"Shhh, Molly, please don't cry. I hate it when you cry. I never want to see you sad," Sherlock murmured against her hair. She was sitting on his lap and crying into his shoulder, her hair loose over her shoulders.
"What if you don't come back?" Molly gasped out in sobs, her heart breaking at the prospect of never seeing Sherlock Holmes again. She had helped him fake his death and he hid away at her flat for a week. Tomorrow, he would set out to destroy the rest of Moriarty's network. But tonight, she needed him and he let her.
Sherlock was at a loss for words. He could not promise he wouldn't die, for he had no control over that factor, but he could promise her something else to the same effect.
"Oh, Molly, it'll be alright. I'll try my best to come back as soon as possible," Sherlock comforted her. This is the most sensitivity he had shown her ever since asking for her help.
"What'll I do? If you…you d-d—" she couldn't even speak the word. Something inside him snapped, giving him a renewed feeling of determination.
"You won't have to worry about that. I will come back. I'll come back for you," Sherlock paused. "And John and Mrs. Hudson." This was not a time for his heart to slip through the cracks. She held him tighter, her cries wracking her petite form. He rocked her and let her cry it out.
"I'll miss you," she whispered, "so much." He allowed himself to slip, just this once. Sherlock planted a kiss against the top of her head. This seemed to calm her, so he did it again. And again, until she had looked up at him with her red-rimmed, chocolate brown eyes. He kissed the remaining tears from her face impulsively. Oh, things were getting out of hand now. But he did not give a damn.
"Molly," he quietly spoke. Just her name on his lips; no other woman could ever compare. She stared at him, waiting for the ball to drop. It wouldn't and he'd prove it. It's now or never, he told himself. What if you never get this chance again? The voices in his head were right. So he kissed her soft lips, allowing himself to linger after a few brushes.
"Sherlock?" Molly asked after he broke their kiss.
"I need you to do me one more favor," he told her.
"Anything," Molly replied.
"Move on," Sherlock said simply. "Find your happiness while I'm gone. Be happy, Molly Hooper."
"But—" Molly started.
"No," Sherlock whispered. "Find somebody better for you than me. Promise me."
"How can I if I'll be missing you?" Molly cried. There's nobody better than you.
"You're allowed to miss me twenty minutes a day, but after that, hold your head high and live your life," Sherlock told her. "Promise me."
"I…p-promise," Molly gasped out.
The next morning he took his leave. Molly had thrown her arms around him, whispering only one last thing in his ear.
"Come home to us, Sherlock." She kissed his cheek and then he was gone.