The car ride back to Derbyshire was pleasant enough. Molly didn't say much, she felt equal parts tired and uncomfortable.

…and neither did Sherlock.

They arrived at The Old Lockup and entered the place.

The clerk was there, which was odd, since Molly hadn't really seen him since Saturday. "Hi," she smiled.

He started a bit and nodded.

"You don't work much, do you?" she said.

"It's Tuesday. I have off Sunday and Monday," he replied with some heat.

"It was pleasant not having the clerk here, wasn't it, Molly? The constant reminders of an internet porn addict is somewhat off putting," Sherlock smiled. "And the chips at the pub next door are hardly worth further recommendation," he added, going upstairs.

Molly smiled and shrugged, then went upstairs herself after him. "Sherlock…"

"Hm?" he reached his door on the second floor.

"That was unnecessary."

"What was?" he took his key out.

"He's a lonely man. You didn't need to insult him like that," she followed him inside.

"He was brash and abrupt. Someone needed to put him in his place," he took his coat off and checked his phone, sitting at the table by the window.

Molly smiled. She followed and sat across from him. "Where do you want to eat?"

His brow furrowed as he scrolled. "Hang on…" and he typed.

She watched, then became aware of her watching, and opted for the window instead.

"Ah! Brilliant," and he typed some more.

"What?" glancing toward him now.

"He confessed," he smiled.

"I don't…"

"The case Lestrade sent…" and the sound of a text being sent was heard. "I told him that I couldn't leave, that I could solve it remotely and he didn't believe me," he put his phone away, looking very pleased. "Man confessed to murdering his fiancee," he explained.

"Oh."

She watched as he became slightly uncomfortable. "You've had my full attention every minute we've been together, Molly. You do know that, right?"

"Mm…yes. I know," she sounded doubtful, but mostly agreeable.

He nodded, looking at her. "I can't ever give this up, Molly. Whatever else happens, this is my work and it is as much a part of me as anything…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I…" he cleared his threat and sat back, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap. "I mean, that no matter what transpires between the two of us, I will always be like this to a degree."

"I know. I wouldn't want you to give it up," she replied, slightly affronted and with a confused look. "Why would I?"

"Good," he nodded. "Good. I thought as much. Just wanted that to be clear."

"And I would never abandon my work," she added.

"Of course you wouldn't. Why on earth would you even suggest…?"

"Dunno. Just wanted that to be clear," she smiled.

He nodded, a knowing smile on his face. "Well," and he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward. "Dinner…" his voice dropped.

"Yes. I'm rather peckish."

"Ah…yes. Food," he replied.

"Of course…what did you think…?"

"Nothing," and his voice was elevated, and he stood, looking at his phone.

Molly felt confused, but stood anyway. "I'll just change, then."

"Why?" he wasn't looking at her.

"Well, it'd be nice to wear something fresh."

He looked at her confusedly, then at his own clothes. "I wasn't planning on…"

"This is for my benefit, Sherlock. Stay as you are. I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes," and Molly left, heading upstairs. She opened her drawers, and was suddenly struck that tomorrow was their last full day in Derbyshire. They should do something fun and interesting tomorrow…

She took out a fresh pair of jeans and a grey blouse. She pulled her hair up again and grabbed a sweater and her bag.

She headed downstairs, momentarily confused by how she was taking this all in stride. "Well…did you find something?"

"Fancy Thai food?" he showed her his phone. It sounded pretty good.

"Ok," she shrugged.

"They have wine. I checked," he winked.

"Oh my god," he opened the door for her. "I wouldn't care…"

"Mm…you would," they headed up the street this time.

"Recall the last time you called me a drunk, Sherlock?" she said knowingly.

He cleared his throat. "I didn't call you a drunk, Molly. If you remember, you incorrectly inferred…"

"You were insinuating."

"I never insinuate anything."

"You always say exactly what you mean? That's hard to believe."

He stopped and, with a smile, said, "All right. I almost always say exactly what I mean. And though I had surmised that you had more recent experience with alcohol and intoxication, I never said that you were a drunk. I know I was wrong, and I apologize," he added. "Though one could hardly blame you for drinking while engaged to the meat dagger," and he continued to walk.

Molly caught up, having not moved for a few seconds. "You were jealous."

"Of course I was."

"But…"

"Molly, I have told you that I was jealous of nearly every boyfriend you had. Why wouldn't I be jealous of a fiancee?"

"But!" she took his arm and stoped him. "God, Sherlock, this is infuriating!"

