"Sherlock, what happened to my prescription?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked up from his laptop. "What prescription?"

Molly tilted her head at him and put her hands on her hips. "Ah, the only one I have, how about that? You know, my contraception!"

"Oh, sorry, I wasn't really listening. Erm, Toby knocked your pills the toilet last night. I threw them out."

She furrowed her brow. Her lips stuck out in a pout.

"But I'm only a week into that course. Darn! Well, we're going to have to figure something else out until next month."

Sherlock's eyes dropped back to his computer. "Indeed."

"What do you mean there were no condoms?"

Sherlock shrugged in an exaggerated manner. "They were sold out."

Molly squinted at him in disbelief. "Sold out? It's the largest pharmacy in ten miles and they were sold out?"

"Yes."

"Every brand? Every size?"

Sherlock stared at her pointedly. "Not every size. There were plenty in small and medium but I'd rather not have my circulation cut off."

Molly went a bit pink in the face. "Don't make fun. That's it. We're sleeping in separate beds tonight."

Sherlock huffed. "Wonderful."

"Why all the thermometers?"

Sherlock hastily brushed them off the kitchen table into a box.

"New experiment. Perhaps you can help me. I would like to test your temperature every day for the next month."

"What? Why?"

"Um, well, just interested in how the average woman's body deals with elevated temperatures in the summer. It's … for … a case! Yes, a case."

"Raw oysters? You hate shellfish."

Sherlock's nose wrinkled. "I heard they're good here."

A thought seemed to dance through Molly's head. She stared at Sherlock intently as she closed her menu.

"I think I'll have the chicken."

"Oh?"

Molly leaned her head to the side as she studied him. "Why do I think that's not what you would have picked for me?"

His lips turned down. "I'd never tell you what to eat but the salad with grilled salmon, walnuts and pomegranate seems more your thing."

"Really?"

Sherlock signaled a passing waitress. "Also, I thought you might like to save room for dessert. They have an excellent dark chocolate mousse here."

The waitress bounded over with a smile. "May I help you?"

He looked at Molly with a grin. "More wine?"

"No, we really can't tonight, Sherlock."

He scooted closer on the couch. There were very few times he ever pulled the puppy-dog look on her, but it was out in force that night.

"Stop it!" She commanded. "Stop with the face! We can't. I could get pregnant."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "Yes, that would be … terrible?"

Finally, as if someone clapped their hands together next to her head, a bunch of little details fell into place. Contraception problems, thermometers, oysters, chocolate! Molly's lips parted as the details pointed towards the obvious.

"Wait, wait, wait. Sherlock Holmes, do you want me to get pregnant?"

He blinked at her several times. His eyes went out of focus a moment as he seemed to be trying to think of something to say.

"Sherlock?"

Finally, he opened his mouth to speak. "Yes, Mrs. Holmes. The answer to your question is yes."

She felt her heart speed up. "Really, you're serious?"

"Well, I'm 39 for Christ's sake. I'm married to my soulmate and I have the insatiable urge to tie her to me forever. I want to see her belly as large as a house with my child inside, so yes, you're damn right I want you pregnant. Tonight, if possible, but if I can't do that, I want to try every day until it happens. Twice or more on your ovulation days, if you'll have me."

He peaked sideways at her. She shook her head at him and started smiling so large, her cheeks hurt.

"Is that a yes?" He asked tentatively.

Molly leaned forward and kissed him. "Of course it's a yes, you ridiculous man. You can't ever just come out and ask though, can you? It always has to be so complicated!"

He frowned as if he didn't understand her criticism. "You like complicated."

She laughed. "God help me, I do."