AN: Hello everyone! The support I have received from you guys is amazing, I am so grateful! So after horrible writer's block, a bit of discouragement, and the start of another fic (which I'll be posting soon, so keep an eye out please!), I was able to write. I hope you all enjoy! :)

'italics'= inner thoughts

"italics" (with quotation marks)= phone conversations

*Please let me know if it becomes hard to follow so that I can make the necessary changes!

Sherlock Holmes was a man set in his ways. He believed that 'alone was what protected him' and that opening himself up to relationships could be potentially dangerous. Foolishly he had allowed John Watson into his life, and in turn people used him as a way to get to the detective. In fact, Sherlock had lost count of the number of times John's life was in danger because of him. But John was a soldier, and a man- not that he was sexist- but he could defend himself if the need arose.

Oh, but Molly…

Her life was in jeopardy the moment he asked for her help in his death. What protected her from harm was that no one believed that he, the Great Sherlock Holmes, would be in cahoots with Mousy Molly Hooper. Everyone had seen how he treated her; they knew he didn't care about her, that he used her… even though that couldn't be further from the truth.

It was during his second year away, fighting off Moriarty's henchmen, that he realized that he loved Molly. He refused to accept it, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew it was true. She represented hope, home, safety, and love. Molly's love had saved his life, and it was what kept him going in those dark times.

When he returned and discovered that she was engaged to Tom, he convinced himself that what he had felt was nothing more than sorrow for all he had sacrificed. Sherlock continued to keep his distance in order to ensure her safety. Unfortunately when theories about his survival began to pop up naming her specifically- thus making her a target- staying away was no longer an option.

As time went on, and engagements (his included) were broken, the feelings began to resurface. Ever the one to be logical, he found a reason for it all… 'I seek Molly's company because I am used to having an assistant.' Or- 'I am an observant man, of course I would notice what colors and hairstyles suit her best.' The stronger the feelings were, the more ridiculous the excuses became. 'I am sexually attracted to Molly because I am a man… I can't fight biology!'

So once again he broke his self-imposed rule, and let Molly in. It was only supposed to be an 'arrangement' for sexual release (as he didn't want to deny himself anymore) between friends. Eventually 'just sex' turned into spending the night with each other, and hanging out- without the pretext of a case; and he couldn't say that he hated it at all.

Sherlock had never felt like this before. Willingly passing on cases in order to lounge around with Molly was a bit unsettling. But he did; frequently. This domesticity was terrifying… And what distressed him further was that Molly wanted more.

What more could he give? He was faithful to her, and he had no intention of seeking out another. Why did she want to define their 'arrangement'? Did she really want to be relegated to childish titles like 'girlfriend/boyfriend' when their relationship meant so much more? Evidently. So when Molly suggested breaking up and carefully listed her reasons, he conceded. After all, he wasn't capable of giving her what she wanted.

When Sherlock made this argument to Mary Watson, she threw a book at his head. "You know for a genius, you can be remarkably thick! Don't you see? Everything she wants is already what you are willing to give her-"

"Right Mary," he said derisively. "That's why we broke up… Because she's happy with me!"

Mary rolled her eyes theatrically. "Stop it Sherlock! I am saying that she wants to know that you care for her, that you are loyal and faithful… She wants to feel secure."

"She knows all this already!" He retorted at the thinly veiled insult.

"But did you ever say it?" Mary asked waiting to see if he would answer. When his eyes darted away, she continued. "Sorry mate, there's no way around it. If you want her back- for good- you're going to have to actually say the words."

Sherlock had not expected to see Molly back at work so soon. When he had received the call from Lestrade he got ready quickly, left the flat (for the first time in over a week), and made his way to Bart's. Of course there was a possibility she could be there, but that didn't make him feel any more prepared. The moment he heard her clear her throat as she entered the room, his heart began to thunder in his chest. In fact it continued to beat at an increased rate until he left, several hours later.

A few times he had to physically restrain himself from touching Molly; it was almost as if his limbs had a mind of their own. His legs insisted on walking towards her and his arms longed to wrap around her. Then he would remember that he couldn't, shouldn't, wasn't allowed to, and the ache in his chest would return. Instead he focused on the work… well at least until the next urge materialized.

