Inspired by "About You Now"- Meadowlark

Molly zipped up the black coroner's bag quickly with an exasperated huff, tugging the thick, tarp-like fabric shut as she zipped, then pulled off her gloves and tucked a stray hair behind her ear with a contented sigh, a small tight lipped smile graced her features. She was leaving the morgue early. Probably for the first time in her life. Molly had requested the evening off months in advance, because she knew, somehow, Saint Bart's would attempt to pull her back to the morgue if they had a chance. Normally, she wouldn't have minded. She was admittedly a workaholic and, according to her mother, spent entirely too much time around dead men and needed to find one with a heartbeat. She rolled her eyes at the thought as she hung her white lab coat on the hook near the door and exchanged it for her large, blue overcoat to brave the chilly afternoon.

However, it was Halloween night, and Molly had promised John, Mary, and Rosie to accompany them for Rosie's first time trick-or-treating. The evening's tasks included assisting as photographer, hairstylist if needed, and making sure Rosie got in and out of her costume without a hitch. Then she, Mary, and John planned on attending the annual Saint Bartholomew's Halloween Charity Ball. Molly had never been; she wasn't one for mingling and rubbing elbows with potential donors. She knew she'd just end up sitting alone at a table that was the farthest she could manage from the crowd, checking her wrist watch and wanting the evening to be over. Mary Watson had obstinately insisted that Molly go this year when she tried yet again to weasel her way out; Mary said that she should do something 'spontaneous' for once instead of being on-call, eating candy corn out of the bag on her couch and waiting for the phone to ring if she was needed at work. To fend off any other protestations, Mary promised that she and John would buffer any creepy men who tried to approach Molly, and intervene if any conversation got awkward, so Molly reluctantly agreed. She felt more at ease by having guaranteed company and great wing men (and women) for the evening's festivities.

In an unexpected turn of events, Greg Lestraude wandered into the morgue earlier that week, two cups of hot cider from Molly's favorite cafe in his hands and two tickets to the Halloween ball nonchalantly sticking out of his left front pocket jacket. Molly had always gotten along well with Greg, though always from a comfortable distance and merely as work colleagues. However, they had become unexpectedly closer over the past few months. Molly had somehow become his impromptu confidant as his crumbling marriage finally ended with divorce papers stuffed in his mailbox one evening. Molly wasn't exactly sure how she had become the one to console him, but she didn't think Greg had many other options, if at all and she was known to be a voice of reason and solace. Over time, Greg came by the morgue more and more, and his visits were no longer brief, methodical or rushed. Molly began looking forward to his visits, and in turn, had thought about Sherlock bursting into her morgue less and less.

Regardless of how they had got on recently, Molly was still completely taken aback that Greg had asked her to accompany him to the Saint Bart's Halloween Charity Ball. She'd never peg Greg to be the dancing type, or the costume type. Greg reminded her of the lone man sitting at the end of the bar in that Edward Hopper painting, "Nighthawks". As if on instinct, Molly attempted to protest, but Greg mentioned that he knew it was her favorite holiday and he emphasized that she should take advantage of dressing up in silly costumes and forget about real life for a bit. She was reluctant, but after running everything by Mary and John, she had finally agreed. They even went costume shopping together. Molly had chosen their costume idea, since Greg's suggestions were... quite awful. Greg agreed to dress as the Phantom and Molly as Christine Daae from the Phantom of the Opera. Molly was surprised how amenable he was to the idea. She couldn't imagine her ex-fiance Tom being caught dead in a Halloween costume, much less one so ostentatious.

