Author's Note: Hello everyone!

Happy Friday! Thank you to all those who take the time to leave a comment. I appreciate it. It makes me understand the audience's POV and it gives me great insight. So really and truly, THANK YOU. And a special mention to the ones who leave kudos, and to anyone who happens to like my story. I'm grateful.

The story is almost done and there are only a few more chapters left. I hope you guys can stick around until the end!

Okay, now back to the story. We pick up right after Molly confronts Sherlock. Let's see what Sherlock has to say now. I really hope you enjoy this.

xx,

Tumbleweed_professor

SHERLOCK

It's because you won't love me and you won't let anyone else love me either!

Sherlock wondered how and when things went spectacularly wrong in his life. In all his existence he had held on to the one thing that he wore like a suit of armor. His lack of sentiment made him invincible. He slew dragons because it gave him a kick, it's the drug that kept him away from real narcotics. He chased criminals, not for the good of the world. NO. He did it because it made him feel incredible. Indestructible. The kind of high cocaine or heroin could never be able to replicate. He never let feelings muddle his work. It was that kind of discipline he counted on when he worked on a case.

Detachment from sentiment always worked in his favor. Besides, sentiments made humans vulnerable, and vulnerability led people to become prey, and that was something Sherlock abhorred more than anything in this world.

Well...

Until now.

Until a couple of years back, because Eurus had seen to that. She had unlocked a part of Sherlock that he had no idea existed. A part that was broken beyond repair and yet somehow fully functional and capable of showing love and warmth.

The space he believed was an empty cavity, was now brimming with emotions to the point of bursting. The heart he denied having thumped strongly under his rib. The sentiments he declared untrue stroked him obscenely. Unwittingly he cataloged the pulse that skittered across Molly's wrist. Roses and formaldehyde assaulted his senses and he remembered how she felt pressed tightly against him. Warm and soft. And so feminine.

Emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you every time… Eurus jeered maniacally in his head.

If Sherlock were to deduce himself right this minute, he'd say he was completely disoriented and a little bit daft for falling in love. Time stood still as he gave her a furtive look. He had purposely sabotaged her relationship, used cruelty to push her over the edge, and kept hurting her until his own hurt had dissolved. The hand that still held her trembled. He had finally done the despicable. He had become the man who he scoffed he would never become. He let himself become human. Petty jealousy and anger had obscured his judgment and he closed his eyes as remorse threaded through his veins. He let go of her immediately.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Molly."

Sherlock took several steps away from her to put some healthy distance between them and watched her go taut as a violin string. She still had her back to him and Sherlock vaguely wondered if it was legal for a woman to wear a t-shirt that ridiculous, and yet look this appetizing. He squashed that thought immediately and admonished his unstable brain for even bringing that up.

Molly's stillness ruffled him. It was usually he who made people uncomfortable. Not the other way around. Tension as thick as fog permeated every corner and sucked the oxygen out of the room. He felt stifled. Suffocated. And when Molly failed to respond after several painful minutes, he broke down.

"Would you feel better if you were to hit me again? I promise I won't stop you this time."

Molly turned around. Her eyes, her beautiful warm eyes, stared back at him flatly. Her cheeks were ruddy and splotchy from the tears and her nose was a brilliant shade of pink. Sherlock cursed under his breath. He'd done that. Again.

"What do you want from me, Sherlock?"

Sherlock did a double-take. Her simple question caught him off guard and he said the first thing that came to his mind.

"For you to be happy."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to have said because some of the fire came back into her eyes. She pointed an accusing finger at him.

"No. Not for me. From me. Because if you wanted me to be happy, and if that was even remotely true, I wouldn't be standing here with a broken engagement and no one but you to blame."

Sherlock recoiled. She hadn't raised her voice, and he realized with a start that she didn't have to. Her words pierced him and the irrefutable truth leered back at him. She was not just angry, she was beyond shattered.

The man who sees through everything ... is exactly the man who doesn't notice… Eurus' voice taunted him again.

"Tell me how to fix this," he asked her helplessly, letting the disgust he felt towards him roll freely in his stomach.

Molly shook her head ruefully.

"I asked Tom the very same thing only a few hours back, and guess what, he still left me." She scrubbed her hands over her face as she lowered herself to the floor. Sitting crisscrossed, she worried the scuffed edges of her t-shirt inanimately. "Tom refused to tell me what you told him last night. If you really want to fix this, start with that."

