Here's part two. Thank you all who followed and favorited this story and for the reviews. Of course I can't thank the lovely MrsMCrieff enough, my Beta, my Brit-picker, my hand-holder and most importantly my friend. As much as I enjoy writing, it's the friendships that I've made that make this endeavor so much more enjoyable.

I own nothing-hope you enjoy this.

Molly Hooper wasn't the naïve school girl everyone made her out to be. She understood human nature and emotions. She had been working at St. Bartholomews for seven years and had seen people mourn and grieve. She also had her own personal relationship with death, having buried both her parents. Most importantly, Molly was a bit of an expert on Sherlock Holmes. So she had no delusion that what happened by the pond was some great realization of deeply hidden love for her. The man was grieving his mother, he was feeling things and was extremely emotional. He, of course didn't have any healthy coping mechanisms for dealing with his emotions. So he once again used her, this time he felt like a teenage make-out session would do the trick. Although she was sure he wasn't at all aware of it on a conscience level. No, simply channeling it somewhere.

She was like a lightning rod for his emotions. Now if she could only manage not to get burnt to a crisp.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, thinking. She, of course, had not been thinking when she let things escalate so quickly. Though she tried not to be too hard on herself, all those years of attraction and well, love... then he's suddenly attacking her lips and all the other wonderful bits. Yes, she'd just have to be better at controlling the situation if it happened again. He's lost his mother and was emotional vulnerable. She couldn't let him do something he'd regret.

This could turn out to be the hardest week of her life.

Defusing the situation with humour and pretending that she wasn't affected was the only way to safely extract herself for the moment. Fortunately, Sherlock was so detracted by the event he hadn't noticed her deception.

The door to the bedroom opened shaking Molly from her thoughts as Sherlock burst in. "Okay, remember that sign we talked about? This is it. You've been up here for an hour. Do you have any idea how many people I've had to hug?" She shook her head. "Twelve point five!"

Molly gave him a look.

"One was a small child, hence the point five. Budge!" He motioned for her to move over on the bed and he sat down. "There's enough food down there to feed the entire British Navy! Why do people do that, bring food to grieving families?"

"Oh, well two reasons I suppose. So that no one has to worry about preparing meals for a while and also because well... food is comforting. You've heard of comfort foods I assume."

"Food is comforting?" Sherlock said as if it were the most preposterous thing he'd ever heard. "Food is fuel. I've never understood the idea that one could find comfort in the consumption of food." He was looking off as if he were pondering the subject.

"I should make you my dad's shepherd's pie, it always made me feel better when everything went to shit." Molly said.

Sherlock turned his attention back to her. "I find you comforting Molly."

Oh no!

She smiled and started to get up but Sherlock placed a hand on her hip. "Sherlock, remember what you said earlier. Half of your family is downstairs."

His eyes were drawing her in though and he wasn't giving up just yet. "Molly, this morning was fascinating." He ran his fingers through her hair giving Molly cold chills. "I wonder..."

Suddenly she was flat on her back pinned under the detective. This time wasn't rushed and frantic. He leaned up on one arm and cradled her cheek in his other hand gently taking her lips in his. Molly whimpered as he sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.

As much as she tried Molly couldn't keep her hands off the poor grieving man. One hand was in his hair and the other was digging into his back. Sherlock sat up shucking his suit jacket, Molly tried to shake some sense into herself but he was back on her too quickly. He attached himself to her neck and she wondered for a moment if she had brought any scarves though she knew she hadn't.

"Molly you taste so good... I think I'm starting to understand the notion of comfort food." He leant back and started pulling off her jumper.

Molly was panicking, this had to stop. "Sherlock, your family!"

"They've got plenty to eat!" He worked on removing the unwanted garment, "This has to go!" Finally he managed to tug it over her head. "Oh yes..." He pushed one bra cup to the side and latched onto a nipple and moaned.

Molly knew she was lost, lost in the feel of Sherlock devouring her breasts, lost in his pure joy of the act and lost in her own ecstasy. Of all the things she'd had to endure for this man at least she would have this before her heart broke entirely.

No wait... Sherlock! He doesn't want this... he's just grieving... I have to stop him!

