Aayyy! I'm back! I've planned this as the last chapter to this phase of their relationship, you could say. I'll continue the story line in a new story!

Happy reading! xx :)

Chapter Nineteen

Molly didn't know how long she had been sitting outside when she noticed dark, monstrous clouds gathering up in the sky. She knew it was going to start raining any second and that she should go inside or atleast find some shelter, but she didn't. She didn't have anywhere to go, except inside and she knew she wasn't welcome inside anymore.

Suddenly, she felt something wet fall on the back of her hand. She looked up and it was drizzling. In no time, the drizzling turned into heavy rain with loud thunder and lightning. Toby and Redbeard bounded up the stairs but remained near her, barking and yowling at her, trying to convince her to come inside. Molly shook her head and pulled her legs to her chest as she wrapped her arms around herself. She rested her head on her knees and cursed herself for wearing a sleeveless shirt. She felt angry at herself, at the weather, at Sherlock, at Mike and every other thing that came to her mind.

Suddenly, as if the rain wasn't enough, the wind started howling and it dropped the temperature even lower. Molly started shivering and wrapped her arms tightly around herself as if that would help her. A few minutes later, it felt like ages to Molly, she felt something warm and heavy being draped on her. She sighed with relief and looked up to find a pair of feet in dress shoes in front of her. She tilted her head to the side and found the Belstaff on her shoulders. She frowned and placed her head back on her knees again.

"Come on, let's go inside", Sherlock whispered.

"N-No…", Molly managed to speak through her chattering teeth.

"You're cold, you need to get warm. You'll get sick."

"I w-won't."

"Molly…please…", Sherlock pleaded as he kneeled down and pressed his hand on her shoulder. Molly would have gone inside, she would have thrown her anger away and run up into the house to the fireplace, if she hadn't looked up at his face. His hair was ruffled and wet, his white shirt was creased and sticking to his torso, and he was blinking rapidly to keep the water from going into his eyes. He looked beautiful. And Molly wasn't happy about it. He was breaking her again.

She pushed him away onto his back and shrugged the Belstaff off, angrily. She stood up too quickly, making her stiff muscles scream. She toppled onto the ground in agony and blinked away her tears. Sherlock jumped onto his feet and hurried over to her.

"Are you alright?", Sherlock asked with worry in his voice as he tried to help her up.

"I'm fine!", Molly growled and pushed his hands away.

"Molly…listen to me, I-", Sherlock began but was cut off by her.

"No, you listen! I want to go home, now! Coming here, was the worst mistake of my life!", Molly screamed in his face. She knew the butler and the housekeeper could hear, but she didn't care. She wanted to get away from this hell.

"I…I was going to say the same thing...and that I'm sorry for earlier…", Sherlock murmured and kept his eyes downcast. Molly stared at him in surprise, "but first you need to get warm and dry…and we need to wait for the weather to calm down…"

Molly nodded as fresh tears started streaming down her face. She hadn't realized he wanted her to leave just as badly her. Molly stood up slowly and started wobbling just when she raised her foot to take a step. Sherlock quickly stepped behind her, covered her with his coat again and wrapped his arm around her. Molly again pushed him away and this time, she fell over with the force of her push.

"Molly!", Sherlock bit his lip and bent down to help her.

"No!", Molly tried to move away, but voiced her pained muscles with a sob, "Stop trying to be kind to me, Sherlock. Stop pitying me. I don't need your pity or care. I don't want you to feel sorry because I care. I know how you work. Sentiment means nothing to you. Oh, in fact it does mean something to you. It means weakness, doesn't it? Well, I'm not weak. Stop trying to pity me!"

Sherlock listened quietly to her and kept his eyes lowered. No matter how angry she was, Molly was distracted by the fact that he wasn't looking at her.

"I do not pity you at all, Molly. I'm busy pitying myself…", he mumbled.

"Oh, I see. You're pitying yourself for getting stuck with me. Of course…", Molly scowled and pulled the coat closer around herself.

