Sherlock was slowly but surely recovering. A slow process from such massive internal injuries but day by day he was getting stronger

Molly found herself in a routine. She'd pop in to see Sherlock before work, sometimes again at lunch time and always after work. It had become as much a part of her daily routine as sleeping and eating. She'd even got to know the staff by their first names. It had been 2 weeks after all.

Sherlock's strength was returning but he had been told, in no uncertain terms by John, that full recovery before discharge from hospital this time was essential. His body just wouldn't stand another relapse

"You don't flat line twice in one week and recover from it quickly" John explained one evening when Sherlock insisted he was well enough to go home. "This is serious stuff, Sherlock. You were bloody lucky the first time around and even more so the second time. People don't pull back from flat lining the way you did - and twice at that. Please. I know we have stuff to sort, big shit, but I need you alive not dead. I need your mind palace in full working order if I'm even going to remotely get through this. Please Sherlock. I want - no I need you to sort this. I have to work through, with you and Mary, what the hell is going on. You can only do that once your recovery is complete. At present it's far from done. Your stats tell me that. Your pulse is still slightly erratic at times, temperature is higher than normal, blood pressure is up and you've not yet walked out of this room, let alone up two flights of stairs to get to the flat."

Sherlock wasn't one for being told what to do. Never had been. But this was John speaking. His pressure point. His one true friend. The person he had connected with. The person he would do anything for.

Uncharacteristically, Sherlock listened to John and agreed. And if he was totally honest with himself, he knew he needed time. He felt tired. Sherlock never felt tired. Even after 6 days straight on a case with no food and no sleep. The adrenaline kept him going until he was finished. But right now he felt tired. A deep, full bodied exhaustion that had drained him even of the capacity to go into his mind palace for more than 15 minutes at a time. For a man who rarely slept, 18 hours a day spent sleeping was nothing unusual at the moment.

Molly's day time visits became something to look forward to for Sherlock during those long hours. Not something he'd ever thought he'd admit to himself. He needed her more than she needed him. She and John had become his lifeline to the outside world. It was a strange situation for him.

"You have one hell of a girlfriend there" one of the doctors commented when Molly had left one evening "She never misses a day, does she. Here morning and evening and some times during the day too. That's love for you"

Sherlock had mused this over and over. What were he and Molly to each other? Friends? No, she was more than that. A meeting of minds? Certainly that, yes. She and he understood each other. She could not match him in intellect, but there was certainly a connection. Any thing more than that? He wasn't sure. What he did know was that he looked forward to her visits. If she was later than usual because she was working on something interesting, he'd lie waiting impatiently for her.

As time moved on, and Sherlock's strength began to return, he was able to spend more and more time awake and therefore more and more time in his mind palace. Days were now made up of Molly's visit in the morning, several hours spent in his mind palace, usually meaning he skipped lunch, and then Molly's visit in the evening. He always cleared his mind palace ready for her visit.

One evening, 3 weeks after Sherlock's second relapse, Molly came to visit as usual. Sherlock was upright in bed, feeling his energy return

"You're looking well this evening" Molly commented as she walked into the room, and sat by the bed. She held his hand as usual. The pulse monitors were now long gone, but she felt confident that, as he had done when at his very sickest, his pulse would have quickened up as she tightened her grip

"Molly, I need your help" he immediately replied. "I've spent the last 3 days re-visiting the case I was on before I was shot. I need to recommence serious work with immediate effect if I'm to sort this out as soon as possible."

Molly smiled and inwardly felt sad at the same time. She knew this day would come. The day when he was on the right side of his recovery. They day his strength was beginning to return with a vengeance. The day that Sherlock would truly start to come back. The day she had looked forward to for so long.

But at the same time, this was the day he would no longer be as dependant upon her. He had relied upon her for information about her experiments, what was happening in the morgue. Anything to keep his mind active and aware of what was happening in the outside world, outside the room which had been his cocoon for during his illness. The room that had protected him and enabled him to recover and regain himself again. This was the day he was able to muster the strength to think for himself, and therefore not to rely upon her twice or three time daily visits. Sure, John came by but he was so pre-occupied at present. Mrs Hudson and Lestrade were also regular visitors but they never stayed long. Molly had been his life blood these past 3 weeks and now he was starting to not need her. His body may still need further recovery time, but it was obvious his brain now didn't.

"Of course, what do you need" Molly replied, desperately trying to make sure that she hid any sadness from him

"My violin to start with" he replied "and I need you to ask one or two of my homeless network to come in and see me. They need to be my eyes and ears while I am here and I need to brief them fully. Get me Wiggy and ask him to hand pick one or two of the other lads for me. He'll know what I need."

"I'll get straight on to it" said Molly, turning away to leave

Sherlock grabbed her arm. He looked her straight in the eye

"Thank you, Molly" he said "I appreciate that I have not been the easiest patient over these past few weeks, or indeed the best friend over the past few years, but I do appreciate the attention you have shown me. I shall miss your visits when I am well enough to be home. I have grown to look forward to them."

Molly bent over to gently kiss his cheek. Sherlock turned his head at exactly the same time and their lips met. Neither of them made an effort to pull away and they remained like that for quite some time.

They were both disturbed by a slight cough at the door. It was Mrs Hudson.

"I'll pop by later" she said and hurried away

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other and smiled.

"I'll go and get what you need" said Molly. "See you in the morning"