"So sorry about what I said, your breasts are perfect Molly. Mmm, lovely!" He said just before diving back in for another mouthful.

"Oh God! Sherlock... Maybe... ahhhh... we should go back downstairs." She tried feebly to extract his head from her chest.

"Are you kidding me?" He finally looked up. "Hmm? Your lovely breasts or my retched family? No competition Molly. Besides, there's something else I'd like to taste."

NO! Molly Hooper... do not let Sherlock Holmes go down on you in his childhood bed, with his entire family downstairs, while mourning the death of his mother. Stop this, stop this right now!

"Um, remember when I said I didn't want to talk about this... I changed my mind." Molly rushed out as Sherlock unbuttoned her jeans.

"Not now Molly!"

"Shouldn't we talk, a bit Sherlock? I mean..." Then once again her words floated away because he was nipping and sucking her hip bone and rubbing her through her soaked knickers.

"Look at you," He jerked her jeans off completely, "So wet." Planting opened mouthed kissed just above her pants. He pushed them aside and brushed his thumb over her clit and Molly bucked up biting down on the heal of her hand. "Oh, you are so sensitive." He hooked this thumbs in her knickers and yanked them down tossing them across the room. Molly looked down at Sherlock, he was smiling, truly smiling and for a second she felt like it would all be worth it just to see him so happy in this moment before all the pain he would have to face.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around Molly's thighs and opened her wider as his tongue did things that no other lover had come close to doing for her. He stroked her belly and hummed his appreciation as she bit harder to keep from crying out. He must have known how close she was because she suddenly felt first one then two fingers in her opening. He looked up once again. "Amazing Molly, you taste better than I imagined... let go... it's okay. Just let go for me." Then he was on her again sucking on her tiny bundle of nerves and pumping into her... and oh did she let go!

"Oh, fuck Sherlock that's perfect. You're perfect. Yes... God! Ahhhhhhhh!"

He wasn't gentle, he pounded his fingers into her through her orgasm. Molly finally relaxed and he withdrew. Molly watched him licking his fingers clean as he lay down next to her, she started regaining her breath.

Molly's mind was awash with chemicals. She tried to form rational thought, but nothing came... she was floating. She looked up to see Sherlock watching her curiously. "What?" She managed.

He shook his head. "Nothing." He laid his head on her chest, Molly instinctively started running her fingers through his hair. She fell asleep after a few minutes.

Molly woke up about an hour later Sherlock was getting dressed, evidently he had taken another shower. He was just pulling on his trousers. She sat up and realized she was still only wearing her bra.

"Can you hand me my dressing gown?" She asked as he turned around.

He handed her his instead (well it was closer.) She slipped it on and started picking up all her discarded clothing.

"John and Mary are here." He said as he buttoned up a dark blue shirt.

"I thought they weren't coming until tomorrow."

"Well evidently John was concerned that I wasn't answering any of his texts. You'd think now that he has his own family he'd find something other than me to fuss over."

"He loves you Sherlock, he worries."

A beat passed. "Aren't you going to get dressed?"

Molly looked around. "I was waiting for you to leave."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "For heaven's sake Molly! I think we've surpassed modesty have we not?" He rolled his eyes then leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'll see you downstairs."

Molly shook her head and got dressed. Damn it! What am I going to do with that? She thought looking in the mirror at the impressive love bite on her neck. The ones on her clavicle were easily hidden but the one on her neck was fairly obvious. She had enough experience with bruises to know make-up would only make it worse. She sent a text to Sherlock asking where his scarf was and could she use it. He said no and to hurry... there were people there and they were annoying him. Molly brushed her hair to one side, it seemed to cover it for the most part so she opened the door to join Sherlock. John Watson was coming out of the loo.

"Hey!" He grabbed her and hugged her.

"Hi John."

"Did you just come out of Sherlock's room?" He asked.

"Ah, yeah. Limited space. Anthea's in the spare. Did you know she's their cousin?"

"I only found that out about six months ago. Makes sense though. I assumed you'd be at the B&B with us."

"No, staying here. But you know, it's Sherlock so...it's not like..." She shrugged trying to seem indifferent, but afraid she was failing miserably.

"Right, right. But Molly, I mean you... are you okay?" He asked.

