The only thing he can think about on this god forsaken plane is one person.

Molly Hooper.

He doesn't say goodbye. Just like he didn't say goodbye last time. (He still feels guilty.)

Sherlock comes to her and he takes and takes and takes but never gives. (That's a lie. He gives her hope.)

He doesn't say goodbye. If he doesn't say goodbye, maybe it won't be real. (It is real. Every time.)

He doesn't say goodbye. She doesn't mean a thing to him. (She means everything.)

He doesn't say goodbye. He feels nothing. (He feels empty.)

This place he's going to is not something Molly Hooper needs to trouble herself with knowing. (He knows she'll worry anyway.)

He knows that he's letting go. (He so badly wants to hold on.)

He doesn't say goodbye. And then he gets a phone call. He's needed back. (He doesn't have to say goodbye.)

Maybe Molly Hooper will never find out that he didn't say goodbye. (He knows she will.)

It doesn't really matter to him either way. (Of course it does.)

And he knows he'll find himself back in her lab when this plane lands. (He's got to protect her.)

Molly Hooper is the person who counted. (She counted more than she'd ever know.)

Sherlock doesn't have to let go. (For this he's grateful. He's never been good at letting go.)

He finds himself wrapped in her embrace and he can't seem to pull away. (He doesn't want to.)

He protects her because he has to. (He needs to.)

He doesn't say goodbye. (He's there to stay.)