AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had PLANNED to put out another chapter but it all deleted and it was midnight and my inspiration was zilch!

But thanks to the amazing sherlolly_pop on IG she gave me this awesome idea! :D

So here it is, a hopeful fluffy scene.

DISCLAIMER: Yes. I am Moffat writing Sherlolly fanfiction, of coarse!

*sassy drunk Sherlock Z formation*

ANOTHER NOTE: I am wearing fake nails (cause they're awesome) and well... If there's any mistakes with spelling... It's cause my finger barely touches the screen so yeah.

Molly was walking back to her room with a counselor named Mary, who was evidently John Watson's wife.

As they talked of life and inspirations, Molly felt a large hand wrap itself around hers and pull her in the opposite direction.

"Wha-"

"Shh. I don't want you to get caught." Sherlock whispered while Mary confusedly searched for Molly.

Molly shut up and followed. Merely because she trusted him. After what he did for her, how could she not? He had saved her, and for what price? None, he didn't ask for anything in return, in fact, he had merely brought her back to a seat, gave her lemonade, and left that day.

Molly was confused as it was now two days after his valiant rescue that he decided to make any contact with her at all...

As they darted counselors, and security, Sherlock and Molly finally made it to his room.

"How did you know we wouldn't get caught?" Molly asks in a hushed tone, as if she was afraid to wake a child.

Sherlock smirks and merely winks with a low baritone like voice that melted Molly's heart.

"I didn't."

Sherlock opens his door, and allows Molly to enter his humble abode.

It was filled with little doodles covering the wall, minimal clothing stashed in the closet, no special blankets or pillows, no special combs or brushes, no special stuffed animals, nothing. Just clothes and little arts and crafts littering the room, you'd barely think anyone lived here.

"It's so..." Molly tried to think of a word to describe it.

"Empty. I like to think of it as my personality."

Molly smiles sadly at the joke while Sherlock grinned at her.

"Your personality is fine. I'd just like to see more of it."

Sherlock snickers as he sits on his bed, and lets out a little smile.

"I'm afraid this is it, really." They both look around, and Molly makes her way to his makeshift desk.

Scattered around were photos of him and his family, shots of a young curly haired boy with a big red dog laying around.

"This your dog?" She asks as she runs a finger over the animal.

"Yes. Erm..." Sherlock grows a bit uncomfortable at the thought of her seeing his pictures. They were special to him. They were his saving grace when he felt low.

"He's beautiful." She mutters, and smiles at the only smile she's ever seen on the man in the photo of him with his dog... It was a beautiful smile, if only he'd share one with her.

"Um... Thank you." Sherlock replies, toying with his fingers as he sat there and watched Molly see a bit into his life.

"What's his name?" Molly asks, looking at the doodles on the wall, of skulls to butterflies, all as if from coloring books. Save for a doodle of a yellow smiley face.

"Redbeard." Sherlock answers after a moment. He sighs it, as if it gave him a moment of feeling human...

"Mmm." Molly nods, and finally makes her way to sit down beside Sherlock, a tad closer than usual. Sherlock liked the feeling of her knee touching his while they both sat criss cross applesauce.

"I had a cat. Toby was his name."

Sherlock once again grows confused, but merely nods his head.

"Yeah... Dad gave him to me. He died soon after, and so did my cat. Was never home to feed him."

Sherlock sees the doodled version of Redbeard, and rests his hands on his knees to steady himself.

"Redbeard was the only thing to make me feel happy."

Molly looked at Sherlock with surprise, was he truly sharing all this with her? You could see the effort it took to say just that... As if it pained him to even mention his dog... Or maybe it was just his life that was hard to talk of.

"No one else? No one else made you happy?" Molly asked as she searched for his face hidden away in a shell.

Upon looking up, Sherlock's eyes were a bit puffy.

"No one else thought I was human." Sherlock muttered lowly, and Molly rested a hand on his shoulder.

It was foreign, this touch, her hands always helped him deduce about how much of a gentle soul Molly Hooper was.

Molly noticed how tense Sherlock was and pulled away, only to have Sherlock take her hand and hold it.

"Tell me, Molly... Do you think i'm... Human?"

Molly looked into Sherlock's eyes, glowing a deep blue in the night hours. Like their own miniature stars... She searched them for a few moments, her fingers squeezing his, reassuring him without words that yes, she did believe he was human.

As she stared into his blue eyes for reassurance and protection, he deduced her own dilated ones for her past, her true colors.

What did she see? A freak?

And what did he see? A simple addict?

Or more?

Sherlock's eyelids began to droop, and Molly's followed suit, their faces were inching closer and closer, they could feel their breathing on each other's lips until...

There was a knock on the door.

Molly flies back in fright. Sherlock merely turning towards the noise.

They hadn't noticed how close their own faces were... But their blushing says otherwise.

"Sherlock? May I have a word?" Called John Watson through the door, until it opens and John Watson finds Molly Hooper in Sherlock Holmes's bed!

"Oh." Molly exclaims in embarrassment.

"Don't you understand privacy?!" Sherlock exclaims in anger.

"WHY IS THERE A WOMAN IN YOUR BED?!" John exclaims in confusion.

"It wasn't what you think."

"You're a man, figure it out!"

"IT'S AGAINST THE RULES!"

"We were just talking!"

"Well the Earth wouldn't be populated if it was against the rules..."

"GET OUT!"

Molly blushes madly as she scurries out and back to her room like an obedient servant of some sort.

Sherlock watches her go with a bit of a longing... What had just happened?

"Sherlock Holmes..."

"Oh do calm down, John. We were only talking."

John scoffs and shakes his head.

"I'll trust you on that." And with that he takes his leave.

"What did you want?" Sherlock calls out, and is answered with.

"Good night!"

Sherlock lays back with a light

"Oooookkkkk..." And closes his eyes.

Finally, just finally, he'd found someone to actually believe in him... Molly Hooper.