Author's Note:

Well I got some comments and writing this has boosted my confidence as expected so I'll continue. I'd love some constructive criticism though (about the writing only, not plot/characterization/etc).

Decided reichenbach didn't happen, but a similar event took place, as you'll see... Also since I'm writing this and making this up as I go along I might have to edit some things once in a while to have them make some sense.

In the books John can never ever tell when Sherlock is disguised and I find that hilarious. In the show he only gets in disguise a few times, but I'm assuming like in the books he does this more often than we see.

John was starting to panic.

He'd called everyone. Everyone. And Mycroft had found anything. John had started to look out the window every thirty minutes, until at last that night he made his way into Sherlock's room again in search of anything, anything at all that might help him find him.

And when there was none he collapsed on the floor against Sherlock's bed. He threw his head back and sighed. Half an hour passed until John decided to stand up and get back to work.

That's when he saw a pile of Sherlock's clothes on the door and a terrible thought dawned on him.

Sherlock was probably out in disguise and he could never ever have the slightest chance of catching him if he was.

He groaned. What was he going to do?

Ding

John he was here, but he left. He's doing drugs again. - MH

Molly Hooper hadn't gone back to work. She had locked the door after Sherlock left, retrieved the money from the pair of pants she'd left in the bathroom, and had tried to cry herself to sleep.

When that failed she remembered John and sent him that text. Omitting the fact that she had thrown him out of course.

I'll have a look around your neighborhood. You wouldn't happen to know if he had a disguise with him? -JW

Sherlock was not out in disguise as John thought but had instead avoided any security cameras, Mycroft, and had let the effects of the drugs speak for him. He was skinnier and deadly pale. His eyes were red and slightly sunken. He could have been cast as a zombie and they wouldn't have even needed any make up.

He arrived at Molly's door but didn't knock. It was likely she'd try to take the drugs away before letting him in. He slipped a syringe and most of the cocaine into a secret padded pocket in his coat. He'd used up all the heroin that afternoon in the park, but he'd run out of money too. So all that was left was the coke. It was going to be a hassle being around Molly with it's effects. He could already feel it a bit at the thought of her, but he needed the drugs and he needed Molly.

Sherlock steeled himself and knocked.

Molly looked through the peephole and bolted the door as silently as possible. Sherlock was bound to find her spare key.

"Molly please, Sherlock's word's slurred slightly. "I need you."

"I can't let you in."

Molly got out her phone and started typing out a message but Sherlock cut her off.

"Don't tell John, you- you promised Molly."

"I have to Sherlock, I can't let you in but I can't leave you out there with the world either." A tear slipped from Molly's eye. "I don't know what happened. I didn't ask you again because I didn't really want to know."

"I'll tell you Molly. I'll tell you. I just need you please. Don't tell John."

"Tell me then."

"Let me in."

"No."

"I'll give you the drugs."

"No, you'll give me the drugs right now through the letterbox and you'll tell me, then I'll let you in."

Sherlock remembered she probably had a spare key and rummaged for in and under the flower pot. It wasn't there. Under the welcome mat? Yes. Too easy.

He slipped the key in quietly than all in one go turned it and leaned on the door, but Sherlock had forgotten that this was the new Molly.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock stayed leaning against the door and put his foot in the crack to stop her from closing it at least.

"Molly please."

Molly looked through the crack. She gasped then bit her lip at the state of him and started to cry.

"I can't Sherlock. And I have to tell John." The phone shook in her hand as she started to type out the rest of the message.

"I wanted to be a pirate!"

"What?"

Sherlock closed his eyes.

"I wanted to be a pirate. Mummy bought me a sailboat and- a hat, and everything, and dressed me up. I had a sword and I had a bed in the shape of a boat. I used to run around being a pirate, and then one day... I annoyed Mycroft too much. We always played games, wars. Got each other's toys and hid them or fed them to the dogs, but some toys we silently agreed were off limit, but that day... He stole them and he made me think he'd burn them. I discovered later he didn't but I threw a tantrum and Mummy couldn't calm him and Father got annoyed, and- Molly please! I can't, I can't."

Now Sherlock was crying. Tears streamed down his face and he sunk down to the floor.

Molly had never seen him cry. The most she had seen him was sad. There had been a case once. John had been in danger and Sherlock hadn't known what to do...

"So what's the plan? John's always saying you have secret codewords, vatican cameos, and you-"

Sherlock looked up from his microscope and gave her look that clearly said, Shut Up. Molly stopped talking and continued observing him her work. A few seconds later she caught him looking at John.

