When Sherlock arrives home at 221 Baker Street later that evening, he makes his way up the steps to 221B and is instantly hit with the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal, (it smells like stuffed chicken, Sherlock notes). Making his way into the sitting room, he peers into the kitchen but sees it empty; not the image of Molly preparing dinner that he's become so accustomed to in her stay there.

Draping his Belstaff on its rightful place on his coatrack, and tossing his suitcoat onto his chair, he calls out her name curiously. After a moment he hears a small scuffling noise in the hall as she appears at the top of the second landing, dragging her duffel bag along with her. He tries his best to make sure the disappointment doesn't show on his face, but it must have, as she immediately catches onto it.

Tugging on the handles of her bag, she reaches the bottom of the stairs and the entryway of the sitting room, finally plopping it down in front of her feet. "Sherlock? What's wrong? How did the trip to Sherrinford go?"

"N-Nothing is wrong", he clears his throat. "It was fine...interesting, enlightening. To say the least, but then...Eurus is complicated."

"Right, yeah. Are you sure you're okay though? You look shaken up, which isn't like you usually."

"Yes, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

"As you said, Eurus is complicated. Anything happen when you were there?"

"Why are you questioning me like this?", he grumbles angrily.

"You don't have to get so defensive; I'm just concerned about you. You seem a bit shaken up. But it's fine anyway, I think it's time for me to go back to my place. You can handle yourself; I believe that. And if you truly need me, you know where I live, hm?"

Sherlock takes a shuddering breath and sinks into his black, leather chair like a lump.

"Sherlock...how about I grab you some of the dinner I put in the fridge for you, and we can just...talk? Can we do that?"

He looks up at her, a childlike confusion and fear in his eyes as he nods in the affirmative.

Leaving the luggage that she had accumulated over the week by the front entrance of the flat, she walks over to him and sits in John's chair. "So...do you want to tell me what that outburst was all about?"

Sherlock mumbles something incoherently and curls up on his chair even tighter. It always bewildered Molly how such a tall man can curl into such a small ball.

"I didn't quite catch that."

The response again is nothing but low mumbles that she can't make out. Sighing, she looks him in the eye. She finds her mind wandering to how much she'd love to run her fingers through his curls, but quickly shakes her thoughts away from that and back to the matter at hand.

"Sherlock, if we aren't going to have an adult conversation, I can just go." Rising out of the seat, she turns to head back towards her luggage, but a strong, pale hand catches her wrist.

"No, don't go."

Molly turns back and looks at him. "Alright...tell me what's wrong."

"You."

"Me?"

"Yes, you", he grumbles. "Always you."

Her cheeks blush slightly but she pulls a confused face. "I-I don't understand."

"I think I love you okay!?", he shouts annoyedly, ruffling his hair in frustration. "Every damn thing points to that fact and I-I can't deny it any longer, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it, and Eurus knew that and she knew I was going to have to make a choice and it's impossible and I can't. I can't make that choice, Molly."

Molly is taken aback and opens her mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of her. Sherlock huffs annoyedly and gently pulls her back to John's chair to sit. Finally finding her voice, Molly clears her throat. "Wh-what choice, Sherlock?", she asks in a small voice.

"What choice? THE choice! The ultimate choice! This is a matter of life-changing proportions!"

"Sherlock...", Molly says calmly, gently sliding her wrist out of his grip until their hands intertwine instead. "...just take a deep breath and tell me what the choice is. What did Eurus tell you?"

"Only the truth...and...maybe in another world, I could give us a chance, but I-I can't. Because in this world I'm not the type of man you should want, nor the type that you truly deserve. And maybe I'm just saying that because we all know how utterly selfish and rude I am as a person, but that's just another reason why we wouldn't work."

"You...you really do...love...me?"

"Yes, Molly, weren't you listening? I've known for over a year now but that doesn't change the fact that I ignored it for good reason, and that I must going forward. It won't work for multitudes of reasons, and I think you know that as well."

"Don't I get a say in this?"

"I'm doing this to protect you, believe me."

"Oh, rubbish! I can protect myself; I have been for nearly twenty damn years now. You're doing this to protect yourself because you're scared of what being in a good relationship will do to your reputation or your ego or your 'domestication' status, or all three."

His body retracts slightly further back into the cushion of his chair as if he were physically wounded. "But...Eurus is right. If I start down that path of /domestication/, of pure emotion and attaching myself like that, I'll lose my reputation. I'll lose what makes me one of the best detectives in London. I'll lose everything I stand for, Molly."

It's Molly's turn to look wounded as her eyes cast downwards and her hands start to fiddle. "If that's how you truly feel about me after all these years, I don't think it would work anyway. Y'know, I have stood by you through everything, even when you were first starting out, I vocally cheered you on whether you wanted me to or not. I have been there through your whole bloody journey of becoming the kind of detective and man you are today and building this reputation you have. So it's very hurtful that you'd think I'd ruin everything for you. It's disappointing too."

"I'm sorry...I-I didn't mean that you would ruin anything. I just don't know if I could balance both and be, essentially, two different people to the public and around you and our other friends. I have a hard enough time maintaining respect within the London community with all of the scandals I have been involved with, regardless of the fact that the general public will never know the intricate details of them or why what I do is usually necessary."

"I know that you are afraid of intimacy and love. I know that you feel like maybe you don't deserve it. But I've seen the side of you that still craves it, that still wants to love and be loved. The side that shows your vulnerability in moments so difficult that you can't keep up your steely façade. I've seen it, Sherlock. I've seen /you/. You told me that before, so hold onto that. You should know that I would never do anything to compromise your position. Ever. But I'm over being that desperate young woman wanting something that I can never have. I made a conscious choice to be happy with myself the last few years and regardless of what you choose to do, I'll continue to be happy for myself. Even if the love I carry for you is in my heart and buried deep, just know that I can carry myself, it won't consume me", she states firmly but letting out a shaky breath.

"You do see me. You've always seen me; but I'm also very good at putting up a front, sometimes even one that you don't notice, Molly. I don't openly talk about my...feelings", his face twinges slightly.

"However, I've been getting slightly better at it. You've been honest with me before, so it's my turn to be honest with you. The first time I was in Sherrinford when that phone call happened...I...", he trails off for a moment, not really wanting to rehash it, but knowing it was necessary for 'context'.

Molly squeezes his hand slightly, urging him to continue in not so many words; curious to see what he could possibly say about that day that she hadn't already heard. So she waits for him to gather his thoughts and let everything out that he's been needing to express.