I guess you all know that Steven Moffat said in an interview that Sherlock loves Molly. You… know, right? If not, I might have given you a spoiler right now. LOL

ALL MY INSPIRATION CAME BACK WITH JUST A LINE AS SIMPLE AS "HE LOVES HER.". Okay, it's NOT A SIMPLE LINE, NOT FOR AN OBSESSED SHERLOLLY FAN! OUR SHIP HAS OFFICIALLY BECOME CANON. DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? WE CAN EXPECT MORE SHERLOLLY ACTION IN FOURTH SEASON! God, I am fangirling so bad.

(This ship sails itself. Just sayin'.)

Anyways! I am going on with this fanfiction and so, this is not the epilogue. Just so let you know. ^^

A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC and Steven Moffat. (also Mark Gatiss)

"I have a family, Sherlock, even if I don't talk to them often!" Molly yelled at him as soon as they were inside 221B. "I'll be all over the newspapers tomorrow, as your new one night stand!"

Sherlock closed the door to his flat behind him and returned to face Molly. He was getting more and more angry every second she talked, her shouting not bearable anymore. "Stop yelling at me Molly." He deadpanned, his eyes glowing with anger in the dark. He didn't turn on the lights of the room yet.

"I didn't know the press would be there. Stop blaming me." he stated as he removed his trench coat and threw it to the armchair. "I just wanted to have dinner with you and now you're accusing me of being a liar and a playboy. Do you hear your own nonsense, I wonder."

Molly folded her arms on her chest. "Then what am I to you, Sherlock?" she asked, her shoulders dropping a little. She was so tired of this thing going on between them. The more it was left unnamed, the more she felt lost.

"You never questioned it before." Sherlock muttered, turning his back so he was facing the window. They both fell silent for a few minutes before Sherlock started talking again. "I told you, you matter the most, Molly. You are the most important person in my life. What more do you want to hear?"

Molly went to John's armchair and sat down, taking her head in her hands. "Are we a couple?"

Sherlock frowned. "I guess."

Molly looked up at him and shook her head. "You guess? You never guess Sherlock. You deduce. Now deduce it. Deduce us. What are we? A couple? Fuckbodies? Friends? Friends with benefits? I can go on forever."

He sighed and sat in front of her, his own chair. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands together under his chin. He was in his mind palace, she knew that, but she still felt annoyed. It wasn't the right time for him to wander around his mind palace. They were in the middle of an arguement.

Molly stood up and shook him by the shoulders not so gently. His eyes snapped open and he grabbed her wrists, holding them behind her back. She narrowed her eyes and he, with a swift move, made her sit on his lap. She opened her mouth to say something but he kissed her neck, silencing her with the warmth of his lips. Molly knew she was already giving in to him but she also knew it wasn't the right thing to do. She wanted to protest, she wanted to push him away but couldn't find the strength in herself. She was tired from all the crying, the fighting, the stress and he was relaxing her.

"Sherlock." She sighed, trying to stop him by saying his name and knowing it wouldn't work.

"You're the woman I want to be with all the time." He whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her and making her shiver. His hands let go of her wrists and placed themselves on her hips, staying there for a while. "I like spending time with you. Not just in bed, but in general. I like working with you in the lab, I like talking to you." He then looked at her eyes, seeing how confused she was.

"But—"

"I am not finished, Molly." He gave her an annoyed look. "You are absolutely not a one night stand. A one night stand, as the phrase itself, is a person who you only spend one night with. You and I both know we've spent more than one night together. And the reason I came to your flat once in a while is because… I wanted to see you. Being bored was my excuse, Molly."

She never saw him like this before. He was sincere, he was finally showing his true feelings to her, he was opening up to her. If someone told her years ago that this day would come, she would laugh at their faces. But here she was, listening him confess to her. She lightly pinched her forearm, to see if she was dreaming all this. Yet, the pain the pinch caused her forearm told her it was pretty real.

"I'm sorry if I upset you, Molly. But I am not… good with relationships." He finished talking and finally met her gaze, seeing the soft look in her eyes. She was finally relieved, he could see that. Because she finally got an answer from him. Everything was cleared and her mind wasn't foggy anymore.

Molly hugged him tightly. "Oh Sherlock…" she whispered and started crying again, not even trying to hold her tears back anymore.

"What? Have I said something wrong? Why are you crying? Stop crying. Molly?" Sherlock asked all these questions in a few seconds, achieving a weird look from Molly. Then she burst out a loud laughter. She was laughing at him, but she had been crying a moment ago. Sherlock shook his head, knowing he would never understand such complex human sentiments.

"No, silly. I am crying because I'm happy." She said and smiled at him sincerely, though tears were still falling down from her cheek.

Sherlock wiped her tears away with his thumb, holding her head in his hands. "Seeing you cry hurts me."

Molly sniffed and nodded. There was no reason to cry anymore. Even if she was happy, she wasn't supposed to cry. She became such a crybaby after meeting Sherlock years ago. Her platonic love towards him made her weak and vulnurable and that made her cry more than she normally would. But now she had him. He was hers and she was his. No reason left for crying.

She leaned in closer to him and kissed him fully on the lips, her hands slowly reaching his hair to caress his black curls. He immediately opened her mouth, slicking his tongue in it. Their tongues danced in a rhythm that they both loved and missed.

"Next time, I'll bring you to the lowest restaurant in town. Maybe then you will see that press is much better than food with hair in them." He told her as he pulled himself back from her. She narrowed her eyes and pulled him closer by his tie.

"Don't tease me, Holmes." Then she dragged him to the bedroom.

Okay, so I hope you enjoyed this chapter and a new chapter will be up soon. (More smut on the way! ;))

Reviews are appreciated! (:

xoxo Louvreangel

p.s.: He loves her.