Plans, a sherlock fanfic

Molly slumped down into her favoured chair, at once engulfed within the comfort of the soft cushions. Letting her eyes flutter closed and her breathing shallow, a small smile spread across her sleepy lips, as she allowed herself to remember why this had been such a wonderfully tiring birthday.

Molly ritually awoke at 5:39am exactly each and every birthday she has had, according to her late mother, this had been 'since birth, or at least the age of 6'. Logically Molly does this, as it was the exact time she came into the world; but even as Molly's nights got later, somehow her internal clock, no matter how exhausted, will awaken her on the exact minute.

In all honesty, within the first 3 years of their relationship Sherlock had found this occurrence weird, even to the extent that he had performed a string of tests and observations on the pathologist for the 2 years that followed. Concluding that no matter the external factors, and even when he sneakily turned Molly's alarm off, her eyes would snap open at 5:39am on the dot, accompanied by the wide and bright smile he had fallen in love with.

Today was, in fact, Molly's 38th birthday. This birthday was the 11th that Sherlock had been present within Molly's life, the 6th birthday for which Molly and Sherlock had been together and the 7th birthday Sherlock had known he was in love with Molly.

Upon recollection it had been Molly's 31st birthday, and after the events of 'The Reichenbach Fall' and 'The Adventures of the Empty House'; John, Lestrade and Sherlock, to some small extent, had organised a gathering, of sorts, to celebrate Molly fully entering her 30's with a flourish. Within 221b Molly has cosied up to Sherlock and had fallen asleep in a wine induced coma upon his shoulder. Looking down upon the petite woman he'd had a moment of epiphany and he whispered the three most cliché and meaningful words in human history upon deaf ears. Overall the flash of self-realisation was somewhat ruined by the equally wine induced catcalls of John and Lestrade as the staggered in from the kitchen brandishing more than a fair amount of booze.

For Molly's 38th birthday, Sherlock certainly had plans made for the day. So when Molly's eyes opened at the precise minute of 5:39am, she did not have her most constant source of warmth curled up beside her on this 17th of October morning . Rising from her bed to find him, Molly followed the enticing sent of strong, proper, coffee and the unmistakeable sizzle of bacon; finding herself in the relatively large kitchen of hers and Sherlock's home. She was greeted with the sight of bacon, American style pancakes, and glorious amounts of maple syrup piled high on two plates at opposite ends of their small breakfast bar. This (along with topless form of a fairly groggy looking Sherlock) made Molly's mouth water.

She did not give Sherlock a chance to express the well wishes of ageing another day that sat on the tip of his tongue, as his mouth became rather busy with the smaller lips that had been forced upon his own.

If she's so happy with a simple breakfast I wonder how she'll cope with the rest of the day, he wondered. At this thought Sherlock chuckled deeply against Molly's lips.

"Good Morning beautiful, if this is the way I'm greeted when there's pancakes I think I'll make breakfast more often," he mused "oh, and Happy Birthday my love."

"Ugh! Don't remind me… well actually if I get pancakes and bacon, and I get to be a little spoiled, I'm fine with that. As long as I'm not old, or ageing… and none of your 'technicalities' I'm 24 at heart and 24 I'll stay. Thank you."

"It's your birthday love; whatever you wish, within reason and within my plans for the day, of course." He said planting a kiss upon her cheek as they sat down for an early breakfast.

"Plans! There are plans? I love plans! What plans? Oh, how exciting!"

"I'm not telling you." He emphasised the 'you' as he bopped Molly's nose in the childish manner she has been doing to him for several years.

As Molly took her first bite of the food that was laid out in front of her, a sound of pleasure, that was not uncommon to Sherlock's ears, rumbled in Molly's throat.

"Oh. God. Sweetheart this is delicious-" leaning over the table Molly once again kissed Sherlock, although this time in a much more chaste manner, "- you're delicious."

