CathartInk

Occasional grad student. Full-time Sherlolly shipper. INFJ. Molly Hooper is my spirit animal.

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Ocean Child

She has always known she was a daughter of the sea, and now she feels it calling her. One day, she knew, she would return to its depths. One day, she would finally return home. Was today that day?

A voice calls her name, and as she turns to look at the source, she remembers why she can’t go home, not yet. He smiles at her from the shore and she knew. No, not today. Because for now, home is eyes the shifting blue-green of the sea on a bright summer day, the rise and fall of a chest, like the ebb and flow of waves, arms that envelop her like water, providing a feeling of safety and ‘yes, this is where I belong’, a heartbeat that pumps blood through veins, like the rush of water, in her ears, a smile that warms her like the sun, kisses that taste of salty freedom.

With an answering smile, she wades back towards shore.

One day. Just not today.

[chocolatentropy-blog]

The Girl Who Loved Death: Arrival

Chapter 5 is finally up! Sorry for the long wait! Link to chapter below.:) "Tell me, Molly Hooper, do you believe in fate?" "Uhm… Sorry, what?" "Fate, Molly Hooper. Destiny, if you will. A predetermined path for each human being." For the first time since speaking, Sherlock turned to her. They locked gazes and, not for the first time, Molly felt like she was staring into a galaxy swirled into the ocean. AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9294158/chapters/23181936

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Poison

Poison she pours into his ear, and it crawls to the back of his mind, settling. A second. A minute. An eternity. There's a persistent itch at the back of his head so he scratches. Scratches. Scratches. Scratches. Until the skin bursts open, and a creature emerges. A man, in his image. Him. He stares down at the decimated shell that was once He, and laughs. His former self seems so funny now, now that he is different. Better, he thinks. Definitely better. He smiles at her. She smiles back sweetly. You will never be the same.

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Goodness gracious, will the fandom wars never stop? Respect, people.

[eastwndholmes]

Like or reblog this post if you’re a Sherlock blog that:

Doesn’t hate on Mark and Steven, and never send any hate to either our writers or cast members

Actually liked S4. It’s all good to have issues with it cause nothing’s 100% perfect, but hating on it is a different thing, so no hate, please

Doesn’t believe in TJLC

Doesn’t hate Mary Watson, Molly Hooper or both

I’ve definitely enough of seeing hate everywhere and I need kind, positive people around me. Let’s spread some #SherlockLove together!

[cumberporn]

[idreamofbencumberbatch]

What a beautiful photograph!

[elennemigo]

Taken by Loo Brealey! 😍

[moonkitten91]

Really beautiful shot. Thanks, Loo!

[chocolatentropy-blog]

I crie. I love how Loo is one of those people who get to witness these moments...

[londonsherlocktour]

The London Sherlock Location Guidebook

It’s done! Get the PDF here.

File size: 355MB

The fruit of hundreds of hours of research, tramping London, photographing, screencapping and cursing PowerPoint, it is here!

The guide contains maps showing how to find every known BBC Sherlock location in London, with screencaps and text identifying where it featured, and contemporary photos to show what it looks like now. There are also some special sections such as how to follow the ASIP taxi chase in order, and area maps to help you devise local mini-tours if you like.

I (@pennypaperbrain) have lived in London for 20 years, and this guide grew out of showing fandom friends around, first the obvious places and then some not so obvious. Photography is by the indispensable @sincerely-chaos.

This is version 1 so I’m sure there are many improvements and refinements that can be made. Please email londonsherlocktour at gmail dot com if you have feedback, or squee. (You can also use tumblr of course, but tumblr eats asks). If you end up using the guide in London, it would also be particularly cool to have stories/photos to feature on this tumblr.

[radio-indica]

This is amazing

[missdeliadili]

Thank you!

[221b-is-my-holme]

I OWE YOU MY LIFE

[celticmoonbeam]

Going on the bucket list!!

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Ohmyglob

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Cuddle time

Your hand latched onto my hip Tiny hairs on your back tickling my lip Knee hooked around your leg Flinging my arm across your chest Your body anchored against mine The sun rising on our cuddle time

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Frankly, I am tired of pretending to be happy, tired of pretending that I have anything other than nothing inside of me.

