Well hello! For those who know my penname I know I've been absent from this site….FOR A REALLY LONG TIME. College and life just kick your butt 10 times over, trust me BUT. I finally finished Series 4 of Sherlock and I...I just couldn't stay away any longer. I wasn't planning on this being a one-shot...so prepare for more chapters coming. :) For those who are waiting on other stories - fret not! I have so soooooo many chapters of 100 Things About Annie (Covert Affairs) just WAITING to be posted...it's going to be a magical day when I finally get all of those on there.

I'm also pretty sure I have another Sherlock story out there...I haven't even logged onto my account yet though so I'm not entirely sure. We'll see if I want to continue that one or if I want to just pool all my efforts into this one. Thank you and I hope you enjoy!

The walls of 221 Baker Street had seen and heard plenty of trumpeting sounds and knife points that stick with the handle dangling above the floor. Colorful language and shouted arguments seemed to be printed against them, clear as day for anyone who walked by. A yellow smiley face, repainted by none other than John Watson after the explosion of Baker Street, stared into the eyes of Molly Hooper as she stood across the room from Sherlock Holmes, her hands slightly shaking. It had only taken a week or so to clean up the debris and replace the burned wallpaper. It had not been refurbished or completed quite yet, and on the dreary cold night she decided to travel there were only a few candles lighting the flat, but she found that she couldn't stay away any longer.

After Eurus had been placed back in Sherrinford, Molly received a call from a steady, yet quietly shaken, Mycroft explaining the situation and specifically the phone call that she had taken from Sherlock that rocked her world. When she realized what had happened she had wanted to run immediately to Baker Street and make sure that her friends were alive and breathing.

But she couldn't. It was impossible for her to bring herself to look Sherlock in the eyes after the conversation they had. Directly following the fallout of Eurus, she received two singular text messages from Sherlock.

We should speak, Molly. There are some events that we need to sort through. SH

You know where to find me. SH

It took her at least five hours to even read his messages and she hadn't even responded. Finally, she bit the bullet and made her way to Baker Street. She found him alone, staring at a stack of papers that he had stabbed through. He's confused about something within those papers, she thought, as she walked into the familiar room. He didn't turn to see her, but she could see his fists squeeze tight as he heard her walk in. So here they were, facing back to back and still silent as they had been for the last five minutes.

She closed her eyes gently and finally spoke. "You wanted to see me, Sherlock?"

He didn't answer immediately so she kept going. "You called me here, Sherlock, therefore you get to speak first."

"I want to apologize...and confess." His deep baritone voice reached her ears and she almost spun around to watch his mouth form the words, the mouth that had caused her so much pain and yet so much hope.

"Apologize for what?"

"For hurting you."

Her breath caught. "Which time?"

His voice was hard when he responded. "I have never intentionally meant to hurt you."

She gave a sharp laugh. "Could have fooled me."

"Please, believe me. I know the image of myself with...public relationships is not admirable. The words I say are sometimes...not what I mean."

She sighed. She wanted to be angry, to yell at him and tell him how much he had really hurt her. Yet, she could not deny the feelings that she still had bubbling inside. She told herself that she did not love him, no matter what she said over the phone for his little "experiment". The hardest part about it? The hardest part for her to admit? He didn't love her. He never had and he never will no matter what he had said before.

She swallowed. "Say what you need to say Sherlock. Otherwise I'll see myself out. Because I can't take this again, not again, you know I can't - "

"The first one was forced."

His cool voice, surprisingly shaking, interrupted her small rant. "What?"

"The first one was forced. I needed you to say it. I needed to...save your life."

"I know. Mycroft told me -" Molly began.

"The second one was not."

Any response that she had planned disappeared from her lips. She let his words hang in the air, waiting for him to say something else. Anything else.

She heard him take a small inhale. "The second time was real."

"What are you talking about?" She breathed.

She hadn't realized that he had turned to face her. Yet, suddenly, he was standing almost directly behind her. Taking another breath, that seemed impossible to get, she turned slowly to face him. He didn't answer her or look her in the eye.

"Are you talking about the phone call?" She asked.

"You know I am," he sighed. "Forgive me, Molly, this type of….dialogue is difficult of me. It always has been."

"It's simple, Sherlock. You just say what you want. To whoever you want."

"It's not that simple, Molly. You know that." Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers. What she saw caused her throat to tighten. He was sincere, she could see that now. What he was saying, however, she couldn't believe. Not yet.

"Then, try," she pressed.

For almost half a minute he was silent, just staring into her eyes. Finally, finally, he spoke.

