(Sequel to One Step Closer) + Part 5/8, BBC Sherlock

[AppleBlossom]

Welcome to part two of my Sherlock story! You don't have to had read the first part, but it may make a bit more sense to you, you can choose. Help me decide a title for this fic, please! Sorry for the lack of sneezes, my brain is dead, and that's... yeah.

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"Hak'Ggschuu! Ggk..." 

Molly watched Sherlock stumble into his flat; he grunted loudly, chucking his soaked scarf down on the floor, sniffing a cold trickle back up his nose. It seemed the shift in the temperature had upset Sherlock's nasal cavities. She retrieved the scarf and hung it on the back of the front door, along with his coat. When she turned back to face him,  he was flipping through different folders.

"What are you doing?" Molly asked firmly.

"Looking for a new case."

A sigh echoed through the walls of the flat, Molly groaned, "Can't you at least sit down?" Without even moving his eyes from the page, Sherlock slumped into his armchair; to which Molly sighed even further. After a short yet uncomfortable silence, Molly eventually spoke up, "Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?"

"Do as you please." He muttered, then Molly set to work inside the kitchen. Grabbing the milk behind the bowl of animal tongues, and shifting through flasks and boiling tubes to find the tea bags, the sugar and even clean cups.

Sherlock found nothing of interest in any of the folders and promptly got bored; with that, his attention was now drawn to the itching between his eyes. A cold, reddened nose was squished into the damp sleeve of his jacket; preparing for what he knew was quickly going to arise. "Eh'ISHhhuu!" Molly muttered what appeared to be a 'bless you', but Sherlock didn't want to hear it, so his mind do not register it.

Well, the weather had not been kind to him, so why should he own body be?

Sherlock kept his gaze fixed on Molly as she handled him his tea and sat opposite to him. Even with this, he remained firm, with his eyes intently piercing through her already nervous frame, Molly painfully sipped on her scorning tea, just to kept her mind off Sherlock's unnerving watch over her. She fidgeted in her seat, especially with his cold eyes boldly and obtrusively wandering over her figure- this went on for what seemed like hours. A swell of warmth overcame the softness of her skin, as a hue of pink spread across her cheeks as they burned from embarrassment. When it seemed that Molly couldn't take another second more, Sherlock plucked his lips and spoke aloud:

"I think you're having an allergic reaction."

Molly paused, raising an eyebrow to the detective, she blinked and looked down to the porcelain which was burning her hands. "What, to the tea?" Molly didn't feel anything strange occurring inside her body; however, with Sherlock being an excellent observer, she did not dare question him.

"It is a possibility." He answered her flatly. Molly swallowed as Sherlock placed his long sensitive fingers across her cheek. "Do you feel any tingling sensations, any burning?"

"I do feel warm." Her cheeks swelled even more."

"Oh," He realised his mistake, "N-Never mind. Forget everything I said."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Nothing. It's... Nothing." Sherlock couldn't believe the stupidity of his detection. This was no allergic reaction. She was blushing.

To be honest, he had never saw anyone blush that hard.

He decided that making deductions wasn't the best decision at this time. Frankly, he was feeling rather light-headed and achy all over.

"Sherlock?"

His head snapped up a little too quickly, forcing him to lower his chin slightly, allowing him to squeeze his eyes shut at the overwhelming pain in his head.

"I don't want you to get angry at me, and I don't want a repeat of... book dodging," Sherlock remained silent, daring Molly to continue. "But, you really don't look very well. And I'm not s-suggesting something drastic, just a warm shower, that's all. Would you do that for me?"

If the last sentence of that tender speech has not been said, Sherlock would of obliged completely and did as he was told. But Molly had always a bad choice with words. 'Would you do that for me?' Oh god. Sherlock needed to think carefully about his next move and frankly, the thinking part took a lot longer than it should have done. After a very long and awkward silence; Sherlock stood from his chair, gave Molly a sharp and clipped "Fine." before rushing off to the bathroom and loudly closing the door behind him.

Not a moment sooner, Molly was standing outside the door. "Umm... Sherlock? I'm going to the shops to get you some medicine and stuff. I won't be gone long, and please don't lock the door on me." Dammit, she saw right through him, even through a thick brick wall. "I'll see you later!" Footsteps could be heard moving away from the bathroom door.

