I love you.

"I love you," I finally said. I couldn't believe the words were actually coming out of my mouth. He didn't deserve to hear them. Sherlock Holmes and his charm of making a stupid girl like me, Molly Hooper hope one day he'll love her. I'm such an idiot.

The call fell silent as if he had hung up. "Sher...Sherlock?" I fumbled on his name. That stupid name that made me want to faint every time I heard it. That stupid way he walked into a room as if he owned it. That stupid way he would pop his collar up just to look cool. That stupid way he would notice that I tried to look pretty around him, but still be too dumb to realize why. That stupid way I loved him.

"No, what are you doing? Molly Hooper get yourself together," I wiped the thick layer of tears from my face, trying to stop myself from falling into the hole I had found myself in so many times before. I thought I was past this, I thought I had moved on.

Before I knew it, it was pitch black outside. I had fallen into a pit of my emotions and there was no way to climb out. I reached into the tissue box and pulled out the last tissue.

"I just bought this yesterday," I said, walking to the cabinet to pull out a fresh box. I extended my arm a far as I could and began to lift to my tippy toes, when a loud knock on the door scared the living daylights out of me.

"Molly!" the voice shouted, there was no question as to who it was. It was Sherlock Holmes.

"I'm not home!" I cringed realizing what I had just said. "Molly," I whispered to myself irritated by my stupidity.

"I was trained by a Norwegian philanthropist to pick a lock with the most minimal amount of su..." he started, as I gave in and opened the door. I just stood there not knowing what to say. Wait, I shouldn't have to say anything. It's his turn to talk, he needs to explain what happened this morning.

"Sherlock, wh-"

"I love you," he interrupted. My eyes perked up not expecting such a thing to come from the man who had been practically torturing me. "I'm not quite sure why, I love John and Rosamund of course, but with you its some how... different. I was doing some research and..."

He loves me. Sherlock Holmes is totally in love with me. An uncontrollable grin reaches my mouth and my thoughts are consumed with a giddy feeling.

I'm in love with Sherlock Holmes and he loves me too. Without another thought I began to step closer to him. I wanted him to kiss me first, but I also have been waiting a very long time for this moment.

He cupped my face in his hands, rubbing the residing tears from my cheeks.

"I... I am a stupid man. I was so caught up in me and the things I wanted, that I didn't realize what I already had, you."

"Say it again," I demanded, looking into his deep eyes and brushing the brown curls that covered his forehead.

"I am a stupid man?" he questioned.

"No, the part where you said you loved me."

"I love you."

I lifted my heels off the ground staying firm on my toes, when he pressed my lips against his. I cupped my hands on the back of his neck lightly playing with his hair.

"I love you too," I said, staring back into his eyes and noticing every scar, color, and pore of his skin.

"I love you more."