Greg and Molly wandered around a costume store that was suggested by one of her coworkers, trying on an assortment of silly hats, glasses, and Molly even turned around to see Greg sporting a coconut bra. The couple finally got ahold of some of the items Greg needed to pull off the part of the Phantom. Molly looked around the shop, hoping to find something that really caught her eye, but nothing seemed quite right. Unaware that the shopkeeper had been watching her search, she gently tapped Molly on the shoulder and waved her to follow her down the corridor. Molly hesitantly followed, but her hesitation faded as the shopkeeper led her to a mannequin dressed in what looked like an exact replica of Christine Daae's costume change for "Point of No Return". On the opposite side was a replica of the Phantom's costume as well, sans the tight fitting pants, which was a relief to Greg. When Molly asked how she got ahold of them, the old woman smiled and explained she was a costume designer before retiring and had worked with the production for many years. Molly asked how much it would cost to rent them for the evening, and the woman just smiled and told her to just bring it back in the morning and she'd charge her then. Molly thanked her profusely as they approached the counter to give their names and purchase the last few details, she couldn't stop herself from asking Greg the question that had been plaguing her mind all afternoon, "So… Sherlock won't be there?" her breath caught in her chest as she was handing her card to the storekeeper, looking sideways at Greg. He let out a laugh, "Sherlock doesn't 'do' parties." Greg said, making air quotes as Molly giggled, letting the tension fade. "I'm not even sure his mother was ever allowed to throw him a birthday party," Greg shook his head as Molly took her receipt with a curt nod and a grateful smile to the cashier. Her smile faded as some of the elation and excitement left her, but she tried not to show it, and turned away so Greg couldn't see the slight disappointment she neededto hide. Molly mentally kicked herself for the thought. She was supposed to be moving past this ridiculous infatuation with Sherlock Holmes. She hadn't even seen him in weeks, which had made things easier and her heart hurt so much less. Greg was being so sweet and he seemed to really enjoy spending time with her. This could just be the fresh start she needed, away from Sherlock Holmes.

Just as Molly was about to absentmindedly push through the double doors, Sherlock flung them open from the other side, striding in quickly as always, "Molly!" His half upturned grin spread wide as he turned on his heel to face her. "Where are you going?" he asked, his face quizzical and brow furrowed, his eyes ran over her frame and noted the lack of her white lab coat, "It's not time for you to leave yet, are you ill?" he said, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead gently. Molly shrugged from underneath his hand, her cheeks turning pink, eyes immediately averted, "Erm…. I put in to leave early," She said, still averting her gaze. "Why?" Sherlock rapidly shot back, his eyes narrowing as he tried to pry her plans out of her.

"Sherlock, it's none if your business," she said matter-of-factly, trying to side step him, but he thwarted her attempts. His stride out-did hers each time. She let out a frustrated sigh, and he chuckled as her bag slipped off her shoulder in defeat, "Do you actually need me or do I have your permission to leave?" She quipped, a small smile slowly forming on her face. He ran his hand through his hair, his demeanor changing, a tension suddenly radiated from him, "Ah, well…. Yes? Yes. I do need you." Molly rolled her eyes and Sherlock quickly added, "...But not for work related activities." it was Molly's turn to stare at him confused. Her body tensed, it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, "More of…a… recreational… type activity," He added slowly, "I need you to be my date-partner. Tonight. Though I vehemently protested, Saint Bart's has insisted on my presence at the ball tonight. I'm supposed to….. mingle. I need someone there to apologize for me when I say something awful, and know you're quite good at it," He finished in a rush, a look of disgust on his face and he wrinkled his nose at the thought of mingling. Molly laughed loudly, stifling it with the back of her left hand, which was part from the awkwardness of the situation and partly the irony of Sherlock Holmes asking her on a date. He looked at her curiously, his brow furrowed, and she added "What, you don't know?" Molly wiped her eyes from the tears of laughter, then realized Greg might have not told Sherlock about their date. "Oh. He hasn't told you… " she trailed off, "Greg and I are going together. After I go with John, Mary and Rosie trick-or-treating. He said you wouldn't be interested," she offered quickly, trying to fill the awkward silence. "In the party, I mean."