"Don't try to explode any experiments while I'm gone!" A nervous giggle came from Molly.

Oh Molly; never do jokes.

And who was to say he would even think about exploding anything anyway. 

Besides his explosions were strictly reserved for John.

Edited April 12, 2013 by AppleBlossom

[VoOs]

He is so cute when he's grumpy. I'm melting.

*eats delicious Sherlock fic with spoon*

[tma]

YAY!!! I ed your previous fic, so I did a dance of joy when I saw that you were writing another one (and continuation at that).

Awwww!!! Molly is just .... so Molly. And just too cute.

And the thoughts in Sherlock's head. *grins*

I can't wait to read more!!

[Emily]

Their dynamics are so perfect. And that last line- AOFUAOIUFDAOI 8DDDDDD What kind of explosions are we talking here? Mehehehehe

I'm looking forward to this as much as I did the prequel

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Everything tma said. And also (because I do TRY to use my own words when I can): I'm so glad you're writing this. I can't wait to read more of it.

Edited January 28, 2013 by myownprivatesfc

[tma]

Besides his explosions were strictly reserved for John.

Mwahahaha. *hides*

[LovelyLinda]

Awwwww <3

I already love it!!

It's wonderful that you got around to continuing it

"He decided that making deductions wasn't the best decision at this time."

This makes me giggle =D I love how SHerlock is just totally out of it. The biiiig Sherlock, has come to a wrong conclusion and made himself ridiculous xD

This is priceless! I hope there's more

[AppleBlossom]

Everyone's get excited about the explosions- hehehe! Well, maybe after this story, I might think about writing a little something with both John and Sherlock... *evil smile*

Okay, so I'm going to warn you here, I might I have overboard with this... I got a bit overexcited!

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The warm droplets formed a thick wall of steam as Sherlock stood, shivering and naked, inside the four walls without moving at all; the sound of the water banging in his head. His skin was burning from the quiet droplets morphing into his sharply chiselled shoulder blades, down his toned arms and hollow dips along his hips. The pale outline of his magnificent form trembled as the water was switched off, he regretted it the very moment he did it.

As the cool air hit his flesh and made the hairs on his skin slightly stand ever so slightly on end, he felt his nostils prick. Grabbing for a towel with bleary eyes, he clasped it in a cupped hand and muffled a forceful sneeze into its depths. "H'hh-- GkhMmmphh!" His stomach muscles clenched harshly as his body shudder from both the icy air and the feverish wave of heat overcoming him.

Coughing into the side of his arm, he realised the watery blood spilling from the slices across his forearm had stained his white towel. The wounds had begun to sting and burn; he hissed as the pain rippled and ached through his arm.

The corner of his mouth twitched as his ripped a clump of tissue pressed it to the freshly opened cuts. He wasn't going to put on his silk dressing gown and fresh pyjamas only for them to be ruined. His best and only option was to put his wet clothes on. Throwing the bloody tissues into the toilet and quickly patting himself dry, he began to get changed again. The clothes were so heavy with damp, it took him several moments to return into his casual suit.

Walking back into the living place, another trickle could be felt flowing down his nose. The transition from the freezing air to the warmth of the living room stung his nose and he instantly felt an itch inside that sent him pitching forward into his ready hand. By now he was sure he was ill. His nose was beginning to run, so he grabbed a few tissues from a box on the side table and quickly pressed them into his now sore nose, and blew harshly into it.

Hearing the dreadfully wet sound and feeling the pressure rise in his sinuses made him nearly panic. Sherlock was desperately thinking of what to do, as more wetness crept into the thin paper. He resolved to swallowing his pride and blowing his nose again; he almost felt grateful that Molly was out gathering medicine for him.

Sadly, blowing his nose had created another problem for him; a tingling began to dwell and grow rapidly inside his nose. While this troubled him to no end, what was even more aggravating was that the tickle seemed to be leading to nowhere. A few sniffles and harsh rubs seemed to have no effect on this. His annoyance appeared to be increasing and the itch grew in intensity. He flipped open his laptop to see if there was any solution to his problem. To his amazement, there were surprisingly several options to this solution - most of them sticking things inside the sensitive orifice - which wasn't very intelligent.