"What is?"

"You were jealous. You loved me. You never said a word."

He looked at her crookedly. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't I tell you all of this already over the past few days?"

She rubbed her face and put her hands on her hips. "Yes. But…I suppose…I dunno. It's just now sinking in."

He shrugged. "I don't know what else to say…though, 'The restaurant is right there', seems appropriate," he smiled, and pointed at it.

"Bastard," she replied, laughing.

They walked into the restaurant, it was amply lit, and there were tables scattered…there was no definite pattern to the way in which the tables were placed. There was no one to seat them, so Sherlock led Molly to a corner in the front of the restaurant. She sat and looked at the menu.

Pretty standard Thai cuisine.

"So…" she looked at him as he began.

"What?"

"Are you less cross now?"

Molly shrugged. "Yeah. I am."

"Good," he smiled.

"But I'm still having a time."

"How do you mean?"

"Everything, Sherlock. I know that you…" she sighed.

….and the server came, and took their orders.

Sherlock ordered a bottle of wine. "I'll pay for it," he smiled.

"S'okay. You've paid for nearly everything, which isn't something I'm used to…" she cleared her throat and took a sip of the newly poured out wine. "Anyway, I know you mean it when you say that you love me…I mean, I believe you. But I'm still unsure. And confused. And…"

"Why? Why can't you just accept it?" he took a long draught.

"Because! Because I've believed this was impossible for so long that for it not to be is almost impossible to comprehend."

His mouth set and he sighed, then nodded. "Understood."

Molly looked out of the window. "You're being very…accommodating…"

"That, I would think, is a desirable thing…"

"It is," she glanced down and then at him again. "It's just surprising…" and paused, "Add that to the list," she smiled.

Sherlock shrugged. "I'm navigating this a bit blind, Molly. I'm taking cues from you, since I have no experience where this sort of thing is concerned."

"Haven't you had any…girlfriends?"

"Ah…no," he accentuated the 'no'.

"You've never cared for anyone romantically? At all?"

"No. Sex I've done. But romance…" he looked at her. "I suppose I've read enough novels to understand the basics. Apart from that, aren't romantic relationships basically friends with whom you have sex?"

"I…" she considered this. "Well, broadly speaking, yes. I suppose that's fair."

"Then I think I can figure the rest out with your help."

"It is a bit more deep, though…there is…more…." she couldn't formulate the words to her liking. "Romance is exhilarating…and intense."

"It's novel?"

"No. I mean, somewhat…there's a certain adoration? I can't explain it without it sounding ridiculous."

"I think that it likely is. Though that doesn't render it less compelling," he added softly.

She smiled. "But to the point. You've had sex, but no relationships. How did that work?"

"I should think that's fairly obvious."

She blushed. "Right."

"Molly…I had kept well away from these entanglements. You got caught accidentally."

"Interesting way to put it."

Their food came and She tasted it…quite good. "How's yours?"

"Not bad," he smiled. "So…" he took a sip of wine. And then fidgeted a bit.

"What is it?"

"Last night…this morning, rather…we co-slept," he looked down. "I was wondering…" he played with his food.

"You want to sleep in the same bed again?" she blushed and blushed again. Molly couldn't believe she was having this conversation.

"It helped me," he said softly.

"What do you mean?"

"I haven't been sleeping well since Sherrinford. Having you next to me was calming."

He still hadn't looked up. "Oh," Molly replied. That was sweet and shocking. "What happened to you, Sherlock?"

He looked at her. He sighed. "So much…"

She took another long drink then filled both of their glasses again.

He drank some. "I never knew I had a sister, Molly. Never knew that I called myself a sociopath when Euros was the one who had earned that term," he played with his glass. "Until that experience, I never knew myself. My entire sense of self was upended. I discovered that the very emotions I ridiculed countless others for were so much of who I was that I destroyed certain memories just to be able to cope. But then I couldn't anyway, and became a drug addict," and he drank some more. "Though that was more likely because I was filling the void of friendship that I had created because I couldn't allow anyone to get close to me."

"Jesus."

He smiled. "I'm not well. I'm broken…"

"You're not," she reached for his hand. "You're just…lost," and she squeezed his hand and then quickly took her hand back. "I've been there, Sherlock. I know what it's like."

"You know what it's like to have a sibling you didn't know existed who killed your best friend and you repressed your memories and thereby sabotaged most of your ability to form intimate relationships?"

Molly giggled. "Well, almost."

"I think that this is uniquely my problem."