[chocolatentropy-blog]

After forever, I've decided to try my hand at sketching again. Here's a rough draft of Professor Sherlock Holmes and student Molly Hooper in my Professor!lock AU (see Academe and Bacchanalia in my Sherlolly Dictionary series, and my fanfic Enchanted). I'll try to finish this up by next week, so you guys can see the final sketch.;)

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Enchanted: ii. Glass

The second part of my little Valentine’s special Sherlolly fic. I know I said it would be a two-part fic, but… heh. I’ll try my best to wrap it up by part three, but I make no promises. Professor Holmes has got quite a few things he’s struggling to deal with.:p Anyway, enjoy!^^

Sherlock Holmes was going mad.

That was the only explanation for his behavior these past weeks.

What was he thinking, slipping that invitation into her locker? And showing up like a stalker, just as she stood alone in the dark, pouncing on her like a predator…

Kissing her.

Then stalking off like a man pursued by demons.

Which he was, in a way. Except his demons came in the form of an angel named Molly Hooper.

And now, he was standing in front of her locker at 5:00 am in the morning, carrying a glass case that held a preserved rose, its petals a white as pure as Molly Hooper herself.

With hands that trembled only very slightly, he entered her locker combination (easy to deduce, really - her favorite number written on her jersey uniform for PE classes, followed by the last two digits of her year of birth), opened the door, took the briefest of moments to catalogue the contents of her locker (a family photo -Molly favors her mother, though her smile is her father's -stuck to the inside of the door, school books, a case holding pencils and pens of different colors, a yellow eraser, a small yellow pencil sharpener, and a six-inch ruler with a cat sticker on one end, and a leather-bound journal with a pink ribbon sticking out from between its pages), moved things around a bit to make space for the glass case before carefully placing it at the very middle, closed and relocked the door, and quickly made his way to his office before anyone chanced upon him standing in front of one of his students’ locker at a suspiciously early time of the morning.

Once inside his office, he shut the door and leaned against it. He lifted his hand to cover his eyes, massaging either temple with the thumb and middle finger.

He was a self-admitted sociopath.

Was he a pervert too?

He pushed himself off the door and moved to sit behind his desk. He stared at the lesson plan for the day, Cupid and Psyche vis-a-vis Beauty and the Beast, and chuckled sardonically. Yesterday, he talked about the Japanese traditional haiku. Now this. Molly was one of the brightest students he has ever had. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to make the connections, no matter how much her mind might tell her how improbable the conclusion was.

After all, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

But did he want her to know?

With a groan, he dropped his head into his hand, clutching at his hair.

He didn’t know the answer to that himself. He knew that it was, from society’s viewpoint, wrong. He was a fully grown man, a professional entrusted with the molding of these students’ minds. She was his student, and 10 years his junior to boot.

And yet, what he felt for her…

What did he feel for her?

He bounded up from his chair and started pacing in front of his desk.

What did he feel for Molly Hooper?

He was… fascinated by her, he would admit that. She was very bright, yet blind to her own light. In fact, it seemed that most people were. But then again, most people were idiots. But Molly wasn’t. She was different, more like him than she was like them. He knew that while she did not speak her thoughts out loud, she observed more than most. From her writings in class, he could tell that she had an insight into human nature that was advanced for her age -in fact, for most people of any age. She was kind, but she had a backbone. She would yield and give way most of the time, but she stood up for things she believed were worth putting up a fight for. She was giving to a fault, but had a strong moral compass. She was driven, but unwilling to step on others to achieve what she wanted. She was a study in contradictions, in the most beautiful way imaginable.

He also felt a fierce protectiveness towards her. She possessed a rare sort of innocence, untouched by the world and all its corruptive influence. It was so rare that he wanted to preserve it.

Yet at the same time, this dark, twisted part of him wanted to tarnish it. He clenched his fists. No. No. No. That night… That night was a mistake. It was a lapse in his much valued self-control. He cannot, must not touch her again, not in that way.

No matter how much he wanted to.

Once she reads that poem, she will know. Perhaps the poem might only plant the idea in her head, but after today’s lesson, she will know.

He will proceed with the lesson, but that’s as far as it would go. He would keep his distance, as he said in those verses, and be content with that.

Having settled this, he went to class in a more or less even mood. He was pretty determined to carry out his plan too, until he saw the heart-shaped box in Molly’s hand, and the hopeful glances that tall dark-haired classmate of hers -Tobias? No, Thomas, the one he has noticed has obviously been interested in her for a while now -kept throwing at her.

