The same haunting refrain of "You didn't win, you lost," stayed with Sherlock, keeping time with his slow footsteps as he trod the familiar road to his favourite fish Shop and received his usual extra large sized portion.

He returned home, grateful for the distraction shortly thereafter provided by John's fiancée, Mary. Calculating the best way to find and rescue Jon from a bonfire had required all of his deductive skill and enabled him to push the confusing events of that day into a corner of his mind.

One good thing did come out of that day though. Sherlock had lost Molly, not that he had technically ever really had her, he was thinking more in terms of losing her romantic interest in him, but he had restored his friendship with John.

It was indeed fortunate that his thoughts were preoccupied with who could have put John in the bonfire, as well as the expected underground network attack on London. These concerns kept Sherlock's attention until the threat was revealed and Lord Moran apprehended for his attempt to blow up the Palace of Westminster. It was ironic, really, that the whole case had gone back to what Shilcott had been referring to with the disappearing man, who had turned out to be Lord Moran.

But that night, as Sherlock lay in bed, he allowed himself to dwell on the hurt he had felt when he had seen Molly's engagement ring. He knew that he felt it so acutely, not because he was merely attracted to her and had been denied the opportunity of getting to know her better, in a more personal way, but because he, Sherlock Holmes, was in love with her.

I'm in love with Molly Hooper, he acknowledged to himself, and once again, those words of "You didn't win, you lost," came into his head. He lay awake for some time, grieving over that loss. But he was Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective, and he would carry on. Nobody had to ever know that for a short time he had dared to hope for someone to love him for himself, the man, rather than the famous detective. With that resolve, he finally fell into a troubled sleep.

The following morning, John popped in for a visit and made a suggestion. "Seeing as you and I have reconciled our differences, and I am a newly engaged man, how about we have a little celebration this afternoon?"

Sherlock was seated comfortably in his chair as usual. He really wasn't in the mood to celebrate. Despite his resolve of the night before, he still felt the bitter wounds of loss and wanted to lick them, alone. "Not really in the mood for a celebration right now, John."

John gave him a look of surprise. "You are usually so excited when a case has been wrapped up, and this was a big one. Are you bored already?"

Sherlock lowered his gaze and tapped his fingers idly on the arm of his chair. "Not bored. Just tired, I guess."

John frowned. "This isn't like you, Sherlock. Come on, a little celebration will be fun and it will lift your spirits. We can invite Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and even Molly. Now that you're back, I expect you will be working alongside her at the hospital again quite often. Mrs. Hudson mentioned that she was here the day before yesterday."

Sherlock looked directly at John then. "If you're going to invite Molly, you had better invite her fiancé as well." He tried to keep the slightly bitter note out of his voice. No point in John knowing what an idiot he was to have allowed himself to fall in love with a woman after having told his friend years earlier that he was married to his work.

John's mouth dropped open. "She's engaged? When did this happen? How did you find out?"

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "I found out two days ago, when you weren't talking to me and I needed an assistant. That's why she was here." He continued, trying to keep his voice light, unaffected. "No idea when she got engaged, nor do I care." That at least was the truth, he didn't care when it had happened, only that it had happened at all.

John blew out a breath. "Quite a lot can happen in a couple of years I guess."

"Indeed." Sherlock carefully avoided John's eyes again.

"So uh, yeah, I'll just send out some texts then. Three o'clock okay?"

"Whatever." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. He didn't relish the idea of meeting Molly's fiancé, if he came, but he supposed it would be interesting to see who had supplanted himself in her affections. Perhaps too, seeing the man himself would help him to gain some closure.

That afternoon, the little party was assembled in the sitting room, except for Molly who was apparently running late. John had said she had accepted the invitation.

Champagne had been poured and Sherlock was about to get another bottle of it when his phone rang. He excused himself and went to his bedroom. It was Mycroft, bemoaning the fact that he had been subjected to the indignity of attending a matinee of Les Misérables with their parents, begging Sherlock to give him a reprieve. That was definitely not going to happen. "Nothing I can do to help," he said, ending the call in the middle of Mycroft's moaning complaints as John appeared.

"Come on, you'll have to go down. They want the story."

"In a minute." The reporters could at least wait until he had finished pouring the champagne. He grabbed the bottle and popped the cork, then picked up a glass for himself on his way back into the sitting room, wondering what was keeping Molly. Maybe the reporters were making it difficult for her to get in? Mrs. Hudson had said the door was unlocked so she would be able to let herself and her fiancé in. What was the man's name anyway? Had she even mentioned it during their conversation at the bottom of the stairwell?

Sherlock allowed the wedding conversation to drift around him until Mary said, "You will be there, Sherlock?"

"Weddings, not really my thing." He heard the door open and moved to stare out the window. He knew it was Molly, and he dreaded the thought of seeing her fiancé for the first time.

"Hello everyone." Molly's voice was cheerful. Sherlock swallowed, knowing he was going to have to turn around and be civil to the new man. But at least he could distract himself first with those reporters he could see down in the street.

