Disclaimer: Do we really have to put these on every chapter? I obviously don't own this and never will, and I would love to not be reminded of that sad fact all the time.

That being said... Wow. I never expected this much support for my story,. 109 reviews? Crazy. You guys have been incredible, and I just want to take a minute and say thank you so so very much. Unfortunately, we are just about done here. I'm really hoping that you like this chapter though... I have a feeling you might. As always, shoot me a review and tell me what you think! I love you all tons, and thanks again.

Chapter 24

The celebration was something to be marveled at. The decorations were beautiful, the food divine, and in Molly's opinion, everything was absolutely perfect.

She smiled as she watched the newlywed Watsons dance, John twirling his bride in endless circles as she laughed. The smile grew as Mrs. Hudson was pulled into a dance by a slightly drunk Lestrade, and she sat contently watching them stumble around, not realizing that it left her completely alone at the table.

And then suddenly, he was there, his hand outstretched to take hers. Sherlock led his pathologist out onto the dance floor without saying a word. She was almost too shocked to react to his sudden appearance. He took one hand in his, placed the other on the small of her back, and pulled her in tightly. After a minute, Molly couldn't hear the music anymore. It was just the two of them, and nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

They danced for what seemed to Molly hours, but in reality was probably no more than a few songs. The festivities were starting to die down, and guests were disappearing as they returned to where Sherlock had been sitting.

The table was empty, and Molly looked around to see Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, John and Mary all talking at a different table about 30 feet away, along with a few police officers that they had become fairly close with and John's sister, Harry. She wanted to go join them, but there was a look in Sherlock's eyes that told her to stay put. She did so, unsure of what the next few minutes may hold.

Sherlock bent and brought the box of items up to the table, registering the surprise in Molly's face when he did so. There was a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach as he tried to speak, but at first he couldn't form a coherent thought. "Molly, do you… what is… why?"

She looked at him, not understanding. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought. He took a breath and then tried again, speaking a bit faster than normal, even for him. "Molly, do you know what the items in this box mean?"

She was completely caught off guard now. "What do you mean, Sherlock? They are just random things you left behind at my flat. They aren't important…" She faltered at the look on his face, "..are they?"

Sherlock looked away. This had been a bad idea. No, John had said that… and anyway, he was already started. She would just be confused if he didn't finish. He paused another moment to gather his thoughts and then slowly continued.

"No Molly. They are not random, and they have never been random, although I can honestly say that I wasn't completely aware of the depth of their significance until quite recently. That night before the fall when I came to you for help Molly, I told you that you have always counted. And although you were willing to risk everything to help me, I could tell that you still didn't believe it. So I set out to prove it to you."

Molly still didn't seem to understand, so Sherlock opened the box and started pulling out items, explaining each one. "The yo-yo. To symbolize that you were always there for me. I would go out and do everything I needed to, but in the end, you were always there to guide me home."

"The Skull. At Baker Street, I keep a skull that I can talk to when I need to get things out of my head. You were the one person who I could always talk to, unloading all of my burdens, and you would just sit and listen. It helped me far more than I think you could have known."

" The statue of Liberty keychain. People are constantly trying to change me because I make them uncomfortable. You have always taken me for who I am, and for reasons that I cannot understand, you still care about me after all that I have done to you. You accept me for who I am, and the keychain was to represent a liberty to be myself."

He glanced at her face, trying to gauge a reaction. The only visible emotion was shock, which wasn't helpful at all. However, it was not a rejection, so he continued. "The nesting doll. As I spent more time with you, I saw that there are many different sides to your personality. You are not the weak Molly that was my first impression, you have many more levels to you, and you are always surprising me. I think that I have yet to discover all the aspects of your personality."

"The rose. It is a fake flower because no matter the situation you stay the same. You are beautiful and kind, and unlike a real rose, thatt doesn't go away or die at the end of a season. You are constant, delicate, and something beautiful that ought to be protected."

"The watch. Presumably it was an heirloom from one of the men that I defeated, from a great grandfather. If you look at the inside, the parts are all original, although it is an antique. And yet it is still perfectly on time, running since the very first. This is to symbolize trust. It takes work to earn my trust, and very few people have earned it, all of whom happen to be here tonight. But from the very beginning I have trusted you, Molly. To be there when I needed you,to do what needed to be done, to help me in my time of need. I have always trusted you."

Molly was speechless after this confession. She was impressed by the poetry of this moment, and yet she wasn't surprised. Although at first it seemed out of character, she had always thought Sherlock to be just as capable of feeling as anyone else, if not more so. Yes, he was cold and harsh, but he was also the same man who played out emotions he didn't know or understand on the violin late into the evening. She had seen the agony he had felt after his death, and had even heard the steady rhythm spoken into his deductions. So as strange as it was, this moment didn't feel impossible.

However, there was something missing. She was sure he hadn't forgotten it, but there it lay on the table, waiting to be explained. In a raspy voice she was almost unable to find, she asked, "the heart?"

Sherlock nodded. Up until this point, it had been fairly simple to explain the objects. But of course, the hardest explanation still lay between them on the table. He had hoped she wouldn't notice that he had left it out, but he had known that she would.

He took a deep breath once again and tried to continue on, staring at the heart and ardently avoiding her gaze. "I have always known that you were important to me, Molly, although I didn't understand to what level until a recent discussion with John opened my eyes. The heart originally signified my experiments, and all the valuable work you do when you help me with them."

He saw disappointment on her face, and was upset to have hurt her, even for a second. "However…" he felt his pulse quicken as he pushed on, "I think that for a long time now, my subconscious has been betraying me when it comes to you. I have always been told that I was heartless, but I know now that isn't true. I do have a heart, but it has never belonged to me. When I left that model on your couch, I literally and figuratively gave my heart away. To you, Molly Hooper. My... my heart belongs to you."

He finally looked up, and could see his words taking hold. At this point, he didn't know what he was expecting or even hoping for. Molly's face betrayed a whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and he wasn't quite sure which one would actually win.

So he kept speaking, although it was quite unnecessary at this point, the words giving him something to focus on. "I can't promise that I won't hurt you, or that it will always be safe with me, or that I will even live up to your expectations. But I can promise you that I will love you and protect you with all my strength, and that I will never let you go."

Molly's eyes lit up on the word "love". Sherlock cursed himself for not having thought to say it earlier. Of course he should have lead with that. He had done this completely wrong, he knew it, and there was no way…

She came closer to him, and weaved her fingers through his curls. "Sherlock Holmes, you insufferable git," she said, and Sherlock had just enough time to register the smile playing on her lips before they crashed against his own.

He responded quickly, putting one arm around her waist and the other hand behind her neck, pulling her as close as possible. He pushed his lips into hers, hungry for her. A soft moan escaped her, and he grinned against her lips, unable to think of anything that could possibly be better than this moment.