A/N: After the hell we've all just been through. Have this to make life a little easier. To have a Mary Watson narrating a moment that was just beautiful. Duh total spoilers for the finale of 4 - if you read it you've been warned.

Going to be mistakes, this was a quick post.

After John had been saved and after they had left Sherlock's childhood home, they looked at the ruins of 221b and sighed. John had offered Sherlock the spare room at his head but he shook his head and looked unseeingly into the distance after the squad car had dropped them off.

"Go to her Sherlock." John said quietly.

"What?"

"Go to Molly, Sherlock. We don't have to be soldiers anymore." John's hand rested on his arm and Sherlock looked back at him. The doctor's face was kind and serious.

"It was…"

"The truth… you told her nothing but the truth." John sighed. "Don't lie to me Sherlock."

Sherlock's expression was frozen but his eyes had a myriad of emotions running through them. In the end it was John that held out his hand at the passing taxi and he all but shoved Sherlock into it. Reciting Molly's address to the perplexed cabby, the black car soon pulled away from the kerb as John went in to his home to find his sister of all people sat in his lounge with her niece bouncing on herknee.

~S.H~

"Sherlock?" Molly was startled but resigned. Her face showed all the signs of crying and Sherlock broke slightly at seeing it. He realised he had always been the more emotional of the two Holmes'… no three of them. It seemed Eurus had surpassed even Mycroft when it came to being emotionally deprived, but Sherlock's strength had been the emotion that Mycroft had always scorned. He just had to learn to use it properly rather than repress it.

"Sherlock?" Molly repeated his name, pulling the detective from his reverie. His brain was still processing everything that Eurus had thrown at him.

"Molly. I…"

"I don't think I want the explanation Sherlock." She sighed, leaning against her door frame, folding her arms across her body.

"I don't think I can give you one tonight." He replied honestly. Something in his face must have given him away because Molly grabbed his elbow before his registered his knees giving way. "Help me." He murmured suddenly and there she was, at his side in an instant, tugging him into her hall, leading him to her sofa and sitting him down. Molly Hooper saw the blankness in his eyes and dithered but something in her gut told her not to call John, instead she made hot sweet tea that she pushed gently into Sherlock's hands.

A quick glance at her mobile had told her more – a message from Greg asking if Sherlock was with her and a message from John saying to look after him. Confused, not by the admissions of care for the detective but from the expression on said man's face, Molly simply sat beside Sherlock until he moved again. She studied him while he remained tense next to her; she factored in the strange admission he had made her make, and realised this was not a mind palace moment, nor was it one Sherlock's socially awkward moments – he was in distress and like anyone who was in love, she was desperate to alleviate his problems.

"Sherlock." She murmured again, taking the rapidly cooling tea from his hands.

He turned to her and stared again, his eyes were in pain and Molly took him in her arms and felt him break beneath her.

For the rest of the evening she allowed Sherlock to stay there in her arms with no words spoken between them. She only moved him into her room when her back started to ache and fully dressed Sherlock rested there in her grip as neither of them really slept.

~S.H~

Molly would learn in the coming days of Eurus and would learn what she forced Sherlock into, what games the abandoned sister had made her brothers play. She would fume at first and then think of the sibling left behind and she would feel sorry for the highly functioning little girl. She would shudder at the thoughts of Victor Trevor and she would wake to nightmares of how cold the Holmes family had been. She would rail at Sherlock's parents when they berated him in front of her and she would evict them from 221b with her screaming in their ears.

"How can you not see that you did this!? They are your children and you dare shout at Mycroft or Sherlock for the way Eurus has behaved. The common denominator here is you! Three gifted children such as these did not randomly appear in one bloodline you made them this way." She hissed at the rather astonished parents.

"Molly." Sherlock tried to intervene.

"No Sherlock. I dealt with you for years, I thought you were strange but fell in love with you regardless. Then I learnt of Mycroft and how cold he was. How emotionless he was and thought that you were pretty normal by comparison but to learn there was another child that behaved the same way, if not worse. There is only one explanation. You are bad parents." She turned back to the elder Holmes with fire in her eyes. "You dare blame Mycroft for not telling you that the daughter you turned into a psychopath was alive… what did you take during your pregnancies?" She glared slit eyed at Mrs Holmes whose face had lost the injured meekness. The older woman now looked haughty and was staring distastefully at Molly.

"That's highly classified."

"From Uncle Rudy no doubt." Mycroft hid his shock well, though he would admit that he had had his suspicions.

"Out." The order came from John this time. "Just leave, the tensions need to calm before we get any further."

"How did you guess?" Sherlock asked as his parents marched out.

"It doesn't take a genius to figure it out Sherlock." Molly growled. "They took the drug during the first pregnancy, waited seven years to see how the eldest child would turn out, decided that the dosage may have been too high and lowered it for the second. Deciding it wasn't enough they upped it with the third child, only the dosage may have been doubled – with you and Eurus only being a year apart it was still in your mother's blood stream, hence why Eurus is the way she is." Molly sagged into the armchair and sighed.

"Are you okay?" John was pushing a hot drink into her hands as the two Holmes brothers quietly conversed. She nodded, but in truth she wasn't.

While she understood there were far bigger things at play, all she could think about was a pressured confession and whether it was sustained under duress. Had she truly given her heart away to a moment that had been forced by gunpoint, or rather detonation point? They hadn't discussed it – the fallout from the Eastern Wind had been to time and energy consuming, the entire restructuring of the Holmes' world as they knew it had been far more pertinent than that of Molly Hooper and her feelings.

~S.H~

"Molly." Sherlock was at her door at some stupidly early hour. She squinted at her wall clock, she'd been asleep for four hours.

"Sherlock." She yawned, turning back to shuffle down her hallway, lamenting her bunny pyjamas.

"I love you." That stopped her mid-lumber and she turned slowly back to face him, her tired brain refusing to process his admission.

"What." She felt stupid in this moment.

"I said I love you. I now understand I've woken you from a late shift, for which I am incredibly sorry and I also understand that fatigue dulls your reaction time which is understandable but I shall wait until you either slap me or kiss me, in all honesty I haven't quite deduced which one you'll go for first. I love you Doctor Molly Hooper." He gabbled and Molly still stared at him flummoxed.

"You really mean it?" She blinked.

"I really mean it." He repeated.

"There's no gun, no bomb, no sense of imminent and urgent danger?"

"None whatsoever. I truly mean it when I say I love you."

She kissed him. She kissed him like her world was about to end, because if this was all some exhaustion driven dream, she was going to enjoy the hell out of it. She was happily surprised when he kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her close.

"You've deserved so much better than me." He murmurs when they pull back for air.

"I know, and don't you ever forget it." She smiles, cupping his cheek and kissing him again.

A/N: Side note - I tried to incorporate a few of the tweets I read this evening while hanging off the edge of my seat; why has no-one ever blamed the parents and why has Molly Hooper clung onto the dream of Sherlock for so many years? The last one I can answer, love. Love makes you do weird things whether you want it to or not, it's that tiny light in the darkness that makes you hope. So to all those who scorned Molly still loving Sherlock... I hope your love is always reciprocated.