A/N: 2022 notes here again, for the final update.

Apparently 2016 me did not like the way I had previously ended it, and added this little snap to the end. Re-reading it, I get it, it was a vaguely empty ending.

Still not keen on the way this rolls but sure!

But Would You Do the Same?

For six months Sherlock had avoided her.

He had woken up next to her, and she had quietly explained her role in his life. As she recounted her deaths to save him, fragments of memories bubbled up in his mind.

He had left 221b and did not return until he was sure that she had left. From then he did not go St Barts unless it was a different pathologist, and if it was and had to be Molly he sent in John or Lestrade. Both had found his behaviour bizarre, and his brother had almost admonished him but he refused to see Molly Hooper.

Molly was furious. She had not seen Mycroft nor Anthea since, though she had received a text from Anthea telling her to hold on. The kicker was not seeing Sherlock either, and she was now scathing at the thought of loving being the greatest joy of all. She was sat in her office at St Barts, signing off the day's autopsy reports and glaring down at her mortal signature.

She was furious with herself for falling in love. She would not be the first angel to mess up by falling in love with the wrong human. But she got her wings back, she realised that's what the burning warmth was in her back when Anthea hugged her, she had been given back her wings and it had taken a long time to appreciate them again.

A wingless angel was already an abomination is some eyes, a re-winged angel put her somewhere in the middle of the two; unaccepted by angels who had never lost their wings, and for those without. It made her feel like she was abnormal, that she was some sort of freak.

"I wouldn't say you're a freak." A deep voice made her whirl on the chair towards the door.

"Well what other reason is there for the total avoidance of me unless you can't bear the sight of me." Molly's anger was already burning, and Sherlock recoiled slightly at her vitriolic tone.

"Because you challenged my very world." He said quietly. But his admission barely calmed Molly, instead she was holding back six months' worth of hurt inside her and for an angel it was a particular vicious mix.

"You were my very world." She hissed, fists clenching, nails biting into her palm to stop herself from crying. Tears were not part of this conversation she told herself ruthlessly.

"Molly, please." Sherlock's voice had a tiny of desperation now and he had stepped across the room towards her.

"What Sherlock? Do you want soft platitudes from me?" She hissed. "I saved your life, after one of Lucifer's top angels put dibs on you!" She had moved from around her desk, eyes blazing in anger "Do you know how far down the pecking order I am in the angel hierarchy? Any of the greater beings could have stepped into save you, but it was me – the angel who gave up her wings for love." She was shrieking now. "My place in the mortal plane was to help the dead move on, this is why I worked in a morgue!" Sherlock had fallen silent at her tirade. "After everything, I have been shunned by not only my people but also the man I fought to save." Molly slammed her hands down on the desk, glaring at the curly haired man with such venom he almost took a step back.

"Molly you have to listen."

"No." She snapped. "I am done listening, and taking orders. The only reason I have not left St Barts is because there are too many souls that still need me. So I put aside the damage I caused myself and went back to helping people." She hissed.

"Molly, six months ago you told me that you were an angel, you told me that you had died a number of times to stop me from dying, and being claimed by a demon. You told me that time rewrote itself to smooth over your reincarnations." Sherlock's voice was quiet and calm, and yet the fury in Molly's eyes did not abate. "Do you accept what I have just said."

"Yes." She said through gritted teeth.

"You have just told me that I was marked out by an important devil, and that I was saved by an angel who gave up her wings for me." Sherlock had moved closer. "You have just told me that the man I considered to be my nemesis was a mythological creature and that my supposed soul was important for the hellish advancement into earth." Sherlock broke down the facts but did not take his eyes off of her.

"That's correct." She wrinkled her nose.

"Now to you, that might be seem logical, because you have always been an angel. You grew up in a world I consider to be myth and legend, because my world is one of logic and science and all of that was blown apart when you appeared on the roof of the hospital and put a bullet into James Moriarty." Sherlock explained quietly.

"I guess." She said sullenly.

"My fault rests in leaving you for so long, but to see you was to see my own failings, and to see that my comfortable factual world was riddled with non-scientific holes." Sherlock's voice was still quiet but he saw that Molly had calmed down considerably.

"I should have expected you to react the way that you did." Molly conceded and hesitantly Sherlock took another step forward. "It was foolish on my part to think that you would accept everything that easily."

"It took me longer to accept that a woman I would give my own life for had given hers willingly." Molly stopped dead at his words, and he nodded their truth. He reached out and was relieved when Molly took his hand and squeezed his fingers. He pulled her towards him and felt warmth now that she was close.

Holding one another felt as easy as breathing, and Molly was only aware that Sherlock's fingers were not dipping below her spine after a moment or two.

"You won't find my wings that way Sherlock." She said into his chest.

"So, you do have wings again, Anthea was correct." Sherlock's voice vibrated through her ears and Molly pulled back to smile at him.

"I do have my wings again, yes." She shook her head. "But I'm not getting them out in the middle of my office."

"Why, are they bigger than the office?" His curiosity was evident and Molly bit back a sigh.

"No, but I don't want them out. John's already gawping through the window at us, I think he might faint if I suddenly have wings, don't you?" She nodded towards the glass slit in the door. Sherlock spun to see his best friend peeking through with Lestrade's head above his.

"It's about time!" The detective bawled through the closed door. "We'll go see Stamford." He winked and the pair vanished from sight.

"Think I should go after them?" Sherlock frowned.

"You have so much still to learn." Molly cupped his face lovingly, and slowly tilted his face down for a kiss. A kiss that filled her with the love she had so sorely missed for the last six months.