Sherlock's gaze hardened and eyes widened slightly in realization, his jaw clenched and unclenched, the smirk quickly disappearing into a tight, then line. "No matter. I'm sure I can procure someone else fairly quickly," His words were heavy and stung, so she turned away so he wouldn't see the quick flash of pain in her eyes. "I didn't know you two had gotten that…. close." he added, his tone suspicious and slightly condescending as Molly brushed by him and pushed one double door open. "A bit soon, don't you think? After the divorce? What will others think?" he asked sardonically, and she paused and exhaled, letting her shoulders sink. She turned calmly back towards Sherlock, who grinned triumphantly, but it didn't reach his eyes. His hands were clasped behind his back, knowing he had struck a nerve. Molly set her bags calmly on the floor, not meeting his eyes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous." Her eyes met his as she slowly stood up straight. Sherlock let out an airy laugh, "I don't get jealous, Molly. Jealousy is one of the most useless of all emotions-" He stood tall, watching her walk slowly, yet confidently, to him. She watched him swallow as she approached. Molly continued, "As I was saying, I know better than to assume Sherlock Holmes would lower himself to feel such base an emotion as jealousy over someone so…. inconsequential," She was nearly chest to chest with him, her eyes were more defiant than Sherlock had ever seen them. Even though he was looking down at her, his gaze dropped as he bit his lip, and his shoulders slumped slightly, and Molly nodded slightly, acquiring the reaction she sought, "But I had expected more from a friend… to judge my decisions so harshly. Can't you just be happy for me? No, of course not, happiness is another base emotion you can't lower yourself to," She added, shaking her head and turning on her heel before he could respond and picked up her bag quickly. "Good luck with your date," She called out, not looking back as she pushed through the doors and out into the hallway, hailing a cab to the Watsons.

It was an adventure in itself, getting Rosie ready without her fidgeting or getting distracted with toys, but Mary and Molly managed it while John sat in the living room, preparing the stroller for the outing. "I offered her the chance to be anything she wanted, and this is what she chose," Mary smiled, tying the yellow, folded bandana around Rosie's head. "You'll make a great ninja," Molly chimed in, helping tie the front of the wrap around top so it wouldn't come loose. "I'm blaming her fascination with watching old ninja movies with Uncle Sherlock and John, but at least the costume is simpler than a princess, right Rosie?" Mary grinned and Rosie nodded, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

Once they were ready to go out for the evening, Molly took the obligatory family pictures and a few funny ones, and they made their way down the steps and off into the crisp, chilly evening. Rosie squealed with laughter as John pushed her fast in her stroller, her arms outstretched. Mary and Molly lagged behind a bit so they could talk out of John's earshot. "So, are you excited for your big date tonight?" Mary's smug, knowing grin made Molly roll her eyes, "I mean yes. It's been awhile since I've been on one. Greg is so different than what I first thought of him." Molly smiled absently, and Mary nudged her, "He's falling for you, I think." Molly nodded, but her smiled faded slightly, "Sherlock is making an appearance. I was certain he wasn't going to show up. But at the last minute, he actually… asked me to the Halloween Ball," Molly looked up at Mary, obviously feeling anxious, "I mean, he deflected from actually asking me to be his date. I was to be his 'partner', so I told him the truth. That Greg had already asked me. Besides, he can't just always expect me to be his sympathy date." Mary looked at her with a knowing smile, "Good. I'm glad you declined. Even better, I'm glad you told him you had a date already. Sherlock needs to realize that you aren't going to wait for him or always be available." Molly stopped walking, looking at Mary puzzled. "Molly, I know you still love him. Everyone does. You've gotten better at hiding it but I see how you look at him sometimes, when you think no one notices. But Sherlock needs to wake up. It's about time he does," Mary hugged Molly tight. "Let's have some fun tonight. Have fun with Greg. Let loose and dance. I like seeing you happy. Plus you're gonna look stunning after I get ahold of you." She kissed Molly's cheek quickly and they wrapped arms as they approached John and Rosie, who already had half a bag of candy in tow.