Even after 7 years of being in love, and 6 years 9 months into his first and only relationship; displays of affection, although never unwelcomed and highly common on both sides, still confused and amazed Sherlock's vast mind, taking the self-diagnosed sociopath within off guard.

"And so, my darling, are you. Now hurry up and eat, we have a busy day ahead of us, plans to do. And it all involves us leaving this house at 7am."

"Sherlock, I may well be an ageing woman, but even on a bad day it'll take me half an hour at most to be ready… and it's not even 6 yet!" Molly sometimes questioned how Sherlock's great mind just skimmed past details in everyday life.

"Aha, yes, that may well be true, but there is something to do before we get ready and leave. And I intend for that thing to be you." With that last comment Sherlock provided a flirtatious smile that caused Molly, even though they had been intimate for over 6 years, to have a light colour rise onto her cheeks at the thought.

After a full birthday's worth of activity before 6:30am, and after a not so quick and interrupted shower, Molly was ready to leave the house by 2 minutes to 7 and wore a proud smile as she realised that she was technically early, even after the morning's excitement. Clad in a simple fitted black skirt, a pair of her favourite woolly black tights to stave off the autumn chill, her most favourite well-worn grey biker boots and her lovingly chosen baggy burgundy jumper. With last year's present from Sherlock that sparkled as it sat on her décolletage and she twiddled with the silver star pendant; waiting for her usually prompt, yet now at least a minute late, boyfriend to emerge from the hall. When he did her mouth visibly gaped open; Molly rarely got a chance to see Sherlock in non-Spencer Hart attire, and very rarely got the chance to see him in slightly form fitting jeans… it sure was a pleasing sight; especially as they were worn alongside the deep burgundy jumper she had chosen for him a couple of years, it had taken quite an amount of persuasion to be worn first time round, but had seen many outings in the past two years. Aww, Molly's heart fluttered, we match, how unnervingly sweet.

Sherlock registered Molly's stature, the slight parting of her lips and the little movement from her position, frozen, her hand no longer fidgeting with her beloved pendant. Pupils certainly dilated, but no more time for that!

"I see that my outfit has had the desired effect; I did pick from the 'Molly's favourites' section of the wardrobe. You look delightful by the way."

She playfully nudged Sherlock in the ribs, "Well aren't you sweet?-" Molly's excitement for the day began to build as she was lead to the front door, because of this Molly decided to grab onto Sherlock's arm, but did so with such force that he stumbled out of the door and onto the pavement outside, "-And tremendously clumsy." Molly giggled as Sherlock regained his composure and motioned toward the cab he had ordered a week ago.

"Only when you're around Molls."

Throughout the cab drive Molly was visibly buzzing with excitement, "Soooo, these plans… What are the plans, exactly?-" Molly tried to be coy, "-Am I dressed correctly? Oh goodness me, I'm wearing heels, they're not much, but will I have to walk a lot?-" but significantly lost that battle as they exited the cab. "-Oh go on tell us, please!" by this point, with her arm draped through Sherlock's, Molly began to skip with childlike wonder.

"Stop fussing you, no clues means no clues, although I will say that you are dressed appropriately. Now close your eyes, the surprise is nearly here."

As Molly was carefully lead round the corner, her closed eyes and covered delicately by Sherlock's hand (he knew her to well to trust her to not peek before they got to their destination), they stepped onto the soft green grass that surrounded the empty bandstand of Greenwich Park. The heels of Molly's boots sunk slightly into the damp mud that led on from the firm concrete path she had been taken down by her boyfriend. Her heart began to pound with excitement as she heard a light cacophony of familiar noises, especially the soft gurgles of John and Mary's baby, Charlie, and the bossy tones of her 6 year old niece Carrie, who was obviously in charge of the situation (and had been spending too much time around a certain Consulting Detective); "No Mr John, you can't put Chawie there, silly, he'll get really bad sniffles from the bad grass!" Knowing from the wriggle of Molly the secret was somewhat out Sherlock lowered his hand letting it fall to Molly's side, grasping her hand in his own in the process.