He turned and said, "Ready?" to John, then looked over to where Molly was standing just inside the door. His eyes widened slightly. Where was her fiancé?

"Champagne?" Lestrade asked of Molly and she answered in the affirmative, while Sherlock walked past her, his thoughts in a whirl, even as John followed.

Once the reporters had been satisfied and sent on their way, Sherlock and John headed back upstairs. When they reached the landing, Sherlock asked, "Didn't you invite Molly's fiancé as well?"

"I did invite him. No idea why he isn't here. Perhaps he was busy." Sherlock nodded and moved to open the door when John's words stopped him. "Come to think of it, when she responded, she just said, 'I'll be there', not 'we'll be there.'"

Hope flared briefly in Sherlock's heart at that. But he was not going to jump to any conclusions. He opened the door and stepped into the sitting room. Molly was sitting on the sofa next to Mary and it sounded as if they were discussing wedding plans. Perhaps they were comparing notes.

She looked up as he entered and their eyes met. Something in her expression filled him with a sudden surge of optimism. For the first time, he felt he could see her, inside her. She did care; to what extent he wasn't completely sure, but it was enough that he made a decision then and there that he was going to fight for her if he had to, not just stand idly by while she married another man. Her hands were in her lap so he was unable to see her engagement ring.

First though, he had to know where things stood, and whether a fight would be necessary. He attempted a nonchalant smile, even as John closed the door behind them. "Molly, I thought you would be bringing your fiancé."

Everyone looked surprised at his words, except John who of course knew she was engaged.

Molly flushed slightly and twisted her fingers together, and suddenly, Sherlock saw there was no engagement ring on her finger just before the confirming words escaped her mouth. "Tom and I broke up a couple nights ago. It wasn't working for me."

Sherlock had a sudden flashback to her saying the same words years earlier when he had questioned why she had removed her lipstick. He blinked, trying to clear the long ago memory and process this new information. She broke up with him right after we spent the day together, he thought and exhilaration spread through him. Molly's eyes met his again and he could feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest. Perhaps there would be no need to fight for her after all, just to claim her for his own.

Mrs. Hudson insisted on Sherlock and John telling the story of what had happened the previous night and Sherlock explained, saying also that Molly had been with him on the visit to Shilcott's flat where he had seen Lord Moran entering a Tube compartment and not exiting it. Occasionally as he talked, his eyes drifted towards Molly, and each time her eyes were fixed on him intently.

Afterwards, talk returned to John and Mary and initial plans for their wedding. Sherlock felt impatient, wishing he could just speak with Molly privately.

At last, Mrs. Hudson stood. "This has been a lovely afternoon, but I think it's time for me to go home and have some dinner."

With that, Lestrade also stood. "I should go too, I'm on the late shift tonight at the Yard, so I should probably try to get a couple hours of sleep beforehand."

And then it seemed everyone was leaving at once. John looked at Molly and asked, "Can we give you a ride home, Molly? We brought Mary's car."

Molly opened her mouth to respond, but Sherlock quickly interjected. "Actually, I would like a quick word with Molly before she leaves."

John looked at Sherlock, then Molly. "Well, we can wait a bit, if you like."

Sherlock folded his arms. "I think I know how to hail a taxi for Molly, so that will not be necessary." Bloody hell, John was a thick as a brick sometimes. Couldn't he see Sherlock wanted some private time with Molly?

John opened his mouth to protest, but Mary took his arm. She apparently understood better than John did that Sherlock wanted to talk to Molly alone. "Come on, love. I'm sure Sherlock can take care of seeing that Molly gets home safely." She looked at Sherlock then and was that - a wink? He couldn't be sure.

With that, she tugged on John's arm and pulled him out of the flat, and they followed the already departed Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade.

Sherlock watched them descend the stairs and waited until he heard the outer door close before he closed his own front door and turned.

Molly was hovering nearby, biting her lip as she always did when she was nervous. "So, uh, what did you want to talk about, Sherlock?"

As if you didn't know, he thought, and stepped a little closer towards her. "I would like to know the reason why you broke things off so precipitately with your fiancé."

She swallowed nervously and her gaze flicked from his face to the floor in front of her. "You know why."

He took another step closer. "No, I don't know why."

She pressed her lips together. "Of course you do."

Sherlock decided he'd had enough of these cat-and-mouse games. It was time to know the truth, once and for all. He reached out and took Molly's hand. "Is there some other direction in which your true affections lie, Molly?"

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. "It's you, Sherlock. It's always been you."

He smiled slightly, feeling triumph rise within himself. He'd won, after all. His thumb stroked the back of Molly's hand and he bent his head so that his lips were hovering only inches from hers. "And what would you like me to do with this rather...unexpected information?"

He was not disappointed by her response. She pulled her hand away gently and reached to curl her fingers around his neck. "I want you to kiss me. Kiss me like you mean it." Her voice was hushed, full of longing.

His own hands moved of their own volition to clasp either side of her face. He was a little nervous, not having kissed a woman before, but he knew he wanted to do it, desperately. His eyes drifted shut and he let instinct take over as his lips sought hers.