Sherlock paced the apartment, "Jealous, how could she think that? I don't get jealous, that's ridiculous," He ran his fingers through his hair, his hand shook slightly and betraying his anxiousness and fear that deep beyond his cool, rational composure, he was, in fact, jealous. He slammed his fist down on the kitchen island in frustration, wincing and swearing at his poor decision.

"If you're going to start talking to yourself dear, can you tone it down a bit? My show is coming on the telly soon," Mrs. Hudson whisked into the kitchen quietly, ignoring the string of obscenities and filling a pot of water for tea without Sherlock's prompting. "Mrs. Hudson, can't you see I'm in no mood…." Sherlock growled through his teeth, his eyes were closed, fingers rubbing his temples for a few minutes in silence as Mrs. Hudson prepared tea, "Molly is going to that idiotic Halloween Charity Ball with Lestraude. Over me! Now I'm partner-less, out of options, and irritated." Mrs. Hudson slid a cup of tea in front of him, and he sipped in silence, mulling over the situation. "How could she? With Lestraude of all people? He's so ….robotic and predictable and a recent divorcee. Molly doesn't need that baggage," Sherlock stirred his tea, the spoon making a rapid 'ting' in it's rapid trip around the cup as Sherlock channeled his frustration into a new, less painful outlet. "I shouldn't even care. Why do I care? I don't. Definitely not." Mrs. Hudson poured her own cup calmly and stood across from Sherlock, leaned back against the counter and shaking her head, "Sherlock, you are the most brilliant man I know. But when it comes to any kind of human interaction, your brilliance is for shit really." She took a long sip of her tea as Sherlock gazed at her, a bit incredulous, "I'm sorry but it's true. Anyone with eyes can see that Molly still loves you. She always has. Sure, you've pushed her away, been a complete and utter prat at times, but she still looks at you the same." Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking another sip of tea."The difference between Greg Lestraude and all of her other boyfriends is he's a threat. A real threat, and you know that." Mrs. Hudson stared Sherlock down, she set down her tea and crossed her arms, her gaze stern. Sherlock avoided her eyes, his mind elsewhere, but his stirring slowed, which Mrs. Hudson took as a silent acknowledgement that what she said had considerable merit, "He's a nice man, Sherlock. A good man. It's about time you claim Molly for yourself, if that's what you want. She's done waiting." Mrs. Hudson, shuffled away, waving her hand briefly as she left with her tea in hand, having said her piece and leaving Sherlock to mull over the advice she had given.

Sherlock pulled out his phone, quickly dialing the only person who could help with the other piece of the puzzle for the evening; securing a costume. "Mycroft, I need your help," Sherlock sighed, hating the thought of having to ask his older brother for anything. "Sherlock, what could you possibly need? I'm busy at the moment," Mycroft seemed irritated, and Sherlock quickly retorted, "Put down the candy bowl and listen. I know you used to have connections with a few theater companies when you went through your 'rebellious' phase," Sherlock could hear Mycroft scoff on the other end of the phone and Sherlock grinned, "I need a costume. As soon as possible. I have an…. event to attend," Mycroft sighed heavily, "You're attending a Halloween party? Willingly? I can't believe it. Well which one, brother? I'll see what I can do" Sherlock looked over at the skull sitting on the shelf and grinned, "Hamlet."

'Meet you at Saint Bart's. No need to pick me up. Riding with Mary and John. And no, you can't have a sneak peek! It's a surprise. Xxoo Molly'