"It is, and it isn't. Everyone has things, Sherlock. Everyone has something that they wrestle with. Yours just happens to be …."

"Fucked?"

"Well, yeah," she laughed, then took another bite.

He retuned her laugh, but when she looked at him again, there were tears in his eyes. "Will you stay with me? I promise not to touch you," he swallowed.

Molly sighed. "Ok, Sherlock. But my room. And yeah. I'm not ready for sex," she said softly.

He nodded. "Understood."

The rest of the meal was passed pleasantly enough, and they walked back to the B&B. She was uncomfortable again…the idea that he needed to sleep next to her was unnerving, but in a good way.

"I'll be up in a minute?"

"Ok," she squeaked softly, and went up the stone stairs to her room. She went in and turned the bedside lamp on, then took some pajamas out of the drawer and went to the loo. Molly changed, took her hair down, and pulled on her PJs. She went out into the room and crawled into bed. She checked the time…nine thirty. Rather early…and took one of the books out.

She heard a soft knock at the door, and the subsequent opening of the door. "Molly?"

"Hm?" she was sitting up and looking at the Sonnets. "Come in, Sherlock."

He walked in, a bit hesitantly, then went to the loo. She heard him brushing his teeth, and wondered if she should turn the light off…

…but she wasn't sleepy just yet, and it was pretty early. So, she paged through the book some more and heard him reenter the room. She looked up to see him standing next to the bed, appearing anxious. "Are you ok?"

He nodded, then took his dressing gown off and got into bed. He took his mobile out of his pajama's pocket. "I was thinking about tomorrow…"

"Yes. It's the last full day we are here."

"Mm…are you a fan of Austen, Molly?"

"Austen?"

He looked at her. "As in, Jane?"

"Oh…ah…" she liked Jane Austen well enough, but she was rather fond of darker stories. Austen wasn't particularly dark. "She's fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yes. Why?"

He looked at her crookedly. "Well, I'm not terribly familiar with her. I might have read something ages ago…" he turned back to the phone and scrolled. "But can't really recall. I had thought, when you came here, that the draw might be to her and that novel of hers. The famous one…" his brow furrowed. "Pride and Prejudice?"

"Oh…ah…no. I had been here once before and always wanted to return."

He nodded without looking at her. "You see, the character… this…" he squinted. "'Mr Darcy', held residence here in her story, and Chatsworth House is a location that has been used in renditions. It's only…" he scrolled. "About ten miles from here," he looked at Molly. "Care to see it?"

"Oh…" she saw now. She smiled. "Ok," she replied, shrugging. "That sounds nice."

"Good," and he went to his phone once more.

Molly looked back at the book, and started biting her nails.

"Why are you nervous?"

"Hm?" she looked over but he wasn't looking at her.

"You're biting your nails. Why are you nervous?"

"I'm not."

He sighed, put the phone down and looked at her. "Molly. Think about who you are talking to, and then reform your answer."

She rolled her eyes. "We're in bed together, Sherlock. It's a bit…unnerving."

He nodded slowly. "Should I leave?"

She looked away. "No. S'okay. Just…odd." She felt him shifting.

"I could read to you. Perhaps that will alleviate any discomfort you feel."

Molly looked at him, he was fully propped up against the headboard. She smiled. "You're being so…"

"Don't. Say. It," he punctuated each word.

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes and his head fell back. "You were about to tell me that I'm being nice."

Damn. She was. "Well…"

"There's a vast difference between being nice and wanting to make someone happy."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asked softly, sitting up straighter against the headboard and looking at him with some awe.

"Of course it is."

She felt a lump in her throat and looked away. "Wow."

"You know that I'm trying to prove to you that I'm in love with you. It isn't easy, considering our history. So I'd advise you to take most things I tell you at face value."

She wrapped her arms around her and nodded, feeling tears stinging. She wiped her cheek hurriedly, hoping he didn't see.

"Molly?" he softly said.

"What?" and she felt his fingers touch her chin, gently easing her to face him… her eyes were shut…and she felt his thumb brush away rogue tears.

"Don't cry. Please," his voice was low and gruff.

"I can't help it…" she opened her eyes and more spilled as she looked at him.

He leaned over…dropped his hand…and kissed her cheek…"I'd do anything to erase my treatment of you…" he whispered against her skin.

And Molly felt the emotion in her stomach…she sobbed, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him toward her. He held her close as she cried.

…and she cried for a while..until she was so exhausted from it that she fell asleep…in his arms.