That was the exact moment, Professor Holmes was sure, his resolve flew out the classroom window, his reason following closely behind.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708407/chapters/21937856

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Enchanted: i. Rose

A Valentine’s Day special set in my Professor Sherlock and Student Molly AU :) This is part one of a two-part fic. The second part will be in Sherlock’s POV, I think.:p

Molly Hooper stared at the rose, and it stared back -or at least that’s what it seemed like to her.

When she opened her locker door that morning, she definitely did not expect to see a glass-encased rose, its petals pale as ivory, nestled among her books and sundry school supplies.

Sure, it was Valentine’s Day, but never in her sixteen years of existence had this day been anything other than an ordinary one for her. The only time she has ever received a Valentine was back in nursery, where a dark-haired boy whose name she could no longer recall gave her the ratty Valentine each of them had to make during art class, under their teacher’s supervision.

She looked around.

Students were milling about on the hallway, since it was a good ten minutes before the first bell, but she could not detect anyone who could be surreptitiously observing her.

She looked back at the rose, and noticed for the first time a small white square of paper at the foot of the glass case. Biting her lip, she took the card and flipped it over. On it, were two simple verses:

before he knew it

the Beast was enchanted by

the lovely white Rose

like the glass, he vowed

to shelter her innocence

and love from afar

Molly read the verse another time, then another, her cheeks heating up.

Could this really be for her? Surely there was some mistake. How could anyone even think she was lovely, much less be enchanted by her?

And for goodness’ sake, who could possibly know her locker combination?

Once more she went over the verses, and with a jolt realized that they were in haiku form. She counted the syllables in each line, and sure enough, they were in 5-7-5 counts. Just yesterday, Professor Holmes discussed haiku in class, so the lesson was still fresh in her mind.

Professor Holmes…

Molly shook her head. She was starting to think ridiculous thoughts again. That night at the party was a mistake, the mysterious stranger someone she is unlikely to ever meet again, and he could not possibly be who she fancied him to be.

She took her books, slammed her locker door shut, and headed to her first class, which was, as luck would have it, Literature.

As she neared her desk, her steps slowed down.

Thomas, the tall, dark-haired kid who sat behind her in most of her classes, was standing by her desk, holding a heart-shaped box. He was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting, his ears red.

Molly cleared her throat, and his head shot up. Upon seeing her, a flush crawled its way up from his neck to his cheeks.

“M-Molly, hi!”

“Uhm… Hello, Tom. Erm… You’re at my desk.”

He looked down at her desk as if seeing it for the first time, then, recovering himself, blurted, “Oh! Right, of course, right… I just… Well…” He thrust the box at her, and Molly stepped back to keep it from hitting her in the face. “W-will you be my valentine?”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Tom’s eyes kept darting back and forth between her and the ground, his face now violently red. Their classmates were staring at them, some of them jeering.

“Uhm…” She hesitantly reach out and took the box. She should be happy, really. Flattered, even. But why did her emotions feel so much like… disappointment?

“So… You must be the one who left the flower in my locker, then…”

This surprised him into looking back at her.

“Flower? What… I don’t know… I didn’t leave a flower at your locker.”

“Oh, but then…”

“Settle down, everyone.”

Molly’s spine stiffened at Professor Holmes’ deep, commanding voice. Around her, her classmates started settling into their desks. Tom shot her a look that was half worried, half hopeful, before shuffling off to his own desk.

For a moment, she stood there awkwardly holding the box of chocolates, not knowing quite what to do with it, before realizing that she was the only one not yet seated.

She look over her shoulder to see Professor Holmes regarding her with an amused expression. His gaze fell to the box in her hands, and his lips slowly set into a straight line, as all amusement faded from his eyes.

Was it just her imagination, or did his expression darken?

She took her seat, and chided herself for being silly.

“Today, we are going to discuss Cupid and Psyche, and draw the parallels between this work and Beauty and the Beast.”

Molly looked up to see Professor Holmes staring right at her. She frowned.

For the rest of the lesson, she couldn’t help but wonder, her rioting thoughts going places she knew were bordering dangerous territory.

AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9708407/chapters/21903473

[chocolatentropy-blog]

200 followers!