Eventually the case was solved, Lestrade left to do… whatever it is he does, and the two were alone again. Sherlock tried to break the tension but each time he moved to say something, nothing would come out. Accepting defeat, he stood up and made his way to leave. He let her know that he was leaving (usually he would just go without saying a word), and couldn't help but tell her that it 'was good to see her' which was absolutely true.

And then… she smiled at him. That smile that melted him; the one made him weak in the knees. It was the smile she would reward him with when she was happy with something he said or did.

It unraveled him. He quickly left the room, only making it as far as the stairwell before being consumed by another panic attack. Fortunately it wasn't as severe as the one he had at Baker Street, but it was enough to make him feel winded and dizzy. He clumsily reached for his phone and dialed the first person he could think of.

"Hey Sherlock, what's up?"

"Mary I need help," he gasped out.

"Sherlock! What's wrong? I have the baby, but do you need me to go to you? Is it dangerous? Should I call John?" Mary was nervous, it was alarming to hear Sherlock in such a state. "Tell me what happened-"

He cut her off before she could go into what John liked to call 'assassin mode' and plan some sort of strategic maneuver. "Physically I'm fine, though I think I'm having a minor panic attack... Actually, I'm calling because I saw Molly-"

"What did you do?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Nothing. I behaved, believe me. Lestrade warned me… It's just that I saw her and I felt- and I wanted to- but I don't know… I realized how much I miss Molly."

"Oh… Are you still at the hospital?" Mary inquired.

"Yes…" he answered tentatively, waiting to see what advice she had to offer. He could hear Mary breathe on the other end of the phone.

"Then go… Do it now. Tell her everything you've told me."

Molly was a little stunned to see Sherlock again so soon. She took in his appearance, 'Disheveled, out of breath, and slightly flustered,' she observed.

Apprehension flooded her face as she fell back to her old ways. "Sherlock, what's wrong?"

He ruffled his hair and narrowed his eyes in her direction. "I didn't want to do it here, like this… But we need to talk."

Molly left her spot and met him in the center of the room. The look in his eyes reminded her of the terrifying moment when he asked for her help with his suicide. Suddenly uncomfortable, she wrapped her arms around her middle.

Sherlock sighed and moved in closer. "You were wrong, you know…" Molly shivered at his choice in wording. "You're scaring me, Sherlock. What's wrong? Whatever it is, I can help you."

He reached out and grabbed her hand, feeling somewhat pleased that she didn't pull away. "You said that you couldn't ask me to change. But you already have. Over the years, you've demanded that I change by not accepting anything less than my best." Molly furrowed her brows in confusion, but allowed him to continue.

"You made me apologize when I was rude, admit when I was wrong, and you ground me. You helped me find my humanity… I once said John saved me, but you, Molly, have healed me. Time and time again."

Molly let the tears fall freely, making no effort to wipe them away. "I don't understand what you're saying-"

When she didn't move to dry her tears, he took it as an invitation to do it for her. With his free hand, he gently brushed the tears off her cheek. "What I am saying, Molly, is that I've already changed so much. Why do you assume that I wouldn't change again? For you?"

Molly's breath hitched. "But you said-"

Sherlock grinned, "So my word is gospel now?"

She laughed airily. "I think I know what you're saying, but I'm going to need you to spell it out for me… Make it perfectly clear so there's no misunderstanding."

He resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. 'Mary's going to be unbearable when she finds out she was right.'

"Whatever it takes to keep you here with me, I'll do. Whether it's getting married, having children… I would do it all for you." He had expected her to jump into his arms when he made his intentions known, to be honest. So he was a little more than surprised when she took a step back.

"That's not what I want. I mean- I do, want those things- but don't just agree with me because you think that's what I want to hear!" The last few words were laced with mild irritation. "What if I agreed, had children, and one day you wake up and realize that you never wanted this? What then?"

A voice in his head, sounding suspiciously like Mary, was telling him to fix it fast! "No, you misunderstand. What I mean is- well… I just," he stuttered. Why was it so hard for him to explain himself? In the past few days, he had poured his heart out twice. Why couldn't he do it now, when it really mattered?

