Hi everyone! Sorry for the delay, life caught up with me for a little while. This here is the final chapter of my little story. It has be an exciting journey and great learning experience for me. Also, a chance to add my bit to an awesome fandom.

Huge thanks to everyone who has commented, favourited, and followed this little story. Your support and encouragement made finishing this story possible.

Thank you all and I hope you enjoy this final chapter!

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.

Chapter 17

Sherlock Holmes grimaced at the eighth text he received from Mary Watson, calling him a clot for not visiting Molly at hospital once the pathologist had woken up. He wanted to, oh how desperately he wanted to, but every time he had made to leave the flat, intending to head straight over to Barts Hospital, he would find his feet glued to the carpet, a cold sweat breaking out over him, his heart thumping madly in his chest. He didn't understand what he was so worried about, it was only Molly. Molly – the one who counted, the one he trusted, the one who made morbid jokes he secretly adored, the one with the impish smile and sparkling brown eyes that lit up whenever she saw him, the one who didn't take his crap anymore, who stood up to him with a fierceness and iron will that left him breathless. Molly Hooper, the one who mattered the most.

It was when these thoughts flooded his mind that he realized he couldn't see her. Fear – something he had felt for too long now – would overwhelm him. Even though Moriarty was gone there could be others. Who was he to jeopardize her life because of his feelings for her? She had moved on anyway, she didn't think of him in that way anymore, he was sure of it, or, well, he'd convinced himself that he was sure of it when the facts were laid out before him. Why else had she wanted to escape from the flat, from him, so readily? So he was right to keep his feelings to himself; it was for her own safety, she would be much better off. He knew that if Mary Watson could hear his thoughts right now she would hit him. It seemed that despite her encouraging words, and the reassurance that Molly loved him, Sherlock's brilliant mind was working hard to destroy even the smallest hope that he and Molly could be happy together.

So yes, it would be better if he left Molly alone, for her own safety. He ignored the constricting of his heart at the thought and reached out for his violin, disregarding the way his phone lit up with another text, this time from John, no doubt, calling him an idiot.

Standing by the window Sherlock played the violin, his eyes closing when the haunting tune floated from the instrument to permeate the flat. It was a familiar tune, one that he had been unable to get out of his head during the time Molly had been taken the first time. He was hesitant to give it a name, unsure as to how telling it would be if he gave it the name that filled his mind along with the notes every time he played it.

As he drew the bow across the strings for the final notes he was unaware of the presence that had entered the flat. With a slow exhale he finished the piece, his bow falling to his side as he opened his eyes. The creak of a floorboard had his head whipping up, his blue-green eyes widening when they landed on the small form of Molly Hooper in his doorway. Sherlock swallowed heavily as she moved further into the room, closing the door behind her.

"You didn't come to see me," she started softly, her expression gentle, curious. Sherlock swallowed again and busied himself with putting away his violin.

"Well, I felt my presence would have hindered your recovery," Sherlock offered, refusing to meet her gaze, cursing inwardly at the way his heart fluttered at her nearness. Perhaps he was developing an arrhythmia?

"In what way?" Molly asked, continuing to move closer until Sherlock felt his legs hit the edge of his desk. He straightened, trying to appear unaffected by her presence. The scent of vanilla and lemon filled his nostrils, making him suddenly light headed.

"Um, well, you know, bothering the nurses and all that," he said haphazardly, missing the small smile that quirked Molly's lips. He fiddled with the papers on his desk, refusing to look at her unless she noticed how hard his heart was beating the closer she came. She could always see him.

"Sherlock." The soft call was accompanied by her small hand on his forearm and he couldn't help it, he looked up. He was arrested by the look in her warm brown eyes, the edges crinkling at the corners when she smiled.

"I've missed you," Molly said softly and a lump formed in his throat, making it difficult to speak. How was she able to do that? Render him speechless with so few words? He shivered when her hand slid from his forearm down to his hand where she intertwined her fingers with his. He looked down at their clasped hands, marvelling at how tiny her hand was in his larger one, the hidden strength her hands contained.

"Why didn't you come to see me?" He looked up at her gentle inquiry, his intelligent eyes travelling over her quickly, deducing that, while exhausted, she was determined to find the answers she sought. She favoured her left shoulder now, the bullet wound having left its mark, and he found himself selfishly hoping that it wouldn't hinder her work in the morgue and labs. He thought of her question and his mind soon conjured all the thoughts he had had over the last week and a half over why he couldn't visit her in hospital.

Oh, he had gone with her to the hospital once the paramedics had stabilized her at the pool. Had stayed while the surgeons worked on her. He had only left when the doctors declared her stable and moved her to a private room on the behest of Mycroft Holmes where she would remain for the rest of her recovery. He had acknowledged in that hospital room, staring down at the small pathologist as she slept, that he loved her, and because of that love he had nearly gotten her killed, despite Mary trying to convince him that was incorrect, that Molly knew what she was getting into by being his friend, by caring for him. Moriarty had been right; Molly held his heart, had held if for a long time in her safe keeping. And he had known that, if he didn't leave that room, he would never leave her side again, and that wasn't something he had been prepared to do at the time.

Staring into Molly's eyes now, Sherlock could see that she was waiting for him, that she could see him, that she understood him, far better than he thought he knew himself. His hand tightened on hers.

