Author's Note:

I have no idea if it's even possible to be drowsy on cocaine (which I know let's you be up all night), but Sherlock hasn't slept or eaten in days... so I don't know. And then later when he's withdrawing from everything at once, oh just fuck it all. In this story cocaine is actually this magical drug that lets authors turn angst on to the max.

Let's just continue with my highly inaccurate portrayal of a drugs, addiction, and withdrawal!

Shorter chapter btw, sorry. I can't promise to update regularly at all. And I'll probably never update on the weekends. Reviews to improve the chances of me updating though... especially if you have some good critique.

Sherlock was kissing her!

That was all Molly's mind seemed capable of thinking. That is, until it realized he really wasn't kissing her at all. He was just pressed into her, every inch of them touching, but not moving in the slightest. He was gripping onto her arm and waist but that seemed more for support than anything.

His face wasn't moving.

His lips were still against hers.

Not to say that Molly didn't enjoy it. The closeness, his warmth, and the slight pressure on her lips was beyond overwhelming. Having given up any hope he'd ever even touch her at all, they hadn't even shaken hands after all, this was just... she wanted to scream.

She contained herself though and exhaled softly through her nose. Sherlock mirrored the action, they shared a breath, and suddenly Molly thought it was the most intimate thing she'd ever experienced. Better than any sex she'd ever had. She had never felt such a connection with someone as she did then.

She brought her hand up to the nape of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair hoping he'd mirror that action, but he didn't. The gesture did not go unnoticed though. Molly felt his pulse increase beneath her hand. He was obviously affected, but he still wasn't moving.

Molly started to wonder if the rumors were true. "The virgin," she'd heard some say his brother called him. Did he really not know how to kiss? Surely he'd seen people kissing. Maybe he was as overwhelmed by the sensations as she was. She hadn't moved much either after all.

Molly moved her lips experimentally against his.

But she didn't get to feel the result of the experiment.

The doorbell rang.

Molly broke away immediately. It was probably John.

"Shit."

Sherlock remained in a slight daze, but at least now he was standing up on his own again.

"You have to hide."

Molly pushed him towards the guest bedroom. The doorbell rang again.

"One second!"

She ran towards the door, checked any trace of Sherlock was gone, and opened it.

"Sorry, I was just-"

"No, sorry for bothering you, it's just... I can't find him anywhere Molly."

Oh god, another emotionally distressed man in her flat. Was she some sort magnet or something?

"He didn't leave anything, did he? Or give any hint as to where he might have gone?"

Molly gulped. She'd promised.

"He came in and he asked me to help him and, well- I- He was pacing back and forth... paranoid you would find him. He wanted me to hide him. I- ah pointed out that he seemed like he was on drugs and then he just sort of gave me this look and I balked. I asked him what he was on. I told him I had to text you. He just sort of ran away then. I don't think there's anything we can do, and he definitely doesn't want you to find him. I think he'll come back on his own eventually." Half-truths never hurt.

"Yes... I'm just worried, about the drugs especially. He could overdose, or..."

"John, I know this is hard but he's been there before and he's Sherlock. He threw a tantrum once because I'd added two drops instead of three to one of his experiments."

John frowned. "Yes, well... sorry to bother you Molly. I'll be off."

"'Night."

Molly closed the door and rushed to the guest bedroom. She hadn't heard a peep. For all she knew he'd climbed out the window.

But no, he was still there.

He was sitting on the bed staring off into space. He didn't even acknowledge her presence.

"Sherlock?"

Molly moved closer.

"Sherlock." She touched his shoulder but still he stared off into space.

Molly leaned down in front of him and noticed his lip was quivering and his eyes were tearing up. She placed her hands on his cheeks and took his face in her hands. His eyes flickered to hers.

"I've sent John away. What's wrong? You don't have to hide from me."

A sob escaped his lips and he leaned forward to press his head into the crook of her neck. "Everything."

Molly's chest constricted. She petted his hair softly.

"Can you tell me?"

His eyes widened and he tried to shake his head and back away but Molly caught him.

"Sshh, it's okay. You don't have to tell me anything."

Molly guided him back to the crook of her neck. Sherlock relaxed almost going limp against her.

"I think I understand... what you were saying before. I think. Just wanted to check that you didn't want to talk. I won't ask again. I'll let you tell me when you're ready. I only want you to feel comfortable, to be okay."

"Nothing makes it okay. Not the drugs. Not even you." He mumbled against her.

Molly frowned. Nothing was going to make him feel 100%. He'd probably erased whatever had happened when he was little. He'd been able to move on, although she didn't know how he'd done it, what exact role the drugs had played, but now that the memories were back it was very unlikely that they would go away. Sherlock boasted about deleting things, but it was easy to forget facts, life changing events on the other hand...

How was she going to explain it all to him? That it was hopeless and yet not hopeless at the same time.

Molly bit her lip. Maybe...

"Sherlock will... can I tell you something, a story of sorts? Will you listen? I think it will help."

No response.

"Sherlock?"

No response still. The only sound in the room was his deep heavy breathing... He'd fallen asleep.

Molly carefully stood up a bit and cradling his upper body laid him as gently as possible back on the bed.

He must have been incredibly drained, both emotionally and physically. Cocaine usually kept you up all night.

Molly heaved a sigh and ran her hand through her hair. She was pretty exhausted too, but Sherlock couldn't sleep like this.

She placed his feet on the bed, rotating him so his head was on the pillows. Then she pushed him to one side and got one arm out of his coat sleeve. She went to the other side tugged the coat out from underneath him. She was just pulling on the sleeve when she felt something hard inside the coat. There was a secret pocket and more drugs.

Molly sighed and rubbed her forehead. How was she going to deal with the drug issue? He would start feeling withdrawal symptoms any minute now.

Molly flushed the drugs down and hung the coat on the door.

She was just about to leave and close the door when he stirred a bit. He didn't wake though, but Molly realized she probably shouldn't leave him alone. He could wake up and run away, try to get more drugs.

She got ready for bed and slipped in beside him. This wasn't an indulgence for her though. She turned away from him, turned off the light, and tried to sleep.

Continued Author's Note:

Sherlock is incredibly hard to keep in any sort of character whatsoever. Why?! Also I think Molly is way smarter than we give her credit for, even Sherlock's "old" Molly who stammered and was head over heels in love with him.

Also concerning the kiss. I think Sherlock is either a virgin or had some pretty bad experiences he's chosen to "forget". Either way I think he'd be a dreadful kisser. But at the same time I don't think Molly would mind. When you're in love with someone the slightest touch can be overwhelming.

Also, still debating whether Christmas happened...