Author's Note:

I'm back!

Sorry personal life got really really crazy. I can't guarantee any updates or anything soon. If I get like ten reviews / tumblr follows or something I'll reconsider.

Note: I got a tumblr just for my fanfic stuff, in case you missed my last edit. It's infinitemonkeyswriting . tumblr . com I'll submit all my stories their too, but also I'll reblog any art and the occasional fic. I'll also open up requests for one-shots but again, I can't guarantee anything.

They had finished their tea and changed into their pajamas. Molly had tried to bring up the subject they were supposed to talk about while they drank tea, but Sherlock hadn't been able to get anything out.

"I- I can't" he'd said and left to get ready for bed.

Disappointed, Molly had gone to go get ready for bed herself. She'd just put on her pajamas when there was a soft knock on her door.

"Can I... Can I sleep with you?"

"What?! I thought-"

Sherlock had opened the door. "That's not what I meant."

Molly had made a move to cover herself up. "What if I had been naked?"

"You aren't."

Molly had sighed. "Fine, fine. Do whatever you want. I'm not even going to ask."

And now they stood in front of the bed, neither sure what to really do.

"So..." started Molly. "What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

"What side do you sleep on? It's your bed."

Molly blushed. "All... Any?"

"I sleep on my right."

"I'll try to keep to the left than." Molly slipped past him to the other side and got beneath the covers.

"Can I turn off the lights?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

Molly heard him almost trip on something in the pitch black room and stiffled a laugh.

Sherlock slipped into bed beside her. She felt the sheets rustle and than a hand tentatively touching her back. Molly bit her lip. It had all better not be a dream. Sherlock slipped his arm completely around her and pulled her to him. She could feel his ribcage expand and contract as he breathed. Nope, not a dream.

"Molly..." he whispered in a deep voice against her neck. It tickled. "I promised to tell you, but only like this. I couldn't back... there..."

Definitely not a dream...

"Do you remember the first part of the story?" Sherlock prompted.

"Yes." All too well, thought Molly as the memory replayed in her head.

"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."

"Mummy defended me... And then from that point on all my parents did was fight. And one day... I caught father cheating on her. Mycroft... didn't want me to tell. I told Mummy anyways. I thought she would be glad, but she just got angry. She knew, she'd just been in denial. She never talked to me much again. I thought she'd divorce him but she didn't. I'd learned to keep away from everyone. I didn't say a word to Mycroft for years. I stopped wanting to be a pirate. I got interested in criminals and private detectives. I came home with bruises. Apparently now my interests were too grown up. It bothered everyone more than when they were simply childish. I went to Mummy the first time. She used to help. But she only told me 'You know were the first aid kit is.' Everything continued as it was... until years later, because it was years, when I discovered Mycroft hadn't really burned my things. I got... So ANGRY," Sherlock growled in her ear, his grip around her tightening. "It was that day all over again... We fought... And then I ran away. And then... first I started with the cigarettes, but that wasn't enough. I went for the strongest drugs I could find... you know my favorites. I lived on the streets for some time. Until the urge to solve cases got to big. The drugs could never make it go away. I got a case, Mrs. Hudson's, rented Baker St., got myself clean, and then... well you know the rest."

Molly stroked his arm softly.

"Molly," Sherlock's voice cracked. "I'm such an idiot... I feel so stupid... everything that's happened because of something so silly."

Molly turned over to find nothing. The room was pitch black. She stretched out her hand to where she thought he would be and caressed his cheek, feeling the tears streamsilently down his face.

"Sshhh... You're not an idiot." Molly placed a chaste kiss on his cheek, staining her lips with his salty tears. "It was important enough to upset you, it could never be silly. You wouldn't be who you are if any of that hadn't happened. You wouldn't have met John. You wouldn't have met me." Molly kissed his lips lightly.

Sherlock released a shaky breath against her than latched on to her lips again, deepening the kiss. He stroked her side, slipping his hand under her shirt to caress the skin underneath. Then he pulled at her pajamas and attempted to unbutton them with almost only one hand.

Molly took a hold of his wrist and stopped him.

"Sherlock. I don't think-"

Sherlock froze. "No, of course not." His hands retreated. "Goodnight."

And he turned over, pulling the covers over his shoulders.

Molly fidgeted for a moment. She didn't want him to retreat completely.

She scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him.

"I know you can't say it. Might not ever be able to say it back. But... I love you. I still love you. If that helps any." And then she buried her face against his neck and they fell asleep.

Molly woke up to find she'd hogged the whole bed and Sherlock was sleeping on the edge of the mattress. She paused for a second to admire his face. He was facing up, his hand interlaced on his chest in much the manner they were when he was thinking, but his face looked calm. She almost wanted to say happy.

She looked at her alarm clock. It was still quite early, not that she had anything to do.

She grabbed on to Sherlock's arm, the one farthest from him and pulled him closer.

She hadn't expected to startle him. He looked too asleep for that, but boy did he startle. He leapt and turned to face her, he crouched ready to attack.

"Molly?"

"I- Sorry, I was just. You were about to fall off the bed." She blushed.

"Oh." Sherlock relaxed back into the mattress. "I've never slept by someone before," he admitted, his voice cold and distant.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," and then he stood up and marched off to the bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To think. I slept far too long already."

"It's only 8! I thought we'd... you know..."

"No, I don't Molly. I wish you'd be more precise."

"What the hell has gotten into you?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

Molly sat up, slipped on her slippers and walked over to him.

"Was it... what I said last night?"

A brief flash of sadness crossed his face, and then nothing.

"I would appreciate if you never bring up last night again," Sherlock slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

"What?! Does this mean you're done with your/our experiment?"

"What?" Sherlock pocked his head back out. "No, of course not."

"Okay..."

Sherlock retreated into the bathroom again.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, perfectly normal." He reassured her through the door, but again Molly thought he sounded a bit distant.

Continued Author's Note:

LaserGirl77: Was he really that out of character? He's hard to pin down but I'm writing him as best as possible. Also, this is an M rated, Sherlolly Hurt/Comfort/Romance fic (and angst if I could add it), do you really expect great characterization? And he was just on drugs and quitting them. Than add in the fact that we know almost nothing about Sherlock's childhood, but it's something that can affect a person deeply, and yet many are able to hide their traumas for years. Keep in mind in the show we know him for very little time. Also in the last part as you can see he's more back to normal.

It might also help to know I try to write him as having Aspergers. I read an article about ACD probably basing Sherlock on somebody with Aspergers and it was really interesting. But just like in the book and the show it's not conclusive in my fic either. Just take hints here and there from the list of symptoms/experiences. They can be highly sensitive people with certain things.

243TypesofTobaccoAsh: Glad you still like it. And it is hard to tell what is in character and what isn't. I'm not sure about a relapse, this was the relapse, but it's going to get really fluffy (the rated M part) and then really dark and angsty (but towards the end more) because I hate the first time being because one of the character's is all emotional and the other offers "comfort", which is why they stopped in this chapter.

NEW AUTHOR'S NOTE:I'm so so sorry I haven't been able to continue this story as planned. I WILL continue it, I just don't know when. My personal life is a bit of a mess. The good thing is I have many ideas for the story.