Molly sent the text and a silly grin spread across her face. Mary smiled as she attempted to curl one of the last stray strands of hair left in the voluminous locks that she had previously so expertly curled and pinned. Molly glanced into the mirror and couldn't believe the transformation. Her long, usually straight hair was now curled and cascaded down her back in perfect ringlets. "If Rosie ever has this much hair, I'm going to be in trouble, or at least have killer biceps," Mary flexed in the mirror and Molly laughed. "It looks amazing Mary, I'm so happy with how it turned out," Molly turned around to see Mary reaching for the rose that would complete her look. Mary skillfully pinned the rose into place, and stood back admiring her handy work with her hands on her hips. Molly looked at the makeup table in terror, which was her next obstacle. Mary squeezed her shoulders lightly, "No need to worry, I've been planning for this for some time, and I know exactly how we should do your makeup. Going to go very natural, highlighter to emphasize those cheekbones, you're going to look stunning," Mary picked up a makeup brush and motioned for Molly to turn around so she could have full mobility. "You shouldn't have done all of this… fussing over me," Molly's cheeks flushed inadvertently and she looked down at her feet, "You were an only child, yeah?" Mary's fingers lifted Molly's chin lightly, starting to apply foundation."Yes. Why do you ask?" Molly watched Mary, whose brow was furrowed in deep concentration, "Well, I was one of six, and all of my makeup expertise was learned from my older sisters, and I dunno, I just kind of think of you…. Molls, you're like family." Mary finished, pulling her makeup brush away from Molly's face, smiling kindly, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes "You're the only family I have left really. Sure I have John and Sherlock and Rosie, but it's good to have someone to look after. To have moments like this with. I need it, more than you know," Molly smiled as Mary wiped the corners of her eyes then continued applying makeup, "Thank you Mary," was all she could possibly say.

The event was being held off-site at a gorgeous venue. Molly stepped out of the cab and immediately spotted Greg near the entrance, hugging his sides to keep warm. Once he spotted her, his jaw literally dropped, watching as she approached. "Molly," He said, his eyes wandering and his voice airy, "You look… you're breathtaking," He smiled wide, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and guiding her into the building. Molly could almost feel John and Mary beaming behind the couple. As they entered the room, they checked their coats and wandered inside. It was very dim, the candelabras on each arch leading up to the ceiling was lit with actual candles, giving the room a warm, hazy feeling. Each table was adorned with tealight candles set in orange glass holders, with black, glittering sheer tablecloths that mimicked a dark, starry night adorning each. A few tables for standing were also near the two bars on each side of the hall, also adorned in the black cloth. Waiters and waitresses, with skeleton makeup and Victorian era clothing were walking around with trays. The stage was to their right, a DJ tucked away in a booth in the corner, and a music stands set up for the live jazz band that would entertain the guests for part of the evening. A few dancers were already shuffling onto the dance floor as the DJ spun more upbeat songs. "This is amazing," Molly said, her eyes lighting up as she surveyed the entire hall. Greg watched her, his grin growing wider, "Are you glad I forced you to come with me?" Molly turned to him in excitement and kissed his cheek gently, her lips lingering and she cleared her throat when she met Greg's eyes. "Of course, who wouldn't want the Phantom on their arm?" She squeezed his arm slightly, and he smiled wide, "Let's get some dancing in, the bar isn't open yet," and he pulled her towards the dance floor as she waved at Mary and John looking on from a table near the dance floor.

