Note: This story is unbetaed. All the mistakes are mine.
Sherlock has always been proud of Molly; even before the 'Fall'. Actually, he always felt that way ever since they first met, though he always kept it to himself. She was smart, capable, and her scientific journals were always impressive and well-respected among the scientific society. Now that they were married, he won a lifetime front-seat ticket to closely watch how much time and effort she put in her scientific research. Molly was passionate about her work with Sherlock, but her own research was simply….hers. It was her personal accomplishment, and it made her proud, which consequently made her husband proud.
Molly was one of the keynote speakers in a pathology conference held in London for one day only, where her latest scientific paper was published. Sherlock would have never missed such a chance; to watch his wife take the stage and present her work in front of her colleagues, many of them much older than her, but interested in the results of her research, nevertheless. Responsible, confidant and strong Molly has always fascinated Sherlock, and he would never miss a chance to see that side of her. But, as always, life is not fair, at least according to Sherlock at the moment, because while he was so happy seeing his lovely wife so respected for her scientific views and discoveries, there was something else that annoyed him a lot.
The newlywed couple of three months were on their way back home from the conference in one of Mycroft's cars, who insisted that his dear sister-in-law should attend the conference in the finest vehicle he could provide. And who could provide the best of everything if not THE British Government himself?
Unusually, Sherlock was completely silent, staring through the car's window.
"Sherlock?" Molly said quietly.
"Hmm?" he hummed, still looking through the window.
She placed her hand on his, and ran her thumb on the back of his hand affectionately, "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." he said curtly.
Molly knew that tone very well, and she knew better than to push him to talk now, especially that they were in the backseat of a car, not at their home, so she decided to postpone her 'interrogation' till they step inside 221B. She gently patted on his hand, then left him to his thoughts and turned her head to watch the streets of London from the car's window.
Fifteen minutes later, the car stopped in front of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock nearly jumped out of the car as soon as it stopped, but at least he had the courtesy to wait for Molly to step out before he turned to the black shiny door to open it.
Molly sighed heavily, before turning to the driver and smiling sweetly, "Thanks, Marcus."
Marcus bowed his head politely and said, "You are welcome, Mrs. Holmes."
Molly nodded slightly, and then turned around to step inside the house, only to find that Sherlock has left the door open for her, but he was nowhere to be found. He was already upstairs!
Molly stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and taking the stairs one at a time, preparing herself for whatever sent her husband to 'the calm before the storm' mode.
Exactly as she suspected, Sherlock was sitting in his chair, belstaff and scarf off, tapping his left leg angrily on the wooden floor, his fingers clutching the chair arms as if he was ready to tear it apart. And, as a bonus, he was already pouting.
Silently, Molly put her purse on the coffee table, before taking off her coat and placing it on the coat rack next to his belstaff.
God, how did he even manage to run upstairs, take off his coat and scarf and attain a fighting pose in a few seconds?
Molly walked to his chair, and then she stood in front of him, nudging his left knee with hers before asking softly, "Why are you pouting now?"
"I am not." he was practically gritting his teeth and staring at the fireplace.
"You are."
"I am not."
She bent to peck his lower pouting lip. "See? Pouting."
Now he was pouting and crossing his arms over his chest, looking childish.
Molly sighed and said calmly, "What happened? Did I do something to upset you?"
He breathed heavily and said, "Not you."
"Then who?"
"The spokeswoman."
Molly's brows were knitted in pure confusion. "The what?"
"The spokeswoman in the conference."
"What did she do, Sherlock? She didn't even speak to you, did she?"
"She said your name wrong."
"What?" Molly asked, quite certain that she didn't hear him well.
"It was wrong." he repeated.
Molly tried to recall how the spokeswoman said her name; Dr. Molly Hooper.
"No, she didn't, Sherlock." Molly told him, feeling quite puzzled.
"She did." he insisted.
