Sherlock paced thoughtfully up and down in his room in the small boarding house, thinking about last night. Hands crossed behind his back.

He remembered how nervous he was standing outside Molly's door and wanted to pick her up for the party. He hadn't been able to decide if and how he wanted to confess his love to Molly.
She was quite scared and surprised when she opened the door. He could not explain why. But as it turned out later, Molly had received another message.

He remembered how beautiful she had looked in her long evening dress. How embarrassed she became when he complimented her on her appearance and tried to distract from it with a funny remark.

He remembered walking through the small streets of Dunmore with Molly on his arm. He felt strangely comfortable and would have loved to walk around with her by his side for hours. He felt that tingling sensation again as he thought of Molly putting her hand on his as it rested on her waist.
How nervous she was and her whole body trembled under his touch.

And then he remembered her conversation on the terrace. How angry he was at her for not telling him about the last message. He was worried and afraid for her. And then all of a sudden it burst out of him. "I love you, Molly."
The look of Molly on her face. On her beautiful face.
The way he kissed her to underline his love for her.
That kiss was so different from the last one when she left. It had so much more feeling, so much warmth and passion in it.
How perfectly her lips matched his. He remembered that he had once called her too small. But from that moment he knew it wasn't true. They were perfect. Just like Molly.
In the moment of the kiss, he felt a strange warm feeling take over his whole body. A lightness that showed him that this was exactly what he had been longing for all these years without knowing it. He wanted this moment to never end. He never wanted to let it go.

Then he thought about the fact that he would rather not have done it either. Soon after his confession of love he had to leave her alone, for better or worse. This Fitzgerald son apparently knew who was behind all the murders and wanted to tell Molly. He was also the one behind those messages.

Sherlock had a bad feeling but he had to let her go. After all, the conversation seemed to have been important in solving the case. If he thought about it like that now, it was the biggest mistake he could ever make.

If he had known that Molly would walk straight into a trap, he would never have let her go. She would still be at his side.

Then the images came to his mind of Molly sitting tied up on a chair and threatened with a gun. The thought of it made his whole body shudder. He felt a twinge in his heart when he thought of the fact that he had deliberately put Molly in such danger. And all because of one case.
Sherlock began to realise that one case was not everything and suddenly the words of his best friend came back to him.
"Do something whilst there's a chance, because that chance doesn't last forever. It's gone before you know it!"

At that time he couldn't really internalise it, but now, when he could also experience such a feeling of love, he felt it.

All of a sudden his chest felt heavy and tight. As if there was a heavy weight on him. A lonely tear had come loose from his eyes and was now slowly running down his face.
Suddenly he did not feel well anymore. Nausea spread. He had the feeling that the space around him was beginning to turn. He had to get out of there. He just couldn't stay there anymore.

As quickly as he could, he packed his things, checked out and ran to the nearest bus stop. There were no taxis in this small village. So he had to take the bus, for better or worse.
As it was the 1st of June, which is a public holiday in Ireland, the buses ran relatively rarely on that day. But he was lucky and only had to wait a few minutes for the next one.

He quickly pulled out his phone to check the flight details. In the late afternoon a flight was scheduled to leave for London and, as chance would have it, even if he didn't believe in coincidence, there was still a seat available.
So he quickly booked it and wrote a short message to his friend afterwards.

Case solved. I am coming home.
Let Lestrade know. SH

It was not long before his news signal sounded.

Okay. Say hi to Molly for me.
I'll see you later. JW

Sherlock froze briefly as he read the first lines of the message. Molly.
Again he felt this unpleasant pulling and stabbing. Sherlock thought about what and whether he should reply, but then decided against it.

When he looked up, he finally saw the bus starting in the distance. He quickly stowed his mobile phone in his jacket pocket, picked up his travel bag and prepared to leave Dunmore.

The bus drove up, opened its doors, and as he slowly walked up the steps, he paused briefly and looked back again with nostalgia.

'Goodbye Molly!'

He climbed the final steps, leaving Dunmore, Ireland and all his painful memories behind. Ready for London. Ready to be the Sherlock Holmes again.

NOTE:
Hey ;) I don't know what to write about this... What do you think, did Molly make it or did the bullet hit her?
To be honest, I've been thinking back and forth for a long time about which part to put up (I still have an alternative chapter)... I hope that I made the right decision :D
If you are interested, I'll send you the alternative chapter via PN ;) Just let me know and what you think happened to Molly...

A little tip: I don't like to write romances only, I'm not really in the mood for such "kitschy stories". That doesn't mean, of course, that I completely give up on my stories (see previous chapters)... but I always need some tension or something similar. :D

I apologize to all of you who have already expected a happy ending but the story is not over with this chapter...