Molly POV:

My head hurt, my throat hurt, my eyes felt swollen and just under my nose was raw from all the sneezing and wiping. I just wanted this two week cold to go away.

I was in the lab, the lights had been too bright so I shit them all off, went to work on paperwork by a window and tried to enjoy the quiet.

I sneezed, I coughed, and then I had about 2 minutes to do my thinking and writing before the cycle repeated. I had taken all of my paid sick leave, and now...I had to power through it.

I set my head down when I finished my third report of the day and thought about just taking a nap for my lunch break. But then a loud voice shoved the door open, making it crack against the wall, slapped the lights on, and kept getting louder as the git got closer.

"Sherlock shut up!" I shouted as he declared that he was right, that Scotland Yard did need him and before he could continue he looked over at me when I made my outburst and I picked my things up and headed out.

"What was that about?" He called after me but I made it to the mortuary and set my things down on the small desk, turning the lights down as much as possible before having 10 sneezes in a row, bursting my nose vessels and giving myself a bloody nose.

Leaning forward and grabbing gauze, I sat there for a long time before getting up. Just when I was getting up to leave, the phone started to ring and I went over and answered.

"Dr.Hooper, mortuary, how can I help you?" Just my luck it was DI Lestrade and he was telling me how they found a body an hour ago, crime scene was just now processed, and they were sending the body my way.

We hung up after I told him I would get to work as soon as the body arrived and that I knew Sherlock would be helping and I would share information.

I waited for the body and when it got there, Sherlock turned up less than half a minute later, quiet this time and without John.

"Molly." He nodded to me and I just hummed and covered my cough in my elbow.

I set the body up, going through his personal things and clothes was Sherlocks job but since he saw the body at the crime scene I was sure he wasn't going to be overly touchy when I removed clothes and effects.

I coughed, sneezed, and took deep breaths when it come time to put a mask on and Sherlock was still there, in the room, watching me like I was going to make a mistake.

I was halfway through the chest when I sneezed so many times my nose started to bleed again and Sherlock seemed to have enough.

"Why are you here if you're sick Molly! Can't someone else be here?"

"I ran out of sick days. I am able to work. I need my pay, if you have an issue with how slow this is going Sherlock I can leave it for the next shift in two hours!"

"I'm not concerned about the dead body Molly! Why are you having to work when your sick? You should be at home resting. Drinking soup or whatever you eat when you don't feel well."

"I did that for two weeks and nothing changed." I told him and rolled my eyes realizing he hadn't noticed my absence.

"Have you been to your physician?"

"Of course Sherlock." I muttered and while the bleeding stopped I went on and finished the autopsy before taking the samples I needed and going to run the tests.

"Let me." He saw me struggling with the microscope and took over, pushing me back, making me sit down and I rubbed my head, my eyes, and then my nose.

"Guess you found what you were looking for." I muttered almost asleep since he had been so quiet until he stood up making the stool scrape the floors hard.

"Yes, and you may go home. Don't come back until you're well." Sherlock pocketed his phone and grabbed his jacket and I just hummed and waved at him before looking at the time on my watch.

It was ten minutes before the next shift. I got up, went about cleaning and setting things right and smiled at the next pathologist to come in. I walked out, changed, took a taxi home, warmed up soup, laid in bed and fell asleep until my alarm the next morning woke me up.

I got up, dressed, put on makeup to cover my red nose, my baggy under eyes, and went to work.

I was just clocking in when I heard a groan from behind me and I looked and saw Sherlock. "What are you doing here?"

"I told you not to come to work when you're sick." He walked closer and shook his head when I rolled my eyes.

"I told you Sherlock I have no more paid time off."

"Molly, go home." He sounded serious, almost like he was telling me I couldn't do something.

"No."

"Alright... fine." He narrowed his eye and seemed to figure something out before going right for me. His hands snakes around my hips, leading down to make sure he had a good grip on my thigh before he shoved his shoulder in my stomach and lifted me. "To Baker Street we go." He declared and I pushed at him the entire way to the outside curb, telling him to put me down, to let me go. I even asked the security guy to help me but he stayed where his post was.

