I own nothing. Thanks to superwholockian7437 who is amazing and introduced me to this song :)

TEMPORARY BLISS BY THE CAB

'Cause I can't keep sleepin' in your bed

If you keep messin' with my head

Before I slip under your sheets

Can you give me somethin' please?

I can't keep touchin' you like this

If it's just temporary bliss

Just temporary bliss

Molly arrived home from working, yawning and exhausted. She's had to deal with a cot death and days like those were always hard. That poor baby.

It was days like this that she'd most like him to talk to her. A proper conversation. At first she'd just thought this was the way he was in his home. He never spoke to her or ate with her or did anything with her to be honest. Except sex of course. But when she'd talked to John about it (although not the bit about sex) he'd said that whilst Sherlock had been a horrible flatmate, he'd never been this bad. He'd spoken to John at least. He'd made an effort with John.

He was not making an effort with her. This much she knew.

She entered the flat tentatively and put her bag down. She toed off her shoes, putting them neatly in place. Glancing at Sherlock, she saw he was sulking on the sofa.

"Hello." She said, forcing her voice to be bright. "Er… Bad day?" He just glared at her. A harsh glare that broke her soul a little. She got that glare a lot.

She knew not to try further. Hidden in the kitchen she began to make dinner. Today it was toad in the hole. She made enough for two, as she did every day even though she knew he never ate anything she cooked. It was ok though. She ate the leftovers for lunch the next day.

Molly tried again to make him eat, "You hungry?". He grunted.

"Please, you never eat with me. You don't have to eat this, you could order out. Or I could make you something different? You could just sit at the table with me maybe..?" No reply. Like everyday.

She ate alone and got ready for bed alone and fell asleep alone after leaving a cup of tea near him. She knew he wouldn't drink it. It occurred to her that even when she'd lived alone she hadn't been this lonely. She missed her cat. Sherlock hadn't let her keep Toby when she moved in. She was cold.

At 3.00AM or thereabouts she was woken by Sherlock's large frame crushing her small one.

"Sherlock no… I have work tomorrow and I'm so tired."

He ignored her words and began to murmur, "Molly… Molly… Oh Molly, I love you so much." And she gave in as she did every night, seduced by his loving words. She was his one and only, when there was nothing else to occupy him. But for then it was perfect. Bliss. Then it was over.

In the mornings she woke up alone, Sherlock on the other side of the bed to hers. He was as far away from her as he could be. But it was that way everyday.

But Molly Hooper is not as meek as she is believed to be. As soon as she fully accepted that Sherlock would always treat her this way she did something about it.

Which was why one day, upon returning to Baker Street after a meeting with a client he was startled to find Molly's things, which had previously been scattered around the flat, were gone. At first he suspected burglary. Then perhaps kidnap. The truth didn't occur to him until he saw the scrap of paper laying on the kitchen table. It was in her hand.

Sherlock,
I've left you. I think you know why. I think you want me to leave. Don't try to contact me.
Molly.

But he hadn't. He hadn't wanted her to leave.