One opinion, however, appeared to be promising. Rubbing the organ in a particular way seemed to stimulate it enough for the tickle to be released. He began to try it, squeezing the bridge of his nose, slowly tracing his fingers gingerly along the sides. The aggravating itch flared up within his sinuses, causing his breath to stutter unexpectedly. Then his thin body contracted uncontrollably, as his eyes were squeezed closed. His head snapped forward, sneezing wetly to the side. "Hht'TSCH-huh!" His eyes watered, and he found himself inhaling sharply yet again.

"H'kISH'uh!"

The sneeze caught him completely off-guard. He paused, fist hovering in front of his face as his breath quivered. "Hh-- HhT'ISHU!" Another shiver racked his body, and for a few moments he simply collapsed, holding on to his desk, feeling rather disoriented.

Another brush of his soft fingertips and his features quivered with another impending sneeze. "Heh.. ih..." He held his tightened fist in anticipation, eyelids falling to half-mast. This one decided to be torture him, tickling and teasing at his sinuses. "Ehh-hh! ...nh" He tensed restlessly, but the shuddering inhale did not end as the tickle grew, and he let out his breath shakily. "Hih.. hh-hh! Oh g-god..." The spasmodic breaths seemed to come up from the depths of his battered lungs; his lips began to part, as long hitching breaths were soon tormenting him, his eyes watered with every false start, but still the sneeze refused to come. He scrunched his nose tightly, nostrils desperately flaring for a long awaited release, expression contorting in frustration, when the sensation finally emerged. "iiSCHhh! Huhp’TSCHu! KSCH!" The violent triple visibly wore him out, yet when he was able to pause for a breath, it was evident that he wasn’t quite finished. "hh.. Huh’ktSSCHU!!" He snapped harshly forward at the waist, tracing each nostril tentatively with his finger and thumb, before he slumped lower into his seat when the ordeal was finally over.

"Do you want to explain yourself?" Molly's voice shook him to his very core as she kicked the door shut behind her and grumpily dropped the shopping bags onto the floor.

Sherlock turned to face her, held back a sniffle, and merely said "The Internet is a barvelous thigg."

[ichixshiro14]

Gahhh you can't leave it at that!!! Soooo great!!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

[TheCakeIsAlive]

Besides his explosions were strictly reserved for John.

Mwahahaha. *hides*

*grins* Naughty. Love the story.

[AppleBlossom]

Hi guys. I am so sorry about the long wait. I went to holiday for a few days and completely forgot to tell you guys about it; but I'm here now, and with a new chapter! I hope you guys like it!

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Molly didn't understand the strange man standing - more like wavering - in front of her. With deep, lung-damaging coughs emitting from the tall, slender body, she realised that Sherlock had not appeared to change out of his sodden suit. Anger began to stir inside of her, threading to spill at any moment. Before Molly could even utter a word, Sherlock's breath hitched, bringing another bundle of tissues to his face. "HEH… eh'kISHhh!"

Molly huffed, hurling her shopping bags onto the kitchen table, 

"Is sobethigg bothering you?"

"Well yes, that." She noted, referring to his constant sneezing. "But what about the fact that you still have your wet clothes on!"

"I had a shower."

"Even so, half the point of the shower was to get you warm and dry. And not just for a few seconds."

"You'll have to be more precise next time." He quickly marched past her, looking down and analysing a experiment he had long forgotten about. Molly shook her head in annoyance at Sherlock's stubbornness, but continued talking, trying to look past it. "Well, I got you your medicine; I didn't know what to get you, so I got a bit of everything. Oh, I also got you some soup--"

"I don't like soup."

"Well, I got you broth then." Molly said blankly, ripping the label off the tinned soup can, throwing the paper at Sherlock's damp head and missing by quite a few feet.

"Well, I... I– heh--" Sherlock's brow crinkled in frustration as his breath caught. "hup'TSH-huh!! hh'ISHu!" He stopped talking, fumbling for a tissue or anything that could substitute for one; but the impending fit was taking up so much of his concentration that he barely managed to cover his nose with his hand. "Hh'gGTSHhuu! Huh’pTSHu! Hh-GSHmph!" As he succumbed to the painful explosions, he was left breathless and quite dizzy; and as Molly looked on in concern, she watched him stumble.

