Molly Hooper was not reacting as expected.

After listening to her awkward and inadequate – but still somehow enchanting – attempt to emulate him, he'd been suddenly struck by how much had changed and yet had stayed the same since his return from the dead.

He'd always been aware that Molly was attracted to him, but it wasn't until that awful Christmas party that he'd realized just how deep that attraction ran.

He'd always been aware that her help was often invaluable to his cases; but it wasn't until she'd told him she didn't count that he realized it wasn't her work that was invaluable, it was her.

This particular revelation had been unexpected and he'd spent much longer than he cared to admit attempting to unravel the mystery that was Molly Hooper's importance to him.

Then he and John had walked in on her singing and somehow it had…hurt.

He'd hoped that his telling her that she counted would mean something; that putting his life in her hands would prove how much he trusted her. Instead he found that she still doubted her importance to him.

Upon reflection, however, he'd decided that maybe she was simply unaware that she counted in quite a different way to the other people in his life.

That had been when he'd come up with the idea of answering her song with one of his own.

After hours of painstaking research, hampered slightly by John's attempts to engage him in conversation about what had happened; he'd found the right song. It had then been relatively easy to swap her iPod with a replacement – modified so that he'd know when she'd listened to it, naturally – and he had then settled down to wait.

That had been when his carefully constructed plan had begun to unravel.

Firstly, she must have been more embarrassed than John had led him to believe as it took her much longer than he expected to play music at the lab once more.

Her turning it off after only listening to the first two opening bars had made him panic momentarily, but then she had resumed listening and he'd relaxed.

He'd then expected her to show up outside his apartment, either demanding an explanation for the song or his audacity in tampering with her possessions.

Explanations he was quite willing to give; only she hadn't come.

He'd long ago memorized her new work schedule, so he knew that she should be well and truly finished at St. Bart's by now. He frowned as he went over his plan in his mind, testing it for flaws.

He sighed heavily as he realized he hadn't taken the human element to his plan into proper account: Molly.

He should have considered that she had to unnerving ability to surprise him at crucial moments.

He was striding out the door in the next moment, ignoring John's surprised "Where are you off to?" and slamming the door behind him.

It wasn't until he was standing outside the door to her apartment that he realized he had no idea how to precede. He squared his shoulders, deciding that regardless of whether he had a plan or not, it would be ridiculous to just stare at her door all night, and knocked on her door.

No response.

He tried again, still nothing.

His brow creased in confusion; surely she would be home by now?

His heart constricted at the thought that something might have happened to her and he turned on his heel, intent on finding her, only to come face to face with the woman in question.

"Um, hello," she greeted him, ducking her head and unlocking her door.

"Molly," he replied by way of greeting, cringing slightly at how formal he sounded as he followed her inside.

After setting her bag and keys aside, Molly took a seat, indicating for him to do likewise.

"I liked the song," Molly said, breaking the awkward silence, "care to tell me what it meant?" she added.

Sherlock studied her for a long moment, reading her feelings as easily as he would a book, although he deemed it better not to comment on them considering how hard she was trying to hide them.

He'd learnt a lot about himself in his time away, specifically that he never wanted to intentionally, or even unintentionally, hurt her again.

He cleared his throat and she looked up at him expectantly, "That depends on you," he said levelly.

He stifled a smirk as she quirked an eyebrow, one of the many habits she had picked up from him over the years without realizing.

"I can not make speeches, Molly," he continued, "the song was merely a device for me to disclose my intentions to understand you better," he paused, "how well I come to understand you is entirely up to you."

Molly fought back the impulse to ask him who he was and what he'd done with the real Sherlock Holmes as what he said sank in.

She'd noticed that he had been different around her since his return, but she hadn't thought the change was because he might feel something in return and want to be with her in any way she felt comfortable with.

It all seemed too good to be true.

Perhaps it was; he still hadn't said what she wanted – needed – to hear.

"Amazing," she said eventually, "even when you say it you don't say it." She caught his confused look, "I don't need speeches, Sherlock, I just…need to know."

If anything his confusion seemed to deepen, but she knew he would work it out eventually so she waited.

She didn't have to wait long.

"You count," he began seriously; "you count much more than you realize, much more than I realized."

He stopped, gathering his thoughts and Molly bit her lip; desperate for him to just come out and say it, but not wanting to push him.

"Molly Hooper," he continued, his eyes boring intently into hers "I think I'm in love with you." He paused, "I know I'm in love with you," he corrected himself.

Molly felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she smiled; hugging his words close to her heart.

"Surely you don't need my answer," she teased when she realized he was waiting for her to say something.

"No," he agreed, "but I would like to hear it all the same."

Molly's smile dampened as she saw the insecurity she'd felt only moments before echoed in his startlingly blue eyes.

"Why Mr. Holmes," she began, her tone still holding a hint of teasing, "surely you know by now that I absolutely adore you."

She barely had time to register his movement before she found herself crushed against him as he kissed her senseless.

It was her first lesson in just how wrong everyone was about his 'repressed' nature.

...

A/N: If you think some of Sherlock's 'speech' sounds familiar that's because I used elements of it in 'Stuck On You.' Elements that were borrowed from Emma and the 'I absolutely adore you' line is from An Ideal Husband. Hope this wasn't too OOC, I just needed to get it out ;)