Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story was inspired by a Tumblr post that I came across. I got the owner's permission, a very nice lady named Katie (benedictsherllock) to use it. (post/114597081319/molly-and-sherlock-almost-insp)

Frustrated with the tossing and turning, Sherlock got out from his bed and left the room. Perhaps he would try his luck with the sofa but the consulting detective stopped at the corridor, staring at the person lying on it. Molly turned her head and their eyes locked. Sherlock moved towards the rather flushed pathologist and as he came closer, his sensitive nose corroborated the consulting detective's assumption that she was quite intoxicated.

Molly produced a key and held it up. "Mycroft gave it to me some years ago in case of an emergency." The word 'overdose' hung heavily in the air but Sherlock ignored it and walked over to the kitchen, wetting a towel. He folded it twice and disposed the towel on Molly's forehead unceremoniously. She exclaimed wordlessly, more from being surprised at the sudden sensation of something cold placed on her forehead rather than actual pain.

Sherlock would never physically hurt Molly but as for the verbal part of it, that was another matter to speak of. The consulting detective mentally cringed at the years of unkind words he had thrown at her and most of the time Sherlock did not even realise it until he saw the look on Molly's face but by then it would be too late to make any amends. As time passed, his unintentional insults soon developed into part of the defence mechanism against her.

You always say such horrible things, every time. Always, always.

Molly's headache started to ease with the help of the cold towel and neither talked, allowing the ticking of the second hand to fill in the silence for them. "Why am I doing here? I should not even be here." The pathologist whispered to the darkness and made an attempt to rise from the couch but thought the better of it. She was tired of running away.

"When you returned from the dead, I could not sleep in my own bedroom anymore because I knew very well that you slept in my bed and I could not stop thinking about it, about you. The feeling became too suffocating for me." Molly felt a burden off her chest when she said it out loud.

Sherlock then replied with his own confession. "This thank you was a few years too late, Molly but I hope you would still accept it. Thank you for your Christmas present, the scarf was wonderfully made. I did not wear it as I was afraid that the scarf would get dirtied or torn considering how intense my work for the day was." Sherlock did not mention that even though he never wore it, the scarf was treasured and kept close to him. It was something he found sustenance in for that two years.

Molly's lower lip wobbled as she finally heard acknowledgement from the consulting detective where the pathologist had unknowingly been waiting for years. She had waited far too long for it and all her bottled-up emotions found their way to escape from her eyes in the form of tears. Sherlock sat beside her, holding Molly's head to his chest as she sobbed to her heart's content.

This would be the last time Molly Hooper would ever cry for Sherlock Holmes so she took the opportunity to mourn for all of their almost, if-only and what-if that piled up from the day they first met and in the end the pathologist figured out the real reason why she was here, the night before her wedding at Sherlock's place and just the two of them. Molly wanted to find closure and she found it.

She would always remember the memories with the consulting detective but it was also time to let go of them because they were holding her back from the future with Tom. Sherlock would always be Molly's wrong man at the right time and the pathologist did not at all regret meeting him whether it was a mistake or not. Molly lifted her head then gawked at his nightshirt where her tears created dark patches that littered across Sherlock's chest area.

He shook his head, brushing off her apology even before Molly said anything but it must be an uncomfortable feeling, wearing a wet shirt so after wiping her face with the same towel, the pathologist stood up. "It's late; I should go back now so you could change your shirt." Molly smiled kindly at the consulting detective. "Stay." Sherlock did not elaborate his request and she did not ask for it. Stay for a while more? Stay and not leave? Stay and then what?

"What are your views on marriage, Sherlock?" Molly asked quietly, not looking at him. It was the consulting detective's turn to display his skills of mimicking a fish. "And that's also my answer to your question." She placed both the key and towel on the table, not in a resigned manner because the pathologist still knew him best. "Good night, Sherlock. Don't be late for my wedding tomorrow." Molly gently closed the door after her. The room was once again engulfed in silence and he was once again alone.

Sherlock did not remember much of the wedding but he did remember how beautiful she looked as Molly walked past him and towards her groom. The consulting detective kept that image in his mind palace, together with the other memories of her. "If any man can show just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace." The priest spoke powerfully and wedding guests inside the church quieted down at his words.