"No", he shook his head, "I'm pitying myself…because…I do care and because…because I'm in love with you…", Sherlock sighed and bowed his head in an attempt to hide his face. Molly gasped and Sherlock heard her. He looked up at her and Molly saw why he wouldn't meet her eyes. They were red and puffy from crying.

"You were crying…?", Molly sniffled.

"No…", he murmured and looked away quickly.

"You took drugs?!", Molly gasped.

"No! I was…something got in my eye…", Sherlock murmured evasively and stood up.

Bloody liar…

"Alright…", Molly frowned and looked down at the mushy ground.

"Will you come inside now…? You'll catch a cold", Sherlock offered her his hand. Molly looked up and he gave her a soft smile. She smiled back as she took his hand and he pulled her up.

"Can you walk? Or do you want me to carry you?"

"I can…I can walk…", Molly quipped and blushed. Sherlock nodded and supported her back while she attempted at walking. Molly successfully managed to walk all the way up to the house and to the stairway, without falling, but she couldn't climb them.

"I can carry you up…I promise I won't hurt you…", Sherlock reassured her. When Molly nodded hesitantly, he placed one arm under her shoulders and one behind her knees and lifted her up. Molly gave out a terrified squeak and wrapped her arms around his neck.

" D-Don't drop me…", Molly whispered as she instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and clenched her eyes shut tightly to avoid looking at his face up close. She could hear her heart thudding loudly against her chest and she blushed with embarrassment, at her fear or at being so close to him, she wasn't sure.

"I won't", Sherlock mumbled as he climbed up the stairs, steadily, holding her securely in his arms. When they reached the landing, he didn't put her down and took her to his room.

"Sherlock…that's not my room…and I can walk, please put me down…", Molly squeaked and tried to pull herself out of his arms. Sherlock gently put her down in front of his bathroom and gestured towards it.

"I got the bath made here, so you should go in there instead of waiting for a bath to be made in your bathroom…", he whispered, "Your clothes are inside and I'll be here if you need me…"

"Oh…", Molly sighed with relief. Her mind had wandered off to crazy ideas. She shook her head and padded into the bathroom. She quickly clapped a hand to her mouth when she looked at the bathroom. It was definitely larger than the bedroom she was staying in and the ceiling was also higher than her bedroom's. The ceiling was ending in a cone at the top and she realized it was one of the spires. There were long thin curtains starting from the ceiling and they hung down till the floor. There were many cabinets and mirrors around her and a modest basin and toilet at the far corner. But in the middle, surrounded by flowing curtains was a big, round bathtub, holding her warm, foamy bath. Molly walked up to it unsteadily and sat at its edge as she pulled her wet, hard clothes off. It took her a few minutes and then she got into the warm bath and sighed.

"What did you mean when you said that you pity yourself for liking me?"

Molly had had a bath and was sitting in Sherlock's room by the fire place with a cup of hot chocolate. Sherlock had changed into dry clothes and was sprawled on his back, in front of her with his arm over his face and a mug of coffee beside him.

"I never said I like you", he murmured, "I said I love you."

"Doesn't have any differen-"

"It does, Molly. And don't say that it doesn't", Sherlock pulled his arm away from his face and stared at her as if daring her to prove him wrong. Molly sipped her hot chocolate and stared at the fire instead.

"As to your question…I pity myself for loving you, because I'm confused. I need you…but I don't want to need you. How can I work with this? I don't want to waste my time over sentiments, but it seems that you just won't get out of my head! I tried locking you in your room but it didn-", Sherlock babbled, his hands moving rapidly.

"You tried locking me in my room?!", Molly gasped.

"What?", he looked confused and surprised at being interrupted, "Oh, no I tried locking you in your room in my mind palace."

"I have a room in your mind palace?", Molly whispered slowly, not being sure if she should be elated by the fact or disturbed.

