Well, everyone, this is the last chapter of this story. I love all of you guys for following, reviewing, and favoriting. Thank y'all so much for everything!

Sherlock had been coaching Molly's dancing for two months now. The other requests on that list of hers were ludicrous, but he went through with every single one of them. He even watched a sappy, sentimental romance with her. He grit his teeth and dug his nails into his leg, but when Molly curled up against his side, he loosened his grip.

He was absolutely correct about her innate qualities of a good dancer. She just needed a bit of refinement. In all honesty, Sherlock did not want to let on to Molly that she would not need his help for much longer. He liked their current arrangement, and he saw no need to be changing it any time soon.

Their current arrangement being: Sherlock arrived at her flat every night promptly at six O'clock. They ate dinner together, and as soon as they felt able, Sherlock would teach her a new dance, or, as the case may have been, a little more of the dance she was currently learning. Afterwards, he would make an innocent advance, which she would promptly refuse.

Honestly, he was not sure just how long she could keep doing that. He thought he had made it clear to her that this was more than a perverse experiment in human libido.

One more thing, which John so helpfully pointed out in his blog, of all places.

Sherlock Holmes was happy.

Excerpt from the blog of John Watson:

Have any of you seen pictures of Sherlock in the paper? Apart from the one of him in the hat? Well, usually he has a nice, big scowl on his face. However, a recent publication has a shot of him smiling after solving his latest case. That's right, smiling.

What on earth caused this, you ask. Well, I had to make a few deductions, but according to my logic, Sherlock's new stretching of his facial muscles is a result of his having become the second half of a couple. At least, as close as Sherlock can get to something like that.

Anyway, he's happy. Sherlock Holmes is happy.

Sherlock immediately wanted to point out the fallacies of this article. In the first place, his facial muscles got plenty of exercise. Second, he and Molly were not a couple. Last, he wanted to say that he was not happy.

But he took a moment to think about it before refuting John's statement.

Was he happy?

His mouth twitched. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door.

Molly Hooper sat up on her couch and yawned.

She must have fallen asleep; she glanced at her watch.

5:30

She jerked her head up.

Sherlock will be coming over soon, she thought.

Molly had intended to spend her weekend tidying up her flat, but working the late shift on Friday had exhausted her. Sherlock was not pleased to have missed their lesson, either.

She got to her feet and walked down the hall to her bedroom. She smiled when she saw the list hung up on her wall, beside her mirror.

3. Teach me to dance.

Molly knew the lessons were going to stop soon. She didn't know what else he could teach her now; he knew only a few types of dances (though the ones that he could do, he did excellently). She doubted there was a crying need for that skill in crime work, though.

She did not want them to end. Molly had absolutely no idea what would happen between them when they did. Sherlock Holmes was not the kind of man who liked to go out on dinner dates, or take in a movie. Molly giggled when she remembered the faces he'd made during their viewing of The Notebook.

She almost felt guilty for refusing his advances over and over. She knew it was teasing, and she knew she'd give in one day.

But was sure going to have to work for that day.

She jumped when she heard a knock on her door.

It's way too early for that to be Sherlock, she thought.

She looked down at her sweatpants and crinkled her nose before running to answer her door.

"Sherlock?" She asked, while swinging the door inward.

He raised his eyebrows back at her in response. She stared back at him.

He stood out in the hallway rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Are you not going to come in?"

"Oh," he replied, stepping forward, "yes, I do believe that would be helpful."

Molly eyed him suspiciously, "What are you doing here so early?"

He ran one hand through his dark curls, "I have come to a very unwelcome conclusion."

Molly swallowed.

Here it comes, she thought. I thought this time he would be different, but I was wrong. I was so wrong.

She felt tears stinging the corner of her eyes. She kept her head down as she closed the door.

"Oh," she finally answered, "What might that conclusion be?"

"That would be," he began, "That you make me very..."

She cringed.

"H-happy," he sputtered out.

She blinked, then looked up at the man in front if her.

"I...make you happy? And that's an unwelcome conclusion?" She did not know whether to be relieved or offended.

He walked past her into her living room, and sat down. He motioned for her to do the same, and she took a seat next to him on the couch.

"Yes, it is unwelcome."

He offered no explanation, so Molly just tilted her head and remained silent.

Silence makes others uncomfortable, he once told her, keep quiet and they're more likely to give you an answer.

He pursed his lips, "You learned well."

She nodded.

"It...It's entirely unwelcome because...It frightens me."

Molly exhaled a breath she did not know she was holding back, "Sherlock...Is that all?"

"For now, yes."

"And you came all the way just to tell me that?"

He grimaced, "Well, I was coming here anyway..."

She giggled. He took up her hand in his.

"That's not all, you know."

She felt her heart beat faster in expectation.

"What is it?"

"Well," he exhaled a shaky breath, "You know, I'm sure you know, that your dancing is...decent," she made a face at him, "there's really not all that much to teach you now. You can keep practicing with me, but I'm sure that would not nearly be as..." he looked into her eyes, "fun." The last word came out as a curse.

"It would not be quite the same..." he trailed off, "Molly?"

She looked down at their entwined hands, "Yes?"

"Do I...Do I make you happy?"

She swallowed.

Did Sherlock make her happy? She was not sure exactly what was going on between them. Some days she felt she knew him inside and out, like a book she'd read four times over. Other times she felt as though she was staring into the eyes of a complete stranger.

She knew they weren't exactly a couple, but did that mean that she couldn't be happy all the same?

"Yes," she replied, "You make me very happy."

He smiled.

"Well, seeing as how I make you happy, and you do the same for me...Molly, have you noticed that I like for everything to happen just according to my plans?"

He said it so innocently, she could not help but laugh, "Yes, Sherlock, I think I've caught on to that."

"And that I detest changes?"

"Yes," she answered, "that, too."

"Based on all this evidence, and the soon-to-be cancellation of our lessons together, don't you think it would be a good idea if we..."

She raised her eyebrows.

"We could get married, Molly. If you want; if you don't, we can move in together. I...I want to make you happy. I don't want this," he gestured helplessly, "to end."

Molly almost choked, "You...you would really want that?"

Sherlock looked her in the eyes, "I don't think there is a thing I have ever wanted more."

Molly's eyes teared up.

"Except..." he began again, "A serial killer. Fascinating, you know."

"Sherlock!" she yelled, and slapped him on the hand. He chuckled in response.

"Is that a yes?"

"You do realize we've never even been on a date, right?" She asked, incredulous.

"Does that insipid movie not count?"

"...No..."

"Ah, well. What does that matter? You've solved crimes with me. Is that not close enough?"

She remained silent.

"Molly Hopper," he prodded, "Will you marry me?"

She looked into his swirling blue eyes, and gently ran her fingers through his lush hair. She had pictured it so many times before.

Had he done enough to prove himself to her? Possibly. Possibly not. But he'd begged. And he'd compromised. He stated that he cared, and he followed through with what he promised her.

Molly knew, she just knew, that tonight would be the night she finally gave in to Sherlock Holmes.

"Yes, I'll marry you."