"Molly," he started, his voice raspy with emotion and he found it difficult to articulate himself. He didn't do this, sentiment, feelings, love. He didn't know how to and he desperately didn't want to disappoint this woman, this brilliant, beautiful, wonderful woman before him again. "I…I didn't…I felt it was best if…if I – " He trailed off when Molly pressed a finger to his lips, smiling gently up at him. He felt the urge to press a kiss to that finger but held himself back, feeling overwhelmed by her closeness.

"What were you going to say to me, that day, to get me to stay?" Molly asked and Sherlock felt a rush of relief sweep through him. He could answer this question, had been going to answer this question before the explosion happened. It was just like Molly to make things easier for him. He covered her hand that had dropped to his chest.

"I wanted you to stay because I could keep you safe. If you had gone back to work, to Barts, I…my attention would have been divided, you at Barts, searching for Moriarty." Molly raised an eyebrow at him and he frowned.

"What?"

"Well, I wasn't safe at Baker Street, was I? Moriarty was still able to get to me there, and you were there with me." Sherlock's expression shuttered, his eyes dropping away from hers. Molly bit her lip.

"Sherlock, I stayed in Baker Street because I wanted to be here and, for a short time, you wanted me here. After Lizzie was born I felt that you didn't need me here anymore, that I was getting in the way of your work." Sherlock's eyes snapped up to hers, the feelings that he had been suppressing for so long came bubbling to the surface over how wrong she was when she thought that he didn't want her. Mary's words to tell Molly how he felt about her drifted to the forefront of his mind and Sherlock knew it was now or never.

"I did want you here, Molly. I still want you here. I didn't want you to go back to work because I was afraid that you would be taken from me, that Moriarty would come after you at Barts. And when you were taken from here…when I thought that I had…thought I had lost you…" His eyes were bright, his voice becoming raspier with every word as the feelings he had felt on that night returned full force. It was a great burden sometimes to have a mind that retained information so well. It should have been another clue that he loved her when he had never deleted anything about her since their first meeting.

"When I thought I had lost you, I couldn't breathe, Molly," Sherlock whispered, his eyes boring into her wide brown ones. He lifted his hands and cradled her face between them, wanting to make sure that what he was about to say Molly understood completely.

"I was terrified of losing you, Molly. I have only felt fear a few times in my life but that night…that night I truly understood how much I need you, how much I want you in my life. You are my pathologist, my friend, my compassion, my hope...my heart. You have saved me, so many times, Molly, and I will never be able to thank you enough for that, but I want to try." Molly eyes had filled with tears as he spoke and he wiped them away with his thumbs. Her hands came up to cover his.

"Is…i-is this just…just out of g-gratitude, S-Sherlock?" Molly stuttered, another tear streaking down her cheek. Sherlock shook his head, giving her a soft smile, a peace he had never known before filling him the more he shared with her.

"No, Molly. This is not out of gratitude. What I feel for you has tied me up in knots, Molly. I have tried to ignore it, to push it aside, to deny it completely, because I was afraid of what it would change. But not anymore." Molly squeezed his hands in hers and stared up at him intently and Sherlock took in the signs that had been there all along, he had just been too blind to see it for what it truly meant. Molly's cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, pupils dilated, and her pulse was fluttering erratically in the hollow of her throat.

"What do you feel, Sherlock?" She whispered and Sherlock bent his head to rest against hers, his left thumb lifting to brush against her bottom lip.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," Sherlock said and smiled when Molly let out a choked laugh, another tear spilling down her cheek. He went to wipe it away but Molly suddenly lifted onto her toes and pressed her lips against his, her hands moving to tangle into his hair. Heat rushed through him and Sherlock pulled her closer, angling his head to deepen the kiss. He tried to keep it tender, soft, but he couldn't help groaning quietly when her nails scraped across his scalp before her fingers tugged on his locks. A tiny whimper escaped Molly when Sherlock bit her bottom lip gently in retaliation. They broke apart when air became necessary, resting their foreheads against each other while they caught their breath.

"I love you, too, Sherlock," Molly whispered, smiling up at him as a shuddering breath escaped him. She brushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes before cupping his cheek. "So what happens now?" Sherlock grinned and pressed a kiss into her palm, feeling as though a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

"Move in with me." Molly's eyes widened.

"But…d-don't you think i-it's too fast?"

"Most of your things are already here, we've known each other for years and work perfectly well together, always have." He frowned when Molly still seemed wary. "Why? Do you not want to?"

"No, I do. More than anything," Molly hurried to reassure him. "I just…are you sure this is something you want to do because you need to understand, Sherlock, that I'm…I'm in this for the long term. I've loved you for years, but if you aren't completely sure – " She was cut off when Sherlock crushed his mouth to hers, effectively silencing her. They pulled apart after a few minutes, Molly dropping to rest her head breathlessly against his chest. Sherlock sighed softly and ran his hands through her hair, pulling out the hair tie that held it in its braid in the process.

"Would it prove my willingness to be with you if we got married?" He chuckled when Molly thumped him lightly with her fist.

"Don't joke, Sherlock. I think moving in together is a big enough step first, don't you?" She looked up at him and, seeing the triumphant grin on his face, she couldn't resist pulling him down to kiss him once more.

As Sherlock held Molly close, he knew that, with her, his heart would forever be in her safe keeping.

The End

Squee! I know, a sappy ending, but I feel they totally deserved it after all the hardship they have suffered. That's the end folks! I hope you enjoyed it and thanks again for reading! :D