"The first...statement of affection was forced. The second...the second was not."

She blinked, her eyes never leaving his. "What are you saying Sherlock?"

"I'm saying that I was telling the truth."

"You...you love me?" Dammit, Molly thought. Why the hell did she say anything. Of course he doesn't.

Surprising her, a small smile came to his face. "It seems so easy coming from your mouth."

Molly was silent for a moment, trying to sort through the fuzzy noise that was filling her head. "How do I know?"

"What?"

"How do I know that you actually love me? Everything you have said up to this point says otherwise."

"I know. And I understand whatever decision you should want to make, including if you never want to see me again."

Molly scoffed. "I'm not going to walk away from you, you need me."

His smile grew a bit. "I do. I doubt John is as experienced as you are in autopsies."

"Not at all," she chuckled. "But you still need to prove yourself."

Sherlock's eyes grew.

"How are you going to show me that you love me, Sherlock?"

The silence between them was deafening. His eyes were constantly searching hers and she could see his mind whirring a mile a minute. Suddenly, he took a step forward and gathered her hands in his own.

"Molly, it will take a lifetime of actions and intentions for me to undo the wrongs that I have said and done to you. But if this is a start, let it be known that my words are true," His eyes burned into her's as he squeezed her hands. "I love you."

She probably looked like a gaping fish as she looked at him. After years of being berated and thrown around, he took a 180 and was telling her something that she never thought that she was going to hear.

"You're...you're telling the truth?" She breathed, gently squeezing his hands back. He gave her that gentle smile that she had grown to love to see.

"It's taken me a long while to admit it to myself. My upbringing was a bit...skewed to keep quiet about those sort of feelings, as I'm sure you know."

"I do. With a childhood like yours it was probably impossible to end up any different."

He didn't respond, but he didn't let go of her hands either. She could see his eyes searching hers, almost looking for a response. She started a bit, suddenly realizing the answer or response that he was looking for. He was vulnerable, putting himself out in the open before her. Right there in that moment, she could see the possible future that they could have. Being with him would be tricky, he was still the brash, condescending yet brilliant man she had known but this was a whole new side to him that he had kept hidden for basically his whole life. Could she live with it though? Did she love him enough, since she could never make herself believe that she didn't love him at all, to work with him and their highly different personalities?

Almost immediately while looking into his eyes she had her answer.

She did.

"It's alright, though, because we'll have a long time for you to tell me all about your childhood," she smiled, slipping one of her hands from his and placing it gently on his cheek and allowing her fingers to follow his sharp cheekbones. "I love you, too."

She could feel the tension leave his body as she spoke her words. A small sigh escaped his lips and his eyes closed slightly as his thumbs gently caressed her hands. Molly allowed a soft laugh to pass through her lips, laughing even harder when Sherlock's eyes shot up to meet hers again. "What's so funny?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you this nervous before. What happened to the cool, calm and collected Sherlock Holmes?"

He gave a sharp laugh as his eyes slid shut again. "He met you."

Molly's breath caught once again in her throat. She was going to have to get used to Sherlock saying these sort of things or she was going to have a heart attack by next week. She looked at the man in front of her, his closed eyes, his now steady breathing and warm hands. She figured if they were going to make this work they might as well start it off on the right foot. Regretfully letting go of his hands she took a step forward to wrap her arms around his middle and placing her head against his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat. He paused for a moment but then reciprocated with his own arms wrapping around her and pulling her close.

"You've always counted, Molly Hooper. Out of everyone...you have always been able to see me. Never forget that."

She could feel the rumble in his chest as he spoke. With his arms around her, his head resting on hers and his words filling her ears she hadn't felt so safe in years. They stood in silence for what seemed like forever, nothing but the sound of their heartbeats filling the room.

"You know," Molly finally whispered, pulling slightly away to look him in the eye. "To start this right, I think it's only fair that I hear of what happened the past couple of days from you. Mycroft's versions are always so….bland."

Sherlock chuckled and pulled her close to him again. "It's the least you deserve."

And so she found herself pulled onto the only surviving couch in 221 Baker Street as Sherlock kept his arms around her and she snuggled into his chest. He didn't disappoint in his retelling - she discovered more detail than Mycroft ever would have given her. She hadn't realized that she had been dozing off as the story went forward or that Sherlock's voice became quieter and quieter as his own drowsiness betrayed him.

As the clock struck one a.m., she would never see Mrs. Hudson sneak into the flat and place a large wool blanket over them, grinning from ear to ear.

"About damn time, Sherlock," she whispered as she blew out the remaining candle in the flat and closed the door.