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Sherlock BBC- 2nd chance

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"Say it anyway!"

"Say it. Go ahead. Say it first!"

"Say what?

"Say it like you mean it.

"l... I love you. I LOVE YOU."



"I love you"

And then it was suddenly over. He had hung up. 

What was that? Why did he want me to say THAT to him and why did he sound so panicky?' Molly asked herself and stared thoughtfully at the phone in her hand. Tears slowly gathered in her eyes.


Just before

Molly was just standing in her kitchen and wanted to make herself some tea. She had not had a particularly good day today. 
The reason for her mood was what had happened to her at work today. Molly was processing some documents from the previous autopsy when suddenly a new body was brought in. 
It was the body of a little girl. She was about the same age as her goddaughter. 
When Molly flipped the sheet back, she froze completely. The girl also had blonde hair. Her body looked emaciated and covered with dozens of haematomas. A glance at the file told her that this was abuse and neglect by her charges. Molly swallowed hard and kept thinking about Rosie. Actually, she was always able to keep a certain distance when doing autopsies of children. But this time, this time it was different. Molly just couldn't get her work started. She stood frozen and could only look at the lifeless body in front of her. Her colleague and friend Meena finally took over her work and Molly devoted herself to the paperwork. 

And now this call from him. That made the day complete!
She was still standing in her kitchen, phone in hand, wondering what had just happened. Suddenly she was gripped with rage. The rage at what he was asking her to do. Anger that he hung up on her after she finally revealed her feelings to him and anger at herself for getting involved in his games again and feeling more vulnerable than ever before.

Before she knew it, her phone was on the opposite wall and her tea utensils on the floor. 
She wasn't normally the type to have such an outburst of emotion but Sherlock and this call had triggered something in her that could not be stopped. Countless objects found their way onto the floor or smashed against the wall.

How could he do this to me? Why is he doing such a terrible thing?' she thought and then slowly sank to the floor. Her arms clasped her legs and pulled her closer to her body. Then she let her tears, which had been accumulating all day, run free.  Her tomcat Toby kept trying to cheer her up with a few nudges but Molly was just too hurt.
She must have been sitting there crying for hours and hours, and the night was drawing in, and a look at her clock in the kitchen showed that it was almost midnight. 
Molly was just about to sit up and slowly walk into her bedroom, when suddenly a knock on her door startled her. 

'Oh God, what if that's him?' she thought, slightly rattled. 
Her eyes were already red and swollen. She didn't want him to see her like that, did she? Maybe he should see what he had done to her with it?

But then something else came to her mind.
'Sherlock does not knock. Sherlock lets himself in.'

Another knock. 
This time it sounded a little more impatient. She finally straightened up and then slowly walked to her flat door with slightly shaky legs. Carefully she opened the door and looked outside.

"Good evening Ms. Hooper. Sorry to disturb you so late but we have reason to believe you are being monitored and there are cameras in your flat," he explained.

It was Mycroft and a couple of other men positioned themselves behind him. There was a brief relief in her mind that it was not Sherlock. She didn't know if she could face it yet. 
Molly finally opened the door completely and looked questioningly at the tall man with the umbrella.

"Mr. Holmes? What are you doing here and what do you mean, cameras in my flat?"

Molly didn't understand. Why were there cameras in her flat and, more importantly, where and by whom? She just couldn't believe it. What had Sherlock got himself into now, and what had she got herself into?

"Maybe we'd better talk about this inside," he said and replied to make some room for her.

Molly glanced briefly back into her flat and saw the chaos her outburst had left behind. She was extremely uncomfortable and didn't want anyone to see her flat like that. After all, she had always been a very tidy and structured person. A little "Little Miss Perfect" as her friends kept calling her. 

Mycroft seemed to notice her hesitation.

"Ms.Hooper. It really would be better if we could discuss this inside. It concerns, amongst other things, the telephone call you received today" he explained again.

The phone call? How did he know about it? 
She gave a deep sigh and then finally stepped aside and let him in.
Mycroft nodded at her and then finally walked past her. The men followed him and immediately got to work.

He froze for a moment as he entered her flat and at the sight that appeared before him. Things were scattered all over the floor, shards adorned the kitchen floor.

What had happened here? Did Eurus do anything else?' he thought for a moment, but when he found the smashed telephone on the floor it became clear to him.

"Please excuse the chaos. I, um... I was sorting out" Molly somehow tried to explain herself. Of course she knew he would never believe it but that was the best she could do at the moment.

"Obviously" he replied slightly surprised.

"Well, Mr. Holmes. Tell me, what are you doing here at this late hour and why am I being watched?" she finally continued. She was still puzzled by what was going on here.

"I think it would be better if my brother explained this to you We are only here to remove the cameras. It will take a little time. Anthea, my assistant will take you to a hotel for this," he explained and carefully pushed her towards the exit.

Molly turned around abruptly and sparkled at him slightly angry. She was fed up with the Holmes brothers constantly bossing her around and taking advantage of her. 

"No! Stop! This is my flat! You just walk in here in the middle of the night, tell me I'm being watched and then you push me out of my own flat without explaining why? I don't need a hotel. I'll just wait outside the door until you're done here," she replied slightly annoyed and then went out the door.

She finally settled down on one of the stairs. Again and again her thoughts wandered to the situation that was going on in her flat, to today and this phone call. How did Mycroft know about the call and the cameras? What happened and most importantly, how is Sherlock? Something was wrong, wasn't there? 
She wanted to call him and ask him what happened but she couldn't because her phone was scattered on her floor in several pieces.
She cursed herself inside for it. 
And what if Sherlock had already tried to contact her? Maybe there really was a reasonable explanation for all this. But why didn't anyone tell her? Was she really such an insignificant person, where it was not important to tell her about it? What if it was all just another stupid game? Molly didn't know why, but she got angry again. Angry at Mycroft, who expelled her from her flat without explaining anything, angry at Sherlock, who finally broke her heart with that phone call and didn't even feel it necessary to explain it to her and she was angry at herself too. That whenever he paid her a little compliment, she fell for him and her life revolved solely around him.

She also wondered what was wrong with her. 
When had this happened to her? When had she allowed her life to be defined by this one man? 
She no longer wanted to follow him and let him control her life. She no longer wanted to hope that Sherlock would one day come to her senses and return her love. 
She knew that if she wanted to be happy, she had to let him go and cut him out of her life. 

"Is everything all right? Are you all right?" Anthea now asked.
Molly didn't notice but apparently she had started smiling and Anthea seemed to have noticed.
"What? Oh yes. I just made a decision," she replied to her then and smiled again.

Yes, she had made her decision. She had to somehow remove Sherlock from her life and therefore from her heart. She had to forget him.