"I can't look at you," he began to say before he caught Molly's horrified expression. "Fuck, that's not what I meant. That is- it would be easier for me to say what I need to say if I turned around. Is that okay?"

Molly bit her lip and nodded, letting go of his hand and stepping further away. "I'm still here. I'm listening."

"Thank you," he said as he faced the other way. Sherlock took a deep breath and readied himself. "When I suggested this 'relationship' it wasn't just about the sex. Well a part of it was, naturally, but the rest of it was because I care about you and I wanted to be around you. You were already my friend, so it seemed like a natural progression. Perhaps what I should have told you was that, I had no intention of recreating this relationship with anyone else. Either it worked out with you, or- I would continue being on my own, like I had before. There's no one else I could ever be with. I trust you with my life… I think that's what made this so easy."

Sherlock could hear her sniffling behind him. He wanted to comfort her and hold her, but he understood that he need to say all this first. Something much greater awaited him if he got this right.

"If you remember, I said it was going to be a sexual relationship. But it became so much more, don't you agree? On average, we spent about five nights each week sleeping over at each other's flats. We even fulfilled social obligations together… What I am saying is that we spent almost all our time together; and it wasn't always sex-related or case-related. I think we did it because we enjoy each other's company, or at least that is why I did it."

"You know me better than anyone, even John, so you should know that all the trivialities of human nature escape me. I told you that we would not be a couple… I said that because I didn't know how couples worked. The only experience I had was with Janine, and if that's what being in a couple entailed, I wanted to avoid it at all costs. However, I did like the way you and I were together. Mary explained to me that not all couples are the same. And if that's the case, then I could easily envision us together for the rest of our lives."

"I am already entirely committed to you… that is- if you will have me. I don't plan on going anywhere. Still, if you require a silly piece of paper to convince you of my sincerity, then I would gladly do it. As for children, I had never considered fatherhood as an option for me. Though, I am positive that any children we bear together would be absolutely brilliant."

"This is all unfamiliar territory for me and although I am a great student and a fast learner, I can guarantee that I will frequently make mistakes. I know you well enough to have complete faith in your patience and I know that you would teach me… After all, you knew me- including all the ugly bits- and you still gave me a chance. And for that, I'll always love you."

"Anyways, I am done now," Sherlock finished feeling short of breath. He waited around for a response. 'Had she left the room? No, surely I would have heard the door. Did she faint? Janine fainted that one time…'

The silence was worrying him. "Um- Molly?" He made a move to turn back around when Molly's voice stopped him.

"No, don't turn around yet. Just give me a minute, please." She said softly. Waiting for her to speak up again was causing Sherlock unbelievable anguish. 'Did I overestimate her feelings for me? Maybe she just didn't want to be with me anymore. It is too late… Mary was wrong, I-'

Sherlock's mind came to halt when he felt two arms wrap around his waist. Molly pressed her forehead between his shoulder blades and tightened her grip, effectively keeping him in place. The gesture alone gave him the courage to release the- metaphorical- breath he had been holding since the day Molly left Baker Street. He placed his hands on his stomach, directly on top of hers, and felt nothing but bliss when she entwined their fingers together.

"Can I turn around now? Please?" Sherlock pleaded. She didn't answer, but he could feel her head bob up and down in the affirmative against his back. Wasting not a second more, he spun around and wrapped his arms around his pathologist's shoulders. He rested his cheek on the top of her head taking a moment to thank whatever deity was responsible for the beautiful woman in his embrace.

Molly shuffled a bit in order to look up at him. "I missed you," she whispered. Sherlock brushed hair out her face before responding, "I missed you too."

The reunited couple continued to hold on to one another; neither feeling any rush to let go.

"Hey, guess what?" Molly prompted cheerfully. "When I was cleaning, I found the missing "wish bone" piece to Operation. The game is complete now, isn't that cool?"

Sherlock chuckled; it was incredible how much he missed her. He brought his hands up to cradle her face and gave her a warm smile. "Molly Hooper, I love you."

The last thing he saw before lowering his lips to join hers was that wonderful smile. His reward for finally getting it right.

End Notes: Quick poll: end it there, or add an epilogue-type chapter? Hmm? Let me know.

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