"You look sad." Molly froze as she realized the words had come out of her mouth. Sherlock looked up and tilted his head.

"I mean-"

"There's no need to make conversation Molly."

"I just, you look sad when he can't see you. Are you okay?"

"Molly."

"I just mean, I know what that means. Looking sad when nobody can see you. My father-"

"You see me."

"I don't count."

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly.

"What I'm trying to say is, if there's anything you need. You can have me, I mean- not have me but... I-"

Molly blushed at the memory. He'd taken her up on her word and now she was abandoning him.

Molly slipped the phone back into her pocket and opened the door.

Sherlock fell to the floor. Only have of him was inside and he seemed to out of it to me. The conversation had probably taken all his will power to complete.

Molly went into doctor mode. She checked his pupils. Dilated.

"Molly..." Sherlock whispered, his hand trying to reach up for her.

Molly took his hand and took his pulse. "I'm right here."

Elevated pulse, but not too dangerous.

"What did you take Sherlock? Can you stand up at all?"

"No. Heroin and then the cocaine more recently."

"Don't exert yourself." Molly swallowed as she realized he still had the drugs on him.

She searched his pockets and took out what she could find. Then she tried to drag him in but she couldn't move him more than a few steps. It was enough to close the door but he seemed to be too out of it now and too weak. Probably hadn't eaten for days.

Molly left him there, flushed the drugs down the toilet, and got her stethoscope.

She unbuttoned his shirt. He could feel every whisper of the fabric against his skin, and then Molly's hand resting gently on him. Molly's hand... on him. Sherlock groaned in embarrassment and tried to get on his side.

"Sherlock I need to listen. You could have overdosed."

"Didn't."

Molly pushed his shoulder and pinned it down. His breathing was irregular and his pulse was fast like before but at least not irregular.

"Stop fussing. Used to it." Sherlock waved her hands away.

Molly frowned.

"How much did you take?"

"I want to flicker."

"What?"

"I want it to go away. You made me tell, you- made it come back. Molly... I want my Molly back."

Sherlock gripped her arm. The effect was too powerful. He looked at her, dried tears on her cheeks, eyes red from crying, and he could only see her lips. Her perfect lips. He'd lied when he'd said they looked small. He much preferred it to the awful fake looking lipstick. He wanted to kiss her... He tightened his grip and closed his eyes in concentration for a second. He couldn't. She wasn't...

"You're not my Molly. I need my Molly. She knows my secret."

"What are you talking about? I'm the only Molly."

She was the only Molly?

"Then you've seenme and you count. You've always counted. I tried to tell you yesterday."

"Sherlock I need to get you to bed."

Molly managed to get him into a sitting position, then she stood up and pulled him to his feet. They stumbled terribly though and she ended up pressed against the wall with Sherlock's arms wrapped around her and his head buried in her neck. She tried to maneuver herself into a more comfortable position so he could lean on her and walk to the bedroom but his grip tightened and wouldn't let her budge.

"Molly," he whispered in her ear and she shivered. "I feel."

"Sherlock. I don't know what you're going on about."

Sherlock leaned back and looked into her eyes. "John can't-"

"I know already. I promise I won't tell him."

"John can't know." He repeated. "Only you..."

He leaned into her, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. She smelled like the citrus shampoo he'd seen in her bathroom and chemicals from the morgue, perfect. It was getting harder to resist.

"Sh-sherlock."

He opened his eyes again and they darted towards her lips. Why should he hold back? She already knew his secret.

He leaned in closer.

They shared a breath and then he pressed his lips to hers.

Continued Author's Note:

This chapter with it's pirate parts were my main plot bunny. I didn't have a great childhood and I can relate to Sherlock a lot so I feel something similar happened to him. There was no abuse or anything but just bad relationships with parents and family wear you down and change you. And it's really hard to get over. You become cold and pretend to be unfeeling because it's easier than trying to explain that it's hard to express yourself. There isn't exactly anyone you can blame as they did nothing really wrong, you just couldn't get along. So you're left just sort of there and you want that part of your life you missed back. But you're also to proud to admit you want it back. To proud to admit you can feel.

I've found people who see past the barriers I put up and help me without demanding I destroy them and I'm also taking steps to repair that part of me. I'm buying a hypothetical pirate's hat and hanging it in my room. :) This story is about Sherlock finding someone and doing something similar. I think he's been doing this all along with John and Mrs. Hudson but he doesn't understand they can see past hims so he thinks only Molly can since she's shown him she can in a rather blunt manner.