Mousedetective MHAW Prompt #3: to this point, from now on

"To this point/from now on/wherever I go/I won't be long-"

"Why not?"

Molly stopped singing, a flush spreading across her face at Sherlock's voice. She hated being caught singing aloud by anyone, but especially by Mister-Music-Snob. "Why not what?" she asked when he continued to stand there with his 'Well-I-asked-you-a-question' face.

"Why won't you belong?"

Molly screwed her own face up in confusion. "It's just a song, Sherlock, just lyrics. It means it won't be long before the two of them, you know, get together. The next line is 'beside you dear/the path is clear'. And then it, you know, goes on from there."

"Ah." Sherlock nodded gravely. "So I won't be long, rather than I won't belong. My mistake."

With a rush of insight Molly understood exactly what he'd meant, and her heart felt as if it would burst with sympathy. "No, I get it, Sherlock. Lots of people feel like they don't belong, that they're apart from the rest of the world."

Her already burning cheeks felt even hotter as she realized what she was saying. Oh no, would he think she was comparing him to his crazy sister, the one who felt all alone because of her terrifying intellect? The one who couldn't connect to the rest of the human race?

Dear. God. Would he think she was calling him a machine? The way John used to do? She'd rather die than have him believe that! She knew that yes, he loved her, just as he loved his small, select circle of friends and family.

Just as she opened her mouth to apologize, he surprised her by stepping forward, deep into her personal space, and placing one hand gently over her lips. "Don't apologize, Molly, I know what you meant - and what you didn't mean. I was just..." He huffed out a wry laugh. "I was trying to find a way to tell you how I really feel, and I thought the song was the perfect opportunity, but then of course I misunderstood it, and then I made you feel as if you'd misunderstood me, and that's the last thing I wanted to do. To hurt you again. To make you feel inadequate or alone or-"

Molly gently removed his hand from over her lips. "Breathe, Sherlock," she advised him. "Just...take a moment. Breathe. Then just say it, whatever it is you came to say. You never have to worry about hurting me with the truth."

She braced herself, keeping herself outwardly tranquil as she waited for him to finally give her the official 'I love you as a friend' speech she'd been waiting for ever since his travails at Sherrinford and Musgrave. Oh, he'd tried a few times, and she'd patiently waited for the words to come, but each time he ended up mumbling something about how complicated emotions were, accepting her reassurances that yes, they were still good, and then practically running away from her.

Now or never, she advised herself. If he doesn't say it now, you will tell him it's all good and he doesn't have to actually say it. Then we'll both be able to go on with our lives without this hanging over us.

I hope.

Sherlock, meanwhile, was not only doing what she'd advised him to do - breathing, slowly and deeply - but had closed his eyes and dropped both hands by his sides. When he opened them, the panicked expression was gone. He smiled softly at her, and she smiled back, reaching out to give his hands an encouraging squeeze. "Go on, say it, then," she said.

"Say it like I mean it?" he asked, and she flinched a little, then stiffened her spine and nodded.

"All right, I will," he said, catching her hands as she started to let him go. She was so surprised she didn't fight him, just let him hold both her hands, watching as he brought them up to rest on his chest. "Do you feel that, Molly?" he asked, and she nodded, because his heart was drumming in his chest, as if he'd just sprinted after a particularly speedy suspect. "That's how I feel about you. No one else makes my heart race like this." Slowly, carefully, he pulled her closer, until they were barely a breath apart. "No one else sees me like you do." He stroked his fingers along her cheek. "No one else has ever touched me the way you do."

Then he grimaced. "That - that was not meant to sound like a cheap pick-up line," he grumbled, and Molly couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips. His own twitched into a smile in response. "No one else makes me as tongue-tied as you do," he concluded with a shrug. "So my only conclusion is that I love you, not as a friend - not like I love John or Mrs. Hudson or my parents - but as something...different."

"Different how?" Molly prompted, barely remembering to breathe herself as she gazed hopefully up at him.

He groaned. "You know how, Molly, do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Yes," she said promptly. "You do. Because this is too important to leave anything in doubt. Say it like you mean it. Say it first."

With that call back he flinched, just a little, as she just had; and just as she had done, he straightened his spine and nodded. "I love you," he said simply. "I said it. I meant it. I mean it." His gaze softened as he sang, 'beside you dear/the path is clear'" - and then he kissed her.

And Molly Hooper was never in doubt about his feelings ever again.