"Surprise!" exclaimed the voices of John, Mary, Lestrade, Chris (Molly's elder, only, but most certainly more immature brother), his always-beautiful wife Alexa and Carrie (who Sherlock noticed had grown 1 inch since the last family visit). Sherlock squeezed Molly's hand at the sight of a lone happy tear trailing down her cheek, it was rare these days to see their friends and family, life always getting in the way; but today was the one day a year (except for the early hours of Christmas morning) Sherlock fully gave into the conventions of sentiment and the warm feeling that stirred within his chest when his gaze fell upon Molly's deep chocolate eyes, he had to do something special.

Giving Sherlock a smile that radiated the happiness Molly was finding difficult to contain, she finally knelt down to give her darling niece, who was running at her aunt at a speed only matched by the cheetah, the biggest squidge she possibly could without breaking the little girl.

"Hey sweetie!" Molly peppered hundred of proper auntie kisses upon her niece, simultaneously tickling the wriggling, giggling girl.

"Auntie Mollliiieee, you're being a meanie." She said in the grumpiest voice she could muster through her laughter and joy. Letting Carrie run to her Daddy, Molly greeted her close friends and family with plenty of hugs, kisses and beaming smiles; that's when she spotted the large array of her most favoured picnic food, lovingly ordered it what appeared to be a colour coded system across her late mother's favoured plaid blanket.

"I can't believe you did all this for me, little old me; you know you're all going to make me cry on my birthday right?!" Molly was now holding baby Charlie, hoping it would allow her to avoid the tears; with the bouncing baby boy in her arms Sherlock noticed the way Molly simply glowed. Wow, she's just so beautiful.

Not wanting to take credit for the idea John spoke up, "Don't look at us Molls, we just turned up; it was really all Sherlock's idea."

"Oh, he is a big softie really! Somewhere behind all that moody." Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked affronted, as Molly pinched his cheeks, but purely as a natural reaction. He loved Molly everyone knew that, not much need to hide his heart from friends. "Well, thank you all so much for coming, it's so lovely to see you all!"

"Sorry it had to be a day event Molls, but we've only just gotten into a sleep cycle with Charlie." Mary chirped in.

"Don't worry about it Mary, it's fine. I'm always up early on my birthday anyway." As Molly smiled a light blush crept up onto her, for the second time that day, remembering what had occupied her after awakening early this morning.

"Yes, very early. 5:39am on the dot, every year, it baffles even me… I've done experiments." Sherlock looked like a proud child after showing his mother a picture he'd created from pasta shells with excessive amounts of glue and glitter, managing to apply scientific method in his life with Molly was always a proud moment.

"Course you have mate, of course you have." John feigned disappointment with a shake of his head, although he expected nothing less from the former flatmate.

As the hours rolled on, the stories were shared, the laughter had reverberated around the empty park (Mycroft's gift), the games had been played and the food eaten, conversation began to dwindle and children began to snooze. As the early evening darkness of October began to set in, Molly had to bid adieu to a rundown Mary and John carrying away a snoring Charlie, a tired (if not a little tipsy) Lestrade, and then to a drowsy Carrie who was snuggled into the shoulder of a worn out Alexa.

As Molly said goodbye to her brother they became set in a life affirming hug; "He's great, Molly Bee, but please, please, please don't ever let him hide you from the world for three years again. I missed my little sis, Carrie missed her auntie and Alexa missed one of her best friends."

"I promise, Chris Bug, I'm so, so, so sorry; I know it was just us against the world when mum and dad died, but I'm so glad you had Alexa and Carrie, he had no one. I love you bro."

"Love you too sis, hey, you and that big git have each other now too. C'mon give us one final squish." And with a breathless squeeze he let her go to catch up with his family.