"Hey, easy." Molly was at his side instantly, quickly grabbing his arm and bracing him firmly, just as the sick man wilted forward. "Go and sit down, silly. I'll make you something to eat. Your experiment can wait."

Reluctantly, Sherlock obliged; slumping into his armchair and switching on the telly in order to fill the uncomfortable silence. He quietly watched the channel that John had left it on, something called 'University Challenge' appeared to be on.

Molly glanced at him, watching him struggle to catch his breath through his stuffed nose. "ha'rRSCHgh!" Another sneeze had crept up on him, but he was quickly gearing up for another. "Huh'ITTSCHH-ugh!"

She felt like her stomach had contracted and then caved in on itself. Her heart? It did something that even she could not explain. She felt terrible for him; but in reality, Sherlock really wasn't helping himself. Still, feeling sick and tired wasn't very nice at all.

"Here." She placed the bowl of 'broth' onto the table, his colour quickly changed to a lot more pale than it usually was. Molly saw his adam's apple bob cautiously up and down, tearing his eyes away from the meal before him. "Is something wrong?" Sherlock drew a long breath in, "I won't want anything to eat, Molly."

"But, you haven't eaten all day--!"

"Please Molly, don't." He whimpered.

Whimpered.

Molly quietly removed the bowl from Sherlock's presence, apologising as she did. Something was wrong, very wrong. A lot more than Sherlock was letting on to. She was worried. To be perfectly honest, she was always worried about him.

He pressed his slender fingers to his sinuses, massaging them with a wince. The pressure in his nose shifted, building into a tickle and he pinched his nostrils tightly, bending forward into a stifled sneeze.

"hihh... h'nnxgh! Ah, bugger." Molly walked to his desk, grabbed a tissue, and Sherlock accepted it without a word; quickly disguarding it.

The fit ended as quickly as it came, a moan rumbled inside his raw throat. Molly moved behind the leather chair, gently resting her chin on Sherlock's shoulder. She didn't know why she did it, but as soon as she did it, she became embarrassed that she did it; until Sherlock tiredly leaned back into her. His heavy head rested in the curve Molly's neck, with a tired sigh.

"Bless you..." She could feel his hard muscles shuddering against hers. He responded with a quiet noise, his eyes fluttered as they closed quietly. His breathing began to relax, Molly realised how tired he was. Sherlock probably didn't want to hear that; so she changed the conversation.

"How's John?"

"You kdow the situation." He winced at his voice. God, he sounded awful.

"I know, but I want to know how he is," She pauses, speaking a little more softly. "Have you spoken to him?"

"Not recently, doh."

"When was the last time you spoke to him?"

"When he left."

"But he's your flatmate!"

"And I have dot spoken to him, your point is?"

"Hmph. You're a good friend."

"I'm not anyone's friend." A tense silence hummed through the living; Sherlock broke it as he smirked, "You didn't say anythigg about textigg though," Making the sly remark underneath his breath.

[42686]

that was so adorable <3

i love how shes angry at him for being so stubborn but she still feels the need to take care of him

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

Oh, I am so loving this! I really hope you update again soon!

[tma]

Awwwwww!!!!!!!!!

*melt* I'm so happy that you came back to this. <3

[AppleBlossom]

Hello? *hides from rotten tomatoes* I'm sorry for leaving this story, I have finally re-written this chapter since my computer deleted all of my stuff! So I hope you enjoy... after nearly two months... of waiting... and waiting... I'm sorry!

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"hh’NGKK-tt! Eh'NN-shh!" Sherlock continued to submit to his sneezes ripping sneezes. "Huh’ktSSCHU!" Another more explosive one was quickly followed by a chorus of colourful words; Molly huffed at the stubborn man and thrust a box of tissues into his face.

"Blow your nose, before you end up sneezing it off."

"You can't sneeze your nose off Molly. You should know that." Even with his sharp remark, Sherlock snatched a handful of tissues from her. Wrapping a crisp, white tissue around his painfully red nose, he blew as harshly as he could

"Is that better--?" Molly was cut off by another congested blow, crumpling soaked tissues against his aggravated nostrils. Molly waited for the long blows to stop before speaking again, pronouncing her words a little more clearly. "Better?"

"A little." He admitted, and that's all he admitted.

