ONE NIGHT IN BRISTOL

A/N: This Sherlolly fic is for marvelsdemigodsofmerwholock on Tumblr, who is celebrating her 17th birthday today. I hope this is fluffy enough for you. Happy birthday!

Hope y'all like this one!

I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.

John opened his eyes to the dim motel room ceiling. Sighing, he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. Three in the bloody morning. He lifted his head from the pillow and stared at the detective, who still wore his white dress shirt, black trousers, and black socks even as he slept on the other bed. He looked around the room and saw Sherlock's suit jacket draped over the back of the desk chair. Sheets of paper (the case files, most likely), open books, and a map covered every inch of the large mahogany desk's surface at the corner of the room. A piece of paper lay on top of the floor lamp, the cover of which was tilted to one side. Someone's stuck, he deduced.

He rose from the bed and removed a small bottle of water from the mini fridge. He poured it into a clean glass and downed the cold water. After putting the bottle back in the fridge, he picked up his mobile from the nightstand and went through his messages. He smiled as he typed his reply to Mary's most recent text.

Just read your message. Hope the baby is fast asleep and not keeping you up. - JW

He waited a few minutes before replacing the phone on the table. Looks like Hannah finally slept through the night.

He was about to lie down again when he heard a sound coming from the other bed. "Sherlock, are you awake?" The only answer he got was a series of unintelligible words from the detective, who suddenly turned onto his back. "What was that?" he asked as he approached the sleeping man.

"Bmmpyomolly," Sherlock answered.

"Did you just say 'Molly'?" he asked as he grabbed his mobile and launched the camera. He set the camera to record video and recalled a recent conversation with his wife. Maybe he's dreaming about Molly. Maybe he's finally telling her how he feels about her. If I'm right, then I need to document this, he reasoned. I'll only show this to Mary and Lestrade anyway. Or Sherlock, if I have to. "Sorry, what was that again?" he prompted as he pressed the shutter button.

He mumbled again, a bit more loudly this time. "Because I love you, Molly," he whined.

Still recording his friend, he smirked and bent over to get a better view of Sherlock's face. "You love her, eh? Does that mean you want to marry Molly?"

"Yes! I've told you time and time again that you're the only woman that I could spend the rest of my life with. Why don't you believe me?" Though his voice had risen and his words were clearer, he was still asleep.

"Can you blame her?" he sniggered. "Wait. Are you proposing?"

"Here," he said as he raised his arm, as if he were handing something to the pathologist. His arm fell bonelessly to the mattress, grazing his side, as he smirked at the woman in his dream. "I had to endure half a day of mindless babble from my mother, just so I could steal her engagement ring. And I even brought the marriage licence. All you need to do is say yes, slip the ring onto your finger, and sign the paperwork, and Mycroft will take care of our nuptials."

John covered his mouth to muffle his exclamation of "Holy shit!" as he continued recording. Mary and Lestrade will love this, he thought. "Eager much, Sherlock?"

"Why do we need to tell John and the others? When we're married, they'd know about us," he reasoned. He sighed and shook his head a few times. "Molly, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" His irritated expression quickly turned into an apologetic one. "Sorry," he said, his voice lowering and his face softening. Then, still asleep, he turned onto his side and said nothing else.

John waited half a minute before he straightened up and quietly walked towards the bathroom. He closed the door and turned the camera on himself. "That…" He began in a whisper before letting out a soft chuckle and gaping at the camera. "That was Sherlock Holmes confirming Mary's suspicion that he and Molly are in an actual romantic relationship. And I happened to tape it!" He chuckled some more before returning his gaze to the camera. "Oh, and Greg? You owe me 50 quid." He smiled before pressing the shutter button to stop recording.

He left the bathroom and put his mobile on Sleep mode before lying down again. He turned to the still sleeping Sherlock and shook his head. I knew you were hiding something, you git. Thank God it's something good this time. He smiled to himself once more before shutting his eyes.

"Will you shut up, John? Your loud thinking is interrupting my sleep."

John opened his eyes and turned to his friend, who still had his back to the doctor. "Sorry. I'll stop now. Goodnight, Sherlock." He smiled at the detective's grunt and went back to sleep.