"You asked me that already John. I'm fine. Sherlock needs us right now, come on lets go before he makes someone cry." She laughed.

When they got downstairs Molly was introduced to several family members... This is Dr. Molly Hooper, my pathologist. No one seemed to find it the least bit odd that Sherlock's pathologist was in attendance at his mother's funeral. His family must have been accustomed to his eccentric ways. Sherlock was clearly on edge but John's presence seemed to help, they were talking quite a bit. If she were honest Molly felt a bit relieved to have some back-up. She made her way over to Mary and baby Ella.

"Look at this beautiful girl." Molly said as she sat down next to the pair.

"Thanks, and isn't my daughter a cutie too!" Mary laughed. "So how's he doing, really?"

Molly thought for a moment hoping she wasn't blushing. "Better than I would have thought. He's Sherlock of course, so he does everything in his own special way. But I think he's doing pretty well, so far."

"How horrible has it been, staying here?" Mary asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Well three Holmes men in one house, especially under these circumstances."

"Not bad. They miss her and tomorrow will be difficult but I'm just glad I could be here for Sherlock."

"Hmm, John says you're bunking with him. Is that a good idea Molly?"

Molly took deep breath, "Why is everyone so concerned about me? I didn't just lose my mother, I'm fine." She said a bit more harshly than she intended. "Sorry Mary. That was... sorry. Can I hold her?"

"Of course." Mary handed baby Ella over and Molly raked her hair back over her shoulder to get it out of the way. That's when Mary noticed the bite mark on Molly's neck. Molly saw the recognition in Mary's eyes.

"Please Mary. Don't." Molly said. "It's nothing. Please."

"Molly, if you don't want to talk about it I understand. But I think..."

"I'm well aware what everyone thinks. I've had quite enough of everyone's opinions. I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself." She handed Ella back to Mary. "I think I'm going to get a little air if you don't mind."

Molly went through the kitchen and out into the back garden. She just wanted to help her friend, she didn't want all of this. As much as she loved Sherlock she didn't want him this way, and she certainly didn't want everyone's pity. She wandered around for a few moments wishing she smoked, it seemed like it might take the edge off of everything right now.

She was stuck, it's not is if she could stay out there all night. She had to go back inside at some point. But between Sherlock's hands, his father's words and everyone's pity Molly was just about at her breaking point. I should go home. John's here now. He can handle this, Sherlock will be fine now. She could escape and get away from everything and back to Toby and her flat where no one was looking at her with sad eyes or trying to kiss the life out of her. Good. Now to explain to Sherlock.

She sent him a text. Five minutes later he found her in the back garden.

"What's going on Molly?" He asked carrying two glasses of scotch.

"Thanks." She grabbed one and took a large drink. "Shit, that's good."

"What do mean John's here, I should go? Why would you go?" He asked.

Molly took another drink of the excellent scotch. "Well, John's here now and he's your best friend. You don't really need me anymore. So..."

Sherlock put his arm on the small of Molly's back and walked her over to a wooden bench where they sat down. "Molly, if I had wanted John Watson to come with me I would have asked him. I didn't, I wanted you. I still want you, I need you here. Why do you suddenly want to leave? What happened?" He said with an edge to his voice.

Molly looked to the house and then back to Sherlock. "Nothing, it's just I-I... I don't... I'm trying to be here for you but I-I'm..."

"You're afraid I'm just using you because I'm confused over the loss of my mother. And you're afraid that I'll regret what's transpired once this is all over. You're terrified that I will once again toss you aside. That's what you think isn't it Molly? Someone said something to you though? Who was it? Mycroft? Seems most likely, he's an ass Molly you can't let him bother you."

"It was your dad Sherlock!" She shouted as she stood up. "He told me not to waste my life waiting on you. That's why I was crying today and then you-you... kissed me and touched me! What the fuck? I know you're hurting and I know that's why you did it. I know and I can take it but I can't take the pity and the looks. Mary saw this." She pointed to her neck. "Now everyone will know, they'll know that I'm just your pin cushion. But that's all I've ever been. Just a soft place to land."

