ever.
"Better than I dreamed," she whispered, and he smiled. Pulling her close, he held her, rocked her, with his face buried in the junction of her neck.
In the silence, she whispered four words that made him shiver inside and warmed his heart and soul.
"I love you, Sherlock."
Kissing her neck, which felt like the most natural thing between them, he pulled back and breathed deeply. "I love you, Molly Hooper."
Please be kind!
This will be a two-part, maybe a third. The second part will be from Molly's point of view and, if it goes well, I may do a third part with a future look at them.
The inspiration for this story came from one of my favorite love songs by Gary Morris, "The Love She Found In Me." It's a song that is so beautiful and when I was listening to it one day I realized how much it screamed Sherlolly. If you get a chance, check it out!
Until Next Time...