Yay! 200 followers! To celebrate, I am, for the first time, taking prompts!:D Just reply to this or message me or... I don't really know how this works.D: But prompts!!! And thank you guys! 200 yay!:3

[alsohaleyrose]

SIGNAL BOOST: PLEASE HELP ME SAVE MY SWEET LITTLE KITTY

Please Donate and reblog! Anything is appreciated.

https://www.gofundme.com/please-help-save-my-sweet-girl 

 Two days ago I came home to find my cat Fish in serious distress. She was having trouble walking and she wouldn’t lift her head. I immediately took her to an emergency clinic, and after 3 hours there, I was told to transfer her to an intensive care unit. I have been told that it appears that she was born with deformed kidneys and has been living with them for 9 years. She has developed kidney disease because of it. She also has a mass in her left kidney that requires further testing to determine exactly what it is. She’s severely dehydrated and has been on fluids and pain killers. 

 She’s a very tiny cat and has developed a heart murmur, they need to medicate and rehydrate her slowly, so they don’t flood her kidneys and make her condition worse. She has been in the ICU for the last 24 hours, and so far her treatment and care has cost me around $3200 The next 48 hours are going to be around another $3000. 

In the next few weeks Fish will need ongoing tests, medication and medical care. I don’t know how much the next few weeks will cost me, and I can probably handle long term care costs like special food and medicine but this was so sudden and unexpected. 

 I am only 22 years old and any savings I had will be gone. I need the funds as soon as possible, I’ve already had to pay 85% of the immediate costs as a deposit. Fish has been a part of my family for 9 years, since she was 4 weeks old, I raised her myself and I love her more than anything in the world. It’s so hard for me to put into words how important she is to me. And how much I love her. The relationship we have is very special. She has gotten me through middle school, high school and university. She is essentially a therapy cat for me.

 I have had anxiety and depression since I was a child, but having her with me has helped me more than anything else. I am so devastated and I can’t imagine losing her this suddenly (let alone at all). Everyone that has met her knows how sweet and loving she is, and they know what we mean to each other. 

 It is very possible that she can live another 5-10 years with this kidney disease, but for her to be able to live the long life she deserves, she needs this care right now. I am so grateful for anything you are able to donate. I don’t know how else I can pay for the treatment she needs immediately and in the near future and so I am reaching out to anyone who is willing to help. Every little bit will help and I would be so appreciative. thank you so much

 -Haley

https://www.gofundme.com/please-help-save-my-sweet-girl

https://www.gofundme.com/please-help-save-my-sweet-girl

[chocolatentropy-blog]

They're really not that heavy...

Just a crack-ish kind of ficlet that popped into my head. Enjoy.:)

Sherlock Holmes watched, bemused, as Molly Hooper hurried forward, wrapped two small hands around the metal bar, bent her knees, leaned back, and pulled.

  He had never seen anyone manage to make doors look as heavy as Molly just had.

  She looked over her shoulder at him, raising an eyebrow at his immobility.

  “Aren’t you coming in, Sherlock?”

  He knitted his brows.

  "Not just yet. Would you please step aside, Molly?”

  The pathologist huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “Oh for chrissakes Sherlock, just get in.”

  “Please, Molly? I would like to test something.”

  With a long-suffering glare, Molly relinquished her hold on the door, letting it swing closed, and stepped aside.

  Sherlock reached out one arm, wrapped his hand around the metal bar previously held by a much smaller pair of hands just a moment past, and pulled.

  The door swung open easily with him exerting just minimal effort.

  “It isn’t that heavy,” he said with a note of wonder.

  “Of course it isn’t,” she exclaimed. Then, hesitantly, “Sherlock… You’re not…”

  “High? Do stop being ridiculous, Molly. I think we’re past the days of you pretending to be less intelligent than we both know you are. I was simply wondering why you opened this door the way you did.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Molly blurted, her blush telling a different story.

  He quirked a brow at her.

  Annoyed, she glared up at him, cheeks still red.

  "Okay, Consulting Detective. How about you deduce why I do it like that?"

  She stuck her chin out and crossed her arms.

  Without missing a beat, he answered, "Efficiency, obviously."

  She shrugged.

  "Well there you go. You knew it all along, why ask?"

  He had the gall to roll his eyes like she was the exasperating one, the prick.

  "Because, Molly Hooper, that door is nowhere near heavy enough to merit much beyond minimal effort, so there's no reason to open it other than the normal way, and frankly you just look ridiculously adorable opening it the way you did."

  She blinked up at him.

  "What? What did you say?"

  "I said, that door is-"

  "No, the last bit."

  Another eyeroll from the manchild, and Molly Hooper's palm started itching, but she kept her temper in check.

