A/N: After watching "The Final Problem," I can safely say I'm obsessed with Sherlock and Molly's call. So, here's my take on it. From "Hello, Sherlock..." to Molly's "I love you," all of the dialogue is taken directly from the episode.

Disclaimer: Not mine, it all belongs to the BBC.


Molly Hooper wasn't normally the type of person to believe in bad omens, but considering the events of the day, she should have stayed in bed. First, she woke up to the realization that the batteries in her alarm clock were dead and she was going to be an hour late for work. Her bad morning continued with a cold shower and a plumber who wasn't answering his phone.

Traffic was horrendous, the rest of her morning was spent in a mind-numbing staff meeting, and the afternoon was drowned in a sea of paperwork. By the time she got home that evening, all she wanted was a cuppa and the bodice-ripper she'd purchased over the weekend. If the man on the cover vaguely resembled a certain consulting detective, well, who would know?

She put the kettle on to boil, her thoughts wandering to the detective in question. His last text had informed her that 221B had been bombed and he was staying with her until the repairs were completed. Damn him. No "Everybody's fine, no one's hurt." I had to find that out from Greg. I should just change the locks. Of course, he'd think nothing of just picking the new lock. Having him here, his presence overwhelming, is too much for me. I love him like I've never loved anyone but he will never, ever love me back. Her mood even worse now than before, she bent over the sink with her head in her hands. You can't cry. You can't. Sherlock's not worth crying over. A traitorous little voice in her head (which sounded suspiciously like Jim) asked, Are you sure about that?

Her mobile started ringing. She straightened up, turned around, and looked at it. Of course, it's Sherlock calling, she thought darkly as she went to the counter and started cutting up a lemon. He always knows when I'm thinking about him. Well, he can just leave a bloody voicemail. She got the tin of tea leaves from the cabinet and glanced at the still ringing phone. Just leave a message, Sherlock. She continued making tea.

The phone finally stopped ringing. 1 missed call, 0 voicemails, according to the display. She was squeezing the lemon wedge into her tea when the phone started to ring again. She picked it up. It was Sherlock, unsurprisingly. I know I'm going to regret this… She pressed the button. "Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent 'cause I'm not having a good day." He won't ask why, he never asks why.

"Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me and not ask why."

He's speaking too fast. Is he still looking for the bomber? Or… She sighed, "Oh God… Is this one of your stupid games?"

"No, it's not … a game. I … need you to help me."

He almost sounds nervous. Sherlock Holmes is never nervous about anything. "Look, I'm not at the lab." And after the day I've had, I'm not going back tonight.

"It's not about that."

"Well, quickly, then." There was only silence from the other end. "Sherlock, what is it? What did you want?"

"Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words."

"What words?" She couldn't help smiling over the strangeness of his request. What is he up to?

"I love you."

She pulled her phone away from her face to glare at it, wishing the man himself were there so she could throw it in his face. "Leave me alone."

"Molly, please, no, don't hang up! Do not hang up!"

"Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?" He knows how I feel about him. Is he trying to torture me? Well, if he is, I have no other secrets to spill.

"Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me. Molly, this is for a case. It's a sort of experiment."

Jesus… "I'm not an experiment, Sherlock."

"No, I know you're not an experiment, you're my friend. We're friends. But, please, just say those words for me."

"Please, don't do this. Just … just don't do it." Sherlock, I'm begging you…

"It's very important. I can't say why. But I promise you it is."

"I can't say it. I can't … I can't say that to you." Does he want to make me cry? Is that what this is?

"Of course you can. Why can't you?"

"You know why." God, I sound like a child. Stop making me feel this way, Sherlock.

"No, I don't know why."

God, I hate it when he's deliberately being obtuse. "Of course you do."

"Please, just say it."

"I can't, not to you…" She could feel the lump in her throat from her pent-up emotions.

"Why?"

"Because … because it's true. It … it's true, Sherlock. It's always…." God, I'm going to cry…

"If it's true, just say it anyway."

He really doesn't care. "You bastard."

"Say it anyway."

"You say it. Go on, you say it first."

"What?"

"Say it. Say it like you mean it." I have nothing to lose now. I might as well hear him say it before I die of embarrassment.

"I … I love you. I love you. Molly? Molly, please…"

He can't possibly mean that … can he? He sounds sincere, but there's never been a better actor than Sherlock Holmes. "I love you," she whispered into the phone. The line immediately disconnected. "What?" She tried calling him back but the call went straight to voicemail. "Sherlock, it's me… Whatever experiment you're doing, you can't … you can't leave things between us like that. We … we have to talk about this. Please, call me back…"

Tears were running freely down her face now. She waited for Sherlock to call her back. After ten minutes, she grabbed her forgotten tea and her mobile then went into her sitting room and sat in her favorite armchair. Toby immediately jumped onto her and settled in her lap. Still, she waited, her eyes never leaving the phone, the strange, heartbreaking conversation playing over in her mind on an endless loop.

She must have fallen asleep at some point because the next thing she knew, she was waking up in her darkened sitting room to the sound of the front door unlocking. Knowing it could only be one person, she turned on the nearby lamp with a shaking hand. She heard the front door open then footsteps walking through the foyer. Molly tried to show no emotion on her face, but she knew that was futile since her cheeks were tear-stained and her skin was blotchy from all the crying. Still, she had to show some strength, some sign that he didn't completely break her.

Sherlock came into the sitting room, his eyes seeking her out immediately. He still had on his Belstaff and he was trailing mud and grass from his shoes but Molly didn't care. All that mattered to her in that moment was the look in his eyes. It was the look of a lost man who had finally found his way home. He staggered to her like it had taken all his energy just to make it to her house and now he had none to spare. He dropped to his knees in front of her, picked up a not-happy Toby and deposited him on the floor, then lowered his head to her khaki-covered lap and started to sob.

"I love you," he managed to say between sobs. "I love you, Molly…"

Speechless, all Molly could do was stroke his black curls with a gentle hand as she made soothing nonsense sounds. When he had calmed down and was sitting back on his haunches, she slid off the chair and knelt in front of him, both of his hands in hers.

"You love me?" she asked softly, barely believing what she'd heard.

Sherlock nodded, and she could see the truth of it in his blue-green eyes. "I do, Molly. I love you. It may have taken reconnecting with my long-lost sister to realize it, but it's true."

She stared at him. "Sister?"

He explained everything to her, start to finish, then went back to their conversation on the phone. "After you told me to say it first, I realized I loved you after I said it. That's why I had to say it again. I didn't want you to think I was only saying it to make you say it. I needed you to understand…"

"I do now, Sherlock," Molly said softly. She gently wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Sherlock buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent. "I've been such a fool," he whispered against her skin.

"If you were a fool, then so was I. I honestly thought you knew how I felt."

He lifted his head and leaned back enough to gaze at her. "I knew you fancied me when we first met. But I thought that after everything that's happened, especially in the past year or so, there was no way you could still love me."

"Nothing will make me stop loving you, Sherlock," Molly said softly but firmly.

His response was a kiss that took her breath away.