Six months later, nothing much had changed between the pair. He took better care in himself, allowing himself to begin wearing his tailored suits and tight shirts again. He ate nearly daily, sometimes with Molly, if he wasn't out. She quickly gave up asking where he'd go at all hours, returning after hours. Molly's daily routine sank back to 'pre-Sherlock', as she called it. But something changed in her. Something that people began picking up on.
The paleness of her skin became more apparent, especially when paired with her white lab coat. The dark circles beneath her eyes suggested late nights in front of a screen and stimulated by too much caffeine. She was picking up more shifts at the hospital, night shifts in order to avoid other people milling around. Sherlock began to notice these subtle changes to her manner, deducing wildly about what on earth was bothering Molly Hooper. She would hide behind false smiles and high pitched replies when asked if something was bothering her. Though he never much got the chance to ask her, she was doing a sterling job avoiding him lately. He heard her at night, she no longer watched TV before falling asleep, she never chirped a "Hello!" when she came in from work. They sat eating in silence, her eyes never leaving her plate, she seemed to rush her food and never finished more than half of her plateful. Staring out the window at the rain trickling down the glass, Sherlock saw his coat and blue scarf hanging from the coat hook in the reflection of the glass. I was past midnight and the rain hit hard down on London, but Sherlock was out of the door and hailing a cab.
Sterilising the table, Molly's face glazed over, emotionless as the sound of the late night radio chat show echoed through the room. She turned it louder to omit her heartbroken thoughts circling her head. Why on earth have you got yourself into this Molly Hooper. Her internal monologue was beginning to annoy her, but nothing drowned the voice out. He will never notice you Molly. He looks past you, he looks through you. You're plain. You're simple. You're a pathologist, you are not great minded you are ordinary. From the sound of the radio and the feeling of tears falling off her face, Molly did not notice the door open quietly. "It seems your internal monologue as you called it is failing you Miss Hooper." She turned and shrieked at the sound of the familiar, deep voice from the doorway.
As Sherlock slipped off his gloves, scarf and coat, he walked over to the radio to turn it down. "Ghastly excuse for music. Really Molly, I thought it wasn't your type of thing." He leaned against the desk and looked at her, folding his arms across his chest. Molly failed to realise she had yet to say anything, and failed to realise the tears had stained her face in their destructive path across her now scarlet cheeks. "Sherlock, what are you doing here? I thought I locked.." Her voice trailed off as he took her by the hand. He began, "Molly, come into the office. I believe we need to sort something out." His gentle touch on her hand sprung new tears to well in the crevasses of her eyes. As she collapsed on the worn sofa, she realised how exhausted she was. As he changed the radio station, he followed her into the office and sat adjacent to her, looking at her eyes intently.
"Tell me what's wrong Molly." He said, rather bluntly. Before she could begin, he continued on; "Don't start with the woman's answer to everything. 'I'm fine' does not equate to an answer. You've lost 8 pounds over the past six months. Your body language has changed, you hunch over things. You don't say hello when you come home." He was stood now, pacing and talking quickly. Molly just looked at him, faceless. "You're unhappy Molly. Unhappy does not suit you." They stared at each other, she was thankful of the music in the background. This would've been a far too awkward silence to bare.
Crouching in front of her, Molly felt something stir in her. "Molly Hooper.. Look at me." His fingers lifted her chin so they were eye to eye. It had been a while since he made her blush. "Of course you count.. Above anyone, I trusted you to keep my biggest secret. I chose you for a reason, thought it may not have been apparent to me at the time." His fingers moved from her chin to her cheek, wiping away her new falling tears. His other hand moved to hold her hands on her lap. His large palm easily holding both her petite hands in his. "I was told once that I didn't have a heart.. For a long time I believed it. But seeing you like this, without the beautiful spark you had that lit you up, it's like a poison Molly, poison that's rotting me away." His eyes never left her face. Looking at Sherlock's hands enveloping her own, she could feel her old self, Molly Hooper creeping up from under the rock that she had hidden under these past few months.
Looking up into his ocean blue eyes, it was apparent it was Molly's turn to speak. He look expectantly at her. She exhaled and began in the most simple way possible. Why fabricate now? "I thought when you moved in with me, something would start between us. I've liked you.. Sherlock, I've been in love with you for a long time now. And I don't know if I was disappointment that nothing happened, if it was seeing you torture yourself in silence, or if it was the realisation, that seeing you every morning and realising how little I really meant to you-" she cut herself off to stop herself from sobbing. There was pain in Sherlock's eyes and he pulled her into his arms. Staining his purple shirted shoulder with yet more tears, they embraced until she calmed down. Holding each other, Sherlock broke away and stood infront of her. Looking at her tired eyes, he held out his hand. Pulling her up and inter his arms, they began a slow dance to the radio, which seems to have calmed off from the heavy bass it was previously playing.
A smile crept onto Molly Hoopers face for the first time in months. A they slowly danced in the dim light of the office, Molly was aware of Sherlock's hand on her waist, as was he aware of Molly's hand on the back of his neck. Allowing herself too look at him, they stopped swaying. Molly seemed to have ceased breathing as his stooped low and kissed her tenderly. Frozen momentarily, Molly got over this initial shock and moved her lips against his. After a few moments, the unlikely couple found themselves entwined together, Molly's hands around Sherlock's neck, playing with his beautiful curls, and Sherlock's hands gripping her hips pulling her flush against him. As their kiss became breathless and urgent, they broke apart to look at one another.
"Molly, you look beautiful" he whispered, believing that her returning smile and deep red cheeks was possibly the most comforting yet stunning thing he'd ever seen. Her smile placed a peck on his lips and she began turning off the lights in the room. Packing her things away, they left the morgue hand in hand onto the street above.
Daring herself not to ruin the moment and ask what on earth just happened, she rested her head on his shoulder on the cab ride home. It was near four o'clock in the morning and the rain gave way to a lightening sky. When they got back to Molly's flat, she decided to be coy and play it cool. Hanging up their jackets, he followed her into the kitchen where she began making coffee. Reaching in the cupboard for some mugs and the jar of coffee, Sherlock stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck before placing tender kisses along her jawline. Closing her eyes and suddenly forgetting completely about her plan of playing cool. Turning her head to meet his lips, her hand wound its way back to his head, gently tugging on the curls.
Their kiss was different to that in the morgue. This was playful and deep, full of promises. His tongue gently asked permission against her mouth of which Molly gave full consent. Spinning her round and lifting her with ease onto the kitchen counter, Sherlock's hands made their way expertly up her back beneath her blouse, her skin soft yet sensitive to his touch. Reciprocating her desire, she wrapped her legs around his waist, something which he positively reacted to. He broke their passionate kiss and looked deep into her eyes. Words exchanged between their Iris's, saying sweet nothing's that need not be voiced. With her legs still wrapped fiercely against him, he lifted and carried her, being mindful not to trip over Toby on his way to her bedroom. Collapsing on the bed and continuing their loving kiss, Sherlock stroked her cheek, her beautiful smile melting his hidden heart. "Molly Hooper, I love you". Her smile widened and she kissed him fiercely, wondering how on earth this was happening, yet not caring about the details. "Sherlock Holmes, I believe you do have a heart." They smiled together, and continued their embracing kisses. Feeling the heat between one another due to their roaming hands, the hunger in Sherlock's eyes was undeniable. Smiling seductively, he pinned Molly beneath him, looking at her biting her bottom lip, presumably on purpose. "Now Miss Hooper, how can I begin to thank-you for all you've done..."