  "I said, you just look ridiculous opening that door-"

  "Liar!"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You are a liar, William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

  "I beg your pardon, Margaret Anne Hooper."

  "That was not what you said. You had better repeat what you actually said or this first date is not happening."

  Sherlock sighed, but a corner of his mouth quirked upwards in a telltale smile.

  "Fine, Doctor Hooper," he drawled, his voice dropping to melting dark chocolate levels. His arm snaked around her waist, and she let him pull her closer, "I said, you look so absolutely adorable opening doors in that quirky little way of yours, that I'm tempted to let you open doors for me all the time just to watch you do it."

  She dimpled up at him.

  "Close enough. Now let's head in. I'm famished."

  Sherlock stepped forward, keeping her tucked against him as he pulled the door open. The smell of fish and chips greeted them and Molly's mouth watered.

  "Why did you not just wait for me to open the door for you anyway?" Sherlock asked once they were seated, his thumb running over her knuckles as they held hands atop the table.

  She smiled impishly.

  "It's the 21st century, my dear Sherlock. And really, doors aren't that heavy."

[chocolatentropy-blog]

The Girl Who Loved Death: Death Returns

Chapter 4 is up!:) The next time she saw Death, she was fifteen and grieving.   It was all the way across a crowded school yard, but no one can tell Molly that her eyes were deceiving her. There was no mistaking that wild, wild mess of dark chocolate curls, those striking eyes of a clear blue one could see from a mile away. He had grown much taller from the last time she saw him, so tall that he was nearly a head above most of the students milling around. And, as if these things weren't enough to make him stand out, he was also wearing a midnight blue coat that would never be seen on top of their standard uniform -no one in her school would be able to afford such a coat.   Oddly enough, despite all this, she seemed to be the only one who has noticed him.   Now that, Molly, she told herself, is just you being silly… Well, either that or he really is Death, as he claimed. She chortled to herself.   He effortlessly wove his way through the crowd, and not one of them spared him a passing glance. The whole time, his eyes bore into hers with single-minded purpose.   He stopped just shy of a foot in front of her. She could see that his face changed significantly as well. It was sharper, each singular feature more pronounced, etched in stark relief. He was still bone-pale, still hauntingly beautiful, but now he had an air of self-assurance, like he knew his place in the world, and that it was anywhere he chose to be.   She stood there in her scruffy shoes, her knee socks with the left pulled down lower than the right, her school vest worn soft from so many washings, her messy ponytail with strands escaping everywhere over her face and neck.   She stood there in all her adolescent awkwardness and offered this cool, composed stranger a lopsided, tentative smile.   "Hullo."   His face remained impassive as he held a gloved hand out towards her.   "Come with me, Molly Hooper. It is time."   She sighed, more in resignation than anything else. Her father had died nearly a year ago, but she was still in crippling grief. Since the cancer finally won and took his life, her fascination with death bordered on obsession. She found herself wondering everyday when her turn would come. She devoured books of pathology and performed "autopsies" on whatever poor animal corpse she could get her hands on. She got into taxidermy because, really, was that not the natural next step? She frequented the cemetery everyday and thought back to that one strange encounter with the boy who called himself Death, and hoped that he'd show up again.   And now he's finally here.   She placed her hand in his, and when he closed his fingers over hers, her small hand looked completely engulfed by his much larger one.   He led her back across the yard, towards the front gate, and briefly, she wondered why he felt the need to take her hand. She would have followed him unquestioningly had he just asked -or rather, commanded. But she didn't mind the warmth, the comfort it provided, the human contact she has not experienced in far too long.   Out front, a black limousine was waiting. Releasing her hand, Sherlock opened the door and motioned for her to get in, which she did wordlessly. He went in after her and rapped a knuckle on the roof.   "Are you not going to ask me where I intend to take you?" he asked, eyes flitting towards her briefly before he trained them back out the window.   She shrugged, realized he couldn't see, then said, "You're 'Death', aren't you? I think there's no question of where I'm going. I don't mind, to be honest. I've nothing left to do anyway."   "Wrong."   Surprised, she looked up at him, and found him staring at her with a frown on his face.   "It's quite the opposite, actually. I came for you because you have much left to do. More than you could have ever imagined." Suddenly, he smiled, and for the first time since they met, he looked like the boy she knew he was. She found herself smiling back. "Welcome, Molly Hooper, to an adventure." AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9294158/chapters/21438218

[chocolatentropy-blog]

Said I Love You But I Lied

A little one shot, set after the events of Season 4, particularly that one fandom-altering phone call.

