It would have been impossible not to have recognized her the moment he laid eyes on her. Her face, her whole being was branded into his mind.

A sigh left his lips as he prepared himself to approach her.

He'd found her in France, living in an adorable flat, being adorable while having an occupancy in the department of Pathology. He'd laughed quietly to himself when he'd found himself thinking so, he'd never been so comfortable with feeling the way he was feeling that day. He had let himself embrace the foreign feelings that swelled his heart.

"Nice to meet you-again-Melody Cooper." He was smiling in the way his serous face looked to have been ripped forcibly with utter happiness as he gazed at her-finally-up close "I've-"

"I'm sorry." she sounded gingerly "Do I know you?" she had stared at him for a few seconds and he'd deduced that as Molly trying to process the fact that she had been trying to process the fact that he was back again but the look in her eyes, the look in her eyes told him something else.

She was jerky in movement and foreign in his eyes "I'm sorry-I this is sort of hard to talk about with random people" she laughed nervously "but just in case we weren't close enough when the accident happened and you didn't hear about it, I got in a car accident and I have amnesia." She shrugged as if it was just one big joke.

But it was as he smiled and laughed politely at her ignorant eyes. She didn't know him, he didn't know her. And it was like being shot all over again, he felt he did indeed need morphine, but no.

Ishka.

Whether she be Molly Hooper or Melody Cooper he could only see Ishka's dead body and he wasn't about to let the opportunity to love her no matter what with regrets from the past.

"Well, then" he breathed and sighed as he offered his hand to Melody Cooper "let me introduce myself as Sherlock Holmes to you, Melody."

Reluctantly, very reluctantly she laughed and shook his hand and she felt within her chest cavity a tug.

"Have we known each other before?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Let's just say" he said while he pulled out a small notepad "'To new beginnings'" and he gave her the paper with his number, a warm smile, and his back as he walked away.

He walked away like he did before, with an offer hanging in the air and a bruised heart, the scenario that had happened subsequently could have very nearly broken him again but now was not the time to quit.

I owe you a future, Melody Cooper.

Dear Mycroft

I saw him today

I was going to

He finally had the guts to show hi

I'm tired.

M.H.C.

Mycroft's smile wiped off his face, he had planned to be entertained by Miss Coopers expected request for him to move her to another country or chuckle to him about the complaints and details about how she'd scolded him but the lack of messages from his men about Sherlock and now her letter brought him a depressing day ahead.

He would not meddle but he would be there for her as much as he could, he knew he had to especially because of the separate message coming directly from his brother.

Tedious, brother; you're getting rusty.

S.H.

P.S.

The answer to your question was Molly Hooper but now I'm afraid it's changed to Melody Cooper.

He nodded to himself as he'd thought about all the little holes Sherlock could have squeezed through, he'd had the newspapers published, he'd had papers burned and recopied and a staged car crashed. He'd had Melody Cooper born he would be a fool if he'd let himself get caught by his little brother, as for the P.S. he couldn't help but think would it be the best for Miss Cooper if his brother kept pursuing her while she was tired?

"Mycroft." He turned, saw her, smiled "Stop meddling into the children's business." She gestured "Come here." And she smiled as he went.

They just kept bumping into one another and she would have smiled and laughed and gushed at his charm had she not been busy with the mangled bodies and her very much mangled heart.

First time was at the coffee shop on the other side of town from her flat on a weekend, second time was when she was assisting on an experiment on a body and had to act clueless and surprised that he was there, third time was when he was helping the family above her move in and the fourth time was in the grocery store, across the street.

"Sherlock," the fifth time he was in front of her door, a smile on his face. "what are you doing here?"

An exasperated Melody faced him "I thought you might want some company this weekend" one stunning smile and a breath taken away "I brought lunch."

There was no way he hadn't figured it out yet. There was no way he hadn't contacted Mycroft and had given him hell.

There was no way he didn't know she was lying.

It was only in rare occurrences that Molly Hooper's strong steady voice faltered "Sherlock, Why are you really here?"

He had been so pleasant and she had almost let herself believe that he had fallen for her lie, because it was not very hard not to recognize the man that stood in front of her now. She did not recognize the man, the good man that he had become. After all this courting, what was the catch?

Was it all just another game for him to play?

Which one will fall first?

Oh, but she won't lose this one. No.

"Molly." He shook his head, he hid a smile, he acted normal, he didn't hide that he was hiding emotions "I meant Melody, I know you don't remember me, but I can see it in your eyes." And as he said these words he let the lunch bag lay on the floor as he took her hand "You still love me."