Sherlock felt his body turn ice cold, as though he was immersed in frigid water. His tongue turned thick in his mouth. He was not under the influence of alcohol or drugs and the bravado he had felt last night deserted him completely. He suddenly wished he had John by his side. He desperately wished he had taken upon John's offer to discuss relationships and feelings. Terror flickered dully within him as he ran through all the possible scenarios in his head and forlornly realized none of them held any appeal to him. Like he had said to John before, he really didn't want to feel like this. Besides, Molly deserved true happiness. And despite what John might say, Sherlock didn't want to be embroiled in a romantic relationship. No matter what, no matter how much it hurt, he simply wouldn't give in to it. Because he can't be what Molly wants and that was the unrefined truth.

He cleared his throat unnecessarily.

Molly looked up from where she sat. She looked impossibly small in that baggy t-shirt. Her legs, good god her legs... were folded neatly beneath her and her frame was silhouetted against the sunlight that slanted through the small window behind her. Hair askew, pale skin gleaming gold, delicate features begging to be traced. And for a brief second, he indulged his mind to capture her, and the poignant beauty of it made his stomach clench painfully. But Sherlock snapped back almost instantly and he steeled himself to do what was required.

"I had one too many beers. John and Tom were already well past the stage of slightly tipsy. I think they were talking about love, I'm not entirely sure. I think Tom was feeling a bit adventurous and asked me if I'd ever been in love." Sherlock paused to glance at the phone that vibrated noisily on the desk. He didn't answer it. "I wanted to do a little experiment. Test the strength of the human mind when it is under influence. I wanted to know if one had the capacity to recall conversations that were had during a period of intoxication. Clearly, Tom has a sharp mind if he was able to remember everything the day after. I promise you, Molly, it was nothing but a rubbish experiment and I'm sorry he misinterpreted my words."

Sherlock looked down at his foot as shame wrapped him in a greasy hug. Sickened by his own words, he hopelessly waited for Molly to do something.

"Did you tell him that you were in love with me?"

He looked up so fast that for a second he worried he might have dislocated his head from his neck. Molly's face was devoid of any emotion and he frantically floundered for a way to deny her accusation, so he dived headfirst into ruthless logic.

"I spoke in vague terms. No names were mentioned. Clearly, it was distasteful humor and I certainly regret it now. I honestly don't understand why his mind jumped to you."

A flash of hurt and venom sizzled in her eyes before her gaze turned perceptive. She gave him a long purposeful look. Sherlock felt caged and scrutinized and he desperately wanted a hit. He thought about the small stash hidden away in his coat lining, and his hands itched to take it and flee. He wanted something, anything, to stave off this void of despair that consumed him.

After what felt like an eternity, Molly stood up and walked towards him in a dream-like state and only stopped when there was nothing but a few inches between them. Through pure will he adamantly stayed right where he was and watched her through guarded eyes.

"You are a lot of things Sherlock, but I didn't think coward would be one," she said softly. Sherlock narrowed his eyes as a hint of heat returned to them. He'd been called a coward twice today and he didn't like the way it felt, but Molly paid no heed to his rising temper. She continued on, placidly. "I know you are in love with me." Sherlock's heart slammed into his ribs. "And I also know how it haunts you because you don't want to be in love with me. And that's okay. That's okay because I don't have to do anything to make you suffer. My simple existence is more than enough to do just that." Her eyes glimmered with womanly secrets that terrified him. She went on her toes. Her breath whispered over his lips warmly and a delirious need to close the gap swamped him. "You'll think about me, Sherlock. When you are out solving a case. When you are home, doing one of your experiments. When you are composing music. When you are simply breathing. You'll think about me. And that's enough for me. Knowing that you are punished by my thoughts, knowing that you spend your nights wondering about me... For now, that's enough for me."

Molly eased back without breaking eye contact, and Sherlock, the man capable of outwitting any smart arse, stood paralyzed to the spot as his brain short-circuited. How had he not seen this coming? Molly has never backed down before, not when that fateful phone call happened, and he certainly should have known she wouldn't now. She smiled, and the knowledge and power behind it made his heart skip several beats. Oh, he knew all about seduction, The Woman had taught him enough for him to recognize it at face value, but it was the first time in his life he felt seduced. His pulse rate spiked beneath his skin and his trousers felt one size too small on him. Molly retreated to the bedroom door but paused to look at him once more.