Molly rubbed her forehead with her fingers in confusion, trying to understand what Sherlock meant.
He looked up and stared at her for a moment, and then he said in a voice that sounded very annoyed, "She said 'Dr. Molly Hooper'."
Molly stared back blankly, before saying, "So?"
"So?!" he shouted in disbelief.
"Sherlock, that's my…." and she stopped when her eyes suddenly caught his right thumb brushing over the wedding band on his left hand.
"Oh." She mumbled weakly.
Sherlock crossed his arms across his chest and said, "Molly Holmes; that's your name." He turned his head again to stare furiously at the fireplace.
Molly was practically speechless. Of all the reasons that kept running through her mind, she never thought that was why Sherlock was so frustrated.
"Why didn't she say your name properly? Highly unacceptable." he continued, sounding very infuriated.
Molly was trying to hide a grin but somehow, given the situation, that task was a little bit hard. When Sherlock lifted his head to look at her and found her fighting her own smile, he just lost it.
"WHAT?!" he yelled in frustration.
Why is she smiling? She shouldn't be smiling. I am upset. I am beyond upset.
Molly bit her lower lip as hard as she could; trying to stop smiling before her husband would explode in rage. She held both her hands up in front of her, trying to placate him, "Nothing, but don't you think you are a little extravagating?"
Maybe not the best thing to say right now, Molly.
Sherlock fisted both his hands and hit the chair arms angrily, "No, I am not. You are my wife and I have every right to be upset if you are called without your proper name."
Molly raised an eyebrow, quite surprised and amused by his reaction.
Suddenly, he stared at her, eyes wide, looking both hurt and angry, "Or didn't you want to be called by-"
Before he could continue, Molly leaned forward, and gently placed her delicate fingers on his mouth and said in a low voice, "Alright, Stop. Right Now."
Sherlock closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, probably just to calm his breaths down, and then opened them to gaze at her.
Molly moved her fingers from his mouth, then held his left hand and let two fingers hover over his wedding band before saying with a smile, "Sherlock, it's really simple. The published paper had my maiden name; Molly Hooper, like all the other papers I have published before, that's all. That's the name I use on my publications. That's why the spokeswoman used it."
"Then why didn't you correct her?" he asked weakly.
"On the stage?!"
He turned his head away, wrinkled his nose, then turned again to look at her and said in a slightly defeated voice, "Then why didn't you write your proper name on the paper before publishing it?"
Molly exhaled deeply then, still holding his left hand, she took a step forward, forcing him to part his legs so she could stand between them, closer to him. "First, the paper was submitted about a month before our wedding, and second, I just used the name I always use on my publications."
Sherlock took his hand from hers, and then crossed both his arms against his chest again, looking angry and completely unconvinced, in addition to refusing to meet her eyes.
Molly sighed dramatically and said, "And he is pouting again." She leaned forward to kiss his right cheek tenderly.
"I am sorry; I didn't mean to upset you."
Then she turned her head to kiss his left cheek.
"You know how much I like my new name."
Another kiss on his nose, and then she slid herself to sit on his lap, looping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips lightly.
"I would never dream of changing it."
He still refused to meet her eyes, and the pout was still there. Still upset.
Molly tapped her index finger on her temple in deep thought, then said, "Alright, let's compromise, how about Molly Hooper-Holmes on my future works? People get to know I am the same Molly Hooper and I get to keep my husband's beautiful name."
When he didn't respond, she smiled and murmured, "Fair enough?"
She heard his heavy sigh, before he, finally, looked at her and whispered, "Fair enough."
Molly tilted her head slightly and touched his lower lip with her fingertip, "You are still pouting."
He kissed her fingertip lightly. "You know how to make it go away." he smiled sheepishly.
She stood up reluctantly, already missing the heat of his body against hers and said in a tempting voice, "How about a show of how much I love being a Holmes? Sounds better?"
He willingly let her lead the way to their bedroom.
THE END