A/N: Anonymous on tumblr asked: Is there a fanfic where Molly overhears John telling Sherlock to go after Irene (this is after the Culverton case)?

Me: There is now! (Rated K+)

"I'm with you, you know that."

Molly turned her head away. "But what John said, it makes sense." She looked at him sadly. "I've always known it, in the back of my mind. And, and you still text her, now and then - and you haven't changed your ringtone." She reached up and laid gentle fingers against his cheek. A good-bye; he knew one when he saw one. "It's OK, Sherlock, I get it. Caretaker Syndrome, y'know?"

Tears glimmered but did not fall. No, his Molly wasn't one to let anyone see her cry. Even when - or was it especially when? - her heart was breaking. "Text her," she urged in a choked whisper as she started to turn away. "Go after the woman you love, Sherlock, before it's too late."

He caught her wrist, half-spun her so she was facing him again. "No," he growled. "I mean, yes, I am absolutely going to go after the woman I love - and that woman, Molly Hooper, is you. When I said I'm with you, I meant full-stop, all the way. Is there an element of gratitude in my feelings for you? Yes, of course there is, how could there not be? There's an element of gratitude in John's feelings for you, too - although his are far more brotherly and protective than anything else, now that he's finally let go of resenting you for knowing I was alive when he thought I was dead."

He realized he was rambling and caught his breath, still holding her by the wrist - lightly, not trapping her or forcing her to stay. "I've made mistakes, Molly, God knows I've made plenty of mistakes, but falling in love with you - yes, in love with you, YOU, not HER - isn't and never will be one of them." He gave his mobile a rueful glance where it sat on the desk behind him. "Not changing that damned ringtone, on the other hand, is definitely a mistake. One I intend to rectify right now." He reached down with his free hand; keeping his eyes fixed on Molly's expressive face - so many little emotions, from doubt, to wonder, to confusion, mistrust, and (dare he hope) trust? - he lifted his mobile, opened it to his contacts, and scrolled down to the one labeled simply 'The Woman'.

After one-handedly typing in a text, he showed it to Molly. "I don't often answer them, and this is the last time I intend to do so."

The two simple sentences read: Sorry, I'm having dinner with the woman I love from now on. Good-bye, Irene.

He pressed send. A response came almost immediately, just as he was deleting the contact.

I'm always free for lunch if you change your mind.

"But I won't be," he said aloud after showing Molly what Irene had written. "Not even if you turn me down, Molly." His lips quirked in a wry smile. "I have it on very good authority - my father - that us Holmes men tend to be one-woman men. Yes, Irene fascinated me and if she'd been more trustworthy, it's possible she might have been that woman." It was his turn to reach out, to press trembling fingers against Molly's cheek. "But I rather think my cold, shriveled up heart was already taken by the time she came into my life."

The tears were flowing freely down Molly's cheeks, and he felt a mixture of consternation (was she crying because she didn't believe him, or had changed her mind about being with him, it had only been for a few days, after all, and she was right, he'd been recovering from his various overdoses and injuries during that time) and tenderness as he gently wiped them away with his thumb.

When she finally spoke, it was barely a whisper; he had to bend his his down to catch her words. "All right." Then she pulled him into her arms and hugged him fiercely, as if she'd never let him go, as if she never wanted him to let her go.

And they never did.