This is my addition to the Second Anniversary of Sherlolly's "I Love You"
THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH!
Please remember to review at the end! :)
He swallowed hard as sweat pooled on his forehead. How could this have happened? How could he have allowed it to happen?
He raised his hands, still bloodied and bruised and let his shoulders sag for a brief moment.
He would have to face her sooner or later. Lifting his head with his chin up in the air, he pushed through the door of her lab and paused in mid-step when he saw her.
She was bending over the table, writing something on a notebook. Her hair was pulled to the side, classic Molly style, and her brow was furrowed in concentration.
"I'll be with you in just a moment."
He cleared his throat. "No rush,"
She froze in mid-sentence and slowly lifted her head. "Sherlock…"
He wanted to smile, but the closest he got was a small smirk. "Hello, Molly,"
She blushed and lowered her eyes. "I'll be with you in a moment." She repeated, turning her focus back to her notebook.
She finished her descriptions and closed the book with a sigh. "What are you doing here?" She asked, her eyes cast down to focus on the table.
Her voice was distant and unsure. He frowned. "I came to see if you were alright."
She nodded, her voice not trusting itself at the moment. She cleared her throat. "As you can see, I'm fine." She remarked, stepping back and let out a gasp when he suddenly appeared right beside her.
"No," He observed, searching her face. "You are not fine, Molly."
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "What do you want from me, Sherlock?"
"Look at me."
She hesitated just for a moment before opening and lifting her eyes to study his face. She held her breath as she searched the new lines on his beautiful chiseled face. He was tired and drawn. He did not look like himself. Or at least not the happy Sherlock she knew by heart. This was an aged Sherlock. Worn out by the games his sister had played, not to mention his brother. The words he spoke were given in a deeper tone than he usually spoke to her. Very rare did it ever go that deep or that sensual unless he was serious and hurting.
"John called and told me what happened." She uttered, her voice finding itself.
"I deduced as much." He answered, his eyes sad.
She lowered her eyes to his hands and she gasped. "Sherlock!"
He winced as she took them in hers and ran her fingers over the wounds. "The casket…"
"What casket?"
John must not have told her everything. He frowned. "The casket with the words written on it to symbolize you." He stated, as-matter-of-factly. "After the call, I couldn't…" He paused, he needed to find the words. "I couldn't take the thought of putting you in danger, so I destroyed the casket."
She lifted her eyes to his once more and saw the honest expression in his eyes. "Not because you said the words you mean?" She asked, holding firm to his hands and eyes.
He shook his head. "That's the thing, Molly, I did mean them. I just…I never said them before in my life, and to say them while your life was in danger…" He paused, struggling to get the words out. "I couldn't…"
She finally allowed a smile to touch her face at his struggle and honesty. "You didn't want it to be like that."
His head shook back and forth. "Not with your life in danger." He took a half-step towards her, his eyes gazing into her intently. "I would never…"
"I know." She interrupted, lifting his hands. "I better put some salve on these wounds before you get an infection."
He nodded and allowed her to lead him to a small private room where she did some mild examinations, away from prying eyes. He sat down on a stool and remained quiet as she examined his hands and then began to remove the rest of the splinters and bind his hand with some antiseptic.
He watched her expressions change back in forth from professional to concerned woman and he wondered how he could have been blind for so many years. He had admitted she was the one who counted. The one who mattered, but to admit it to himself that what he felt for her was something deeper. Something more was…
Earth shattering.
She bandaged the last cut and examined her handiwork. "We should change the dressing tomorrow morning."
"We?"
She blushed and dipped her head. "Well, you could get John to do it if you prefer."
"If I had wanted John to do it, I would have asked him."
She raised her eyes and head to search his face.
He smiled and raised his bandaged right hand. "As I said, I meant what I said, in danger or not, I meant them." He brushed his hand over her cheek. "But if you expect me to be more emotional…"
She smiled and touched her fingers to his lips. "I don't want you to be anything less than who you are, Sherlock Holmes, but…" She paused, tears coming to her eyes. "I would like to hear the words again when you're ready."
He gave a wane smile and caressed her neck with his bandaged hands. "I love you, Molly Hooper." He whispered, barely getting the words any louder than a whisper.
She let out a breathless laugh and acquiesced to his request of pulling her closer. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
He hummed in response and pressed his lips onto her for a tender, sensual kiss, which could be said to rival Anderson's image.
Please be kind!
Hope you enjoyed it! I do so love writing these two! (And to think I shied away from them because I was nervous about writing Sherlock!)
Until Next Time...