Once again, and somewhat finally, alone with Sherlock, Molly snuggled into his shoulder. "Thank you." She whispered into his soft jumper, looking up at him she continued. "Best. Present. Ever."

"Present? Who said that was the present, this, my love, was the plans; and only part of the plans at that."

"You mean, there's more… there needn't be more, you've spoilt me already today love."

At this Sherlock whipped a neatly wrapped box into Molly's eye-line, the bow echoing the colour of their matching jumpers. The box had seemingly appeared from nowhere, but Molly was far from complaining. Her eyes shone as she ripped apart the neatly assembled paper, lifting the lid from the box beneath, and folding back the crimson tissue paper. Molly's mouth hung open as shock, happiness, marvel and anticipation all glistened in her eyes. Letting the box fall to the soft grass at her feet, she held the contents, in full length before her. Inspecting the gift closely she wondered if she would ever have a need for such an item, although she loved it wholeheartedly, so found it hard to care.

"Oh, Sherlock, it's – it's beautiful!" she cried, pulling him into a strong embrace and searing kiss.

"I'm glad that you like it, it will fit exquisitely. Mary and Anthea helped with the style, whereas I knew your favoured and complimenting colour palette and your exact measurements."

Molly just gazed at herself in the full-length mirror of the empty (excluding herself and Anthea) shop, swiping her hands over the ruched taffeta of the corseted bust that lead to a flare at the hips; the shining navy blue swishing and swaying with her every movement and sweeping down to her heel clad toes. The heels themselves were a colour-match for the gown, with a sparkle that mirrored that of the beads that encrusted the sweetheart neckline.

Having been dragged away from Sherlock by Anthea for a promised ten minutes; after having her hair done, makeup applied, and looking at herself in the dress to end all dresses, it was now half an hour later. Not that Molly was grumpy, all the pampering, and of course, the dress, made her feel like she'd just been crowned in one of her beloved Disney films.

"Molly, you look stunning; I've sent Mary some pictures and she concurs." Anthea said, momentarily looking up from her luminescent screen. Molly blushed profusely, stunning? Coming from Anthea, surely she's the real stunning one here? Anthea glanced back down to the glow of her phone as it flashed with a new text. "And it looks like we can get back to your plans, Princess."

"I don't suppose a princess, on a friend to friend basis, could acquire some inside information on said plans?" Molly was trying her best to be sneaky or skilful, and as those failed her puppy dog eyes and pout came into play, "please?"

"Ummmm, let me think about that one… No. I have been kindly informed that if I so much as breathe a word, I'll be jobless by the time I inhale."

Molly huffed something that sounded like 'fine' as the got back into the car.

"Bye Molls, Happy Birthday, enjoy the final plans." On leaving the car, Molly was escorted by the gentlemanly driver, through the dark pathways of what she believed to again be Greenwich Park, until they came to the, once again, transformed bandstand. At the entrance of the fairy lit pillars that were coiled with vines blossoming flowers to match the navy shade of her dress, stood a dashing man, in smart (what she could only assume was Spencer Hart) attire consisting of black tails, an pristine white shirt and sporting a bowtie that matched Molly's dress perfectly in both colour and fabric.

God, Sherlock always looks so handsome… but this! Was all Molly could think as she approached the love stricken man.

"Uhm… thank you Terrance. I'll take it from here." Were the only strained words he could manage from his rapidly drying mouth. How on earth, could it have taken me 4 years to see how stunningly beautiful she is! he thought, forcibly trying to close his slackened jaw.

A soft 'hi' stumbled simultaneously from both their lips; Molly giggled at how nervous they both seemed, acting like teenagers once again; as if they hadn't been seeing each other for the past 6 years 9 months, or been living together for 5 of those years.

"A dance m'lady?" Sherlock bowed his head and extended his arm to a confused Molly.

"Don't be silly Sherlock, there's no music."

