A/N Hello my dear friends!! This one-shot is written by my dear friend, Turtle, though I supplied the prompt. Turtle has another story on my account, Home. It's a Me Before You one-shot. I hope you guys enjoy this one-shot and here's a box of tissues.

I don't own anything, the creator(s) of Sherlock do.

Meant It

By Turtle

"Leaving? Don't be ridiculous, she isn't leaving. Not for good, anyway."

"Yes she is, mate. I spoke to her today. She's leaving for Paris tomorrow."

"You didn't try to stop her?"

"Stop her? She's my friend, Sherlock. She deserves to be happy."

"She's happy here. I'll go speak with her."

"You should want her to be happy. Besides, I'm not sure even you can change her mind."

"Then I'll give it all I can."

The persistent ringing of the doorbell woke Molly. She glanced at her bedside clock, blinking. . Groaning, she got up, disturbing Toby, who let out an indignant meow.

She opened the door to see a disheveled Sherlock standing on the stoop, swaying slightly.

"Moll-y-y-y," he slurred in between hiccups. Drunk. Of course.

"Sherlock, what in..." she shook her head. "Why are you here?"

He stared into her eyes, and for a moment she almost became the stuttering girl she was when she first him, infatuated with a man who would never love her back.

"You're leaving." He said, and looked uncharacteristically puzzled. "Why?"

Molly put two fingers against her right temple and sighed. "I want a nice holiday in Paris. A hospital there is interested in hiring me. I'll have better opportunities."

"But that's not all of it." Sherlock replied seriously.

"Fine! I can't stay here anymore."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, Sherlock!" Her throat tightened and she swallows, blinks away the tears. I can't stay here when the one person I love more than anything will never love me back.

He stares at her and seems genuinely saddened. She's only seen the look once before, at John's wedding. When he realized he'd be alone.

He's drunk, she reminds herself. And yet, his words slip back into her mind. I love you.

"Molly, I..."

"Don't. Please, just don't." She folds her arms in front of her, and she finds she can't look him in the eye.

He ignores her, and his slurring increases slightly. "You...you deserve more. I'm sorry...so sorry."

"You always say that...but nothing ever changes." She says quietly. Toby appears by her feet and she lifts him up, sinking her fingers deep into his fur.

He doesn't hear her and continues. "I...I want to be..." he's searching for words now, he's more drunk that she realized, "enough. I want to be a better person for you. Y-you deserve it."

"Sherlock...please stop. Please." She's openly crying now. Because she knows it's not true. He doesn't know what he's saying.

"I promise, Molly. Don't leave..." He passes out at her feet then, his head landing on one of her cat slippers. She debates about calling John to come get him, but decides against it, and awkwardly drags him to the couch. After managing to haul him up, she disappears back into her bedroom for an extra blanket and drapes it over him, and fetches a trash can, just in case.

She stands there a moment longer, smiles sadly, and whispers softly, "Goodbye, Sherlock."

Sherlock wakes up laying on a sofa, with a soft yellow blanket wrapped around him. He blinks in confusion, and sits up, plucking a hair from the blanket. Brownish black, a feline hair, similar to the color of...Toby? He glances quickly around the room and his eyes widen with the realization.

He's in Molly Hooper's flat.

Why is he in Molly's flat? His head throbs as he tries to recall the previous night's events.

"She's leaving for Paris tomorrow...besides, I'm not sure even you can change her mind." John's voice echoes through his mind.

It all falls back into place. He'd gone to think of what he could say to make her change her mind. Had gotten a drink. Evidently, he'd had more than one. What had he said to her?

It comes back in a rush:

Molly was standing in the entryway, wearing striped pajamas and ridiculous slippers, apparently to represent felines. He'd asked her why she was leaving. She'd said something about better opportunities. That hadn't been all of it, he could tell.

"I can't stay here anymore."

"Why?"

"I just can't, Sherlock!" Her eyes were red rimmed with tears that were threatening to spill. She looked so sad, so pained. What hurt most, he realized, was that she looked like she was used to it.

He was rambling now, but every word he said, he meant. "You deserve more. I'm so sorry."

"I want to be enough. I want to be a better person for you. You deserve it."

"Please don't leave..."

Then everything had gone black.

"Molly!" He searches the flat for signs of her, and even takes a chance and calls for Toby. But the cat carrier is gone, her closet is empty...

She's gone.

He knows there's not much chance he can catch her before she leaves, but just like he told John, he'll give it all he can to find her and keep her there.

Sherlock doesn't think he's ever run as fast down a flight of stairs. The cabbie took what felt like hours to get him to the station, and he only has five minutes before her train is scheduled to leave. He scans the crowd, feeling more panic than he thinks he's ever felt.

She's there.

He sees her long brown ponytail, wearing one of her ridiculous jumpers, and he can see a cat carrier in one hand, a suitcase in the other.

"Molly!" He shouts. She whips around, startled, and stares at him disbelievingly, then walks through the crowd to meet him.

"Sherlock, what are you doing here?" She hisses. "I told you, I'm leaving. I can't stay here, you know that."

"Please, Molly. I meant every word I said, I swear it. I..."

She cuts him off. "You were drunk! How am I..." her voice cracks and her eyes lower, "How am I supposed to believe you?"

Sherlock stares at her, and realizes that behind her question is more pain that he realized. He'd lost her trust from the day Eurus made that phone call.

"Why are you doing this, why are you making fun of me?"

She thought he was mocking her again. When he glances down at her, she is staring up at him defiantly, waiting to hear him give some excuse. Instead, he clears his throat, and says what needs to be said. What he should have said long ago.

"Molly...I have been a horrible friend to you. I have insulted you, I have used you, I have caused you more pain than I believed I was capable of inflicting, and for that I apologize. You deserve more...you deserve better. Everything I said, I meant it. I lost you the day I told you I loved you, and when I lost you...I realized I had also lost a part of myself. I'm not a good man, Molly, because I don't know how to be. But you...you are everything that is good in my world. I want to change for you. Just please don't leave. I believed love was not an advantage. If it is...then I am at an extreme disadvantage."

Molly watches him, and the words she says are a flashback to the day he lost her. "Say it, then. Say it like you mean it."

"I love you."

A/N So...did the tissues help? Please review, follow, favorite...please. Anywho, hope you guys enjoyed this one-shot! Again, please review, follow, and favorite!

Goodbye and may the fandom be with you.

~Booknerd