A/N: This was only supposed to be a one-shot, but I've spent the last week reading Sherlolly fanfiction and this follow-up idea popped into my head. I also edited the first chapter slightly to fill it out a bit more.

Takes place in between The Sign of Three and His Last Vow.

I ended it.

What was it I told Sherlock? "We all do silly things?"

I may have made the biggest mistake of my entire life, but I'm strangely at peace with it. The most awful part is that Tom, as always, was a perfect sweetheart about it. I wish he had gotten angry, or sad, or reacted in any other way than being just so damned understanding. He said he'd noticed that I'd changed. He'd hoped I could find my way back to him. I don't think he really understands.

I tried to explain it, but it doesn't make sense. It's not about sense.

It was never about losing Tom, but finding a piece of myself that I had buried so deep I thought it was gone.

It was near the beginning of his speech at John's wedding that I knew. He reduced the room to tears at his honest confession of love for his best friend. And I knew, looking up at Sherlock through watery eyes, that I will always love him. The rest of his speech was so interesting I didn't have time to examine my feelings closer, and the only free moment I had was during Sherlock's violin solo. I stood there, looking at him playing and letting his music and the feelings they contained wash over me.

I know Sherlock doesn't love me, not in that way at least. I think we've built up a tolerably (at least by Sherlock standards) good friendship since he's come back. I surprised myself by realizing that, although it would obviously be wonderful to have him love me back, I am happy with my relationship with Sherlock. He treats me with respect, we even joke around a little bit, and I think he does care for me a little bit. At least enough to not refrain from the incessant analyzing (or at least vocalizing it to my face) or manipulating me the way he used to.

We've both changed since he went away. He doesn't hurt me the way he used to, but I also don't hurt as easily now. In a way, the Sherlock and Molly from before both died that day.

As the song ended, I clapped and smiled while looking at John and Mary. I felt like my heart was going to burst from my chest watching them, staring at each other as if no one else was in the room. I glanced happily over and saw Tom. He doesn't even really know John or Mary, yet he was as happy as the rest of us. He's so generous and unselfish.

When the music started he came made a beeline for me, holding out his hand with his giant, goofy, grin. His smile is infectious; I immediately smiled back and took his hand. However, after a few moments, my eyes were unconsciously searching the room for Sherlock. He's so tall it wasn't difficult to notice his curly head as he walked towards the back and out of the room. I yearned to go after him, to try and provide some sort of comfort. He has a difficult time with change. He doesn't adapt easily, and I could see that even though he was trying his best to come to terms with living a John-less life he knew nothing would ever be the same after this night.

I didn't go. I wonder what would have happened if I'd left. I suppose I'll be wondering that for the rest of my life.

The rest of the evening was very enjoyable. On the way home, Tom and I discussed the wedding, its decorations, the venue, trying to pick and choose what we liked and didn't like for our own wedding. We still hadn't picked a date, or really began planning. I wrote down some notes on my phone, trying to visualize what our wedding would look like.

For an entire month after the wedding, I debated within myself. During quiet evenings of telly, dog walks in the morning, going out to the pub, grocery shopping together, and nights filled with sex, I carefully examined my own heart, wants, and desires. I love both Sherlock and Tom. I was trying to decide whether Tom would be enough to satisfy me, whether I could control my feelings for Sherlock, and whether I was truly happy.

Then the photos from the wedding came in. Tom and I sat on the sofa one evening, going through the photos on the laptop and reliving memories from that night. We were mostly in the background, but I seemed to spot us everywhere. Tom picked out one he wanted to get printed, a candid photo of me looking and smiling at Mrs. Hudson just out of frame, and Tom… Tom looking down at me with such love and devotion that my eyes instinctively watered.

And I knew. I couldn't marry him. Tom continued swiping at the photos, but I didn't see any of them.

I love Tom, I genuinely do. He is a good man, a wonderful partner, he made me very happy and would have continued to make me happy for the rest of our lives. But there is a piece of my heart that irrevocably belongs to Sherlock that runs much deeper and stronger than even I knew.

That whole month I'd been testing myself, testing Tom too if I'm being really honest, to see whether I could handle loving them both. I hadn't stopped to think about Tom. He's sweet and good, and he loves me, but he deserves so much more. If I had continued with this marriage, I would be emotionally unfaithful to him every day, even if there's no outward sign or conscious thought, even if Sherlock and I were never to meet again. Sherlock is just there, in my heart, sitting and waiting quietly minding his own business until he needs me. And I will help him, whatever the cost.

Tom deserves someone who will love him with their whole heart, not just half of it.

And Sherlock, well, he'll probably never need or want my love, but it will be here just the same.

Plenty of people, nice, normal, well-adjusted, live their whole lives without finding love. I have been and am extremely lucky; I know what it is to love and be loved. I am content.