Sherlock leaned down the side of his chair and opened up his laptop. He began to get to work on another case, or at least tried to through crackling coughs. He tried to catch his breath only to muffle a flurry of sneezes into the wet sleeve of his jacket. "Eh'ishhh! H'hh-- ht'TSCH! ...eh'mmphh!"

"Take your medicine." Molly folded her arms across her chest, yet the man sitting in the chair didn't respond. "You're just going to get worse, Sherlock." Still no response, only a sour look met Molly.

She ignored the agitated look from behind the whirling laptop. She turned to gaze out of the window, eyes flashing with bright lighting and the roaring thunder. "Wow."

"Hmph, you're easily amused."

"No, you're just easily bored." Tearing her eyes from the window, she asked, "Aren't you going to bed?"

"Aren't you going home?"

Molly's eyebrows came together with a scowl, "Answer my question first."

"No."

"Then I'm not going anywhere." 

"I didn't ask you to come and babysit me, I--!" He sighed heavily through his lips, squeezing the skin of his forehead with soft fingertips, feeling the congestion becoming worse; briefly uttering one tired "Sorry." from his raw throat. He turned around to meet Molly's eyes only to see that she wasn't there.

"What are you doing?"

"Sitting down." Molly said plainly, sitting comfortably onto the sofa.

"That's mby seat."

Molly cried in confusion, "I thought your armchair was your seat."

"No, but that's mby side!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I rest mby head there!" Pointing it her crotch, Sherlock could see a scorch of red dart across Molly's cheeks, Sherlock cleared his throat and re-evaluated his words. "Well, if you're not goigg to move, I mbight as well lay dowd." Without Molly even being able to emit any girlish screams, Sherlock simply fell into the sofa and laid his head in her lap.

Molly froze. She could feel even more heat rise into her blooming cheeks, did Sherlock really just do what she thought he did?

She tentatively rested a soft hand on his shoulder, feeling Sherlock trying to control his violent shivers. He didn't want her to say anything so she didn't.  She turned slightly, took the blanket hanging on the back of the sofa, and draped it over his long frame.

Sherlock only acknowledged her gesture with a liquid sniff. Feeling the comforting warmth surrounding him, he sighed almost with relief. Molly sucked on her bottom lip, closed her eyes, and did something she always wanted to do...

Patting the tangled locks, she soothed the flicks of his hair back down, in a gentle, lullaby motion. She peered over to see Sherlock trying to fight his eyes open with delicate flickering of dark, thick eyelashes. She picked up a curl, and decided it was her favourite. Hearing a shuddering sigh and the tension leave his tired frame; Molly smiled with soft eyes, forced herself to keep calm and concentrate on the telly, and not on the man curled up in her lap.

Sherlock sniffled, his mind whirling like a never-ending machine. He didn't enjoy it. No, 'enjoying' was the wrong word. Molly was... lovely. A word she only uses, but she was. He liked Molly. No amount of embarrassing or awkward conversations would change that. She would always be there, with a clipboard in her hand, and a dead body beside her. And Sherlock, almost hoped, she wouldn't stay that way.

The murmur of the television was broken as Sherlock nuzzled his cheek against her thigh; his expression so peaceful she couldn’t bring herself to just push him off of her lap and force him into bed. The manipulative bastard knew just how to tug at her heartstrings, and she guiltily loved it every time he did.

So she stayed, stroking his hair gently, listening to his slightly laboured breathing become slower and deeper as he drifted off.

Edited April 7, 2013 by AppleBlossom

[LovelyLinda]

*squeeeeee*

Especially loved this line.

"Blow your nose, before you end up sneezing it off." <3 <3 <3

Aww, you're spoiling me

[AppleBlossom]

Some more smexy, stubborn Sherlock for y'all! I hope you like it!

_____________________

The blur of strangely familiar features focused to Molly's eyes; realising where she was and who she was with, a sleepy crackle emerged from her throat. "Sherlock? We fell asleep, sorry about that." Molly sheepishly rubbed his shoulder, urging him to wake up.

Sherlock's glassy blue eyes were no longer hidden behind pale eyelids, and long dark curls of eyelashes. Bruise-like dark circles settled underneath his bottom lids. A feverish, bright blush blossomed over his pronounced cheekbones. His nose was now stained with a scarlet tint, and dark crimson nostils flared every from the small torturous tickles his nose.

