Down the Sidewalk

Epilogue

"You two are so cute together."

Whenever she got the chance, Molly slipped her hand into Sherlock's. It didn't matter where they were or what they were doing; Molly wanted to be close to Sherlock. She wanted everyone to know he was hers. Sherlock always kissed her hands when she did this, and it made all her friends - single or otherwise - extremely jealous.

The kisses slowly progressed until, after school each day, Sherlock would plant a solid peck on her cheek. The first time he did, both he and Molly had flushed crimson, their grins matching. Now it was customary, and neither one would leave without it.

"I'm surprised at you, little brother."

The first time Sherlock had kissed Molly - for real, not just on the cheek - he was a nervous wreck. He'd been thinking about it for days beforehand, mentally preparing himself. Every time Sherlock thought he could do it without royally messing up, another worry popped into his head. What if Molly didn't want to kiss him at all? What if his breath smelled? What if he breathed in her face while his breath smelled?

But Sherlock Holmes did not waste time dwelling on what-ifs. So, he gathered what courage he had and pressed his lips gently but firmly to Molly's. When he pulled away, he swallowed hard, afraid he would be rejected, but Molly only smiled, hugged him, and walked back to her house. He'd walked home feeling like he was walking on the clouds. Not even Mycroft could dull his mood.

"Here comes Mrs. Freak."

Molly didn't really mind her new nickname. It was actually kind of nice to be recognized as Sherlock Holmes' s girlfriend. She just hated that it was at his expense. She knew Sherlock despised that he'd dragged her into the torment. Molly liked to think she dove in headfirst. She knew what she was getting herself into when she decided to fall in love with the most brilliant boy she'd ever met.

"She's good for you."

John pointed this out at the most unlikely of times. They were mixing caustic compounds in chemistry? Molly's good for you, Sherlock. Right before their math test? She's been really good for you, hasn't she, Sherlock?

Sherlock wanted to scream that yes, Molly was perfect for him. She was interested in science, particularly biology, and loved to hear Sherlock play the violin. He could compose entire ballads about her - and he did, but none of them ever did her justice. He would play them anyway, and Molly would always be delighted to hear a new piece. Of course Molly was good for him. She was too good for him, but she stayed all the same.

The names never happened that often, maybe once or twice times a week. Molly never told Sherlock; she didn't need to. He would look at her and say the same thing every time - "I knew it would happen." Molly would kiss him to shut him up, and Sherlock wouldn't bring it up again.

"I wish my boyfriend would look at me like that."

Molly had never been happier. Her friends had stopped pestering her about getting her a boyfriend and started asking her for dating advice. Molly tried to tell them that her and Sherlock's relationship was anything but ordinary, but they still wanted details. Molly was happy to tell them, and they were happy to listen.

Sherlock was relatively collected most of the time, but when he was around Molly, his whole demeanor shifted. He was more relaxed, and he laughed. Molly adored Sherlock's laugh, and she didn't have to hide that anymore. She loved a lot of things about him, really. She loved the way his eyes would crinkle as he grinned down at her; the calming sound of his voice after a day of screeching teachers and bickering students; the feel of his hand wrapped around hers. She just loved Sherlock Holmes.

"I love you."

Sherlock had been astounded that Molly had said it first. He almost didn't believe her when she did. Who could love Sherlock Holmes? He was rude, and he was blunt, and he didn't think before speaking. He regularly reduced people to tears - although he was getting better at keeping his mouth shut.

Molly was so much greater than he was. She was beautiful and intelligent - not that Sherlock wasn't extremely intelligent himself - and always patient with him.So, Sherlock might've been surprised, then, when Molly finally admitted it, but he knew without a doubt he felt the same way.

"I love you, too."

No, Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper were not like other sixteen-year-olds. But they always had each other, and that was all that really mattered anyway.