Short, but absolutely sweet. Was it worth the waiting?

The heavy slams of someone hitting the door woke Molly up. Fearfully, she stood up and went to check the door. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Sherlock leaning on the door. Even when her mind screamed her not to let him in, her body was already unlocking the door. Sherlock stumbled in, and embraced molly clumsily.

He smelled like a bar.

"Sherlock?" Molly whispered against his neck and unfortunately she couldn't help the goose bumps that formed on her arms at the warm contact oh his skin with hers.

"Moll…Molly" Sherlock giggled….he giggled! And then pronounced her name again, enunciating every world slowly, because apparently he had decided the letter "o" was extremely funny to pronounce.

"Sherlock, er...ehem…are you drunk?" molly already knew the answer to that question was yes but she asked anyway because a part of her couldn't believe he had lost his precious self-control.

"Yes Moooooooollyyyy. I believe I'm quite intoxicated." Sherlock then busted out laughing and Molly couldn't help to think that that would probably the most surrealist moment of her life.

But then she had to stop thinking because Sherlock suddenly turned serious and his blue eyes pierced though her. With his right hand, he grabbed her waist confidently and pulled her closer to him. Molly gasped when her breast softly pressed his chest. Sherlock didn't seem to notice because he was to busy analyzing her face. He cupped her cheek and looked at her with such intensity, she felt naked.

His voice turned into a soft whisper and Molly thought she had never imagined his voice could sound so seductive.

"Why Molly?" he whispered and his warm breath brushed Molly's lips causing her to open them slightly. "Why, sweet, sweet Molly? Why would you let anyone hurt you?" his voice now sounded angelical and there was some sadness on it.

Molly couldn't hold down the secret any longer. Maybe it was the warmness of his breath stroking her lips, the touch of his hand caressing her waist or the intensity on his blue eyes. She needed to confess the truth.

"Michael came in and showed me some documents." She talked with a soft voice just because that felt right on that moment. Usually shy, Molly looked straight into Sherlock's eyes. "Photos of you in other countries, payment receives. They would prove that you were still alive and that would make the police go after you again."

Sherlock's eyes flinched in pain. He had just heard the confirmation of his worst fear, this had been his fault.

"He said he would destroy the documents if I did…"Molly felt her knees weaken, but Sherlock's hand hold her together. "…things"

Sherlock's hands left molly's waist and she immediately missed his touch. "I'm sorry Molly."

He turned away and started heading to the door. "I promise you won't see me again."

Molly took some time to process his words but when she did, she reacted immediately by grabbing his arm and pulling him back. "No! I don't want you to leave!" she cried out.

Sherlock looked at her and he was the image of defeat. He looked older, tired and his eyes were missing that sparkle she just loved.

"Then, what you want me to do? Kill myself? Turn me in? You name, and I'll do it." Sherlock's determination scared Molly to dead.

"No! No! Sherlock, I don't want to punish you!" Molly cried out as she felt the tears strolling down her face and she didn't resist the urge to caress his face repeatedly.

He took her hand delicately and hesitating for just a second, he pulled close to her mouth and kissed it. "Molly it's okay. Of course you want to punish me, is a natural reaction. You are just too kind to say it out loud."

Trying to overcome the warm feeling running through her body, she tried to think straight. She knew just then that if Sherlock left the room that night his brilliant and stubborn mind would convince himself of inflicting some kind of torturous and sophisticated punishment on himself ( she feared suicide would be too conventional for him)

She had to make him stay.

Molly had never been a brave person. She had never taken the first steps on anything, but that night some internal fire, something that she had been feeding every sleepless night she spend after a beating, every second away from Sherlock; awoken inside her and she felt suddenly brave.

"No. Sherlock. No. Do you understand?" even when Molly tried to sound convincing, Sherlock opened his mouth to debate her with some clever argument about being a martyr, but she didn't gave him a chance to say it out loud.

Molly kissed Sherlock.

At the beginning his lips remained motionless. They were as soft as she had imagined and tasted just as sweet as she had assumed. Despite that, she knew a simple chaste kiss wouldn't be enough to convince Sherlock to stay.

So, she pressed her body against him and tangled her fingers with his locks. He responded instinctively opening his mouth a bit to gasp, but she took advantage of the moment and gently forced her tongue on his mouth.

Maybe it was the alcohol on his body or the feeling of closeness with molly's body, but Sherlock started feeling something warm creeping on to his body. For once in his life, his rational side was completely numb and a single thought filled his mind.

He wanted more.

When Molly's tongue started exploring his mouth passionately, he responded. His right hand grabbed the back of her head and pulled her even closer, so his tongue could go deeper on her mouth. She tasted like strawberries. The other hand explored her back cautiously but soon it was going lower, without him being able to stop it.

Molly's hands began moving as well, exploring his neck and then shyly unbuttoning his shirt. Sherlock felt his body tensing and an electrical current went through his body when her hands opened his shirt and rested on his chest. He broke the kiss to look at her for a few seconds.

She looked gorgeous. Her hair was loose around her body, her cheeks were flushing reds and her lips had gotten red and swallow. He smirked. He always had an effect on her, but this time it showed and he kind of liked it. She bit her lip and even the most ignorant man on body language could interpret the signs she was sending to him.

She wanted him.

Molly's hand was resting just above his heart and he caressed her hand as he closed his eyes and softly whispered. "I sometimes forget I have one."

The beating of his heart increased slightly when Molly slipped her free hand around his waist and pulled her body on a close embrace, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You can't hid it anymore, Sherlock." She pronounced the words against his skin and he opened his eyes, realizing in fact, something had changed inside him that night.

"Why not?" he asked with a voice that was closer to a growl.

"Because it belongs to me." Molly confessed.

Sherlock's brain wanted to rebate that ilogical argument with a thousand anatomic facts that demonstrated that in fact, his heart belonged to himself. But then some small part of him, a part that he didn't often listen told him that was not true; a part of him did belong to Molly Hooper.

"Molly….we have to stop." Sherlock choose his words carefully but a warm feeling invaded him when he felt Molly's hands clenching tighter to his body. He was afraid of losing her, too.

"Why?" even if he couldn't see her face, he knew she was crying.

He sighted and delicately cupped Molly's face and forced her to look at him. "Because I'm drunk. I don't want this to be one night thing. Molly…I want to remember this in the morning."

And then Molly smiled with the most beautiful smile Sherlock had ever seen. "Okay." She nodded as she wiped off the tears. "But you're staying anyway."

The morning light filtrated through the window and reflected on Molly's hair. She had fallen asleep on his arms last night and he had contemplated her until he felt asleep too. Now he was running his hands through her hair and watching her slow breathing.

He didn't want to analyze his feelings. Maybe it had something to do with the horrible headache he was having at the time.

Maybe…

The moment was perfect.

And as all perfect moments, it had to be ruined by the buzzing of a cell phone.

Sherlock answered the phone as quickly as he could, but he couldn't help to woke Molly up. She helped him looking, handed his phone and then lie back on his chest again.

He smiled and then answered. "Yes?"

"Sherlock? Where are you, man? Is past eleven and we don't have much time." Sherlock couldn't help to curse silently for forgetting the case he was pursuing just for a moment of happiness, but Santiago continued talking. "I'll come and get you." The line went silent for a few moments. "And Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock asked again, still feeling a bit numb.

"I think I broke Valentina." The tone of alarm in Santiago's voice was enough to bring Sherlcok back to reality.