She was going to break down but he continued, he continued to pour out his love for Melody Cooper.

He spoke about a future together in change for the opportunities in the past that he'd neglected. He spoke of how he adored her, how he admired her, how she was so small and yet so big. So big. So full of love, love for him. Love he'd learned to let himself crave. He spoke about how he'd missed her, how his world literally crumbled around him when he realize he couldn't see his best friend anymore, his brother, his parents his friends. Because he had had friends, he only refused to acknowledge them.

"But mostly, Melody, I miss Molly Hooper." He sounded so earnest, looked so intently into her tear brimmed eyes with his emotion filled ones.

They weren't cold, they weren't remarking how many flaws she had, they were loving.

Because Sherlock Holmes is not a sociopath.

"I love you, Molly Hooper." He knew he did things like these, he was cold after all, he would be a jerk to her, mostly to her than other people, but in a different way, in a way only they understood, like an inside joke.

Was it an inside joke now that he looked ready to cry, ready to-

"I will do anything, I will shower in gravel I will give you me," he took in a large breath of air, of her with their closeness "Molly Hooper, remember me."

She rolled her eyes, of course he would act so impossibly arrogant around people, he was nothing but a bag full of shows.

"Do you really expect me to answer that?" she laughed as she gestured for him to turn the bone saw off as she handed it to him.

"Oh, look at that. Fascinating Tibia." He looked nonchalantly at the sawed in half leg before he jerked and turned to her remembering he'd asked her a question 'Do you think I'm unforgettable.' "Of course, I expect you to give me a straight answer. Gerald only laughs when I ask him."

Her sharp laugh was something he didn't expect and he turned and watched her take her safety goggles off as well as the gloves and throw them away, she was shaking her head.

In the morgue, he had asked to assist her in a fascinating case of an autopsy of a yet to be determined bone disease.

"Well, if you really are serious." He marveled at how much of an anomaly it was that he found her beauty so perfectly accentuated by the light of the morgue and the white of the fabric of her lab coat, adding a personal touch with how colorful her clothes were under her coat, she looked perfectly at home in the crisp clean room, cutting up cadavers. "I personally think you would be a hard person to forget, Sherlock Holmes."

He rolled his eyes he knew she knew that wasn't what he mea-

"Don't turn away from me when I'm talking to you!" she wasn't done yet and he acted haughty, hiding the embarrassment that she would have the courage to yell at him "I wasn't done yet.

I think that you are a great man, Sherlock Holmes. I believe it. Your talent, your skill was certainly hard owned and you don't forget people like that, but most importantly," she smiled cheekily at him, he pretended he didn't enjoy it "you are a man with a gift. You are a legend. A man like no other, I swear to you that I know and believe that there will never be a man like you on this world again. You are unforgettable."

He stared hard at her with passionate eyes, before he stopped himself from getting lost and acting like a primal animal he looked back down at the sawed in half Tibia "I must say, Molly. You are good with your hands."

"Still wasn't done."

He looked back, allowing her a peek at his cheeky side "And with your mouth." With which she rolled her eyes at and walked away.

He was chuckling to himself when he heard her whisper, maybe to him, maybe to herself, but what was important was he heard her, listened, and let his heart swell.

"I won't ever forget you, Sherlock Holmes."

Don't you remember?

She could feel the sobs in her throat; they were getting ready to come out.

Don't you remember when you said you wouldn't forget?

The look in his eyes, searching, believing she'd forgotten him.

Silly man.

Her mouth stretched as she silently cried as he stared at her, looked for her.

I won't ever forget you.

He'd let his hands cup her face, searching, looking, not letting go. But would he find what he was looking for? Or was she too far gone?

Remember me.

It was like a silent command, in his hopeful eyes, for her to start bawling, crying, sobbing, the pain she'd kept inside, the pain from the months, from the years and the pain from the very beginning.

He clutched her tight to him, stood up straight, her feet dangling, she wouldn't let go again.

"You remembered." A light laugh, like he was announcing his unwrapped Christmas present, he'd gotten the one he specifically asked for.

"I never forgot." A sob, a release "I never forgot." Guilt.

"Shhh." A swelling heart and arms clutching tight what-whom they loved the most "It's okay." Comfort.

"I am so" she drew back looked into his eyes, swimming in tears "sorry."

Pulled her again, almost too roughly "Never do that again, never forget me again." Forgiveness.

"Never again." A promise.

"Never want to do that again." A plea.

"Don't make me want to forget you again." A laugh.