It had been six months.

Six months since she found out Sherlock had proposed to Janine, six months since she bawled her eyes out in her apartment like a baby, six months since she got her heart utterly, thoroughly broken.

It must have been the work of the devil, she laughed bitterly, because six months later, she was sitting at a church, which some people associated with safety, and she was seconds away from throwing up everything she had eaten that morning.

It was sinking in. It was finally, finally sinking in. Sherlock was getting married, and she couldn't ever love him anymore, and -

As the organ music sounded, she could feel herself becoming lightheaded. Luckily, she had chosen a spot far away from the proceedings, nearly at the back of the room, away from John and Mary and Lestrade. They couldn't see her break down, as she knew she would.

Her eyes welled with tears. She wouldn't she wouldn't she wouldn't. She would get through the ceremony if it killed her, if she had to dig her nails into her palms so hard she bled to prevent herself from screaming or crying.

It didn't make it better that Sherlock had been avoiding her for the past six months, choosing times when she wasn't at the morgue to investigate his cases. Choosing people he hated interacting with rather than her.

Sniffling softly, she turned to watch the bride, Janine, walk up the isle, a huge smile on her face. It looked fake to her, evil. But it was probably her fantasizing getting away with her. After all, she had cried over every single newspaper that had Janine's face plastered all over it, detailing her personal life with Sherlock.

She no longer had the right to be jealous, she tried to convince herself, even as Janine stepped up onto the stage up front. She had to stop deluding herself into believing Sherlock had been staring at her the entire wedding proceedings. After all, how would she know? She had spent the entire time avoiding his eyes.

She just had to get through this ceremony. That's all. Then she could be free.

She was fine when the priest began speaking. When he began talking about Sherlock's and Janine's love and how they had to care for each other even in sickness and health. She truly was.

But when Janine said "I do," she suddenly discovered she was weaker than she thought. She couldn't do it, couldn't hear Sherlock pronounce his undying love to someone else. She knew it would kill her.

So she got up from her pew silently, ignoring the man giving her a strange look beside her, and she headed toward the side door in the back of the room. No one would notice, and she wouldn't have to endure any more pain. It would finally be alright.

"And do you, William Holmes, take Janine Williams, to be your lawfully wedded wife, to love her without reservation, to honor and respect her as long as you both shall live?"

Molly stumbled, then righted herself. Just five more steps until she reached the door. Just five more.

"I would..." Sherlock began, and the audience gasped in shock and then started to murmur under their breath. What was he pulling?

Molly stopped in her tracks.

"...but unfortunately I'm in love with someone else. Furthermore, I don't think this marriage bodes well as the bride has already slept with three other men since our engagement. Not. very. respectful," he glanced at the audience, his eyes sweeping over the crowd.

"I thought I could go through with this because the Magnussen case truly is important, but I realized I can't imagine myself being married to a conniving whore who (at this point, one of Janine's great aunts fainted) only cares about me for my publicity.

"So Molly Hooper, if you're listening, this is my apology to you."

She froze, turning around, unable to believe her ears.

"I am an intelligent man, as everyone around me would agree (John rolled his eyes at this), but I admit I am not well versed in emotions. I'm sorry I did not go to the morgue and at least offer an explanation, but I've only just realized that, if I had, you would probably be the one standing up here today."

Molly could feel tears prick her eyes, unable to care that all eyes were on her, some glaring in a not so friendly way."

Sherlock stepped off the stage, walking towards her carefully, as if fearing she would flee at any second.

"I am an intelligent, but I am by no means a smart man. If I had, I would have realized how much I truly loved you and asked for your hand in marriage. I hope you'll forgive me when I say that I am also, as John puts it, a drama queen, and when I realized two days ago I did not want to go through with this farce, I felt I had to cut it off at the right moment.

"I wanted to make it up to you for how you've suffered because of me, so listen to me carefully, Molly Hooper. I am in love with you the only way I know how, unreservedly and uncontrollably. You've saved me more times than you can count, and you, Molly Hooper, you make me whole again.

"So I stand before you a humbled man, begging your forgiveness as well as your hand in marriage. Molly Hooper," he pulled off his white gloves, knelt down on one knee, and pulled a felt box from his suit jacket to reveal a Peridot necklace, "will you marry me?"

Molly didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she did both, laughing in between huge gulps of hiccuping sobs, barely able to nod her head.

Sherlock shot up, capturing her mouth with his, murmuring comfort words into her lips.

Only John, Mary, and Lestrade, who had materialized almost right next to them to watch the drama unfold, could clearly hear his repeated utterances of love and undying affection.