All the love an much appreciation to MizJoely for her betaing and guidance on this story. There be angst, talk about drugs and rehab. It's post TAB. But it's me... you know how I work. Happiness and sunshine ; )

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Sherlock had been in the path lab most of the day doing… God knew what. Molly just continued to do her work as usual. She'd had two postmortems that morning and all the paperwork to go with them. She didn't have time to worry about what the famous detective was busying himself with this time. He could have been snorting coke off the lab bench for all she cared. Well, that probably wasn't true, but she was too pissed off to really care about his experiments at the moment. He simply wasn't her problem anymore and he hadn't been for months.

Her shift was finally over and when she came out of her office she found him still there, his eyes glued to his microscope, just like he had been every time she'd been in the lab. She shook her head as she hitched her bag further up on her shoulder, making her way to the exit.

"One thing before you leave, Molly," he said just as she reached the door.

She turned and looked at him. They'd barely spoken the entire day, just the occasional perfunctory request for information or supplies. "What is it, Sherlock?" she asked in an exasperated tone.

"I have a question for you, actually," he said finally looking up from his 'work'. "How much longer are you planning on being mad at me?"

Molly froze, replaying the question over in her head. Had she heard him right? She'd been angry all... well, ever since she'd heard about the drugs from Mrs. Hudson, of all people. And now he wants to how long she planned on being mad? Asshat! "I couldn't possibly say, Sherlock. Why do you even care?" she answered, trying not to sound bitter, knowing that would just add fuel to the fire.

The detective looked impassive as ever as he replied, "It's very important that I know how long the brooding silence is going to last. I have plans, you see."

"Really? Plans?" she mocked. "Well, far be it from me to impede upon you and your plans. John seems to have forgiven you…"

"John is happy with making me piss in a jar thrice weekly and with the fact that I attended the outpatient rehab…"

Molly cut him off with a bitter laugh.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"Three weeks, Sherlock. Let's not kid ourselves about that joke of a program you went through."

He stared at her for a moment. She could, as usual, read nothing on his face. "You're angry with me, yet you know about the duration of my stay in rehabilitation. Interesting." The last word was said with the slightest bit of wonder.

She rolled her eyes at his description of rehab. It had been a mix of meetings and medications. He'd not stayed anywhere but Baker Street. "Well since John's satisfied with your progress, he can help your with whatever you have planned." She started to leave again.

"I assure you, Molly, he cannot. So, can I get a timeframe of some kind?"

Molly stopped, still facing the door, and took a cleansing breath. When she felt a bit more in control she turned around. "I don't know, Sherlock. Okay. I'm pissed off."

"Clearly."

Her plan was a simple one: avoidance, but if he wanted to have it out… fine! "You stopped coming round months ago. Then you show up at my flat on Christmas Eve and… and…" She swallowed. "Well, you were acting very much not like yourself. Finally, I find out from your landlady that you nearly died on a plane, which you were taking out of the country to possibly never return. Am I supposed to be pleased?"

"I suppose not." His tone was ever so slightly somber.

She suddenly felt a pang of sadness for the man whom she'd always loved in one way or another, even if he did drive her crazy most of the time. Her heart had never really given her a minutes peace where he was concerned. "Look, I know who you are and that you don't make apologies for your behaviour. I suppose I'm just disappointed… and…"

"Is this about the drugs or not telling you about the exile?" he asked when she faltered.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I take full responsibility for one, but the other wasn't entirely my fault." He moved away from the lab bench, walking closer to her. "I took the drugs, Molly. I did that. But I thought I was going to my death and I couldn't really…" He looked away from her.

Molly found this odd. Sherlock always looked people straight in the eyes when speaking to them. A thought struck her. "Cope?" she asked.

"That's one way of putting it. As far as leaving and not telling you, I'd been in solitary confinement for nearly a week. I had no means of contacting you. If I'd been able to talk you, I certainly would have." He continued to close the distance. "Mycroft arranged for the Watsons to be at the airfield because, well, there were extenuating circumstances."

"There always are. Besides, I know how much they mean to you. You must love Mary in a way I can't possibly comprehend since you were somehow able to forgive her for shooting you." As soon as she said it she knew she'd shocked the man. She felt herself swell with pride for just a moment. So few people had the ability to accomplish such a feat.

He smiled. "Your mind, Molly, it really is extraordinary. Nowhere near mine, of course, but impressive nonetheless."

She hadn't cried, not even alone in her flat; telling herself that she'd shed enough tears for Sherlock Holmes and he that neither wanted nor deserved them. But that small smile nearly broke her… nearly. "Yes, well." She cleared her throat. "As I said…"

"This is important," he interrupted.

"And I can't possibly say how long I'll be mad, Sherlock. I don't think a good slap will mitigate my anger, this time. Though it might help," she added under her breath.

"I won't apologise for the drugs, Molly. I had my reasons. But I do apologise for upsetting you, it was never my intention."

She shook her head. "Did you mean to kill yourself?"

"I'm not really sure. Just wanted to take away the pain."

"What pain?"

He stared at her for a very long moment. "You're still mad."

"Of course I am!" she shouted, not understanding what that had to do with anything.

"Well then I can't tell you."