Feeling Molly's lips against his wasn't what he expected, it was so much more. It opened to Sherlock a world he had not known existed, a world where caring was an advantage, and sentiment wasn't a chemical defect, but a chemical high that allowed him to feel for the first time the wonder of being in complete sync with another human being. Love and passion burgeoned within him as he continued to kiss her.

Even as he felt Molly's complete yielding response to him, he understood that this was what he wanted, to love and be loved, to never let her go again.

They finally pulled apart slightly, chests heaving, faces flushed. Molly's eyes shone with the same wonder that he himself felt. He could feel her fingers still delicately touching his curls as a smile played about her lips, "I think that kiss was the most meaningful one I've ever had. I love you, Sherlock, and finally I can admit it to you and myself that Tom would always have been second best."

Sherlock placed his hands on her shoulders. "When I saw that ring on your finger, I thought I had lost you forever, even though I had never had you - does that make sense?"

"You've always had me, Sherlock, even when you didn't know it." Her voice was earnest as was her expression and he smiled.

He then reached for her now ringless hand and led her to the sofa so they could sit together. He angled himself so he could see her properly, even as he continued to hold her hand. "Tell me when you decided to break it off with-" he thought for a moment and said slowly, questioningly, "Tom?"

Molly nodded her affirmation that he had said the right name. "All day, Sherlock, I could feel something between us, passing back and forth. It was like this, I don't know - electricity maybe?"

Sherlock's hand grasped hers more firmly. "That's what I was feeling too."

"Well, anyway, I was trying to pretend it wasn't happening, and to convince myself that it was just my relief at seeing you again, knowing you were back in my life as a friend." Her eyes dropped from his then and she looked at their joined hands for a moment before looking up again. "When you congratulated me and said those words about me not always falling for a sociopath, I knew I was still in love with you and I couldn't marry someone else."

"You said something as I was leaving, but I didn't hear what it was."

He saw a tinge of pink on Molly's face as she responded, "I said, 'Maybe it's just my type.' That's when I knew I had to go and see Tom immediately and return his ring." She paused for a moment, then continued. "Sherlock, I want you to know I'm not expecting any big, romantic gestures from you. I know this must be a strange situation for you and I don't want you to feel pressured into any declarations."

Sherlock stared at her for a moment, startled. He suddenly realised that Molly had expressed her love for him, said the words, and she was trying to tell him he didn't need to say them back. Of course, she had no idea he'd already acknowledged his love for her to himself.

He leaned closer to her. "Molly, my Molly." His free hand reached out to caress her cheek tenderly. "I knew I had feelings for you, strong ones, when we spent the day together, but I only had time to really acknowledge it last night to myself, that I was in love with you, when I thought it was too late."

Her eyes widened and the smile that spread across her face illuminated her features into one of such radiance he caught his breath. "You really love me? I mean, I was pretty sure there was something between us, but I never dared to hope you would open your heart completely to me."

"Guess I'm going to have to prove it." He closed the distance between them and his lips met hers, soft and gentle at first until he felt her response. Then his kiss became fierce and possessive, as he indicated to Molly that he was hers and she was his.

When they finally pulled apart, Molly said with a note of wonder in her voice, "You do love me, don't you?"

He laughed, and it was a carefree sound. "Indeed I do, and we have the rest of our lives together to explore that love. In fact, before you said you had broken off your engagement I had already decided I was going to fight for you, to take a chance at attaining my own happy ending."

"I'm glad you had decided I was worth fighting for. It means a lot."

"To the ends of the earth, my love."

Molly leaned her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her hair, still marvelling over this sudden turn of events that had given him a new lease on life. He had thought he would spend the rest of his life alone, but now he knew he had the chance to have it all, a wife and a family of his own that he hadn't even known he yearned for until now.

There were things to be sorted out first, telling everyone that he and Molly were together, finding the right time to make his own proposal of marriage to her, not right away, but soon, he thought to himself, planning their future together, but for now, the future was looking very bright indeed.

I wonder what John would think of a double wedding? he mused with an inward smile, and then he kissed the woman he loved again.

Author's note: I know - I managed to write a little romance without going into a long, convoluted multi-chapter fic! Did anyone catch the little reference to another show in which Benedict Cumberbatch has featured?

One of the most freeing things for me as an author in writing these Realizations of Love Dreams stories is that I can draw on the body of work from the entire series of the show, beyond the timeline which I am using for a particular story because my "real" Sherlock is using his past to twist it in a different way in his dream. Because of this, I was able to use some of the canon conversation from TFP. I hope you liked the integration of that dialogue. Hopefully this is something unique to my storytelling which nobody else has explored.

At the same time, I hope that this story can stand alone on its own merits for those readers who have no wish to read about my "real" post-TFP universe for the characters and the Christian themes that are part of that universe. For all I know, only my regular faithful readers are reading this one anyway.

Show me you care about my writing with the three F's (follow/favourite/feedback).

Thanks for reading!