A/N: For the Nov 9th prompt - "It's what I do at 2:30 in the morning when I can't sleep." Rated T. Sequel to The Girl Who Befriended the Man in the Moon and Childhood's End.

Molly Hooper tossed and turned in her bed, desperately trying to find a more comfortable position. None of them worked. Groaning in frustration, she sat up and glared at her bedroom window. The curtains were drawn but moonlight still shone through around the edges.

She was perceptive enough to realize that her occasional insomnia was tied to the full moon. It wasn't every full moon that kept her awake, but if there was a night she just couldn't sleep, there was a full moon out.

You know why you can't sleep and it has nothing to do with your room being brighter, a little voice in her head said. You're feeling guilty for how you've treated Sherlock for the past twenty years.

Molly ignored the voice and got out of bed then went to the kitchen and pulled a pint of Chocolate Therapy out of the freezer. "Ben & Jerry, save me," she muttered as she got a spoon out of the drawer then hopped onto the counter.

Why can't he just leave me alone? I know he's always watching me, just as he said he would, and I even welcomed that sensation for a time when I was younger, but ever since Tom came and left… She sighed quietly. "It feels a lot more intrusive."

"That was never my intention," a voice she had never wanted to hear again said from the doorway.

Molly shut her eyes and counted to ten before opening them. The man she once thought of as her best friend was standing in front of her. Twenty years had had no effect on his appearance whatsoever, except to make his eyes sadder.

She glared at him. "What are you doing here, Sherlock?"

"I had to see you," he said gently. "I'm worried about you, Molly."

"I'm fine," she said firmly. "You should know that, you're been watching me."

"Eating ice cream out of the container at 2:30 in the morning isn't the action of someone who's 'fine.'"

"It's Ben & Jerry's, you're supposed to eat it out of the container."

"Molly…"

"It's been twenty years, why in the bloody hell are you here now?" Getting worked up, she set her pint and spoon down then hopped off the counter and advanced on Sherlock. She only came up to his shoulder, but that didn't stop her from poking him in the chest with her index finger. "It's been twenty years, what makes tonight any different than last night or, oh I don't know, the night you abandoned me?"

Sherlock grabbed her wrist and held it away from his chest in a gentle but unyielding grasp. "Because I see how lonely you are, even with your friends, and it breaks my heart. I've given you all the support I can from a distance, but it's not the same."

Molly's eyes widened. "You … that is the exact same thing I said twenty years ago and you wouldn't listen!"

"Your father was right – having an 'imaginary' friend would have kept you from making real friends. The last thing I wanted was to hold you back, Molly."

"Sherlock, what held me back was the fear that any new friend I made would abandon me just like my best friend did."

He stared at her. "I'm your best friend?"

She swallowed hard. "You were, that ended when you left. I haven't had a best friend since. John, Mary, and Greg are good friends, really good friends, but I've never been as close to them as I was to you. John and Mary are married now. Good call on that, by the way."

"What about Tom?"

Molly laughed bitterly. "Tom definitely wasn't my best friend. I could never open up to him, not completely. When I realized he was never going to be my best friend, I called off the engagement."

"That was a year ago. You haven't dated since."

"Yes, well, I realized I was comparing every man I dated to my ideal man and they all failed spectacularly. Since there really isn't a man who can measure up, what's the point of dating?"

"Rejecting a man just because he doesn't live up to some fantasy isn't fair, to you or him."

"Oh, my ideal man isn't a fantasy."

"Who is it? John? Greg?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "You, you clot."

He stared at her. "What?"

She smiled weakly. "Is it really that surprising? I hated you when you left me, but I've had you on a pedestal for over twenty years, Sherlock. You were the kindest, sweetest man I had ever met. When puberty came, I realized how attractive you were. You were my first crush, the only one that really mattered, but I was still too mad at you to say anything."

"Molly, I … I don't know what to say…"

"Then don't say anything," she said as she pulled her wrist out of his grasp, suddenly irritated. "I'm going back to bed."

He gently grabbed her shoulder. "I … I want to keep seeing you." At her raised eyebrow, he added, "In person, I mean. I want us to be friends again."

"I'll think about it."

"Molly…"

"Come back tomorrow night and we'll talk."

He blinked in surprise. "I'll be here."