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Sherlock steeled himself as he approached her door. He wanted to glance over his shoulder, but John was right, this is something he needed to do on his own.
For a moment, Molly looked ready to slam the door in his face. Instead she left it open and retreated to her kitchen. Sherlock closed the door behind him.
“Solve your case, then?” asked Molly, putting on the kettle.
“I came to apologize,” said Sherlock.
Molly looked up at him, then back at her kettle. “I know you didn’t mean it.”
Sherlock perched at her counter and put a bag on the table. “I brought chips.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “That’s not how this works. This isn’t a game. You can’t just… do that to people.” She brushed her hair back.
“They were going to kill you,” said Sherlock. “At least, I thought they were.”
Molly’s hand stilled. “What?” she asked, looking up at him.
“If I didn’t get you to say I love you, they were going to kill you.” Sherlock fiddled with the bag.
“Sounds like a right piece of work,” said Molly, pouring the tea into two cups.
“I’m afraid I can’t even tell you the half of it.”
Molly nodded and handed him a cup.
Sherlock gave her a ghost of a smile and pushed over the bag of chips.