Molly tossed her bag on a nearby table and rubbed her forehead. The conversation was giving her a headache. She paced away from the detective then turned back. "Okay, fine. I'm not mad anymore," she said with her hands on her hips.

He laughed. "Your body language tells a different story."

She bit her lip to keep from cursing. "Sherlock, I'm not an angry person by nature. It's taken a lot out of me to keep up this level of hostility for this long. And believe it or not, I don't actually want to be angry with you. Just tell me about your plan so I can go home, feed Toby and have a sodding glass of wine!" His calm demeanor was making her all the more angry.

He turned to walk back to the bench. "We'll talk about this when your mood improves. It'll do no good to have this particular conversation when you're all worked up," he said as he sat back down.

Molly started reciting pi in her head; a technique she'd used many times in uni to quell anxiety. It wasn't working. She still wanted to smoosh his stupid, beautiful face…

She could've left- should have left at that point - but she was even more pissed off and frankly very curious. Instead she thought about what he'd said, his explanations. He would have told her goodbye? She actually believed that. For all his faults Sherlock had rarely lied to her. The drugs: to take away the pain. What pain? Why couldn't he just tell her? In order to get the answer she'd have to calm down and 'not be angry', evidently.

After taking several deep, cleansing breaths she walked over to him and said, "Okay, Sherlock. I'm still upset, but I think I understand or will, I assume, if you're able explain yourself. Please, talk to me."

"Are you sure? This won't be easy for me, Molly."

"I have a feeling that'll make two of us."

He smirked then swiveled on the stool to face her. "The pain to which I was referring was the fact that I'd never be able to see you again. And before you ask, yes of course, everyone else too. But with you… it was different, visceral. It wasn't physical, though…" He looked away for a moment. "in a way it almost felt physical. At any rate, I felt as if I was losing something before it had even begun."

Molly wasn't following; she had no idea what he was trying to tell her. He must have read her confusion on her face. She knew that she was an open book, it was why he had always been able to manipulate her so easily.

He stood up. "How about this, shall I tell you what I would have said if I'd been given the opportunity? I had six days to think it through."

Molly nodded.

He took one of her hands in his and looked at her with with the softest eyes she'd ever seen. "So this is it, Molly. I'm leaving and I'm never coming back. You have been remarkable. Your loyalty and kindness was something I never expected and clearly never deserved. But I cherished it, I truly did. In a world full of bastards and liars, you are a gentle truth. I have but one regret in my life and it's that I waited too long to let myself appreciate you and your beauty. When I finally allowed myself to feel something, it was too late." He cupped her cheek with one warm hand and said, "I love you, Molly. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was selfish and cowardly. And now I'll never know what it's like to make love to you, to wake up with you on a Sunday morning… to grow old with you, and for that I am truly sorry. You are the best thing that could have happened to me." He ended his speech with a soft kiss to her forehead, then he released her… and waited.

Molly was certain that the world had stopped turning. Her willful tear ducts seemed to decide that whether or not she wanted to cry, she was going to. She was completely at a loss for words. How was she supposed to respond to that?

After what seemed like hours, but in truth was probably two or three minutes she asked, "You… you loved- love me?"

"Indeed."

"And you would have told me all of that just before you flew off to your death?" she asked as the first tears started to fall.

"Possibly. Or perhaps I would have reconsidered it once I saw your sweet face. One can never quite know."

Molly wiped away some of the tears and bit her lip as she considered her next words. Finally she said, "And now? Actually, what about these plans?"

"Oh, right. I wanted to tell you…well, what I just said."

"That you love me?"

"Yes. But I deduced that if you were still harbouring animosity towards me, my proclamation might not be welcomed. Or, that you might not believe me. I have manipulated you in the past," he reminded her. As if she could ever forget. .

His consideration was nearly as shocking as his use of the word 'love'. Okay, she needed to get a hold of the situation. As in asking questions and demanding answers…

"You have questions, no doubt. First of all, I am completely serious and I would like nothing more than to move our relationship forward. I am also aware that it takes work and a certain amount of sacrifice to accomplish such a task. I know that you're ambivalent as to my level of commitment to my sobriety. But make not mistake, Molly, I am clean and will do everything in my power to stay that way. I'm doing this for me, not for John or Mycroft or even for you. If you choose to be with me, well that will be my reward," he said with a smile.

She started to speak but he moved closer once again and put both of his hands on her shoulders. "I've dropped a bit of a bomb on you, I know. And you have a cat and some wine waiting for you. So go home, think about what I've said and let me know what you decide. You've waited for me all these years, it's the least I can do. Besides, I understand having patience is very important in relationships." He leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on the corner of her mouth. "Have a good evening, Molly. I look forward to hearing from you." Then he picked up his coat and left.

Molly stood in the lab for several moments, frozen in the spot he left her then said, "Well I'll be damned."

When she finally snapped out of her shock she picked up her bag and walked to the door. Yes, she needed to think about the things he'd just said. Her mind was reeling from the revelations of the last thirty minutes, but her heart?

Her heart was already decided.

Miz hinted that I might get requests for a part two... if you would like more, please let me know. I might be motivated. Thanks so much for reading. You all are amazing! ~Lil~