Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, that honor belongs to John Watson. Warnings for Sentimental!Sherlock, Reichenbach Feels, and a bit of slash.

"It's okay, you know, to miss him," Molly said after the third straight day of Sherlock sulking on her couch.

Sherlock Holmes turned to glare at her. How was it she, of all people, was able to deduce him? There was nothing to indicate he was thinking about John. He had only mentioned him once during his stay with Molly.

"How is he?" he asked a while later.

"He's well…you know…"

"I don't know," came the very cold reply.

Molly briefly wondered if Sherlock had any feelings at all. Well, feelings that weren't somehow related to John. Her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to figure out a way to explain it to Sherlock. "He's very upset. Crying a lot, according to Mrs. Hudson. She's been looking after him. So has Lestrade and Stamford. Even Mycroft paid him a visit."

Sherlock sighed. "I don't understand." When Molly looked at him quizzically, he added, "Grief."

"John cares for you very much," she said slowly. She was startled suddenly when Sherlock jumped up and began pacing the room. "He misses you."

Sherlock ran his hand through his curls, a sign of agitation Molly had come to realize. "But why?"

"Why do you care for him?"

Sherlock paused. The question had never actually occurred to him.

"I mean, you did all this for him, in a way. I know Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were in danger…but, um don't lie to me and say John wasn't the first person on your mind when you found out your friends were in danger. Why do you care for him?"

Sherlock sat back down on her couch and steepled his fingers together. His brain was racing; here at last was something for his mind to meander over, to fight off the restlessness and boredom he had been feeling.

John. The name alone made him feel…what? A sense of peace, a sense of home. John was home. He wasn't particularly bright, but he had the odd ability of saying or pointing out something in a new light, thereby helping Sherlock's deductions. John accepted him; others had been completely put off by his ability to deduce, John just found it brilliant. Sherlock absolutely reveled in the affirmation of his genius. People had marveled at him in the past, but never had it pleased him more than to hear it from John's lips. John took care of him; even though Sherlock protested whenever John tried to get him to eat or sleep, he was secretly pleased. He enjoyed the feeling of being looked after. He had, on occasion, gone without food or sleep just to see how long it took John to tell him to. It made John feel like home, that feeling of being precisely where one belongs. John saved him. Sherlock had lived a far more dangerous and reckless life before he met John, owing to the fact he couldn't care less if he died. It was better than being bored. But John… he made him want to live, he helped give his life value and meaning.

He told all of this to Molly who listened without interruption.

"You love him."

Sherlock scoffed. "Sentiment is a chemical defect. Love is quite useless I assure you, Molly Hooper. Love is not an advantage."

She smiled at him. He scowled.

"Whatever you say, Sherlock."

Sherlock swallowed. "Listen, Molly, if I don't make it back…."

"You will. You'll come back for John after all of this is over."

"But if I don't-"

"I know."

"Mol-"

"I said I know. I'll tell him. I promise." I'll him how much you loved him. She didn't speak the words aloud because she didn't want Sherlock to scowl at it. To call love a disadvantage when he was obviously in so deep. And she understood he didn't want to hear it aloud. It would make it too real, too hard for him to leave. There was so much to do so he could come back safely for John. So he could protect John.

"Thank you," Sherlock said quietly.

And no more was said on the matter.

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