AUTHOR'S NOTE: Just wanted to send virtual hugs to everyone who came aboard this roller coaster of a journey. Thank you! Without you, I wouldn't be here. xx

So, we saw what happened to Tom and Molly. I was on the fence on whether or not they should have a terrible fight. But in the end, I chose not to add that element, I wanted to explore the idea of amicable breakups and see if that made sense because I truly believe Tom to be the most sensible one here. I hope you guys saw it the way I did!

Anyway... Now we see what Sherlock and John have to say on this subject. I hope this makes sense as well. Let me know your thoughts down below. Good, bad, constructive criticism, all are welcome. I appreciate you taking the time to read my work. Sending you all love and I hope you guys are staying safe during these turbulent times.

xx,

Tumbleweed_professor

SHERLOCK

When Sherlock reluctantly trudged into the kitchen, he saw John sitting at the table with the newspaper spread in front of him and a cup of tea in his hands. There was an assortment of mince pies and pastries on the table along with a pitcher of something fruity that Sherlock eyed dubiously.

The Benson burner and all of his usual clutter were pushed haphazardly to one side of the table and the hand he had left out to document various stages of rotting was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is my hand?" he barked at John.

"It's right where you want it, mate. Attached to your shoulders." John didn't even bother to look up. He idly turned the pages of the paper as he took another sip of his tea.

"Oh haha, I'm John Watson, I'm so funny. I can't wait to make it my profession," Sherlock mocked as he opened and closed the cabinets furiously.

"It's in the freezer."

"I was documenting the progress of rotting flesh. Now I have to start all over again!" he spat angrily as he yanked the freezer door open.

John folded the paper and leaned back in his chair.

"Is that what you were doing all night? I heard you rustling around."

Sherlock threw the partially frozen hand into the bin and rounded on John.

"Yes. Hours of work have just been reduced to nothing. Who did this? Was it Hudders?"

But John just shrugged looking entirely unsympathetic with Sherlock's plight.

Sherlock snatched a random cup from the cabinet and poured himself a cup of tea. Leaning against the kitchen counter he fumed in silence and tried very hard to remember why he thought having friends was such a great idea.

"So are we going to talk about it?" John asked as he blew on the steam over his cup.

"Talk about what?"

John gave a slow nod.

"Alright, so you want to play the "I don't know what you are talking about," card."

Sherlock instantly retreated into his mind palace. On the one hand, if he pretended like nothing monumental happened, he could possibly infuriate his friend, which would eventually make him give up, but on the other hand, it sounded rather laborious and he had better things to do than fend off his friend's pesky nagging. Sherlock weighed his options. He decided to go with the risky option number two.

"It was a moment of weakness. It won't happen again."

A muscle twitched in John's jaw and he put his cup down with a clank.

"So you are taking the coward's route."

Sherlock bared his teeth.

"Don't call me a coward."

"You are if you blame it on something else." John folded his hands over the table. "You are if you think you can get away with lying."

Sherlock turned away as cold fury erupted in his stomach. He moved over to the sink to dump the tea that now tasted like dirt in his mouth and took his time answering.

"What do you want, John?"

"Why are you doing this to yourself?"

Sherlock wiped his hands on the towel hanging from the oven rack. He knew he was wading into dangerous waters that he had no prior experience in.

"What do you want me to do? Go over to their place and apologize to them? Don't be ridiculous," he said, barely able to conceal his temper.

"To be honest, I think it is a bit late for that, you cock."

"You are making it sound a lot worse than it really is. Let it go, John." But for reasons he'd rather not understand, Sherlock didn't meet his friend's eyes.

John's face hardened and he banged one fist on the table, rattling the assortment of plates and cups that sat on top of it.

"Bollocks! You should have thought about that before you let your mouth run loose. Do you think Tom won't be able to piece it together? Give that man some credit, he's not daft like you presume him to be."

Sherlock felt grief and remorse wage a losing battle in his mind. He knew John was right. He also knew that he had royally fucked up and he didn't need his best friend to point that out. But his misplaced pride and arrogance didn't let him concede.

"I'm going to say this once. Just once. What I said was in fact born out of a momentary lapse of sanity. That's all. We are not going to discuss this any further. I don't like being boxed in and I highly suggest you stop hounding me regarding this."

They both glared at each other for a long moment before John spoke up.

"Fine. Then I'll say something as well, and we will never discuss this again. What you did was incredibly stupid and just plain wrong. You had all these years, Sherlock! All these fucking years to do something about it. And yet, your timing is bloody miscalculated mate. How do you think this is going to end? How do you think Molly is going to feel once this blows over? How are you going to handle this when you are forced to face the truth?" John leapt to his feet and started pacing angrily while Sherlock let his friend's blunt words annihilate him. John came to a halt by the kitchen doors and clenched and unclenched his fists agitatedly.

"But I'll also tell you this. Whatever happens, however terrible the consequences are, I hope you will try. And when it comes down to that, I want you to do better. I know you have your reasons and god knows I don't understand them. But I wish you will try to acknowledge the weight of your words and give this a chance. Loving someone is not a burden. It is not something you dissect like a fucking case. Just because you love her doesn't automatically mean she is doomed. Because guess what? She was doomed the day she became your friend. Oddly enough though, none of that matters. Whether or not you want to pursue her, that's entirely up to you. But remember this, she will always have a target on her back. And the most heartbreaking part about all of it? She still wouldn't stop choosing you. No matter the repercussions, she'd never stop choosing you. That's who Molly is. Loyal to a fault with a spine of steel. You don't find something so rare and precious only to be a coward and throw it all away. Besides, how do you even know if love is dangerous when you've never felt it before? Don't jump to conclusions without doing the actual work, Sherlock."

John panted harshly as he ended his rant and if Sherlock was stunned into silence he didn't let it reflect on his face. John's words vibrated in his head like a damn foghorn, but he simply tucked it into the dark corners of his mind palace.

"Alright, you had your say. I had mine." John gave an exasperated huff that he ignored stolidly. "Now, Lestrade has a case for us, do you want to come?"

John looked like he was struggling not to hit Sherlock. He paced back and forth a couple more times before he said yes in a clipped tone. Maybe John had a point, Sherlock admitted. But he knew better because he was neither a coward nor a romantic. He was simply a realist. And realists hardly ever spent their time daydreaming about sentiments and love.

So? What did you guys think? Let me know! Kudos and comments are always appreciated and welcomed.

Oh, and the next one is going to be EXPLOSIVE. Sherlock and Molly are going to come face to face. I hope you guys are ready for it!

xx