"Of course you do…anyways, where was I? Ah yes, I tried locking you in your room, but somehow you always found the key to the room and came out. The doors are a bit weird, you lock them from the inside and they usually-"

"Sherlock…"

"Molly, I know I'm not good for you. I know you don't love me. You hate me after everything I've done to you. And even if you did love me, I would never be able to give you what some other man can give you. I can't always be there for you. And I'm an arse…", Sherlock scowled at his description of himself and sat up, "But I really do love you…"

Molly gulped loudly and stared at her half-empty cup, silently. Neither spoke for a while and just sat staring at the fire and listening to the thunderstorm outside.

"Why do you think I hate you?", Molly asked out of curiosity after some time.

"Because I know you are a…very intelligent woman…and you wouldn't…and", Sherlock's voice faltered and he looked up at her, "I'm giving you an escape, Molly. I will never be able to give you what you want. Please…please don't say you feel the same for me even if you do…I will do nothing but hurt you. You deserve a lot better than me. So don't say it. Don't", Sherlock glared at her and clutched his mug tightly till his knuckles turned white.

"Oh…", Molly sighed, "Well, you are correct…"

"About what?", Sherlock frowned.

"About me hating you."

"What?!", Sherlock gasped and his face turned white with fear, "But…but I thought you…stammering…and…"

"Well you were wrong", Molly shrugged as she got up to leave. Sherlock caught her wrist quickly, keeping her from leaving.

"You're pretty bad at lying, Molly", he whispered.

"I am not lying", Molly scowled and tugged at her arm, but Sherlock refused to let go.

"You're lying…you've always loved-"

"No! I haven't! Stop trying to impose stuff on me!", Molly yelled and successfully managed to pull her arm out of his grip. Sherlock smirked as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood up tall in front of her. Molly stepped back and looked up at him curiously.

"So you're saying you're not lying?", he took an intimidating step towards her. Molly backed away quickly, and the back of her legs hit his bed. She had no escape.

"Yes…I'm n-not…lying…", Molly shook her head to excuse herself from looking at him, while she blushed and stammered. Sherlock leaned down towards her, so close that their noses were inches apart from each other.

"Then why are you stuttering? And why are your cheeks a lovely shade of pink?", he whispered as his breath caressed her cheeks.

"No…no Sherlock…don't you dare…I will prove it to you…somehow, that I really do not lo-love you…I don't…", she whispered less with conviction and more with apprehension.

"For that…you first need to convince yourself," and with that one last sentence breathed on her face, he whipped around and disappeared from the room, leaving her in a state of agitation.

"What are you doing?", a calm baritone sounded in her room. Molly turned around to find Sherlock standing in the doorway, frowning at her. She had been packing her stuff since yesterday. The weather had calmed down from before and she wanted to leave for London today, now, even though the three weeks hadn't completed. She wanted to go as far away from him as possible. For now.

"Packing", she whispered as she stuffed a pair of jeans in her bag.

"Why?"

"I want to go back…"

"Why?"

"Because I'm tired."

"You can sleep here…"

"I'm tired of sleeping here."

"Failed at convincing yourself then?", Sherlock smirked as he tilted his head slightly and crossed his arms. When Molly didn't respond, he walked up to her and sighed.

"If you'd just say yes…Molly…"

"Yes? You wanted a 'no" and I gave you one", Molly glowered.

"So you said no because I wanted you to, but you wouldn't have if I hadn't wanted you to…so you are willing to do anything for me, meaning you-", Sherlock whispered and stepped towards her.

"Shut up!"

Molly's shrill scream was following by minutes of loud silence. They stood in silence while Molly began packing again.

"You're still leaving?", Sherlock whispered hesitantly.

"Yes…"

"But…why?"

"Because I am going to prove it to you. I am going to prove it that I don't . love . you.", she scowled as she heaved her bag onto her shoulder and left the house with Toby, stubbornly while Sherlock quietly watched her leave, feeling his heart, which no one knew existed, shatter into pieces.

Don't forget to review people! Oh and the new story...the sequel that is...is Confessing! Don't forget to follow the story there! Thankyou everyone for your reviews especially The-Scorpio-Holmes-Sister-221B and lilsherlockian1975 thankyou thankyou thankyou! xx :)