It’s no secret I was always a fan of Stefan and Elena ending up together. In another universe, that would’ve been the ending, but we didn’t have time to tell that story in the last season because we didn’t have Elena. We couldn’t get them back together.”
“We were torn between Damon and Stefan,” Williamson says, before confessing, “I’m a Stelena [fan]. I’ve gone on record as a Stelena [fan]. It’s Stefan and Elena for me. That’s who, in another universe, that’s how I would have ended the show.”
“If we’d had her [Nina] back for all of the eighth season, we could have worked our way back there [to Stefan and Elena]. And I would have loved to explore that. But we didn’t.”
“Well, I always thought it would be Stefan and Elena. They were sort of the anchor of the show, but because we lost Elena in Season 6, we couldn’t go back. You know Nina could only come back for one episode – maybe if she had came back for the whole season, we could even have warped back towards that, but you can’t just do it in 42 minutes.”
Bex just gave a calm smile as if she’d known this moment was coming ever since the day the Blackthorne Boys walked through the front doors—like it was inevitable that the Gallagher Girls would eventually bring at least one of them to their knees.
You know when people say:
“I would die for you”?
When they want to explain
How important that person is to them?
I suppose they say that
Because they value their life
More than anything else.
For me it’s different, though.
I never cared much for my life.
So, there is no question
Whether I’d die for you or not,
Because between us two,
Your is the life that makes more sense,
And because I’m selfish like that,
I would never want to live in a world
Where you’re not in it anymore.
I would never say:
“I would die for you.”
How important you are to me.
No, I would say:
“I would live for you.”
Because with you,
My life seems to make sense, too.
Farkle: I’ve been in love with Riley since the first grade.
Watch: Riley is within five feet of you Riley: Hey, that’s my voice! Farkle: Yeah, I’ve been recording it for years. But don’t worry, I would never take advantage of it. Watch: I love you, Farkle
Farkle: Of course she loves Rileytown. Of course she’s weird and goofy and unique. That’s what we all love about her. Maya: So what’s the problem? Farkle: Somebody doesn’t.
Riley: You gave me this when you sat with me in the hospital when I had my tonsils out. I lost her and never had the heart to tell you. How did you know? Farkle: I bought two of them, you know, just in case, you lost the one I gave you.
Lucas: Look up there. I just saw comet fly by. Farkle: Yeah. My ceiling is a planetarium. But don’t worry Riley. Pluto will always be a planet in my room.
My little follow-up to The Final Problem.
♥ Spoilers ahead.
As the dust settled over the revelation of Euros’ existence, Sherlock knew a change was coming. Not just in his family. The games Euros had orchestrated had left him emotionally compromised and his heart a bleeding wound.
Three days after his return to Baker Street, there came a knock on the door. And he knew his time of relief was over.
Taking a breath to brace himself, he strode to the door and opened it wide.
‘Molly,’ he greeted her and stepped back to let her in.
Her lips were thinned and there were dark bags under her eyes. ‘Hi, Sherlock.’
‘I assume you are here for answers.’ He shut the door and turned to face her, his hands behind his back. To hide their shaking.
To his surprise, she shook her head. ‘No. No, I don’t want answers. I don’t know why you made me say… what I said. And I don’t want to know.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I need to tell you something. And I need to tell you in person.’
A sense of foreboding fell over him. ‘Yes, what is it?’
She straightened her shoulders and bravely looked him in the eyes. ‘I’m leaving London.’
Exhausted, muddy and a little bit bloody, Sherlock bid John goodnight as the doctor continued up the stairs to his rooms where Mrs Hudson was taking care of Rosie.
Quietly, Sherlock entered the lounge of 221B and breathed a sigh of relief. Home. A warmth spread across his chest.
‘Sherlock, this isn’t healthy,’ John said as he bounced a crying Rosie up and down, trying to get the baby to settle down.
‘I should say not,’ Sherlock scowled and took the plastic teething ring from Rosie’s mouth. ‘Do you know the kind of bacteria that can grow on this?’
John rolled his eyes and followed his friend into the kitchen and watched as he rummaged about in the freezer. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’
‘Ah, ha!’ Sherlock triumphantly produced a plastic bag containing a chilled silicone teething ring from the depths of the freezer.