It all seemed great. They did the electric slide, almost sliding into each other and laughing at how ridiculous they looked. Molly was about to motion to Greg that she wanted a break, but stopped dancing as she glanced over Greg's shoulder and saw Sherlock's figure unmistakably approach them, his long legs making quick work of the distance and his grey eyes never leaving hers. Greg turned to see what Molly was staring at, then sighed heavily, taking a step to Molly's side, his right arm wrapped around her waist loosely, Molly had felt his arm snake around her waist protectively, not that she needed any protecting, but her cheeks flushed at the suddenness of the gesture. Sherlock stopped a few feet away, his eyes never straying from hers, like she was the only person on the dance floor now full of people. Sherlock took his time appraising her, his eyes lingering in places they definitely shouldn't have been. Molly interrupted the awkward silence, "Evening Sherlock, I see you did find a date after all." Molly said flatly, gesturing to the skull that he clutched under his right arm. His blinked quickly, his eyes halted their downward gaze and looked up at both of them, finally seeming to realize Greg standing right next to her. His lip turned up in the corner of his mouth, noticing the jab but paying it no real attention,"Mm yes, fitting don't you think?" He turned around quickly, allowing for a full view of his costume. He was dressed as Hamlet, no doubt. His costume was similar to the Kenneth Brannaugh adaptation. He knew how much she loved that one. Not to be dissuaded, Molly quickly took another jab, "Mm yes. Just like Hamlet, you are an expert at pushing people out of your life. At least you don't have an Ophelia to send away to a nunnery," He stopped and gazed at the pair with a small smirk,"And let me guess? Christine Daae and the Phantom. How odd, since they don't even end up together in the musical," Sherlock stated dryly, emphasizing the 'don't end up together' and his smirk grew. Molly's gazed darkened, her lips tightening into a thin line. Greg took a step back, confused as to what was actually going on, watching them both curiously,"I-I'm going to grab us a drink, Molly. You want the usual?" He asked, and she nodded, her gaze never leaving Sherlock. Greg slid away quickly, still keeping an eye on the two as he made his way through the crowd to the bar, "The usual? Lestraude already knows what you drink?" Sherlock seemed to mentally store the information away as she quickly retorted, "Yes, he actually cares, that's what normal people do," He took a step towards her, his smirk disappearing, his gaze lingering on the curve of her shoulder and the way her sleeve hung loosely, the neck line drooping seductively across her chest, his eyes took in every inch unabashedly, "I didn't think you fell for 'normal' people," He stated, his voice low and dark, and before she could retort, he added quickly "You do look absolutely stunning tonight, I wanted to tell you that," He swallowed, and stepped closer, but Molly took one half step back, her gaze falling to the ground, "Thank you," she mumbled, her gaze turned to searching for Greg in the crowd, "Molly, can I ask one favor of you?" She turned quickly back towards Sherlock, "Would you do me the honor of one dance tonight?" He actually looked hopeful and sincere, but Molly stuttered out, "I-I don't know," Her gaze once agains sought out Greg in the crowd, who raised the two glasses in his hand and she made her way towards him, as Sherlock stood watching from the middle of the dance floor.

"Quit brooding," John's voice interrupted Sherlock's thoughts, and he sighed, "I'm just getting into character," to which John cleared his throat and scoffed at him. "She deserves better," Sherlock retorted. His eyes had been fixed on the couple all night. He was already a few drinks in, but he didn't care. It muddled his thoughts, and that's exactly what he wanted. "She seems pretty happy to me," John shot back, sliding another whiskey neat over to Sherlock, who took a few gulps, his eyes never leaving their target, "Oh John, she'll never be truly happy with him. You know that. He's so predictable, so boring… so-" Sherlock paused with a huff, searching for the right words, "-Unlike you?" John interrupted, Sherlock smirked, downing his whiskey and motioning the waiter to bring him another, "Sherlock I don't want to bail you out of jail tonight, take it easy, will you?" John patted Sherlock on his shoulder and Sherlock stiffened, watching as Molly laughed at something Greg had whispered in her ear, his lips grazing her porcelain neck, "I promise to be on my best behavior," Sherlock said mockingly, and sipped on the fresh whiskey procured by the waiter. "Molly wouldn't even promise me one dance," Sherlock's fingers traced the edge of the glass, his gaze dropping to his fingers. John looked over at Mary, who motioned for him to speak with Sherlock and sit down, and he rolled his eyes as he took the seat next to his friend, "If it bothers you that much, you should do something about it," John mumbled, and Sherlock laughed airily, "Like what, John? Steal her away? You said it yourself, he's not me, and maybe he'll do better by her than I've ever done," Sherlock motioned to Greg at the corner of the room, whose hand snaked around her waist with ease as she chatted with a few colleagues, "Sherlock, if you want her, you need to do something," Mary snuck in next to John's elbow, brushing off some lint on his pinstripe, mobster suit and kissing him quickly on the lips, "Something big. She still loves you. But you're losing her." Mary said seriously, her smile fading and her tone serious. "Don't allow yourself to reason away your own happiness," She put a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, "You know that you'll regret losing her and she'll never be as happy as she could be without you," John excused himself for another drink as Mary tried to talk with Sherlock, who was still transfixed on his glass. "So get on with it, yeah? Go get that dance, and make it count," Mary winked as Sherlock gave her a tight lipped smile and she faded into the crowd to find John. "Make it count. Make it count? HHow do I do that?" Sherlock looked at the skull sitting on his left, "God, maybe Mrs. Hudson has a point about me talking to myself," Sherlock downed his glass, patted his skull on the top and made his way to the DJ on the stage.