"Sherlock you have no right-"

"Get in the cab Molly." He pushed at me until I did as he said and I sat back when I did get in and he told the cabbie to go to Baker Street.

I leaned back, watching the drizzle outside cloud the windows and I almost fell asleep until Sherlock touched my forehead and took my temperature.

"You need a lot more rest and healthy food." He told me and I rolled my eyes and nodded. "You're not leaving Baker Street until you're fine and taking care of yourself."

"Sherlock-"

"No Molly, you snapped at my yesterday and need to get better." He shushed me and I let him. He guided me up the stairs, grabbing me when I tripped on the third or fifth step and he pushed me right into Johns chair and told me he was making me tea for my throat and in a couple hours I will have fresh chicken soup. But before that I was going to sleep.

"Where am I going to sleep? The couch?" While that wasn't my first choice, it did sound nice and I got up and started walking to it when Sherlock grabbed my elbow and stopped me.

"My bed." He pushed on me a bit until I walked that way and he set me down, pulled off my shoes and offered to give me a pair of Johns sweats but I just asked for something thin because I was feeling warm.

He grabbed something from his own closet and set it on the bed and told me to change while he grabbed some tissues and medicine for me to take. I changed into the way too long silk pants and the way too big shirt. I was still trying to work at the buttons when he pushed his way in and I hummed.

"I can't do them." I whined and started to cough and Sherlock grabbed the sides of the silk too, and before I realized what he could see all of, he worked the buttons fast and covered me up before handing the medicine over and telling me to get in bed.

I laid down, grabbed his pillows and made sure I felt like I wasn't alone before closing my eyes and hearing him talking. To me I think. He was saying he would pop out for groceries, would wake me when the soup was done, and be back soon.

I could of sworn he kissed the corner of my mouth when he left the room but I was basically asleep and knew it probably just touched my face.

I woke up, had soup, slept more, and repeated for four days before I really was feeling better, no more coughing, no more runny or stuffy nose, no more chills. No more fever.

I went back to my flat, thanking Sherlock by doing his laundry, getting him food and making him dinners for the rest of his week. I went home, was cleaning my own space for a couple hours before calling my boss and telling him that I would like to make up for the missed hours as soon as possible.

I tried to see what Sherlock had said about my time off but the guy just told me not to worry about it and hoped I had a relaxing time while getting better before saying there was an open shift in two days.

I went to bed that night breathing clear and headache free for the first time in a while and when I woke up and started to make my own breakfast I almost dropped all of my eggs I jumped so hard.

"Coming." I shouted and set everything down to move to the door just as someone pounded on it again.

"Molly!" Sherlock pointes a finger at me as soon as the door opened, he sounded congested, his eyes were a little out of focus and before I could ask him what was wrong he turned, coughing and covering and I knew what happened. "You got me sick! I never get sick. How did you get me sick?"

I waved him in, wanting to get his temperature and some fluids. I walked with him to the arm chair he usually occupies and set him down and saw him start to shiver despite the long sleeve, the jacket, the Belfast and the long pants.

"Do you want a blanket?" I asked him and headed for the heavy one on the back of my couch. He grabbed it and wrapped it around himself and I went to get him water.

I took care of him for two days, and he kept getting worse. I called John, he came over, checked him, and before long he told us to get to the AE. We all went and I was pacing in the waiting room as they took pictures and films of his lungs.

"Molly calm down-"

"I got him sick John." I told him and sat down and bounced my knee for what felt like hours. Then, we had results. He was carrying something the CDC was getting involved with and they wanted to check me out. I gave blood, was quarantined for a couple hours before they told me I would be starting a round of antibiotics and that I was probably the only person to be able to be in contact with Sherlock.

I walked out of my room and headed for his and saw him in bed shivering with thick blankets on him. "Molly-"

"It's ok Sherlock, they'll sort you out."

