'Kindly unspoken

You show your emotion

And silence speaks louder than words.

It's lucky I'm clever

Cause if I didn't know better

I'd believe only that which I'd heard'.

- Kindly Unspoken by Kate Voegele

"It's gotta be somewhere," Molly said, digging through a pile of clothes on Sherlock's bedroom floor. "Unless…"

"Unless?" Mary asked. There wasn't a reply. Molly just moved to his dresser, looking in the drawers for her pajamas. "Not there?"

"Nope," she answered, Sherlock's aubergine dress shirt in her hands. "But, this'll do."

"Don't. Stop," Mary spoke sarcastically. Truthfully, she didn't think Sherlock would even mind that Molly took his shirt. She couldn't help but laugh at the fact that Molly had already stripped down to her knickers and slipped on Sherlock's shirt, buttoning it up. She threw her hair haphazardly into a messy bun and ran out to the sitting room and hooked her phone up to the radio, playing music.

"Dance with me," Molly grinned. She was now donning the infamous deerstalker on her head. Mary shrugged and joined in. It would be revenge for interrupting John's proposal to her all those months ago.

"You are just a ball of energy tonight," Mary laughed.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes and I can't tell the woman who already knows I love her that I love her," Molly mimicked. Their energy wore off and Molly stumbled over to Sherlock's bookshelf. "You know, I never actually noticed just how many books he has." She read the titles, stopping when she found a large binder and pulled it off the shelf.

"What's that?" Mary asked, intrigued. Molly opened it and saw it was full of essays and medical journal pages in those plastic sleeves to protect them.

"These are all my essays, including the ones that didn't even make it into any medical journals," Molly gasped. She flipped through it, each essay having her name written on it. "Why does he have these? He must have been collecting since we met. Look, this one is from 2009. It was my first attempt at getting an essay published."

"Damn," was all Mary could say.

"God, this is wrong," Molly sighed. "I shouldn't be snooping like this."

"I'm sure he won't be upset with you," Mary told her. The binder was put back into place on the shelf.

"I just broke his trust, Mary," she cried. "I'm a terrible friend. Oh my God, I've ruined everything."

"Hey, that's not true, love," Mary consoled her. "He'll forgive you." She turned into Mary's arms and cried a while longer. They were too tired to take a cab back to her flat, so Mary ended up crashing on the sofa and Molly crashed in Sherlock's bed, unaware of the door opening.

Sherlock entered his flat to find it in more disarray than usual. He noticed Mary asleep on the sofa immediately and investigated further. There was an imprint in his chair of a small bum that he'd know anywhere. Molly. The binder of her essays was sticking out further than usual and he knew she had found it. Molly's phone was still plugged into the radio. They were obviously dancing. But where was she?

There she was, in his bed, snuggled into his pillows and duvet with the deerstalker on her head. He smiled at her sleeping form, sitting beside her, brushing a small, stray piece of hair behind her ear. Slowly, he removed the hat from her head and tossed it aside.

"I don't know exactly why you were here, Molly, but I'm glad you are," he spoke quietly, pressing a kiss to her cheek, also noting the smell of wine on her breath. She stirred in her sleep, aware of his presence as she reached out for his hand. He laced his fingers with hers and squeezed affectionately.

"You're not mad?" she asked sleepily, sitting up. He smiled softly at her.

"No, I'm not mad," he replied. "I could never be mad at you…is that my shirt?" Her face flushed more than it already was from the alcohol.

"I'm sorry I snooped," Molly told him. He chuckled at that. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he shook his head. "You just honestly thought I'd be upset you decided to play detective and saw that I have all of your essays?"

"Why do you have them?" she asked.

"Because I've always admired your work," he answered. "And, though I was in denial, I've always lov—been fond of you." Molly's smile disappeared when he changed his choice of words. This did not go undetected by him. "Go to sleep, Molly. We can talk in the morning."

"Love you," she mumbled, snuggling back into the pillows.

When he knew she was sound asleep, he replied, "I love you too."

Author's Note: The song that Molly and Mary dances to is called Watch Me Do by Meghan Trainor (It's super fun!)