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MOLLY'S POV

It was one of those days. One of those days where no ray of sunshine could brighten up the mood, she was in. She couldn't begin to fathom why, but then again, she knew why.

She knew exactly why.

Staring out the kitchen window of her flat, she wondered how much more could she take. Her job, the staple in her life for many years, was in jeopardy. Mike was retiring and the new director was a pain. The shift changes were only the beginning, and it seemed the new boss had it in for her. Demanding hours, impossible tasks, and to top it off, the cold glare from across the room just drained the life out of her.

Not to mention the shake-up in her personal life. Her best friend, Meena, was getting married. To make the blow even harder, she was marrying one of Molly's old flames. She didn't mind, really, but the pain of knowing the last of her friends was marrying hurt worse than the pain of a boss. The man she loved didn't love her, and she had been fine with it. Until now. Now, she wanted to be loved. She wanted it more than anything because being loved would make the days seem brighter and easier to carry on. But he didn't love her. Wishful thinking kept the pain at bay for only so long.

She couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't take it.

As she considered every possible scenario, her mobile rang. Turning, she knew before she gazed at it who it was. She couldn't handle talking to him now. The pain was just too much. Fixing her tea, she tried to ignore the call but hated herself for ignoring him.

As it rang once more, she slumped before answering. She had to face him sooner or later. She had to get this over with. Maybe he was just calling to talk, she nearly scoffed at the thought. He never called just to chat. He always wanted something. That's what hurt the most. The way he always seemed to know that she would do anything for him, all he had to do was ask. Today, unfortunately, was not good to ask for help. Irritation flooded her as she held the phone to her ear.

"What do you want, Sherlock, cause I'm not having a good day."

Listening to his words caused the knife to dig further in. How could he do this to her? Her feelings were not a game. They were real and deep. They were strong and unchanging. Tears choked her words.

"I can't say that to you."

"Why not?"

Oh dear, she thought. Why was he punishing her? Why were the fates putting her through this? "Bec…because it's…it's true, Sherlock. It's always been…true," she choked, trying to keep the tears at bay.

"If it's true then say it anyway."

She called him a strong name for putting her through this. Deep in her heart, she heard the pain in his tone. The urgency, replayed in her mind as she demanded he says it first. If he was going to make this into a game, no matter what he said, she needed to hear him say it, even if he didn't mean it. She needed to hear the words just once in her life.

He struggled on the other end of the line, and her heart skipped as she finally took in the feelings behind the words. One 'I love you' was sufficient, but she caught her breath when he said it a second time. It was the second one that did her in. She couldn't believe what she heard.

Did he feel it? Were they true? Sherlock was a tremendous actor. He could make anyone believe anything, but this time, Molly knew there was something more. He couldn't hide the fear in his tone. The emotions he carried within him, locked away from prying eyes. She swallowed, taking in the words, keeping them close in her heart, hugging it like the mobile in her hands. It was a memory she could live on, even if it was for a case or whatever he was up to.

She whispered the words, and the call ended, but not before she heard the words that chilled her heart, replacing it with fear.

"I saved Molly Hooper."

She lowered the mobile and stared at it for minutes. Saved Molly Hooper, she thought. What did he mean? The panic in his tone suggested something more to her as her mind continued to replay the conversation. What was going on? She needed answers. She needed to understand.

What was happening?

~XXX~

She listened on the other end of the call and held her breath as Mycroft explained in rushed tones what had happened.

"Is Sherlock, okay?"

"He's fine," Mycroft responded. "I imagine you want to see him."

"I do. Where is he?" she asked, hurriedly. She needed to see him. The call from Greg a few minutes prior told her Sherlock had been through hell. Now, his own brother confirmed it with more information. She felt comforted that Mycroft would tell her the details of their family and the ordeal they went through, but comfort aside, she needed to see him. In her heart, she had to see him.

She needed to ask him the most important question in her life. She listened to Mycroft's directions and quickly headed out the flat only to have a policeman waiting for her outside.