  Tap. Tap. Tap.

Without moving any other part of his anatomy, Sherlock nervously shifted his eyes towards the woman beside him.

There was an air of agitation about her, which had definitely not been present up until a moment ago, and so he was anxious to know the reason for it.

That morning, he called Molly over to 221B to accompany him on yet another day of solving cases, as an apology for… the incident, and in an attempt to restore the easy companionship they once had and which, if he had to admit to himself, he terribly missed. Throughout the day, they both did their very best to act normal -or at least, as normal as it could get for either of them, considering how neither of them has ever been quite “normal” by society’s standards -around one another.

True, it had not exactly been the most comfortable day between the two of them. Nevertheless, they both attempted to mimic the rapport that existed between them during that first time she accompanied him on a day of case-solving.

They had been more or less successful, up until the shared cab ride back to the morgue (taking separate cars would have been ridiculous, seeing as how they were headed towards a single location -and they were friends, were they not?).

In fact, Sherlock could pinpoint the exact instance during the ride at which Molly started exhibiting signs of unrest: It was when the song currently filling the enclosed space first started playing.

This, of course, made absolutely no sense to Sherlock. How could one stupid song possibly affect her so?

“You came to me like the dawn through the night, just shinin’ like the sun…”

Molly shifted in her seat, gaze moving back and forth between the driver and the window, out towards the street. Her fingers tap-tap-tapped against her thigh.

“Out of my dreams and into my life. You are the one, you are the one…”

She was very tense now, causing an answering tension to seize Sherlock’s muscles. He still could not understand why, but he could sense that he was about to find out soon.

“Said I loved you but I lied…”

A sharp intake of breath, and it took Sherlock a split second to realize that it was his. The sound caused Molly’s head to whip towards him, so fast he was almost afraid she’d crack her neck.

“‘Cause this is more than love I feel inside…”

He kept his eyes trained forward, and she fixed hers at the back of the driver’s head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her fingers still drumming a tattoo on her thigh.

“Said I loved you but I was wrong, ‘cause love could never ever feel so strong…”

“P-please pull over. I’ll get off here.“

Her clear voice startled him into looking at her. She was worrying her lip between her teeth, but her gaze was determined.

The driver hesitated. They were still quite a ways from the destination they gave him when they got on.

“Are you sure, miss?”

“Yes, please.”

The driver pulled to the curb, and Molly could not get out fast enough, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

Sherlock hurriedly thrust a few pound notes into the cabbie’s hand and spilled out onto the pavement to chase after the pathologist.

“Molly,” he called. This made her pick up her strides, but as his legs were much longer than hers, it was no time at all before he managed to catch up.

Even as he drew up alongside her, she remained determined to ignore him and kept walking briskly. He grasped her upper arm and dug his heels into the ground, bringing them both to a stop. Still, she kept her gaze firmly fixed to the ground. Her fists were clenched, her nostrils flaring, jaw tense and lips stretched in a thin line.

“Molly.”

She lifted her eyes at the desperation in his voice, and he saw the unspoken question in them, the confusion, the hurt.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

She searched his face, brows knitted in confusion.

“Molly, I didn’t,” he repeated.

She closed her eyes, as if in pain, and shook her head.

“I don’t understand… Sherlock, you didn’t what?”

“I didn’t lie, Molly.”

Her eyes remained shut, even as her whole body started to tremble.

“Please, Sherlock, don’t…” It was barely above a whisper, and his heart fractured at how broken she sounded. But he knew he had to speak his thoughts now, or he would never get the chance to speak them ever.

“No, Molly, listen. I have lied for so long, lied to myself about my feelings. It was at that time, at that moment, that I finally stopped. It took me saying it out loud to realize that those three words were the most honest thing I have said in a long time. I was not lying to you then, and I am not lying to you now. I love you, Molly Hooper. I love you.”

A tear spilled out from beneath closed eyelids, followed by another, and another.

Sherlock reached out to wipe them away, laying his hand on her cheek.

Finally, she opened her eyes, and he could feel himself being pulled into them.

She reached up to lay her hand on his, turning her head into his palm and pressing a kiss against it, all the while never breaking eye contact.

“No more lies?”

His breath hitched, and he felt an odd tightness in his chest, a stinging in his eyes.

“No more lies,” he promised.

  AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8909758/chapters/21372941