Sherlock blinked. Something was different. There was a pleasant weight draped across his chest. He blinked carefully, and then lifted his head. He was surprised (very well, shocked) to find that the weight was that of a little girl.
"Oh…um…hm." Was all he managed. He lifted his hand to shift her away only to see a gold band shining on his ring finger. "What the hell?" Alarmed, he sat up and the little girl (who could not have been older than five) leaning across from him curled closer to him and began to protest.
"Daddy no, nap time! Mummy says you need to rest."
"Josephine, not so loud," a voice from the doorway said. Sherlock turned to see Molly. She was soft and fairly glowing in the warm afternoon light. In her arms she carried a sleepin toddler, a boy. "How is your daddy to get any rest after his case?"
"We can all rest together." Sherlock blurted out. Molly smiled, climbing onto her side of the bed (her side? When did that happen) with a sigh. Josephine curled up next to her mother, the sleeping boy (Hamish was his name, though Sherlock could not fathom why, and then chided himself, of course he knew his son's name!) was shifted to her other side, Molly's arm still protectively around him. As Molly settled on the bed, Sherlock realized that she was rounder than usual. Or had she always been so round and he had not cared?
"Da, when will we meet the baby?" Josephine asked softly.
"Not long now," he heard himself answer. "Only three more months." Molly was looking at him over their children's heads, eyes shining and smiling at him. "Are you happy, Mrs. Holmes?" he asked softly.
"Very, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock!
He sat up with a start, the warmth of the dream gone. He blinked several times, eyes adjusting to the dim room. When he looked over at the other side of the bed, it was cold and empty and he felt a stab of wistfulness, recalling how Molly had fit so well on that side.
"Sherlock!"
Heaving a sigh, he got up.
"There you are, your phone's been ringing," Mrs. Hudson handed him his mobile. "I could hear it all the way downstairs. Molly Hooper called."
"Oh?" the old woman retreated back downstairs, shaking her head at him.
Sherlock stared at the phone, thumb hovering over the 'call back' button. Before he could decide, his phone lit up and he'd swiped the screen to answer.
"Sherlock! There you are!" Molly sighed. "Look, do you want this heart or not? It's only got a limited shelf-life you know!"
"Yes I do want it," he answered, then paused, retracing what she'd said, and what he'd been pondering only moments ago. "I'll be over to pick it up in a bit." He paused again, remembering his dream, vivid in every detail. "Molly…would you fancy getting some chips with me?"