Molly Hooper stood in the lab, watching the great consulting detective at work. His coat collar was turned up as he stared intently at the experiment.
Molly's breath hitched as he turned to look at her, finally realising she was staring at him. He quirked an eyebrow. "Yes? What do you want?"
She took a deep breath. It was time, she knew.
"Sherlock, I wanted you to know… I admire you Sherlock. Not just your work but, well, I like you. I mean, really like you. And I know you don't feel the same way, and I'm sorry…I'll go now."
The pathologist turned to go, but stopped as she felt a cool hand on her arm. "Stop."
She turned around slowly to see Sherlock gazing into her eyes. "I know. I've always known."
"Known what?"
"How you feel about me. And you're wrong. I do feel the same way. You've always mattered to me, Molly Hooper. And I love you."
She could hardly believe it as he gazed at her and before she knew it he was leaning down and she stretched up and he inclined his head towards her and…
Ring, ring!
The sound of the alarm woke Molly, and she sat upright in bed, before collapsing onto the pillow limply.
It wasn't real. Of course not. It never was.
Bugger.