Later that night all of the guests have taken their leave and John bids goodbye to his friend, carrying a sleeping Rosamund on his shoulder. He claps Sherlock's shoulder ad sighs. "I'll see you later, mate. I'm glad Molly is going to stay for the night, I know you're having a tough time with the loss and I'm glad you can recognize when it's a danger night by now."

Sherlock nods solemnly and kisses Rosie's head. "I'll see you both later. Thanks again for earlier."

"Of course. That's what friends are for, right?"

"Right...goodbye John."

"Bye, Sherlock." John exits with Rosie and gets her into her car seat before driving away in his small car.

Sherlock returns to his flat and flops down into his chair silently, contemplating how things can possibly continue to run smoothly without Mrs. H here. Hell, who will remind him to eat? There is nobody to bring him breakfast in the morning or nibbles in the middle of a case when he doesn't even realize he needs the sustenance. Is he supposed to just do these things himself now? How is he going to remember to do all that plus work his cases? That's next to impossible.

Burying his face in his hands, his eyes well up with tears again and he does his best to choke back a sob. He always was a bit cognizant that this day would come, but he certainly hasn't imagined that it would be this soon with how active and healthy she seemed to be. Damned sickness. He doesn't even notice when Molly walks into the room and turns on the kettle in her ink robe.

"How about a cuppa, Sherlock? Might calm your nerves a little, hm?", she says softly, imagining how utterly broken he is over her death.

"Hm?", he looks up and realizes Molly is there and quickly rubs his face. "Oh, um...fine." He blinks quickly at how she looks. He has seen her in sleepwear before obviously, but her hair is hanging down in beautiful waves and has a reddish tint to it. It's very rare that he sees her with her hair down and not up, but he secretly adores it that way. It frames her face and does her features more justice.

Molly nods and works on the tea in his small kitchen as he sulks but subtly keeps an eye on her. He remembers a conversation he had with Mrs. H a few weeks ago when she was in bed and he and John would bring her things, despite his hesitancy to see her in that state. He wouldn't have admitted it, but seeing her sickly really bothered him, as that wasn't the woman he knew her to be.

{"Here you are, Hudders. Drink your tea now. It may not be as good as yours, but it's the thought that counts, right?"

"Ohh Sherlock...", she smiles tiredly, patting his hand. "You didn't have to go through the trouble."

"It wasn't any trouble. Plus, I think I owe you more than a cuppa or two."

Mrs. Hudson looks at him sadly and sits up a bit weakly with his help, sipping on the tea. "You know, I won't be around forever. In fact, if I'm being truthful, I'm not so sure I'll be getting over this one."

"Don't say that. You'll be fine. That's the end of it."

"Sherlock." She places her hand over his again and gives it a gentle squeeze. "I know it's not the easiest thing to talk about but...I've spoken to John too, and Dottie. It's a very real possibility. I know you try to be the strong, tough, unfeeling hulk of a man to do your best work, to keep yourself in check as best as you can. But I've known you since you were a young lad. I know you're not all stone-cold like you pretend to be."

Sherlock sighs and looks at their hands, an unfamiliar feeling of tightness in his throat forming. The kind of sadness he had gotten when Mary had died, and back when Redbeard had died. "I can't talk about it, because it's not going to happen."

Martha strokes his hand gently as a mother would. "I thank you for having so much confidence in me, but I'm a little old lady dear. Little old ladies, unfortunately, have an expiration date. Sherlock, I've lived a long time. I've had a good run. You and John and your friends, they gave me a purpose to hang around so long, you know. When my boys died, and my husband was jailed for being a part of it...with the cartel and everything, I didn't think I'd ever get over that."

He looks up at her, a boyishly sad puppy dog look in his eyes. "He deserved to be executed for what he had done to you and your sons."

"Yes, I know. I thank you for that. What I'm saying is...you and John were like my other sons. You gave me purpose. You kept me on my toes. You're...you're my boys." She tears up and Sherlock uses every bit of willpower inside of him not to crack.

"We'll always be your boys, Mrs. Hudson. Blood or no. You kept us right. Me especially. And I-...", he takes a deep breath, a look of guilt on his face.

"No need to say it, I already know. Plus, what type of secondary motherly relation would I have been to you if we hadn't argued some of the time, hm?"

Sherlock sniffs and nods slowly. "I suppose so. But there were times I was unjustly cruel and...you didn't deserve that."