"I'm to take you to Sherlock I was told."

She only nodded, and never said a word as he drove her to the abandoned Holmes mansion. All the while her thoughts turned to the conversation with him. He had to have meant them, hadn't he? He couldn't have faked that much sincerity or emotion.

Her body shook as they arrived and she spotted him in the crowd. Tears fell down her face as she ran to him and felt his arms steady her. He was safe. He was here.

"I thought I lost you," she cried, softly."

"I'm fine, Molly."

She pulled back, showing him every emotion in her eyes, refusing to hide anything from him. He already knew it now. He knew she loved him. He knew everything.

"So, you know."

"I know." Mycroft wasn't one to give too many details, just the basics, and, honestly, she didn't want to know everything from him. She wanted to hear it from Sherlock. She needed to hear it from him. It was the only way to repair their relationship or at least move on into something deeper if she was reading the signs correctly. Although she could be hoping for too much, she was willing to take that chance.

She read the pain in his eyes and hated the reason. She was his friend, and she had been in danger. She knew from John, how much Sherlock hated putting friends in danger, but this pain was something more.

"I don't blame you, Sherlock."

He countered, but she wouldn't hear it. She couldn't. "Can we talk about it later?" She touched his face, trying to soothe the pain away. She glanced at his battered hands. "You need the hospital."

She heard the pleading, the sorrow, in his voice when he asked if she was angry. Yes, she was, in a way, but she couldn't focus on her anger for the moment. She needed to tend to his physical wounds. Later, she would tend to the emotional, but he needed help.

After tending to his hands as best she could, she remained by his side, grateful that he was alive and by her side. She wanted to question him about the events that led them there, but an ambulance was not the best place for answers. Not like the last time they were in an ambulance, she thought with a mild blush. A quick glance at Sherlock told her he was thinking of something entirely different. Soon, she would try to erase the pain in his eyes and comfort him as best as she was able.

She waited until they were alone in the examination room, and the silence could no longer be taken. He was avoiding her eyes, and she hated it. The shame and pain flowing off him were more than she could take. "Sherlock, look at me."

When his eyes lifted, she made sure all he would see was her understanding. She couldn't hurt him. No, his sister already hurt him. His sister toyed with his emotions by endangering his best friend and his brother and her. It was his sister who was the cause of it all, not Sherlock. Never Sherlock.

"Did you mean it?" she asked, thankful her words were not choked. His bandaged hands were cold and unsteady in her hands, but she refused to release them.

"Would it matter if I did?"

His posture relaxed at her question. She could tell he was grateful she didn't yell or reprimand him for putting her through an emotional upheaval. "You know it would."

As he confessed that she deserved someone better, she couldn't help remembering a similar conversation nearly a year prior when he suggested she needed someone who was not a sociopath. She smiled at the memory. "If I wanted someone better, I would have fallen in love with someone else, Sherlock."

She wanted him and no one else. Sherlock was the best person she knew. Smart, caring. Yes, he could be a douche, but she loved him. She loved everything about him.

"I've hurt you twice."

A tear trailed down her face. She knew what he was meaning, but the memory of being hurt by him at the Christmas party and the phone call was nothing if he didn't mean those three words. If he didn't mean them if he was playing her, then her heart would break more than ever and she doubted it would ever heal or be the same.

As he confessed, he meant them, she contained the joy in her heart, still reading the pain in Sherlock's eyes. Her forehead touched his and she held on to him. Staying close to him, never letting go for fear that it would be a dream and the change in their relationship would be nothing but a sweet, bitter wish.

As they rode to her flat, she recalled what Mycroft had said about Sherlock's flat, and smiled as she offered her spare room. She never changed it into the office she had planned, instead, she kept it up in the hopes that Sherlock would need it once again.

Besides, she needed the time alone with him. They needed to air out the elephant between them. She needed to know everything. It was the pain in his tone that pushed her to keep going. Not to judge or say something completely wrong and hurt both of them beyond repair.