The Watsons turned towards Sherlock. If the consulting detective wanted to stop Molly from marrying Tom then this would be his final chance to do so but he did not even move a muscle. John sighed, unsure if it was from the relief that Sherlock did not wreak havoc at the pathologist's wedding or at the knowledge that his best friend would probably remain all by himself till his dotage. In the consulting detective's opinion, no man would ever be good enough for Molly and he was one of those men so Sherlock kept his silence.

Thirty years later

A throat cleared behind the retired consulting detective and he turned around. Sherlock instantly recognised Molly who besides the grey hair and some wrinkles, time did not leave much trace on her. "It's been a while and you looked…well, Sherlock. Umm, John gave me your address but in hindsight, I should have called you first. I'm so sorry. If you are busy, I could…" Feeling uneasy about her intrusion, Molly began to walk back.

"No, it's fine. Do come in, Molly." Sherlock held the door open for her and Molly tentatively entered the house. Sherlock gestured her to a chair at the table and put on the kettle. By the time Sherlock returned with tea and biscuits that he managed to dig out from the cupboard which luckily had not yet expired, the self-taught beekeeper was composed enough at Molly's abrupt but not unwelcomed presence. Damn John for not warning him in advance so he could better prepare himself for her arrival.

Molly stirred her cup of tea like she was searching for something. "Is the tea not to your taste?" Sherlock did run out of milk and whenever he could delay his grocery shopping, Sherlock would postpone it for as long as possible. "Oh no, I was just looking if there were eyeballs or thumbs in it. You did have an incredibly unique way of drinking tea, Sherlock." And Molly's style of joking was precisely how he remembered it. Terrible.

Nevertheless, the corners of Sherlock's mouth lifted and he replied. "My supply of eyeballs and thumbs happened to run out yesterday so I'm afraid you would have to do make with this, Molly." She laughed and it reminded Sherlock of the past where they used to sit together, drinking tea and discussing about cases. Sentiments did come with age, he thought humbly.

"How's the beekeeping going for you?" Molly asked with a benign smile. "Well. This year was a good harvest and how's your family?" Time was kind to that man. Like wine, Sherlock had aged well and he was still a good-looking man. Molly noticed that he did not wear a wedding ring or any sign that he ever wore one. She worked with Sherlock long enough to pick up some basic deduction skills from the world's only consulting detective.

"Matthew's an engineer, Lucas works in a charity organization and my youngest, Grace, she's going to become a teacher. Now that I'm retired and Tom passed away from stomach cancer three years ago, I suddenly had all the time in the world then John encouraged me to visit you. He thought you would enjoy some company aside from the bees. I would be expecting my first grandchild next month and I'm so looking forward to being a grandmother that I would positively spoil him or her. Sorry, I'm babbling now. You could stop me, Sherlock."

Sherlock nodded politely since he already deduced the majority of it from the moment he laid his eyes on Molly and if he missed something which it rarely happened, John would always blatantly drag her into the conversation each time the doctor called Sherlock regardless of what they were talking about so he was constantly receiving updates about Molly even though they had slowly drifted apart over the years but not John, he continued to keep a close contact with her.

John had no discretion when it came to matchmaking Sherlock and Molly. He even called them 'Sherlolly' as if they were one entity instead of two separate individuals. One must forgive their best friend's quirks due to old age. "I like listening to you, Molly." Evidently what he said must have caught her off guard as Molly stumbled over her reply. "I-I thought you hated my 'ceaseless chattering'?" Sherlock shrugged his shoulders. "People change." Molly said steadfastly. "I like you just the way you are, Sherlock."

Sherlolly, I mean Sherlock and Molly then smiled at each other. "Would you like to bring some honey back home? It's nature at its best." She beamed at him. "Sure! Grace loves honey. It seemed like I had made the right decision in coming here."

Author's note: Maybe I was not treating Sherlock fair enough but after reading interviews of Mr Moffat and Mr Gatiss about the character Sherlock, discussion of Sherlock with my friend and my personal view of him, I just could not visualise him doing what normal people would do (lol).

I always stood firmly that whatever you post, the writer must believe in it so I discarded the idea of Molly eloping with Sherlock etc. but I hope the ending made it a little better? I did not want to ruin the whole story for this though it felt incomplete so I decided to add on one more chapter to end it properly :)