"You were going through some of the toughest times of your life then, and I knew that. I don't hold anything against you, Sherlock. In fact, I'm sure our little tiffs helped keep me going as long as I did."

Sherlock side hugs her and kisses the top of her head. "You will beat this, Hudders. And we will both look like fools for this entire conversation months from now."

"Maybe you're right. But if not, I'm glad you decided to come chat. I know it's definitely not your favorite activity."

He smirks a bit. "No, not really. But sometimes necessary."

"So while we are chit-chatting, and since I may expire, tell me something, won't you?"

Sherlock sighs in disdain. "What?"

"You do know about Molly, don't you?"

"Know about her?", he looks confused.

Even in her weakened state, she manages a laugh. "Oh, you poor dear."

"I-I don't..."

"She loves you; you clot."

Suddenly it clicks and his face lights up with understanding. "Ah...that...well...yes..."

"So? If you and John aren't..."

"Dear God...no, we are not."

"Then...", she makes a funny motion. "Molly is a sweetheart. I've seen her put you in your place her fair share of times too. You need a strong one like that with your personality."

"Mrs. Hudson, while I am flattered that you've taken it upon yourself, as have John, and Greg, and frankly, Mary...emotionally intimate attachment is not my-"

"Oh stop that. Stop using big words and scientific statements to try and convince yourself that you have absolutely no desire for companionship. I was there remember? When John got married. How scared you were that you may lose your best friend. You didn't. But he does have a child and his own home now. You can't tell me that 221B isn't getting lightly lonely without a flatmate? You don't exactly enjoy being alone as much as you believe you do. Don't you at least want someone who understands you? I saw you with John and Mary. I saw the look in your eyes when they had cute spousal moments."

"That was not any desire to have those myself."

"I think you're lying. You're just too afraid to be vulnerable. To anyone. But Sherlock, having that one person you /can/ be vulnerable with. That one person that you can trust with every single fiber of your being...it's...it's a feeling of relief like no other. Molly is good for you. You may not see that completely, and yes, she is morbid and sciencey and bless her heart very clumsy and awkwardly shy at times. But she is a good balance for you. It's crazy how much you don't see that you're more like than you think. Aside from her being shy and you clearly never being very shy, you have similar interests. You're both fiercely protective. You're both extremely intelligent, and as I said before, morbid. What with you putting body parts in my fridge and her willingly smuggling them to you. Yes, I know about that, you don't get much past me, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock swallows and sighs. "Thank you, Mrs. H but...Molly is just...a good friend."

"A good friend? That's all. For god's sake, she bloody saved your life. Despite our anger at keeping that secret for years, she did that for you. She suppressed her morals to keep you safe. Not only that but how many times has she saved you from a bloody overdose, hm? And how many times has she sacrificed her plans and her weekends and her dates so she could come and babysit you to make sure that you were okay and safe?"

"I-I know...and I have thanked her for all of these things. I assure you."

"And then you go and get yourself in a sticky situation with your horrid sister, mind you. And you let her believe that you were truthful. You let her bear her very heart and soul in front of a group of people that think hardly anything of her, John included. I know you believed you were saving her. But can you tell me that you didn't feel a thing when you said those words back to her?"

Sherlock swallows hard. "I had to..."

"Yes...but you didn't have to say it twice, did you? John told me the whole story and so did Molly. Now, let's say for argument's sake you said it again to convince her more with your gracious acting skills. It wasn't going to slow the timer, and John said she was pretty convinced the first time. But that was because she never believed you meant it, Sherlock. She just wanted to know what it would sound like coming from your lips because it's something that seems impossible to her. After all she's been through, both with you and in her personal life, that fiasco with Thomas, she believes it's impossible at this point for her to be loved. "

"That's ridiculous...I-I did convince her. That's why she was saved...at first."

"No, it's not. Molly confides in me too. A lot more than you think."

"She's my friend. I care about her. I want her to be happy. She'll...she'll find someone."

"Will she? You think she will find someone that understands her and her career better than you? Do you think it's easy for her to convince ordinary men to date a woman who cuts up cadavers all day? Because I can tell you right now that I could tell you some of the horror stories she has confided in me of how those men had treated her after finding out what she does for a living, and it's far from kind. Luckily, she knows that her worth is determined by more than a man."

"I'm not into that...scene, so I don't know what 'ordinary' idiots are like, and frankly I don't care. She's the one that wants one."

