A fluffy little Sherlock/Molly drabble. My first fic, hopefully with more to come. Please review and enjoy! =)


Her face is peaceful in sleep. Breathe in, out, in again.

He watches her for some time, mesmerized. For months, she has fed him, sheltered him, and put up with all of his ill humors. She has feared him and feared for him.

She loves him.

Her eyes, closed, hold none of the timidity and anxiety that they do in the daytime.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reaches out a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face. She mumbles something in her sleep and rolls over.

"What do you need?"

"You."

He hadn't meant to say that. Not exactly. It was supposed to be "Help," but somehow it had come out-

He leans down, kisses her softly on the cheek, and leaves the room.

She doesn't know.

He hadn't meant to say it, but he meant what he said.