A week later, John sat in the lab and texted Mary, while Sherlock and Molly sat next to each other, a microscope in front of each. The detective was testing a soil sample for their current murder case, while the pathologist was examining a tissue sample from the victim. He watched them as they silently and efficiently worked together. He smiled to himself as he replayed the video in his head. By this time, he and Mary had watched it about a hundred times. His grin grew wider as he recalled Lestrade's words when he handed the doctor £50: "That was the best video I've ever seen in my entire life. Unsurprisingly, Anderson agrees with me. Surprisingly, though, Donovan does too."

His mobile pinged with the arrival of Mary's reply.

Is she wearing a ring? - MW

No. He's probably still waiting to propose. - JW

Or the ring is in her locker. - MW

Could be. Or hanging from a chain she's wearing underneath her jumper. - JW

Did she just finish a post-mortem? - MW

No, not really. It's been over an hour since her last PM. - JW

And you didn't see a ring on her finger last night when you boys dropped her off at her flat? - MW

John was about to reply when the lab doors opened. "Hi, Lestrade. Hi, Anderson," he greeted the men. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sherlock lift his gaze from the microscope and briefly raise his eyebrow at the newcomers.

"What are you doing here, Lestrade?" The detective had returned his attention to the slide under the microscope. "I'm not done with the test for the soil sample. Molly's also not done with her tests. I will text you if I — sorry, we — find anything."

Molly looked up and smiled at the men. "Hello!" she greeted the two. "Do you need anything?"

"No-" Lestrade began.

"Are you engaged yet?" Anderson asked, his face the picture of barely restrained excitement.

"What?!" both Sherlock and Molly asked. They both stared at the recently reinstated forensic scientist as if he magically grew another full beard in a second.

Happy that he had gotten the couple's attention, Anderson held his trembling hands behind his back. "Has Sherlock popped the question yet, Molly?"

The two exchanged glances. Her cheeks turning pink, the pathologist searched the detective's suddenly pale face and then gasped. She looked at the other occupants in the room. "What are you talking about?" Her blush deepened as she glanced at the jaw-clenching man beside her. "W-we're not even… W-we're not even together!"

Anderson turned to Lestrade and then to John. "B-but… What about the video?"

"What video?!" the couple asked at the same time.

John caught Sherlock's eye, and he facepalmed. He steeled himself to remain calm as his best friend rose from his stool and strode towards him.

"John, what is Anderson talking about? Do you know what video he was referring to?" the dark-haired man demanded.

He glanced at the confused Anderson, whom Lestrade was pushing out of the lab. He returned his gaze to the man looming over him and swallowed. "Shit," he muttered under his breath. He cleared his throat before answering. "I… er… I recorded a video of you talking in your sleep when we were in Bristol last week."

Sherlock clenched his fists as he glanced at Molly, who had moved next to him. "And what was I saying?"

"I think you were arguing with Molly in your dream. You said that you loved her, and you presented her with your mother's engagement ring — which you stole, by the way — and the marriage licence. You were, I think, trying to persuade her to marry you. You weren't even gonna tell anyone until after you were married!"

The detective shut his eyes for a moment and clenched his jaw, even as Molly grabbed his arm in an attempt to calm him down. "And what did you do with this video?"

"I-I showed it to Mary." He glanced at his best friend's steely expression and at the petite woman's confused face. "And Lestrade."

"How did Anderson find out about this video?"

He shrugged and scratched his head. "I don't know. Lestrade must have shown him?"

Sherlock shut his eyes as he took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he narrowed them at the doctor. "Get out," he growled as he took Molly's small hand in his large one.

Not waiting for him to repeat it, John rose from his stool and almost ran out of the lab. He heard the lock click as he smiled at Lestrade, who was trying (and failing) to comfort the pouting Anderson. "We fucked up," he said as he leant against the opposite wall.

"That we did," Lestrade agreed. "How angry is he?"

"I don't know. I did see him taking Molly's hand." At this, Anderson smiled and stared expectantly at him. "Then he kicked me out of the lab."

Fifteen minutes later, John paced the corridor and wondered how the five-year-old consulting detective would punish him later. As long as he doesn't experiment on Hannah or Mary, I'd accept any punishment he'd give me. He paused when his mobile pinged again. He gaped at his phone's display when he saw his wife's message:

THEY'RE ENGAGED! FINALLY! - MW

I know that it's practically canon that Sherlock doesn't sleep when he's on a case. But he needed to be asleep to be able to sleep talk. So in this fic, Sherlock is in his mind palace, but he falls asleep because he's been working cases without a break, food, or sleep.

So, what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?