She turned her back and braced herself before turning back to him. "You said I never asked for anything, please I'm begging! This, this is what I'm asking for, can I have this little bit of pride please? I'm sorry, I failed this time, but it hurts so much knowing that you only need me when you're at your worst. Because I need you all the time but can never really have you. God, I've tried so hard but you take everything. I'm so sorry Sherlock, I've nothing left to give." She sobbed.

Sherlock looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. She knew her timing was absolutely horrible, maybe the scotch had gone right to her head or maybe she had just been pushed too far.

"If that's how you feel," His voice broke, "I will see to it you're safely transported back to London."

Molly turned and ran into the house. She pushed past John and past people she didn't know, people she just met and ran up the stairs. She started throwing her clothes into her bags haphazardly, crying so hard she could hardly breathe.

She had done it. He would never trust her again. What little she had was gone, she had made sure of that. Well, at least she could go home and try to put some distance between the pitiful looks and words of warning. Maybe she should move. Yes, she'd have to get a new job and move away, it would be for the best. She sat down on the bed and tried to collect herself.

About five minutes later Anthea burst into the room, "Dr. Hooper you'd better hurry!"

"What's wrong?"

"Just hurry!"

Molly followed her back downstairs and out the back door where several people were holding a bleeding Sherlock and an equally bloody John Watson away from each other.

Greg Lestrade was standing between them shouting. "...won't be the first time I've had to arrest the two of you and I'm guessing it won't be the last. Now just calm down."

Mary was looking at John's face and whispering angrily at him. Molly slowly walked over to Sherlock. "What the hell happened? I was only gone for ten minutes." He jerked away from Mycroft and another man (a cousin maybe?)

Sherlock didn't speak he just glared at her. Mycroft spoke up. "Perhaps we should all go back inside and have some nice calming tea." He turned to Sherlock, "I believe there is a conversation to be had here. I suggest you start with Dr. Hooper. I'll talk to dad. I'm sure he didn't mean any harm Sherlock."

The crowd dissipated leaving Molly and Sherlock alone.

"Are you going to tell me why you and John were fist fighting?" Molly asked as she took his handkerchief from him and cleaned his busted nose. "How many times does he have to break your nose before you stop pissing him off?"

Sherlock was silent.

"What happened?"

He took a deep breath. "After you ran off John came looking for me, he saw you crying. He must have spoken to Mary. He put everything together. He accused me of using you, of hurting you." He spit the words out like bile. "I may have punched him at that point. Then as we were fighting I said some disparaging things about my father." He looked a bit confused and even contrite, "I guess, I'm a bit angry at him for what he said to you. I thought Mycroft was going to punch me at that point, maybe even Lestrade." He looked around, "And my uncle Tim, that would have been interesting, he was a prize fighter in his younger days."

Molly looked up at him, "I basically said the same thing, you didn't punch me."

Sherlock shook his head. "Fucking hell Molly, I never mean to hurt you." He took another deep breath. "I swear I don't. I can't help it. I come to you because you make everything better. I tried telling you in that note. I wanted to tell you but I didn't know how, and what good would have it done, where I was going. There aren't words for how much you mean to me." He put his hands on either side of her face. "When I came back, after the exile. I was so empty. I needed you more than ever. But I stayed away, for you. I know what I did Molly, I know I caused Tom to leave. I always seem to hurt you." He turned his back and paced.

Finally he turned back to her. "This time, I knew... I knew if I didn't come to you I'd do something you'd never be able to forgive, so I came back and it was just so perfect, you were just so perfect and God I missed you. I know I shouldn't have kissed you but I've been resisting that temptation for so long and it suddenly made sense, that that was what was missing and I wanted to give you more." He paced away once again.

He whipped back to her, "But you shouldn't let me near you. That's what dad was talking about. I told him once that I wouldn't ever be with you because I couldn't ever be what you needed. Not because I didn't want to Molly, God knows it's not because didn't want to.

"Tonight, tonight my greatest fear was realized. You ran. You ran from me like I was poison."

Tears were falling down her face. "This isn't fair Sherlock. I have no idea what's real and what's pain over your mum."

Sherlock threw his hands in the air and walked over to the bench. He picked up the scotch and drained it. "I am sad Molly. I loved my mother and I miss her terribly but that has nothing to do with what I just said to you. Maybe it's left me raw enough to express it but, damn it, this is how I feel. You of all people have to know I have feelings. Is it so impossible to believe that I have them for you? My savior, my peace... my heart."

