"I just wanted to call and talk to you and see if you are alright."

Molly heard a heavy sigh crackle over the phone's speaker. "Shouldn't you be attempting to salvage your relationship with Tim?"

"Tom!"

"Oh, yes, of course … Tom," Sherlock repeated bitterly.

Molly cleared her throat. "Tom is mad but he'll get over it. You're sad, Sherlock, and I'm your friend so I want you to know that you don't have to be sad and alone and you can come here if you like …"

There was a pause as her words faltered. Molly felt warmth spread through her cheeks. Why was she calling him? Why did she think he needed her help at all?

"Isn't this a bit clichéd, Molly?" Sherlock asked dryly. "A pair of pathetic, unmarried friends lament about their own lonely existence on someone else's wedding day."

Molly's breath hitched. "A-Are you lonely? Truly?"

He did not answer. Rather, she could hear him huff into his phone's speaker.

"No, I did not say that I was lonely … I was referring to you … erm, what I meant was that your relationship is obviously shaky," he sighed again noisily. "Dear God, Molly, do not ask me such questions. You know I lash out at you when I am out of sorts. Why aren't you making up with your fiancé?"

Molly swallowed. "I don't know. I-I'm not sure that I want to anymore."

The other end of the line went silent.

"Sherlock?"

"Don't, Molly, don't ask what you are about to ask."

"No, I want to know what you think. Is Tom right for me? Really, you probably know me better than I know myself. Is he the best I can do? Will he make me happy? Please, I-I need your deducing skills for this … "

"I can't."

"Please."

"I can't!"

"Why?"

"Because I'm biased! I do not want you to marry Tom. He's an idiot and beneath you and he'll never make you happy because he's not what you want, nor what you need. He can't be because he's not me."

It was Molly's turn to be stunned.

"Molly?"

She sucked in a breath. She hated that he was right.

"Molly, you asked. You cannot be mad at me for pointing out the blatantly obvious."

She sniffled. "Yes, I can. You have just told me that I will be lovelorn for the rest of my life because I'll only ever want someone I can never have."

Another loud exhale sounded from the phone like static.

"Don't be absurd. I'm already yours."

Molly stopped breathing. "Wh-what? Oh, damn you, Sherlock Holmes. You and your words. You are lucky I have learned you almost never speak the literal truth."

"All I speak is the truth."

Her hands were shaking so violently, she almost dropped the phone. She was really angry all of a sudden.

"Y-You … you ass!" She hissed. "I rescind my invitation. Don't even think of coming over here."

"Too late."

A heavy knocking sounded at her front door.

"You're h-here?"

"I was already on my way when you called. Are you going to let me in or what?"

Molly set her phone down and stalked to the door. She threw it open to see Sherlock standing there looking a bit dishevelled as if he had been running his hands through his hair. His scarf was loose around his neck with the two halves hanging at different lengths. She bit her lip. Why did he always have to look so good?

"I kind of hate you right now."

He stepped through her entry and stared down at her with a slight frown.

"That's probably a good thing," he muttered, "because I have come here with the intention of seducing you to make myself feel better and I need for you to resist."

Molly choked on a breath. Her brows furrowed.

"That won't be difficult, you arrogant dick."

He whipped off his scarf as he continued to gaze down at her. "How would you know?"

His hands captured her face. His eyes flitted to her lips.

"You've never tried."