The grip on her hand was calming, and she suspected he too wished it wasn't a dream. That alone gave her comfort. They settled in the living area, and she watched him as his eyes remained downcast, refusing to look at her. When he asked if she knew everything, she nodded but answered that his brother had explained everything. She left it hanging in the air that she wanted to know everything. She wanted to understand. She wanted Sherlock to explain it, not his brother, but him, Sherlock Holmes, the man she loved with all her heart.

As he poured out the story, she listened with sorry, anger, and heartache with each passing minute. She hated the torture he endured because of his sister. As he rounded the end of the tale, she understood everything. She understood what he said and did everything to ensure her safety. She read between the lines and saw the man who had kept his feelings in check and buried them for years only to have them released like a dam when he couldn't hold them back anymore. She saw everything.

She saw the love he carried within him. The newfound emotions only began to break through until there was only love stationed in his heart.

She knew he never wanted to hurt her or for her to be hurt. Even as he confessed it, she only smiled and responded she knew.

"I've done nothing but hurt you since we met."

"No, you haven't. You've only hurt me twice. Perhaps intentional, perhaps not, but you've never hurt me so bad that I couldn't forgive you." It was true. Love meant forgiving, but she wasn't sure if she could have forgiven him if he had played with her emotions.

"I don't deserve it."

"Yes, you do." She had to make him see it. She had to prove that he was worthy of love. He was worthy of everything good in this life, all he had to do was accept it. Emotions were a strength. They pushed people to carry on through the fight. They ensured success or ensured people could make it through the dark times.

"I thought you would hate me."

"For what? I could never hate you. No matter what hell you put me through."

"How can you?"

The choking in his tone made her heartache. She had to make him see. She had to make him understand. What she felt for him was not a fluke or infatuation. She honestly loved him. "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, you proved my point, because you risked everything to save me."

She listened as he explained the pain of John being in the bonfire and wanting to save him despite the consequences. He felt the same when he saw the coffin. He hated the feeling of losing her. The devastation in his voice brought the tears in her eyes and they streaked down her face. She couldn't have asked for anything more than the feeling of being loved in return for the first time in her life.

His hand wiped the tears from her cheeks, a tender action that surprised her. "You found it inside me, Molly Hooper, and I don't think I can suppress it now." He licked his lips, struggling with the words. "I don't want to because the pain would be worse than any gunshot or torture I've endured."

It was then she finally settled on the conclusion that he did mean it. He really did mean he loved her. He loved her so much that the thought of losing her drove him to rage. The hope in her reflected in her tone when she confessed that he did. She didn't hide the love in her eyes. Sherlock Holmes was the only man she would ever love. She knew it when she agreed to marry Tom. It was the pain of never having the man before her return her love. The engagement would not have lasted as Tom was a pale imitation of the real thing.

His lips touched hers and sparks tingled through her veins. Her heart pounded in her ears and she wanted more. She shivered with anticipation as his lips opened on hers, expressing the love and emotion in the only way he could for the moment. She felt her body being lifted and she sighed into his mouth when she landed on his lap. She wanted the closeness. She craved it. This kiss was deep, passionate, and held the longing between them could only be tempered by their love, and even then, it was hard to control.

She never dreamed this would happen. "Better than I dreamed," she admitted in a whisper. It was truly better than anything she could possibly conceive.

He pulled her close and she knew she could say the words and mean them with all her heart. "I love you, Sherlock."

He kissed her neck, and she shivered at the contact. It seemed so natural now, she thought. So natural to just hold him and love him like this. He drew back and searched her eyes. The emotion shining from his eyes made her feel humble. It was all for her. Every emotion was hers. "I love you, Molly Hooper," he whispered.

At that moment, she never felt so loved in all her life. Holding him close, she thought of a song that played on the radio when she was younger, and she couldn't stop the smile on her face as the words drifted to her mind into her heart.

"She finds good in everything…Just see the love she found in me."

Please be kind!

The Next, and Final, Part will be up in a few days!

Until Next Time...