Molly's mind seemed to take a moment to fully process and understand what he had just said before she rushed to him grabbing his shoulders and pulling him into a heated kiss. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They kissed until their noses bumped.

"Ow!"

"Sorry!"

"It's okay."

Then they were kissing once more before Sherlock moved to Molly's neck.

"Sherlock, I need, ahhh, I need to see to your nose."

"Nose is fine."

"Yes, well we're outside once again. Maybe we should go in and get you cleaned up."

He carefully sat her back down on her feet. "Good idea." He grabbed her hand and led her inside. John and Mary were at the kitchen table, Mary putting a plaster over John's eyebrow.

"John."

"Sherlock." John looked down and saw Molly and Sherlock's hands. "So... You two kids figure everything out?"

Molly cut her eyes between the men.

"Yes, well... Molly's just going to take care of my nose." Sherlock said as they made their way around the table.

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" John said, Mary giggled.

They made their way to the bathroom where Molly sat Sherlock down on the edge of the bathtub and cleaned him with a warm wet flannel. "Does it hurt?"

"Not really. Though it does remind me of all the times you put me back together while I was dead. I think I started having a Pavlovian response to injuries, knowing if I got hurt badly enough I'd have to come home to you."

Molly stopped what she was doing and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "You said home."

Sherlock nodded his head. "Home Molly, wherever you are." He smiled warmly.

"Damn it Sherlock, I am not used to you saying things like that. It's freaking me out." She kissed him again then continued cleaning his face. "You need a fresh shirt, that one's ruined." They made their way to his room and Molly picked out a shirt for him to change into.

Back downstairs, apologies were made, many apologies. Mostly at Molly's request but Sherlock complied nevertheless. All of the extended family had gone and the Holmes men were settled in Si's study when John found Molly and asked if he could talk to her in private. She agreed although she panicked at the possibility of one of those conversations.

"I'm sorry Molly," John said as he sat down next to her at the kitchen table.

"It's fine John. I've hit him myself before now, I'm fairly sure it won't be the last time for either of us."

John laughed, "No, I mean-I've apologized to Sherlock for not seeing what he felt for you, although in my defense he did hide it well. But, I'm his best friend, I should have realized. And maybe if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my life and new family then maybe I would have and I could have helped him with this whole thing. Maybe it wouldn't have taken Vi's passing to..." He cleared his throat, "I'm just sorry Molly, it seems so obvious now. I'm very happy he has someone and even happier that it's you." He smiled brightly.

"John, none of that was necessary. But thank you. I really don't know exactly what we are; we've barely talked about it."

"Molly he punched me, his best friend, because I said he hurt you. I'd say it's pretty clear. But you're right, you two need to talk."

"Well, that can wait John. I've waited years for Sherlock, right now I need to help bury his mum then we'll see." She patted John's arm and got up to make tea.

John followed behind her, "Molly Hooper. You are remarkable, did you know that?" He put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her forehead. "He doesn't deserve you, but I'm sure as hell glad he's got you." Then he went off to find his wife.

Molly finished the tea, took some to Mary and John, told them goodnight and went up to take a shower.

When she was finished she once again found a certain consulting detective waiting in his bed.

"Do you have a sixth sense about when I'm getting out of the shower?" She asked as she fished her lotion out of her bag.

"Actually I was quite disappointed to find this bed bereft of my pathologist when I came in. However, bathing is a valid enough reason to keep me waiting." He pulled back the duvet and she crawled in.

"How's your father?" Molly asked as she rubbed lotion in her hands and arms.

"Not looking forward to tomorrow, but then again neither am I." He looked away, "I suppose it's to be expected."

Molly scooted closer and laid her head on his shoulder. "Sherlock, you know everyone grieves differently. There's no wrong way or right way."

He didn't respond.

"Tomorrow's going to be difficult, but you really have to let yourself experience this."

"How do you mean?" He moved back and looked down at her.

She took a moment considering her words. "I know you Sherlock. Your instinct will be to push aside your feelings of loss and bury yourself in your work. But pain has a way of catching up with you, whether you want it to or not."