His body shot up with a sharp intake of air, "eih... ISHH!" Sherlock's breath shuddered, his nostrils flaring rapidly, and his eyes disappeared behind pale eyelids. He hesitated, as he turned away, clenching his fist, holding it to his irritated organ. "Eh-t'GHHT! Hehh.. Ih'nNXKtsh!"

There was an excruciating pain shooting through his lower right arm, as he hissed at the burning affliction, when he realised the scars that the lunatic had inflicted upon him, had spilt open. Sherlock could feel the raw flesh sticking to his inside of his sleeve, releasing a sickly, sharp copper smell. Molly hadn't noticed his painful wound, only the time on the clock. 

"Sherlock, it's 2 in the morning! Go to bed now."

"But--!"

"Please, let's just get you into bed." and with that Sherlock was guided to his bedroom, quicker than he could think of an excuse not to. Molly made him sit at the foot of the bed, rummaging through his wardrobe to find some suitable bed-wear for the grown man. Turning back to face him with a pile of clothes in her arms, she raised an eyebrow to the shivering shoulders of the consulting detective.

"You're cold, aren't you." Sherlock however continued to stare blankly at the bedroom wall, to which Molly smirked. "I told you to change into something warm. You should have listened to me." She shook her head at Sherlock's stubbornness. "Well, I bet your regretting that now!" Molly smiled sarcastically at him. "Actually, I'm regretting a lot of things right now.." was the equally harsh reply of Sherlock Holmes. She deduced the man was quite crabby when he first woke up, much like spoilt child.

Molly's ignored him as her eyes flickered to the strange red stain spreading and seeping through Sherlock's jacket; peeling back the fabric, an even larger stain revealed itself. "Sherlock, you're bleeding!" Slapping a hand to her mouth, she cried at the bloody mess dripping across his arm, "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because you are invisible. In fact, you are more than invisible. When something is invisible you at least would have noticed that there is an empty space around the invisible thing. If you were ugly, I would have noticed you. If you were even attractive, I would have noticed you. Tall or short, fat or skinny; if there was anything distinguishable about you, I would have noticed it. The problem was that you were not in the least bit noticable. You are a heaping mound of mediocrity who's very presence bores me to insanity."

The silence came and something strange happened. It was as if the cool wind swept her sadness and swung back around with a heat that filled her in its place. She wanted to hurt something. Anything. Or anyone...

Molly being Molly, she couldn't bear to dramatically slap Sherlock across the face, like she had seen the girls do in those chick-flick films; she instead struck him hard across his upper arm. Her rigid anger softened to regretful sadness, as she covered her face with her hands and headed for the door.

The blur over his mind had suddenly shifted, and he realised what he had just uttered. Sherlock wondered if his heart had ever been broken. He has always had difficulty in recognising human emotions. And if it ever broke, it splintered that very moment.

Suddenly, there was harsh prickling along his nose, he sniffed underneath his breath, hoping it would stop the tickle. No help at all. He began wiping his nose, rubbing a knuckle along the side and under the tip, not having any effect on the fierce burning, which was now growing deep inside his nose. A loose fist pressed against his nose, just in time.

"N-No, I... Hih -nnh!" His hands were scrambling to cover his face. "Hhih... Hih'SCHUH! Molly, I.. I sai- nuh... uhh-TSCHIH!" Managing to breath a little easier, he cleared his throat, "I said you were invisible; but I still noticed you." "The fact that you're perfectly ordinary, is the fact that you're perfectly ordinary."

Molly slid a cool hand underneath his bangs. A fever. Of course it was a fever. Sherlock wouldn't dare say such lovely things by himself. His precious hardrive had a virus.

Finding a new, clean shirt, and wrapping the wounds with fresh bandages from John's first aid kit; she helped him change, the darkness and the gloomy fog in her mind couldn't bear to even fathom what was underneath that damp shirt. She was too afraid to look.

"Bed, Sherlock." She uttered, "Please just go to bed." Her words like delicate wisps in Sherlock's thumping mind. He wanted more. He needed more gentle soothing words from her tender, little mouth.

Two words.

Just two deep, booming words stopped Molly in her tracks, put a pitiful lump in her throat, and shook her to her very core.

"Stay, please."

[HockeyFan4Ever]

Awww... You portray Molly so well! Can't wait for the next installment!