"You're being distant, Molly, that's not like you," Sherlock told her.
"Me? I'm the distant one, seriously?" Molly argued back.
It had been three months since the Sherrinford incident and though they worked things out about the phone call, things weren't progressing the way any of them had expected.
"Yes, you barely ever want to spend time with me and I can't help but think I did something wrong," Sherlock snapped. "I can't fix it if you don't tell me."
"There's nothing to fix, Sherlock," Molly admitted. "I—I don't know if I can do this."
"Are you saying you don't want me anymore?" Sherlock asked, his tone softer but his voice cracked. He sounded defeated.
"Of course I want you, but—" Molly began.
"Then what's the problem? I don't understand, Molly, I can't read your mind and contrary to popular belief, I cannot deduce the issue," Sherlock explained. Molly turned her face away from him, gathering her thoughts.
"We never even said it again afterwards," Molly muttered. Sherlock's face softened and he took a tentative step towards her, reaching out and waiting for her to accept him. She turned back towards him and allowed him to hold her. "It's like the words became toxic when Eurus forced them out of us; when I forced it out of you." She was crying then, no chance of the tears stopping anytime soon.
"Molly," Sherlock whispered, hugging her closer to him and kissing the top of her head.
"On top of that, I'm terrified of mucking it all up," she confessed. "I'm afraid of showing you the full extent of my lo—feelings for you. I don't want you to feel suffocated, so I don't show affection as much."
"You could never suffocate me with your affection, Molly. I want—no, I need it. I crave it. Please don't feel like you have to hold back with me," Sherlock told her, his tone gentle. "I need you." He allowed a tear to slip from his own eyes and Molly felt it drop into her hair.
"Really?" Molly cried.
"Yes, of course," Sherlock confirmed, tilting her head up. He leaned down to press firm kisses to her lips. They hadn't kissed in at least two weeks because of these lingering fears and Sherlock was going to make sure that Molly knew the full extent of his heart. Each brush of their lips sparked an electricity between them until it seemed they were holding onto each other for support. He tilted his head and parted his lips further, encouraging her to deepen it. As her tongue brushed against his, he lifted her into his arms and she ran her fingers through his onyx curls.
When they broke the kiss to regain their oxygen supply, Sherlock leaned his forehead against hers, blue eyes meeting brown.
"I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock smiled.
"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes," Molly whispered.
"Are you still scared?" he asked.
"No," she replied, nuzzling against him. "I feel safe with you."
"I'm glad," Sherlock told her. "I never want you to feel afraid of loving me." He paused a moment. "I'm sorry for snapping at you."
"I'm sorry for keeping this from you," Molly apologized.
"Forgive me?" Sherlock asked.
"Always. Forgive me?" Molly asked in return.
"Always," he answered.
Author's Note: I really interpreted this prompt as a chance to play out miscommunication between them, so I hope I did well idk lol.