"Your phone is ringing nonstop. Go on your adventures Sherlock Holmes, and try not to botch up any case that comes your way, because I'll be there, in your head, invading your space, your mind palace. And I'll take comfort in knowing that there are no bolt holes anywhere on earth that could possibly protect you from me."

With that, she let herself out of the room and closed the door gently behind her back. Sherlock stared open-mouthed at the door like an idiot and simply forgot how to breathe. Only the angry buzz of his phone broke him out of his stupor. He snatched it from his desk and answered it irritatedly,

"I just saw you not too long ago. What do you want? "

"Well hello to you too, mate," Lestrade said cheerily which caused Sherlock to gnash his teeth. "I've got another case for you, care to stop by the office?"

"Send me the details, I'm not coming in for a case that doesn't qualify at least-"

"Yeah seven, I know. I'm sending you the report now."

Sherlock disconnected the call before the DI could say something fatuous. His phone buzzed again and he opened Lestrade's email. He read through it without actually understanding its content. Scowling, he tried again, but all he could see was Molly's smile. Mysterious and taunting. The words on the phone transformed into hers as his mind still reverberated from the shock of it. Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. Beneath all the displeasure and annoyance and the mad animalistic urge he felt, he grudgingly acknowledged Molly's dare. Bemusedly, he noted that the woman he had dealt with tonight was not Molly Hooper who would do his bidding mindlessly. No. The woman who stopped by today was not someone you trifled with. She was no fool and suffered none. A reluctant smile tugged Sherlock's lips as he called Lestrade to let him know he'd be there in twenty minutes.

MOLLY

Molly walked out on jelly legs. She had no idea what possessed her to say those things. Her knees buckled, and she hurried out before he could catch up with her. As she jogged down the stairs she came across John sitting on the bottom of the stairs. He turned around and Molly felt an apology tumbling out of her mouth.

"I'm so sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be short with you. I was just-"

But John cut her off swiftly. He got to his feet and gave her a quick study.

"Never mind that, are you okay Molly? You were ready to murder him and I-" his eyes passingly glanced at her left hand. He growled and tried to move past her. "I'm going to kill him."

Molly stopped him.

"Don't. I took care of it." When John's eyes widened in alarm, she huffed out a laugh. "No. What I meant was I spoke to him. He is alive, John," she explained wryly.

"Oh god, Molly."

Molly pursed her lips as compassion filled his eyes.

"Don't pity me, John. I'm not the one to be pitied," she said hotly. "He is going to come thundering down any minute. I think Greg has a case for you both. Besides, I honestly don't feel like dealing with him again. Give my love to Rosie." She pressed a small kiss to his stubbled cheek.

John nodded. He gave her a hard hug that had Molly blinking back tears.

"I'll stop by soon. Then we can both shit on him over a glass of wine."

Molly laughed. The sound felt so foreign to her ears. She gave him a grateful nod. They both looked up as they heard the distinct thud of his footsteps coming down the stairs.

"That's my cue to leave," she said before she slipped out the front door quietly.

Molly dropped her keys on the entry table and looked around her empty flat. While she had been gone, someone had stopped by to take Tom's belongings, and that someone had not been particularly careful with her things. She sighed. She crouched down to pick up the pieces of a broken vase from the kitchen floor. She didn't blame whoever did this. Truth to be told, she had it coming. Once she threw away the broken shards, she assessed her surroundings for further damage. When she found none, she pulled out a bottle of wine and uncorked it.

Taking a healthy swig directly from the bottle, she slouched back into her bedroom and blinked when she saw none of Tom's stuff scattered around the room. His side of the wardrobe was cleaned out completely except for a few hangers. Molly bit her bottom lip to stop herself from bawling at the sight of it. She placed the wine bottle on the side table and stripped down to her underwear. She had plenty of time in the near future to analyze why her mouth went rogue today. Perhaps she would later understand why she said those things to him. She'd later realize that she had witnessed the truth fleetingly mar his striking face. She'd later recognize the look in his eyes when he had lied to her. But for now, she was too broken to see. She didn't care to feel. She was bone tired and her brain felt like mush. Opening the bathroom door, she carried the bottle with her to soak her body in a warm bath until the aching sorrow faded away.

So what did you think about our homegirl? She is spirited, isn't she? She will never back down without a proper fight. Leave your thoughts in the comment section below!

Thank you again for coming along with me on this journey!

xx