"You're the only music I need." He spoke as he drew her close, resting his chin atop her head.

The two danced for hours to the music that neither could hear but both could feel, as if the rhythm of theirs hearts was a symphony. Occasionally the silence would be interrupted by the rustle of Molly's dress, or the simple tap of their shoes. It was once broken as Molly sighed, content and overwhelmed by how romantic Sherlock was being in what (although empty, dark and nearing on midnight) was technically a public place.

"I feel like a princess." Her words mixed with her breath as she exhaled.

"You deserve it Molly Hooper," dropping a small kiss onto her head, he whispered, "and so much more. I love you, Molls."

"And I you, Sherlock."

As their dancing slowed to a still embrace, Sherlock took Molly by the arms trailing his hands to her wrists, always connected, but pushing Molly away slightly so that he could look into her sparkling chocolate eyes.

"Molly, I know that you deserve better than me, always have, always will… but that never stopped me preventing you from furthering relationships with those - possibilities. All that I can give to you is the deep, tender love you've given me, that has expanded and warmed my once cold heart. I give into my heart, feelings and sentiment more and more in your presence, even in public; so much so that John now believes I'm, as you say, 'a big softie really'. I honestly no longer mind that, because the feeling of being with you is more intoxicating, stimulating, rewarding and beautiful than any case has ever been. You're the reason I've turned from an incredibly intelligent, 5 year old sociopath, hiding in a man's body, into and incredibly intelligent man-"Molly let out a tear stained chuckle "- with a heart of pure gold. You are my heart Molly Hooper, but would you please by my Molly Holmes?"

At this point Sherlock produced and opened a velvet ring box holding an exquisitely simple silver ring with a central diamond that resembled the star charm laced around Molly's neck. He even got down on one knee (having done research into the field of proposals using RomComs and John, even Sherlock Holmes needs a good cliché once in a while); Molly looked as if about fit to burst into tears, and though usually a calm master of deduction Sherlock could not discern if they were to be happy, sad or even worse, angry. His mind was clouded with the enormity of his own question, grabbing for an answer he began, for the first time in his life, to babble.

"Ummm… I know that I've taken my time, convention dictates that a relationship length usually spanning from 1 to 3 years is the most socially acceptable for a proposal, then again I've never been one for social acceptance… but you - you, waited for me, and for this, and… I love you Molly, please say something!"

A smile of the greatest proportions took over Molly's features. "Oh, I would. If I could get a word in edgeways… that word being, YES… of course, you silly, flustered, adorable man. How or why could I say no? I love you!"

By this time Molly had begun jumping with sheer adrenaline, excitement and love. Tears smearing her once perfected makeup and her hair falling into kinked curls from her loose bun. It was not the most attractive of sights, but at the overwhelming relief, and the desire to, for Molly's and his own sake, give in and be a little silly, Sherlock began jumping along with his fiancé.

And that's why in the early hours of what was now technically the 18th of October, Sherlock kissed Molly softly on the cheek believing that even he may give into the realms of sleep, after what had been a wonderfully long day… even though he had last slept on Saturday.

The small unfamiliar weight that pulled down on her ring finger a reminder that, as she left reality for the world of dreams, nothing would compare to the splendour and brilliance of this day.

Hi, Hello. Ummm... so I wrote this kind of quickly and I know it's terribly fluffy and OCC, but I find it hard to write anything other :P

The dress mentioned would look something like this: www. .

and all in all I wrote this for the birthday of the lovely MoridByDefault, who I may not actually know but is a brilliant source of Sherlolly brilliance and has a rather dashing Tumblr page (get it... dashing... Oh, I'm just too funny!)

I want to say a massive thank you to the people who have and hopefully will review and favourite this story. And another massive thank you to those who read my previous story.

Okay, now I'm going to leave you to get on with crying over reichenfeels and having british men induced moments of annoyance at how perfect their faces are.

K, Byyyeee x