"You were still at university when you lost your father? You tried to forget about him by concentrating on school." It wasn't a question, it never was with him. When he made a deduction, it was just that.

Molly sat up. "That's why I finished a year early." She looked down at her lap. "I thought I was honoring him by working harder to get through school." She looked back up with tears in her eyes, "It nearly killed me Sherlock. Finally, I went to stay with my Aunt Evelyn for a summer, she took care of me, made me eat, sleep, let me cry. I was better by the time I got back to school but I shouldn't have ever let things get so bad." She smiled sadly, "I was just a kid with hardly any family and only a few friends. No one noticed me fading away." Sherlock put his hand on her hip. "No, I'm fine now, really. I miss him, I do. But I'm stronger for what I went through and now I know how to help people grieve. Please Sherlock, trust me. I know you're hurting. For once if you feel something, just feel it."

He looked at her and nodded then pulled her in for a closed mouth kiss. He never deepened it, just held her there for several moments. Then moved her so she was lying on his chest.

"Thank you for that Molly, and for being here with me. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."

She didn't respond, just sighed contentedly as they drifted to sleep.

The morning of the service Sherlock and Molly got ready. Sherlock helped Molly choose which dress to wear and Molly helped him with his tie that he begrudgingly wore. There was little conversation beyond that. Breakfast was much of the same. She saw Greg at the table, evidently he had stayed over. He gave her a look that Molly interpreted as, look at our sad boys.

The church service was lovely, of course. Everyone sang the praises of the wife of Siger Holmes, the mother of Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes two of the country's finest minds. She was an outstanding mathematician, a homemaker, and a friend to many. She was loved by all who knew her, many tears were shed. Sherlock held Molly's hand tightly throughout.

At the graveside Molly noticed Greg's arm protectively around Mycroft's shoulder as the final words were spoken. Sherlock never looked up. He stared at the coffin as if he were willing it not to be true. Molly remembered that feeling all too well. She wrenched her hand out of his tight grip and put her arms around him, he finally looked up at her. Tears streaming down his face he buried his head into her neck.

When they got back to the house he asked her if she'd take a walk with him. They ended up at the pond once again. They sat in silence for a while before he finally spoke.

"I'd like to stay for another couple of days if you don't mind. Make sure dad's going to be okay."

"Of course," She said.

"When we get back to London," He sighed "I was wondering if I could stay with you for a while. I just... I..."

"Yes, Sherlock that's fine, you're always welcome in my home." She said.

He nodded his head and smiled for the first time all day.

This man that everyone saw as some kind of a hero, some kind of a machine. She had always known the truth. The softness and the sadness behind all the pomp and bravado. When he came to her and put his head on her lap asking for her kindness, she knew. He was just like everyone else. The same fears, the same worries. Even the same desires as it turns out.

He reached over and put his arm around her pulling her into his chest then kissed her forehead. "Molly Hooper, you are a wonder, did you know that?"

She smiled.

They sat in very comfortable silence for several minutes.

"You punched John." Molly said laughing.

Sherlock chuckled. "Yes, I did. Though it wasn't the first time."

"I don't understand boys. I've never had urge to punch one of my girlfriends."

"You slapped me...thrice."

"Yes, well you were being an idiot!"

"I didn't say I didn't deserve it." He hugged her tighter to his side.

Several more minutes passed. "I don't have the right to ask anything more of you. But I'd like a chance. I'd like to try. I don't know if- well if I were in your place I'd tell me to fuck off."

Molly had kept her head on his chest never looking up. He knew, they both knew what her answer would be. No real point in pretending. Molly had given her heart to Sherlock Holmes six years before. If he was willing to give her his now, she'd take it and she'd never let it go.

She turned and looked up at him with tears in her eyes, some happy, some sad. "Of all the things you've asked of me Sherlock, this one I'll gladly do."

There you go! Hope you enjoyed it!

So there's a very real possibility for a follow up... Who'd like to see this two come back and spend a week at Molly's flat? I blame MrsMCrieff for the suggestion of a follow up (although I was pondering it... a bit.)

I'm thinking something a bit less sad and a bit more on the smutty side... I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading.