Take a Chance On Me

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First of all, I want to thank vermofftiss for her amazing help and for being the best beta, I couldn't have done this without you 3

The title for this story comes from the ABBA song Take a Chance On Me, though this is not a songfic!

Molly hung up after the line went dead. She couldn't quite understand what had just happened. She was very confused, but mostly, numb. This wasn't the first time Sherlock had hurt her feelings, but this time was so different. He was a fucking prick, that was an undeniable truth, but she still loved him; it wasn't a simple crush like before or like the ones she had back on her high school days, this was capital letters L-O-V-E.

She took a sip from her tea, which was getting cold but still tasted somewhat good, and sat on the sofa, trying to process everything that had happened. Instead she turned on the telly hoping to find something to distract her.

Before that horrible phone call Molly wasn't having a fantastic day, and everything went downhill fast after the call. She thought that maybe she had gone a little bit too far with making Sherlock say those words, but she told herself that she had to do it to feel less humiliated and it was her attempt to even the odds between her and the detective. And if someone asked her, she would deny it, but… she really wanted to hear those words from Sherlock's lips.

It was past midnight when she heard clattering coming from the kitchen, and Molly was one-hundred percent sure who was responsible for that. She jumped out of bed, put on her dressing gown and opened the door of her bedroom only to find Sherlock putting the kettle on.

"Sherlock, may I ask you what you are doing in my flat at the middle of the night?" Molly questioned the man in front of her while crossing her arms.

"Molly, what kind of question is that? I've been in your flat at this precise hour many times. Do I have to remind you how I used your flat as a bolt hole? And by the way, I'm in need of your room tonight. 221B was bombed. Hope you can make yourself comfortable in the guest room," Sherlock said, preparing himself a cup of tea.

The audacity of this man, Molly thought…

"No."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock dropped the cup in his hands and looked at her, confusion plain on his face.

"No, Sherlock. I don't need you to remind me of that, thank you very much, and you can't stay in my room."

"I've stayed at other times and now I really need it."

"But that was… before.'' She almost choked on that last word.

"Before what, Molly? The phone call we had earlier? Are you talking about that? Don't be ridiculous."

Ridiculous?

This man was absolutely infuriating, how could he be so calm while talking about this? Molly wanted to punch his stupid face. She was starting to feel even more angry at him due to the recent events and she was not in the mood for his games.

"Get out, Sherlock. Get the fuck out!" Molly raised her voice as she moved fast toward the entrance of her flat to open the door. The detective wasn't moving. "Come on, don't make me phone Mycroft to get you out." She opened the door and made a gesture to Sherlock, inviting him to leave. He walked slowly toward her and stopped at the doorway.

"I am sorry, Molly. Don't make me leave, I'm here to talk." He looked at her, his eyes almost begging for whatever he was trying to do, but Molly wasn't falling for it. She pushed him a little so he would stop blocking the door and closed it right on his face.

"Molly come on! Let me in, I just want to talk. I can stay here all night you know, knocking on your door every ten seconds until you let me in." He could just open the door with the key Molly had gave him, but he didn't want to make things worse.

Sherlock started knocking, getting louder knock after knock. He was going to wake up her neighbours, and she was hoping they'd call the police on him.

She really wanted to lock herself in her room and cry herself to sleep. Instead, she sat against the door. The knocking had stopped, and Sherlock had done the same as her on the other side, only a door separating them.

"Why, Sherlock? Why did you have to humiliate me like that? We were on good terms before that call, being Rosie's godparents, and I really tried to help you after Mary's death… You seem to forget that she was my friend too and I was hurting as well, but still… I was there for you, always, Sherlock."

"Molly…"

"Please, let me speak. I've never wanted anything in return from you, just friendship or even decent treatment." She paused and swallowed, trying to hold back the tears. She wasn't in front of Sherlock, but he would notice right away if he heard her crying…

"But what do I get? A desperate phone call from you, making me admit something that I've kept so deep inside me for my own damn reasons. Something that I wasn't near ready to say out loud, a confession that would leave me totally vulnerable to you… after everything we've been through. And I may be a bloody idiot to think that I deserved more coming from you than this sick game, Sherlock. Everything but all of this mess." Molly couldn't hold back her tears anymore; she had been fooled many times, but never like this.

Sherlock was speechless. Eurus was right: emotional context was destroying him and the woman on the other side of the door. He wasn't supposed to feel like this. He had fought this kind of emotion effortlessly his entire life. Why was it so difficult this time? He could just leave the building and disappear from Molly's life, but he couldn't find the strength to do so and he didn't want to leave. Molly was his friend. So, he spoke.

"That was never my intention, Molly. I wasn't trying to humiliate you, not today or ever. I've already told you how much you mean to me, how much I trust you." He stood up and knocked the door very softly. "Please, Molly… That's why I'm here, to talk and explain everything. Let me in."

She got up from the floor and unlocked the door, feeling dizzy as she looked at Sherlock's face.

"Well, you're already here so you'd better start talking." Molly walked to the sitting room, with Sherlock following and sitting next to her.

Sherlock explained... everything. Everything that had happened with her sister Eurus, how she had toyed with him and John and Mycroft, her bloody mind games, the call. Molly never imagined that Sherlock had a sister. What didn't surprise her was that a Holmes had orchestrated the whole thing.

"I was so worried, Molly. I watched you as you were ignoring my call and I… Oh, for God's sake!" He got up from the sofa and started searching for something all over her flat. After a minute, he found a little camera hidden in a bookshelf and ripped it from its place, crushing it underfoot. He did the same with the other four he found.

Oh, that's marvellous, my flat has been bugged! Molly thought.

She couldn't believe how her privacy had been totally invaded. She was somehow glad that there weren't any cameras on her bedroom. That would've been plain embarrassing.

"I am… so sorry, Molly. I would've never wanted to put you in a situation like that. She said your flat was going to explode if I didn't get you to say… those words. In the end she was lying and you were never in real danger, but I was scared. I didn't want to lose you. Molly, I…I…" He paused, taking a breath. "I am sorry. Forgive me. For the call and everything. I know I haven't been the kindest to you." He grabbed her hands in an effort to comfort her, somehow.

As Sherlock took her hands, she saw the cuts and gashes on his own, and wondered how he'd hurt himself. Why he'd hurt himself.

"You were trying to save my life and I thank you for that. You did what you had to do, I understand now, but I need time, Sherlock. I've been hurt so many times and I haven't had enough time to heal."

He was well aware that he had hurt Molly Hooper a dozen times, but he never expected that after explaining everything he wouldn't immediately obtain her forgiveness. That was new. But how could she forgive him so easily this time?

He said he was sorry, and he really was.

He just wanted to make things right.

"Well, little brother… you can't always get what you want," Mycroft whispered in his mind. Sherlock shook his head, trying to get rid of the murmurs.

"Molly, I…"

He tried to speak but the pathologist didn't let him.

"Don't get me wrong, Sherlock. I'm not saying that I won't ever forgive you or that I'm going to resent you for the rest of my life. Certainly I will, at some point. Perhaps not right at this moment but maybe tomorrow or the next week…. Who knows?" Tears were starting to make their way out, but Molly tried to put on a strong façade. "I'm just sorry if I made things even more complicated. I'm sure you weren't having the time of your life either and I know you didn't mean those words, anyway."

Sherlock stayed quiet, lost in his thoughts. He wasn't going to discuss the existence of certain feelings or the words he had to say in order to save the woman in front of him. He'd never regret saving Molly Hooper's life, never. What he regretted was how lost he had gotten in emotion and sentiment, to the point of making it so easy for others to find ways to get to him. He was sure that he had never given any hints of being emotionally involved with Molly, because he wasn't.

Well, that was what he told himself. Eurus had successfully used her as a pressure point.

"I'm tired, Sherlock. I'm going to bed." It was past 3 AM and she needed to sleep. "You can stay if you want," she offered, "but you'll be taking the guest room or the sofa. It's your choice." Molly wasn't really looking forward to a sleepover with Sherlock, but 221B had been bombed and maybe he had nowhere else to go.

He was conflicted on what to do, his brain and feelings getting in the way of his decision-making processes. "Thanks for the offer Molly, but I've caused too much trouble for you these last twelve hours. I'd better get going." He gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and made his way to the front door. "See you soon, Molly Hooper."

And with that, he closed the door and left.

It was the last time Molly saw Sherlock for more than a month.

Molly missed Sherlock, of course, but she really appreciated the space to think about all of the things that had happened and to put her emotions in order. She knew for sure that the detective was okay. She texted John when she had not heard anything from him after two weeks and asked him to let her know if anything went south.

She had two possible theories due to the lack of Sherlock in her life lately: one, he was really giving her time and space to heal; two, he had decided to erase her from his life and had been avoiding her.

She had a feeling that it was the first option. She hoped it was. She told herself that Sherlock wouldn't disappear from her life that easily. After all, they were friends. But if for some reason the second theory was the correct one, she was determined to go on with her life. It wouldn't be her first heartbreak anyway.

The show must go on, she repeated to herself.

You say it, go on. You say it first. Say it. Say it like you mean it.

I-I… I love you. I love you.

Those three little words haunted Sherlock since the day of the call. They had made their way all through his mind to the very centre of everything.

He couldn't shake them off. He dreamt of them.

His traitorous brain played the moment he came clean to Molly Hooper in a never-ending loop.

Came clean? He wasn't confessing anything, he did what he had to do to save his… friend.

Sherlock wanted to scream. he was in agony. This was by far the hardest of his cases: the sorting of his emotions towards certain pathologist.

Stop being ridiculous, he told himself. There's nothing to sort! He only had a deep sense of gratitude towards her due to all of her unconditional help.

Sherlock groaned in frustration, if there was nothing else than gratitude… why did he felt like his chest was on fire every time he saw or thought of Molly?

He had sealed those feelings away in the deepest and farthest place of his mind a long time ago. He didn't have time for simple human emotions. he was so much more than just a person driven by sentiment…. Wasn't he?

He jumped out of his wrecked chair.

221B was still a mess after the bombing and the renovations were to start tomorrow, but he needed space to think and John's flat was way too noisy for his brainstorming session. He adored his little goddaughter, but he needed quiet. And Mycroft's house was never an option. He really missed one of his favourite boltholes. Molly's flat wasn't very far from Baker Street. It was always quiet and smelled nice… just like her.

His bombed flat would do.

He needed to solve the chaos inside his head. He walked around the place, being careful to not stumble in the debris.

Since the last time he had seen Molly, two weeks and 16 hours had passed.

Why in the bloody hell he had been counting the time? He was fine.

He was getting more anxious with every minute passing. He needed to see her.

Anxious? He. Was. Okay. He repeated to himself has he clenched his fists… I don't need Molly, I don't need Molly Hooper.

He closed his eyes and pictured her face. A familiar pair of brown eyes, her tiny nose, those delicate lips… He had dreamt of them for a while now….

No! He had not dreamt of them; he was just acquainted with her face. For deduction purposes.

"You need to stop this, Sherlock. There's no use in playing dumb now. You're in too deep."

The detective opened his eyes to find his brother standing in front of him, a smug smile painting his face.

"Just admit it. You love the pathologist. There's nothing to be ashamed of, little brother. Molly Hooper is a remarkable woman. Very smart; one of the best of her field, if not the best; two PhDs and a published researcher. She's incredibly kind and has helped you many times, and as surprising as it is, she actually loves you."

"It'd be too dangerous. She would be a target."

"So, you're admitting it. A good start. Don't be silly, Sherlock. She isn't a defenceless little girl. Still, I can guarantee protection for her, you know that. She wouldn't even notice. You need only ask. I'd be happy to add more favours to your bill."

"Mmm, sounds interesting. I guess I could solve another bunch of dull cases coming from the government in order to return the favour."

For God's sake, he was starting to flirt with the idea! He needed to stop.

"Mummy would be delighted to have her as the mother of her grandchildren."

"Oh, do shut up and stay out of this, Mycroft! I need to think.'' He huffed and looked the other way.

"I remind you that we are in your head, brother mine. You're hearing me because you desperately need my voice of wisdom."

"Wisdom my arse. Goodbye."

And Mycroft was gone.

He was trying to regain himself when a soft voice echoed through his mind.

"Hello, Sherlock, were you looking for me?" Molly appeared, walking at a slow pace towards him, wearing that bright rainbow jumper. He wasn't at Baker Street anymore. He was at the lab in St Barts, her flat, everywhere he associated with her, all at once.

How could a piece of clothing mean so much? She wore it during the biggest shifts in their relationship. When he had just returned from the dead. The day of the call…

"Hello, Molly…. Yes, yes I was looking for you."

"I'm here now, Sherlock. Is there anything you need to tell me?" She was facing him with a soft smile, waiting patiently.

"Yes, there's something I want to tell you, though... I don't know how. I've already said it to you, but I've told myself that it was a lie to save you, and now I have realized that I wasn't lying. It's just that I've been too stubborn to see it clearly. I see it now."

"Well, if it's true, just say it anyway." She stared right at him, her brown eyes encouraging him.

"I... love you. I love you, Molly Hooper."

He opened his eyes, back at his destroyed flat in Baker Street, alone.

However, things felt different now.

He had fallen for Molly Hooper.

He loved her… but he wasn't going to tell her.

At least not right now.

"You have to give her space, Sherlock. She needs and deserves it," John said in a low voice. He carried Rosie to her nursery, having finally convinced her to fall asleep. He tucked his daughter into her crib and walked back to the sitting room. "After all you've put her through, let her process everything that happened."

"But it has been more than two weeks already. It's more than enough time!" Sherlock complained.

"Look, Sherlock. That phone call was devastating. When we were trying to figure out who the coffin was for, I'd have never imagined that your sister would use Molly for her games. She's been nothing but an excellent friend to all of us and the greatest of godmothers for Rosie. After what happened with Mary, she saved Rosie and me. Molly has been so busy being there and caring for everyone. But who takes care of her, Sherlock?"

"I love her," Sherlock blurted out.

"Come again?" John blinked, three times to be precise.

"I, Sherlock Holmes, love Molly Hooper. It's not that difficult to understand, John".

"Well, since when? Is it real, no games or lies? Because I swear to you, Sherlock, if this is one of your games, I will punch you so hard in the face in the name of Molly you'll be concave."

"Yes, John, I'm more than sure it's real. I've been feeling like this since I came back to London. It's just that I didn't realize what I was feeling at the moment and hoped it would… go away. At first, I thought that I was extremely grateful for her help with faking my death, and then her stupid fiancé came to the picture…. Nonetheless, it has been awhile since I came back and it has gotten stronger. I've tried so hard to ignore this… feeling," he said while gesturing around his chest. "It was only after the games at Sherrinford and a long session in my mind palace in 221B, trying to solve the most difficult of cases during my career… my feelings toward Molly Hooper… that I discovered I don't want to ignore it anymore." He rubbed his temples as he took a deep breath. "You can write about that in your blog. It would be a great comeback: The Lovelorn Detective."

"You love, truly love her? In a romantic way? I just want to make sure I'm getting what you're saying."

"Yes, John, I'm romantically interested in Molly Hooper. I want to be with her, have dinner with her, kiss her and so much more."

John looked… amused. What was so amusing about this? Sherlock frowned.

"Excuse me? Did you hear what I've just said?"

"Of course I heard you, you idiot! I'm just surprised. Who would've thought, Sherlock Holmes in love!" John laughed and got up from the sofa, walking to the kitchen to make some tea. "When are you going to tell her? I still think you should give her space, but you need to tell her. The hardest part is knowing if she loves you back and we already do know that!"

John was delighted with Sherlock's confession. He knew very well that his best friend was capable of love on his own way. He loved his family, and he had shown on several occasions that love extended to himself, Mary and Rosie, but this was new. Sherlock Holmes was in love with Molly Hooper, and nobody saw it coming.

Mary would have seen it.

"I don't know if I'm ever going to tell her," Sherlock admitted, looking at his hands.

"What? Why? But you love her." John stopped preparing tea and made his way back to Sherlock.

"I would put her at risk, John. Just remember Eurus. I don't even know how she knew Molly meant so much to me as to use her against me. Imagine all the things that could happen if Molly and I actually were together. And what if I'm terrible in a relationship and end up hurting her more? I can't do that to her, John, I just can't. I don't think I deserve Molly."

John could tell that his friend was on edge, trying to decide whether to follow his heart or brains. How often had he been there?

"Sherlock, I want you to listen to what I'm going to say very closely, and then you can make up your mind if you tell Molly about your feelings or not. If someone comes up to me and tells me that I can live what I had with Mary all over again but with the same ending… I would accept without a second thought."

Every moment that we shared together makes me want to keep going on. Every smile, every word that came out of her mouth, every single memory of the time I got to share with her gives me the strength to wake up every morning and keep fighting, for myself and the wonderful little girl that's sleeping upstairs."

John's eyes were starting to fill with tears and Sherlock was trying to process what his friend was telling him.

"It hurts me deeply to my core that I won't be able to create new moments with her, but what I'm trying to say is that I knew what it was like to love and be loved by Mary. I won't be up at night wondering what could have happened between us, because I lived that, and that's what I want you to understand, Sherlock." John paused and looked Sherlock right at his eyes. "I understand why you're afraid, but you're just seeing one side of the coin. What if you tell Molly about your feelings and you get to live a long happy life with her by your side? But what if you don't tell her and she gets engaged again to some random bloke and gets married for good? Or what if something worse happens to her? How would you feel about that? Think of all the wasted moments that you could've created with her."

We already had this kind of conversation, a couple of weeks ago when you got that text from The Woman, and I told you to go for it. I may have got the wrong person, but the message stays the same. Just think about it, Sherlock."

Sherlock was stunned into silence, again. John was right; he always considered himself the smart one of the duo, but now he was beginning to doubt that.

"I don't know what to say… but you're absolutely right. I just want things to work out and make Molly happy for once in my life."

"You may be an arse sometimes, but you're a great man, Sherlock. The best I've ever met. And Molly knows that. Just give her time. And you are worthy of love, don't ever doubt that. If it helps, she texted me today asking about you. She wanted to know if you were okay." John shrugged.

"Well, at least she's feeling my absence too." Sherlock was starting to feel like an adolescent boy with this first crush.

The sound of Rosie's whining stole their attention and quickly turned into a loud cry for her dad. John was already halfway to the nursery to take care of her by the time it reached a shriek.

"Aaaand, that's my cue to leave. I'll be back later. Thank you John, you really helped me today." Sherlock said goodbye to his best friend and her crying goddaughter.

Deep down, Molly knew that Sherlock wasn't completely lying. Something inside was telling her to keep her hopes up, but she was tired, and she wasn't just going to sit on a bench and wait for the great Sherlock Holmes. By the time that man made up his mind they would be the ones on a morgue slab.

Her shift had been impressively quiet; just an autopsy from an old lady who died of a stroke, and the lab had been a little boring without Sherlock's presence. He made her days a little bit more interesting with all of his experiments, but she loved her job and she wasn't going to let him ruin that for her.

Suddenly, her phone chimed.

Hello… S

Molly huffed, irritated by his text message. A freaking "hello" like he didn't disappear for almost two months and he just pops up back with a bloody text. She closed the message and locked her phone.

Molly, I know you're ignoring me. You left me on read. S

This man, Molly thought as she rolled her eyes. She grabbed her phone and typed.

That's the whole idea of leaving you on read, Sherlock.

I know I've been missing these last couple days. S

Couple days? He disappeared for more than a month.

Well… three weeks. S

Oh?

Okay… a little bit more than a month. S

Please respond. S

She needed to answer, or he was going to keep spamming her with texts.

What do you need, Sherlock? I don't have many body parts for you to analyse.

I don't need anything from the lab, Molly. I want to talk with you. In person. S

I'm really busy right now… With work.

I know your shift has been quiet, you can thank me for that. S

Of course Sherlock had something to do with her day at work being strangely calm. She wondered if everything was okay with him.

He texted her again…

I miss you, Molly.

And she missed him too… Oh, fuck it, she thought, and typed.

Okay, let's meet. My shift's over in 2 hours.

You know where to find me. S

You know where to find me too.

Sherlock read Molly's last text with a mischievous grin on his face.

Ohh, the game is on, Molly Hooper.…

Hello! This is the very first time that I write for Sherlolly or something related to Sherlock. I was so nervous to publish because English is not my first language, fortunately for me, the amazing vermofftiss came to the rescue.

This is the first part of my take at what happened right after TFP and a bit more after that. Hope you enjoy this!