Molly was thoroughly enjoying her night. She danced and laughed more than she had in a long time. Greg was very respectful and the perfect date. He seemed to be enjoying the evening too, and he got plenty of compliments on their costume pairing. It was quickly approaching the end of the night, which meant the last song would be playing in a few minutes. She was definitely the talk of the donors, who inquired where she'd gotten her costume, to which she gladly replied, silently sending a thank you, and hopefully good business, to the kind woman who had rented her costume to her. Molly was sad to see the evening go, and like Cinderella, she felt like she would go back to being a pumpkin once the clock struck midnight.

All of a sudden, the DJ came over the PA system, "Alright ladies and gentlemen, this is the last song of the night, and due to his large donation pledge, I've been told Mr. Sherlock Holmes has a few words and a song choice to end the night with," Molly looked up at the stage, Seeing Sherlock's lanky frame illuminated in soft white light, taking the microphone from the DJ and putting his hand up to try to scan the audience for someone through the spotlight, "Er yes… Well… It's been a great night!' He started, his words slightly slurred, and the crowd clapped, "Not for me really, I was in the corner drinking entirely too much whisky and brooding, but who expects less?" No one laughed, and he cleared his throat loudly, "Anyway, there is... one person…. who I've been a complete and total arrse to, and I owe her this song, this… dance. If she'll have me. This one's for you, Molly Hooper," he handed the microphone back to the DJ and hopped off the stage, scanning for Molly in the crowd. All the color drained from Molly's face when she heard her name, and she turned to Greg, who's smile didn't meet his eyes. "Greg, I didn't…. He shouldn't… this isn't right" Molly stammered, but Greg kissed her cheek softly, "Go on Molly." There was an unspoken acceptance between them. They stood there for a moment, and he squeezed her hand as if to say that he understood. In the end, everyone seemed to know where her heart lie. She nodded, mouthing a quick 'thank you' as she wandered towards Sherlock.

The song began to play, and Molly recognized the melody. She was a few feet from Sherlock when she stopped. He smiled sheepishly, walking towards her slowly and cautiously, "I decided that I needed that dance. That I needed to make it count. Just like you do," Sherlock slid his hand around her waist slowly, clasping her small hand in his with ease. Molly reluctantly allowed him to lead her, feeling embarrassed, angry, and yet inexplicably happy. "Song is fitting, I think," He noted, the lyrics melding with the music. "Sherlock, why? Why now? In front of everyone?" Molly whispered harshly, her gaze searching his for answers, "You can't seriously want to be with me," Her gaze shifted down, but he quickly reached under her chin and gently brought her gaze up to his once more, "Yes. I do. I have, for some time. I was advised that I was losing you, and I realized I couldn't bear it," She looked at him strangely, not entirely believing him. "How can I begin to believe you?" He pulled her closer, their bodies inches from contact, she wanted to resist, but she knew it was useless. "Because you've always really known. You were just waiting on me," He said, his voice a low murmur. She leaned against his chest, breathing slowly and listening to his heart beat, "So I stole this dance, to show you that I know how I feel about you now," he said, kissing the top of her hair, breathing in her shampoo, "Can you forgive me for being… such an obstinate ass for so long?" Sherlock pulled away to look at her, and she laughed as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, "I fell in love with you just the way you are Sherlock Holmes. Don't you dare change on me now," and he pulled her in close, kissing her gently as they swayed quietly to their song.