The Woman Who Matters

Chapter One

Sherlock stood outside the doors of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, as he had done so many times before. He stomped out his cigarette on the pavement below, sighing.

"Low tar." He muttered , "Why does Mycroft always give me low tar?"

"You alright?" Asked a warm voice from behind, which Sherlock recognised as that of Dr John H Watson.

"I didn't expect you to come," Sherlock said, not turning to greet his friend, "What with Rosamund."

"Mrs Hudson said she'd take Rosie for the day," said John, "Which reminds me; Mrs H says repairs on 221B should be finished by the end of the month. Guess Eurus used a pretty weak bomb."

"We should go inside," Sherlock opened the hospital door, "There's a body I need to check out, and it's on Molly's list."

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Sherlock stared at the body. Usually, he'd be able to make all sorts of deductions from it, almost like he was scanning the body. Today, however, he seemed to be having no such luck. And he knew why.

"John, could you please fetch me and Molly some tea?" He asked, "We may... need a minute." John nodded understandingly, and made his way out of the lab. Now only Sherlock and Molly remained. "Perhaps I should give you an explanation." Sherlock began.

"I already know." Molly said sternly.

"I beg your pardon?" Asked Sherlock.

"John told me. Everything. About Eurus, about how she made you make that call."

"Oh." Sherlock was, unusually for him, struggling to find his words, "So, are we... okay, then?"

"Okay?" Molly said sarcastically, "Of course we're not bloody okay! I poured my heart out to you! Yes, it was for a cruel experiment, and yes, you did it to try and save my life, but not once, not once since then have you called me! You never decided to explain to me why you did it! We're supposed to talk to each other, Sherlock! That's what friends do!" Molly's words stung. Sherlock had never heard her raise her voice like like that before.

"We're not friends, Molly. We never have been. I'm sorry if you ever thought so, but..." Sherlock stopped. Molly's eyes were beginning to well with tears. "No- not like that." Said Sherlock, "I say we're not friends, because I think we can be more than that, Molly. Far more."

"You mean....?" Molly's eyes light up.

"Molly, until recently, I thought love was merely a ludicrous fantasy that people told each other to make the human desire to mate seem more fanciful. I thought it to only be the work of idiots and day-dreamers. But you've made me see that all of that is wrong. You've shown me that love is a wonderful, beautiful, and painful part of life. And a part of my life that you fill. Molly Hooper, I love you."

Molly was silent for a few seconds, but then said quietly, "I love you too." She lunged forwards, hugging the detective, "I love you too."

"Umm.... have I missed something?" John asked, walking in, "Because if I didn't know any better, I'd say I just saw you two hugging. But you're Sherlock Holmes. So what the Hell is going on?"

"Molly and I are going on a date." Sherlock announced, revelling in John's shock, and then turning to Molly, "Coffee. Black, two sugars. I'll be at the café, downstairs, if you'd kindly join me."