Have an angsty drabble, inspired by the Sherlock Special (wasn't it great?!) and "Hello" by Adele.

On a side note, I'm sorry. I'm sure it hurt me more than it will hurt you. :D


Hello from the other side
I must have called a thousand times
To tell you I'm sorry for everything that I've done
But when I call you never seem to be home

57 days, 6 hours, and 43 minutes, and he still has not spoken to Molly Hooper.

Well, more accurately, she has not spoken to him.

Heaven only knows how many texts he has sent to her mobile, asking (begging) for a meeting with her. He even endeavors to call her.

He stops after his tenth attempt went directly to voicemail.

Sherlock had recognized her anger and hurt that day in the lab, when she had awoken him from a drug-induced haze by three powerful (but necessary) slaps to the face. Instead of apologizing like she asked, however, he had thrown her broken engagement in her face.

In the wake of his shooting, he had made no effort at reconciliation, too preoccupied with Magnussen and the Watsons' marital troubles.

Looking back, that was probably (definitely) his first mistake.

The second had been murdering a man (monster) in cold blood and then leaving on a suicide mission without saying goodbye.

His overdose on the airplane had certainly not redeemed him in her eyes, either.

At this rate, he will be lucky if she ever looks at him again.

He accepts her wishes and only visits St. Bart's when he knows she will not be on shift, but he leaves little signs that he hopes illustrate his remorse.

Dirty test tubes are cleaned until they shine; her dwindling supply of hydrochloric acid miraculously replenishes itself. A bag of her favorite crisps is left sitting on her desk.

(He returns later that evening and finds the bag in the trash. He vows to try harder.)

No matter what effort he puts forth, however, Molly Hooper refuses to see him. To forgive him.

And he only has himself to blame.

Hello from the outside
At least I can say that I've tried
To tell you I'm sorry for breaking your heart
But it don't matter it clearly doesn't tear you apart anymore

When he finally sees her, it is an accident.

He and John have just completed a case, an antiquity smuggling ring that has kept him occupied for three days. John has gone home to spend time with Mary, and Sherlock strolls down the busy London streets alone, a half-eaten container of chips gripped in his hand.

He walks past a bustling Italian restaurant, the smell of spices drifting outside through the open door. He glances up, only for a moment, and is surprised to see Molly Hooper sitting just on the other side of the window.

The crisps fall, forgotten, on the pavement at his feet.

She is wearing a white dress patterned with lilac flowers. Her hair is curled and pulled back from her face, while a light dusting of blush covers the apples of her cheeks. The corners of her mouth (colored today by only a thin layer of pink gloss) are tipped upwards in a radiant smile.

She makes quite the picture, he thinks, as he watches her converse with her dining companion. (Matt from the psychology department, Sherlock remembers offhandedly.) Rarely in the ten years he has known her has he been responsible for putting such a joyous expression on her face.

No, he has only caused her pain and heartbreak.

She chews on a breadstick as her date (he cringes at the word) regales her with some comical anecdote, and she throws back her head in laughter.

She looks so untroubled, her shoulders relaxed in a way he has never noticed before this moment, like she hasn't a care in the world. He envies her that cheeriness, even as he realizes his absence in her life is likely the reason for it.

He has not spoken to Molly Hooper in 57 days, 6 hours, and 43 minutes, and she seems happier because of it.

She chooses that moment to let her gaze wander, her brows furrowing minutely when her eyes pass over his hunched form outside. He tries to plead with her silently, to make her understand that he never meant to hurt her. That he is sorry for everything he's done. After a moment, however, her eyes glide past him, the slight tensing of her mouth the only indication that she recognizes him.

Ignoring the ache in his gut, he glances at her one more time, storing the image in his mind palace for future viewings. He turns and continues on his path toward Baker Street, weighed down by the consequences of his actions. He cannot stop feeling that he has just lost something vital. Precious. Something he doesn't think he wants to live without.

Molly Hooper is better off without him in her life. He vows to stay away, to finally be the unselfish one in their unbalanced relationship.

She deserves that, and so much more.


I'm writing a companion piece from Molly's POV, which should be posted tomorrow. Hope you liked it!