"No, Sherlock. That's what I'm trying to get into your thick skull. She wants /you/."

"Well, she shouldn't. Everybody knows I'm not capable of that."

"Of love? Sherlock, you are more than capable of love. As I said, you're just too damn afraid, dear. Unless it's not fear. You could just be like any ordinary man who looks at her and sees a boring, average, flat-chested woman whose looks are nothing special to look at."

"Hey! That's not true. I may have said some damn mean things to her before, but I never meant them, and she is a lot more than her looks. Plus, her looks are not bad at all. Her skin happens to be flawless; her hair has the tiniest bit of auburn streaks in it that sparkles slightly in the sun, her eyes look like a melting honey pot on a warm day when she is concerned about something, her size is perfect for her proportions, and being small-chested is actually very helpful for her job. I thought you were her friend, why would you vouch for her and then say such things?"

Mrs. Hudson giggles softly and rolls her eyes. "Oh, you sucker. You came so very very quickly to her defense."

Sherlock groans and huffs. "Mean."

"Clever though. You taught me some tricks along the way, but as clever as you are, you still fall for my reverse psychology from time to time. It's actually quite endearing."

"Yes well...as I said. She's a good friend."

"Whatever you say, Sherlock. Just remember, everything on her side was raw truth. She does love you."

"Well I never asked her to", he mumbles.

"Maybe not. Though speaking from experience, your soft side is a bit endearing and makes it hard not to love you, even at your worst."

"Hudderssss."

She smiles and sips her tea, then coughs into her handkerchief quite violently. Sherlock looks concerned and places a hand on her back. "Mrs. Hudson?"

Martha calms after a moment and takes shallow breaths. "It's alright, dear. I think I may need some rest now though."

"Of course. I'll let you be." Sherlock sets the teacup down at her bedside and helps her lie down, then makes sure she has enough blankets over her. She drifts off to sleep quite quickly and he runs his hands through his hair, tearing up a bit.}

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" Molly's voice startles him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see her standing over him with his teacup.

"Oh...er...right, thanks", he murmurs, taking it from her.

"Mind palace?"

"Mhh."

She nods slowly and sits in the new yellow chair that they had added to 221B after Eurus had blown it up. "Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright. Well...I suppose I'll head upstairs to bed. Let me know if you need anything okay?"

Sherlock looks up at her, his kaleidoscope eyes gleaming sadly. "Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Why do you do this?"

She looks a bit confused. "Do...do what?"

"This. Stay. Y'know...babysit me. You have a life that I'm surely taking you away from."

Molly's expression softens. "Well, um...you're my friend. That's what friends do. They protect each other and...and they stay when needed. You need someone right now. And I don't have a child, and John does, so...I'm the best candidate to help."

"But why? Surely you have better things to do."

Molly fidgets with her hands. "Not really...but even if I did, I mean...you matter to me. I know you're taking this hard. She was like a second mother to you. I didn't want you to be alone."

{"Unmarried, practical about death, alone"} The words echo in his mind, and it suddenly dawns on him that those exact statements pertain to himself as well. Hell, they pertained to Mrs. H too, to a degree. {"...alone."} He shakes his head to put it out of his mind, but Mrs. Hudson's voice comes to play as well. {"You don't exactly enjoy being alone as much as you believe you do."}

He set his jaw a bit. "I don't mind being alone. Why would anyone mind being alone? Quiet, calm, peaceful." {"Look at that Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful...isn't it -hateful?-"}

Sherlock grumbles to himself and Molly nods slowly. "Alight, Sherlock. I'll be going upstairs then. Try to get some sleep after your tea. I know it's a lot to ask of you, but you should try."

She gives him a sympathetic look then makes her way to the door to head upstairs. "Just so you know, I've seen you at your worst before. Emotions don't scare me. They may seem rare coming from you, but they don't scare me. You don't have to hide yourself away inside your mind. Maybe it's really hard for you to express them because I know you're hesitant about vulnerability. But there is nobody here but me, and if I'm allowed an opinion, I think I've more than proved myself worthy of your trust over the last near-decade. You don't have to hide from me if you don't want to or can't help it at any point. It is okay to miss her. It is okay to cry. It is okay to lean on someone. Plus, I'm not one to gossip, especially about the people I care about. Just some food for thought."

Once the last bit of pink robe disappears from his sight, he holds his head in his hands and his heart sinks. Sadness, hurt, confusion, and worry pool in the pit of his stomach.