Reminiscent Regret and Conjunctive Kismet

The Anxiousness of Prospect

Sherlock's mind spins as their lips collide, his large hands coming up to cup her face, and her smaller hands coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing across his sharp cheekbones. Then they are a flurry of clutching fingers in hair, tongues dancing together, and bated pants of breath between their lips.

After a few moments of desperation, they finally pull away for much-needed oxygen. Their hands tremble just slightly on the other's jaw from the pining and anticipation of waiting for so many years for one another and holding back for so long.

Molly slowly drops her hands from his jawline and takes a deep breath, her eyes twinkling, and her pupils equally as blown black as his were. "Wh-...", she trails off, not wanting to lose the comfortably warm moment they were in.

Sherlock stares at her, blinking a bit quickly as if his mind is processing, and Molly grins, beginning to giggle after a minute. She leans in and softly kisses his forehead, making his eyes slip closed slowly. "I'll give you some time for your beautiful mind to go through things, no pressure", she whispers fondly.

As she goes to walk away, he reaches out and grabs her wrist gently. Molly sucks in a breath of air and then sighs quietly, knowing what is coming next, but hoping it wouldn't. Meeting his eyes, she can see that he's already guilty for what he's not yet said and her heart sinks in her chest.

"J-just say it, Sherlock", she urges him, her voice quiet and unsure.

"Molly...you-...you know that I adore you, and I'm not quite sure what came over me a moment ago, but I think we should try to...pretend it didn't happen. The last thing I want is to complicate things with us even more, and you deserve someone who can give you something deeper than I could. We both know that, don't we?"

Molly holds back the tears that threaten her vision, and the lump forming in her throat. She inwardly curses herself for needing to cry, knowing this would be the result. But alas, the feelings of her heart aren't so easily forgotten. "I suppose so", she replies in barely a whisper, unable to hide her pain as much as she wishes she could.

Sherlock's heart twists into a knot as he sees her expression. As much as she is trying to cover up how she is really feeling, he could always see her. She wore her heart on her sleeve and wasn't best at hiding her emotions, despite hating that aspect of herself. He gently caresses where he holds, to find her pulse still beating rapidly underneath the creamy white skin of her wrist. He traces his fingers slightly higher, stroking over the rough scar line from her late teens, knowing she has a matching one on her right wrist.

"Sherlock...", she begins, her voice cracking, a sob barely escaping her throat.

"You are the most amazing woman I know, Molly Hooper. You must know that I mean that with every fiber of my being. There are parts of me that meant those three little words and always will."

Tears begin to spill down her cheeks slowly, and he reaches up and brushes them away with his thumbs. "Just not your heart...", she murmurs.

He casts his eyes downward guiltily. "That's not what I meant."

"Yeah...I know, I'm just...well, you can deduce, I don't need to tell you exactly."

"I am sorry", he mumbles, a pang in his chest that feels like a hammer to the heart.

"Me too...it's never exactly been a secret to you that I...did mean those three little words. Even during the phone call. Of course you knew, you were paying the ignorance game for your sister, and I get that now...but you've always known how I feel. It's never prevented us from being friends, and I have never once tried to pressure you into anything you don't want. I never will either. But I think it's about high time that I say what's on my mind, and not just in my heart. Since you've had that chance. Fair is fair."