Well, okay, I couldn't wait to write this chapter...considering it's the last installment of this story. Don't worry...it's a good one...and probably longer. We'll see. YAY WINGING IT! ;) (Just kidding)

Okey dokey, I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! NOOOOOOOOOOOOthing has changed in that aspect. Dang.

Enjoy this chapter, dears!


"Sherlock, I don't have cancer." She finished, a coy and shy smile gracing her face. Sherlock's eyes popped, as he looked over her.

"How do you know that?" He asked sternly. Molly shied away a bit, before sighing and turning back.

"I got a call the other day from Mike. He said something about the new intern confusing the names on the charts. Apparently 'Cooper' is the new 'Hooper.'" She said with a smile, shrugging her shoulders. Her grin dissipated as she looked at his confused face.

"Sherlock? Are you...you're not angry...are you? I...I tried to tell you, before..." She was getting worried, when he cut her off midstream.

"It was you on the phone. With Mike. He was talking to you. 'She'll be so pleased, won't she?' He didn't mean you, he meant your mother. Of course. 'Thank you for being so understanding...' Then when he tried to tell me you already knew when I asked him to keep it a secret so I could tell you. Of course. So stupid." Sherlock worked out the missing pieces in front of her, placing the last of how he had missed it in his mind. When he looked up, her eyes were wide.

"You knew? You knew and you weren't going to tell me?" She asked incredulously. Sherlock sighed, his head dropping down, before he solemnly nodded in confirmation.

"Sherlock, why were you keeping it a secret? When were you going to tell me this?" Molly crossed her arms at this point, waiting for his immediate answer. The ashamed detective looked slowly up at her, before glancing away again. He mumbled quietly, making Molly shake her head.

"No no. I deserve to know. When. Were. You. Going. To. Tell. Me?" Her voice was firm, strong as she took a step closer to him with each passing word. He huffed out a sigh, before his head flicked up to gaze at her.

"After we completed this trip. After we completed the list. After I was sure that you weren't giving up on your precious life, Molly." He stated, his breath heaving a bit as his emotions flushed out into the open air around them. Sherlock turned away, preparing to walk, no run, away from his guilt and her soon to be hatred. However, he felt the smooth curve of her hand pulling on his arm, beckoning him to turn around.

"Sherlock? You...you wanted to help with my bucket list, even when you knew I had more time?" She asked carefully. His only response was a nod, still not turning to see her. He soon felt a light crash into his back, and two thin and frail arms tightly hugging around his stomach. He looked down to see her hands intertwined with each other at his middle, clinging to his shirt as she embraced him. A deep sigh of relief shot through Sherlock's entire body, and he smiled a bit to himself, before turning around. The rain drops had just started to fall onto their heads, and so they began back toward the car. Molly's face was glowing with happiness as she looked over to him. The cool breeze blew past them both, causing Molly to shiver once more. Sherlock chuckled, before grabbing her hand in his own and forcing them to race back to the car, just as the showering rain beat down onto their skin. They were only slightly wet by the time they got into the car, and they quickly slammed the doors shut. Sherlock reached back into the back seat, pulling up his suit jacket, and covered Molly with it. She smiled, her teeth chattering from the cold. They were soon on the road, driving back to the warm buildings and electricity of London.


Just an hour outside the city, they had stopped to refuel. Sherlock had gone in to pay, leaving Molly to her own devices. It was only natural that she would get out and stretch her legs. The suit coat the hung from her shoulders was much too big for her, but it kept her warm enough. And it smelled like him. She decided to walk around the car a bit, stretching her arms high into the air, and standing on her tip toes, alleviating the tension that had coiled up inside her muscles. As she descended back to her normal posture, her hands flopped into the pockets of Sherlock's suit. As she pulled them back out, a piece of paper came tumbling out with the button of the sleeve. Molly chased it down as the light breeze blew it around the station's parking lot. Finally, she caught it, and clutched it in her hands. As she unfolded it, her face paled with the dark and bold lettering at the top.


She felt all sorts of things collide and mix in her stomach and her chest. Confusion. Anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Stupid.

Molly didn't think she could face him, and so she began doing the first impulsive thing that came to mind. Molly began to walk home. Oh, she had only managed to get about 20 feet down the road before Sherlock caught up with her.

"Molly! What the hell are you doing?" He asked loudly, his baritone carrying on the wind like it owned it. She stopped, and turned to face him. Her look was poisonous.

"This was not part of our list, Sherlock. Why the bloody hell do you have this list?" She asked, tossing the wadded up paper at his head. It hit him square in the face, before bouncing off and landing in his awaiting hand. He looked wholly confused, before his demeanor switched entirely, showing just as much venom as she had.