"It had to be a body. Who did you work on before you got sick." He asked and started to cough and I raked my hands over my face and told him I would have to check the records. I got up and got the computer in his room and logged in.

I went through looking for a name and that's when I found it, a man of 45, died of lung failure after a couple cases of pneumonia. I read it to Sherlock and half way through I realized he was sleeping.

I sat down and saw when he started to shake agin I went to him, pushing back his curls. His fever was spiking, and I made sure to keep him warm and I fell asleep next to him only to wake up to him pulling me into the covers after he took off my shoes.

"Sherlock-"

"You're so warm Molly." He muttered and worked his face into the crook of my neck and I leaned on him gently and I wasn't sure how long we were laying like that but the CDC guys came in, took more blood from him, and I walked to tell John he was ok, they were giving him antibiotics but since they aren't sure if his immune system is compromised like Sherlocks, he won't be able to see him.

I stayed with him, leaving to get clothes for him and I just once when they were going to run more tests. I made sure to get his things put away correctly. He wasn't getting worse before he was getting better and I was a mess, I could admit it. He had to be put on a ventilator, a heart monitor, tubes going in and out of him.

I watched him getting better. His eyes were open and he was deducing me right away and when he held his hand out for me, I just grabbed it and held it tightly.

"Not your fault." He whispered and I took a breath and nodded slowly. "Molly." He whispered and raised our hands to his face and he kissed mine softly before tucking it against his chest.

He fell back asleep and I watched over him until the next time he woke up and he looked around and smiled softly when he looked over at me. "In sickness and in health."

"What do you mean?"

"Richer or poor? Till death do us part? Marry me ?" He asked and I laughed and ran my hand over his forehead and leaned over and kissed it.

"Just get more sleep Sherlock. No need to make jokes." I told him and he groaned and turned and I made sure not to bring it up.

After two and a half weeks he was able to go home and I was making him food, again, as an apology for getting him sick in the first place.

That was, until he wrapped me in his arms and pulled me away from the stove. "What are you doing?"

"Dancing with the one woman I don't ever want to live without. I asked you Molly, I know I did, and I don't remember getting an answer." He pulled me close, grabbing my left hand holding it tight.

"Ask me what?" He couldn't be serious.

"I asked you to marry me. I took care of you when you were sick and I was looking forward to being with you when you were healthy, and then our roles were reversed and I knew you felt the same way for me again, or still. Why not marry?"

"Taking care of each other is what friends do Sherlock. You marry when you love someone." I shook my head and looked away so he could tell I didn't want to just say my feelings.

"But we do love each other." Sherlock stated and I felt my own breath hitch. "I love you Molly. You have to know that. Look at what you did for me out of love, stayed by my bedside. I did the same thing." He gripped my sides, holding me tighter like he was trying to make me see.

"Sherlock-"

"I love you Molly Hooper." He told me and I felt like I stopped breathing. "I want to marry you, and take care of you. Make sure you're always ok."

"You do?" I asked and he nodded and brought his other hand up to pull my chin up.

"Marry me Molly Hooper. I won't say it again. 3 is my limit." He told me and I just blinked before nodding slowly. "Say it Molly."

"I will marry you Sherlock Holmes but there will be conditions." I told him and he smiled and nodded slowly. "You have to actually say how you feel, not all of us see the minute ticks in a face. And I don't watch your every move."

"Done."

"You have to tell me when you'll be away. When you're on a dangerous case." I added and he nodded. "Kids aren't a factor-"

"Why not?"

"Well you-"

"I like kids, I want them. I know by the way you care for Rosie you do too. Why not?" He shushed me as soon as I opened my mouth. "You thought I wouldn't want them? Why?"

"You never said anything about children of your own, I figured you grew to like Rosie but that doesn't mean you want your own."

"With you... Molly, I want everything. Sickness, riches, church wedding, kids, retirement one day. All of it."