‘Sherlock,’ John hissed and patiently tried to hold his temper in. Rosie latched on to the cold ring and immediately settled down, her tears stopping. ‘It’s been two months and you’re working yourself sick. You need to talk to her.’
Sherlock ignored him and busied himself thinking of ways to dispose of the plastic teething rings. He scowled when John grabbed his arm and jerked him around.
‘She’s as miserable as you are, you know.’
Against his will, his heart leaped in hope. ‘She is?’
John shook his head and grumbled, ‘You both are far too stubborn for your own goods. Yes! Sherlock, she loves you! And you love her. And you let her go without letting her know you meant it! She didn’t have all the facts to make an informed decision.’
Shrugging out of his muddy coat, Sherlock dropped it in the laundry bin by the door and kicked off his shoes. He left a trail of clothes to the bathroom and turned on the spray to the hottest setting he could stand.
The door opened to reveal a wide-eyed, suspicious Molly. She blanched at the dozen roses in his arms. ‘Sherlock? What are you doing here?’
‘It was true. It was always true,’ he answered softly. ‘I just didn’t realise it until I said it.’
The remaining color in her face drained away and her eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t. Just… don’t.’ She made to close the door, but Sherlock caught it with his hand.
‘Please. I don’t know how to prove it to you and I know it is impossible to believe that someone like me could love at all, but I do. I do, Molly. I love you.’
Scrubbed raw, Sherlock stepped out of the shower and dried himself off with a fluffy towel, tying it low around his waist. He left the steamy bathroom and picked up his trail of dirty clothes, depositing them in the second hamper by the bedroom door.
Letting himself into the moonlit room, he picked up the pyjama pants that were waiting, neatly folded, on top of the bureau dresser and slipped them on.
She hadn’t said it again, as if she was afraid to break the spell. She showed her love in caring for him after he broke his arm on a case, by bringing him body parts to keep him from boredom, by being his sounding board, and in so many more ways.
But she never said the words.
They were going on seven months together, three weeks since she moved in to Baker Street, and Sherlock feared she would never say them. He cursed his sister for poisoning the words in Molly’s mind and cursed himself greater for giving Molly so much cause for doubt.
He’d said them often, to reassure her and himself. She was growing comfortable hearing it from him and no longer tensed when he said it. He knew she believed him, deep in her heart, but she was still afraid.
It was his turn to babysit Rosie this day while John and Molly were at work. He had just set her in her cot for her nap and kissed her head when he heard someone behind him.
Spinning around to defend Rosie from the intruder, he blanched at seeing Molly standing in the doorway. She was still dressed in her work clothes and lab coat, her hair in disarray. She was wringing her hands and biting her lip.
‘Molly, what are you doing here? Are you okay?’ He ran his gaze over her, but could deduce nothing wrong.
‘I love you.’
Time slowed down. His heart thundered in his ears.
‘I love you,’ she repeated, stronger and with more conviction. ‘I’ve always loved you, it’s always been you, Sherlock.’
In an instant, he had crossed the room and wrapped her in his arms. Her arms came around his neck and she clung tightly to him.
‘I love you, I love you,’ she repeated, kissing his clavicle, his neck, his jaw, his cheek. Sherlock memorized each word and each kiss before capturing her mouth with his.
‘I love you, too,’ he whispered when they parted for breath.
Molly smiled, her eyes crinkling and tears falling. A soft contentment shone in her eyes. ‘I know.’
With a groan of absolute relief, Sherlock laid down on the bed and immediately his body melted into the mattress.
Next to him, Molly opened her eyes sleepily and turned over, her arm slinging over his chest. ‘Hi.’
Sherlock smiled and tugged her to his side. ‘Hi.’
She snuggled against him and breathed in deeply. No other words were needed as perfect contentment swept over them and pulled them into deep sleep, their arms wrapped around each other.
“-It was like an episode of the “Twilight Zone”. -Huh. My favorite was the one where you could trade in your old body for a hot, new one. -She actually said she wished I wasn’t gay. -Well, I’ll always be glad you’re a big, fat queer. -You two make a beautiful couple. [cooing at Gus] Hey there. Aren’t you sweet? Hi, sweetie. And your baby looks just like you.”