"Yes, this wasn't part of our compiled list, you are right. But it has everything to do with me, Molly. That first item was scratched out when I found it. Your first dance. I gave that to you. The rest are things that you've wanted in your life. Things far more meaningful and important than a bloody camping trip or visit to that terrible wax museum. This is the important list, your real list. I felt if I were going to help you complete this task, if I were to truly convince you of the things you'd be missing, it would be on. That. List. And I was right. Now, Helped you complete two of the tasks on there. Let me help with the rest. I can't guarantee anything, and you know that I can't. But Molly, I want to try." Sherlock's tone was biting. His conviction heavy in the words that he practically spat at her. Molly was watching him bitterly as he approached her, until she was finally looking up at him. He towered over her, mere inches away from her face.

"What do you mean, you've helped me with two? That dance thing was the only one I've scratched off. I've not even looked at that note since that night, and now I guess I know why. Because it was missing." Molly said through gritted teeth. Sherlock unfolded the crinkled paper, before shoving it into her hand.

"Read it." He bit out, before pulling away from her. Molly looked down at the note through her teary eyes, to see the note in its new state.

1. My first Dance.

Crossed out.

2. Be held by someone who loves me.

Crossed out.


Molly looked over it again and again. The line that she hadn't put there, crossed right over the top of her second item. It took her almost five times reading it over before it finally clicked in her head.

Oh my god.

"Sherlock?" the small woman murmured, looking up at him. He was now about a foot away from her, his hands ruffling manically through his chocolatey curls. The stress and...insecurity, on his face was almost too much for her to bear. She looked at the note again, making sure the line was still there.

"Sherlock! You look at me right now!" Molly yelled out in her angry voice. He looked up, shocked at her still apparent state of rage. However, he wasn't met with a piercing glare, or a slap to the face. He wasn't even greeted with more cursing or insistent yelling. Instead, Sherlock looked up, and was instantly being pulled down by the wrinkles in his shirt to Molly's level. He half expected a knee to the groin from the way it started. Still, no. The only pain he felt was the blood rushing past his ears as it left his brain, all caused by the searing kiss that she was giving him. He had tried to assert some train of thought, anything really. Sadly, she had robbed him of his ability to think, with the way her teeth softly gnawed on his lower lip. Her tongue passing over the slight grooves left behind had given Sherlock no help in the area of control either, and when he heard a honk from a passing car, he realized that she had backed them up to the side of the nearby building. Finally, after the lack of oxygen was in detrimental need of replenishment, Molly pulled away.

"You...you love me?" She asked, her voice still sounding angry with disbelief. Her breath was short, but it still managed to push out the importance of her question. Sherlock grabbed her gently by her shoulders, and leaned down so his forehead rested with hers.

"Molly Hooper, you make it damned near impossible not to love you. I've loved you for far longer than I've realized, and I intend to spent an enormous amount of time making up for it, list or no list." He muttered with a gravelly tone, his air supply not quite returned to normal. Molly smiled at this, and gave him a much kinder kiss, one devoid of the desperation its predecessor had contained.


"Yes, Molly?" Sherlock asked in return.

"Can we go back to London now? There's a few items on that list I think we could work on." She said with a coy, yet seductive grin. Sherlock was quick with pulling her back toward the car, before getting in and driving back to the large city, his foot a bit harder on the pedal than before.


Molly curled up into his side, clinging to him for warmth, and for the simple fact that she could. Sherlock was currently staring at the ceiling, his sharp expression relaxed, looking quite pleased with himself, as well as the beautiful woman sharing his bed. Soon, Molly rolled out of the covers, and crossed the room. Sherlock sat up a bit, watching her nude form bend over to pick something off the floor. He smiled as he knew what she was going for.

Soon, Molly returned to the large bed and comforter, note and pen in hand. She smiled as she uncapped it, and dragged the ball point across the third item.

3. Feel truly beautiful for once.

She was about to drag it through the smaller sized note that had been lightly written on the page further down, when Sherlock snagged the pen from her grip.

"Hey!" She started, before she was cut off with his lips on hers. He kissed her slowly, just as he pulled the pen across the item in question, crossing it off the list as well.

"I'd like to do the honors on that one." He growled lowly into her ear, before pulling the note from her hand as well, setting it aside for later. Molly chuckled, before allowing him to show her a few new ways to live.


AAAAAAAAAAAANNNND...that's the end! I hope you liked it a lot! I had a Moffat moment earlier in this chapter, where I very well could have killed Molly off, just as an evil final plot twist. But this story was upon request from my dearest Aditi, and she DID specify a happy ending...so you have her to thank for the good fortunes. :D I hope you enjoyed it, leave me a final review so I know what you all thought!

I just wanted to thank you all so much for reading and reviewing, as well as following and favoriting both the story and me as an author. That's just really amazing, and I know I can never get down all the names of all of you who have supported me, both new readers and old. You're just, so spectacular, and I am so glad to have you as friends! :D

Thanks again! Look for more stories coming soon, because boy howdy, the plot bunnies are just GOING AT IT lately! Lol. Right, LATERS LOVELIES!