requested by elennemigo on Tumblr: 27. "I'm not going to apologise for this. Not anymore." Post-TFP.

Look up and listen to this on Youtube to set the mood: Thunderstorm and Rain Sounds - Heavy Thunder & lightning Strike Ambience For Relaxation

He apologized to her that night. After all was said and done, Molly had forgiven him but he could not forgive himself. She understood he was saving her life...or so he thought. Weeks passed and during the few times he did see her at the lab or the morgue, he apologized every time. Sherlock couldn't understand what exactly was going on in his head, let alone his heart. They were battling with each other; logic vs. emotion.

"I don't know what to do," Sherlock admitted to John. "I'm clueless for the first time in my life."

"Just tell her how you feel, mate," John told him. He wanted to. Badly. Logic dictated that it was nothing but a distraction and that she deserved someone better. His heart screamed in protest, its voice much louder than his head's for once. Sherlock knew he was a selfish man, but did not know what made him more so: letting her go and never telling her or confessing despite that she should have a better man than him.

On a stormy night, in his mind palace, Sherlock went back to the day they went out crime solving together. Their incredibly private moment in the stairwell replayed itself in his mind. He was outside of his own body, watching from the stairs above. The same aching feeling in his chest presented itself with no mercy as the bittersweet memory played out. The wistfulness that shown on his face as he leaned into her was clear. He already let her go once; was he really willing to do so again?

"Sherlock? Where are you going? The storm is raging out there," Mrs. Hudson told him as he swept down the stairs.

"There's something I have to do," was all he said.

Arriving at Molly's flat, he realized she wasn't home. So he waited out in the storm until a cab pulled up minutes later and Molly stepped out as she searched for her keys. When she looked up and met his cerulean eyes in the darkness of the night, her heart beat fast in her chest.

"Sherlock!? What are you doing? You'll catch your death out here," Molly spoke loudly over the sound of the rain pounding against the pavement. She made his way over to him and attempted to get him to follow her inside but he grasped her wrist gently.

"I'm sorr-" he began but stopped himself. "No. I'm not going to apologise for this. Not anymore." He pulled her flush against him and he cupped her cheek before leaning down to press his lips against hers. Molly's hands found their way into his damp curls, holding on for dear life as he continued to crush his lips to hers. Even as thunder sounded and the lightning streaked the sky, nothing compared to the raging storm between them. As they savored the delicious taste of each other in sweet surrender, he held her tighter and she twisted his curls in her fingers. Never had she been kissed like this. It was everything to give him love and for him to love her back.

"I love you," Sherlock murmured against her lips as they slowed down. The light feather-like feeling of his soft kisses left her tingling. Their foreheads were now pressed against one another's when she broke the kiss for the need of breathing.

"I love you too," she breathed out heavily. "Always have; always will." Sherlock moved his head from hers and pressed a lingering kiss to her neck.

"We should get you inside; don't need you catching a cold," he told her.

"I can think of a few ways to warm up," she smirked as she led him inside.

Their hair was still damp despite their long night of love-making. He peered down at the petite woman in his arms happily, her head resting over his heart. He traced his thumb in circles over the soft skin of her shoulder. Resting his head on top of hers, he pressed a kiss in her hair before the sound of her sleeping breaths lulled him to his own slumber.