Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BBC characters, but I do like borrowing them for my stories. Title is taken from "Let's Stay Together" by Al Green.

Let me be the one you come running to

Molly was surprised at how good Sherlock had been during the church service. No fidgeting, no eye-rolling, no snarky remarks or deductions - except one about the organist's arthritis.

As they followed the rest of the guests outside to the small churchyard, she couldn't help but give his arm a fond squeeze. She knew that spending a Saturday at a wedding would never be Sherlock's first choice of activity, but she was pleased that he was making an effort to be sociable. Which is why she thought that he was due for some time away from this whole wedding business. While everyone else was busy with the photographs, Molly led him away from all the hustle.

"How about a little walk?" she asked him, smiling brightly. The shoes she was wearing were comfortable enough and the late autumn day was warm and sunny.

He smiled back gratefully, taking her hand in his. She didn't want to dwell on the intimacy of the act, instead chose to simply enjoy it. They made their way out of the churchyard, down the path towards the town. Walking up the high street, Sherlock kept her entertained with his observations. It was a pleasant stroll and Molly felt tempted to skip the reception so she could have more time alone with him. But too soon, they were going up the driveway of the hotel where the rest of the festivities were to be held. There were still some guests outside, waiting to greet the newlyweds.

"Why did you agree to come to the wedding?" It was a question that had been on her mind for a while but she'd been too afraid to voice.

He smirked, "The last one I attended had an attempted murder."

She couldn't help but giggle, "You can't expect there to be a crime at every wedding you attend."

"I can hope." He grinned maniacally.

Not for the first time she wondered what he would look like in the throes of passion. It was a foolish thought to have, she knew, but with him still holding her hand and the day so far she really couldn't help herself.

"Besides, I never got to dance at John and Mary's wedding and I was hoping to remedy that tonight."

She wished she could be the kind of flirty, bantering woman, ready with a light, teasing quip. But years of being around him and he still made her feel tongue-tied at the most inopportune moments. Luckily she was saved by a loud, demanding voice.

"Where have you been?"

Sherlock tensed and gave Molly a very grave look, "And Mummy can be very persuasive."

Of course Molly knew that Sherlock and his brother must have parents. She'd just never been able to imagine the kind of parents that had spawned those two very extraordinary men. So naturally it had come as a bit of a shock, when Sherlock had introduced her to his parents earlier that day. They were just so ordinary, in all of the best ways. Also, she'd finally understood Sherlock's attitude when he'd asked her for the favour earlier that week.

:::

"Please Molly. Mummy has threatened to visit me every week if I don't attend my cousin's wedding. A Saturday at the wretched affair seems the lesser evil in comparison," he'd said in that deep voice of his, looking forlorn.

"I don't see..." she'd tried to argue, already distracted by those damnable eyes.

He'd actually grasped her shoulders and looked deeply into hers, "You don't know my mother. Even Mycroft is powerless most of the time. Mycroft, Molly! What does that tell you?"

"Is he coming too?"

Pure frustration had filled Sherlock's face, "He's found a civil war to hide behind, the bastard."

"Why can't you go on your own?"

"I will be an eligible bachelor at a wedding, Molly. Surely you can understand?"

She did but could not fully sympathise. She did not like being used as a shield and with the way he treated people sometimes, surely some comeuppance was in order. But then curiosity got the better of her, wanting to meet the Holmes. It was what she had kept telling herself, for she didn't want to acknowledge her ulterior motives. After years of nothing, she should have stopped hoping by now. They were friends, something she treasured very much and should have been enough.

:::

"Ruth wanted to have a picture taken with you," Mrs. Holmes complained, looking at her son sternly, "But you disappeared! And dragging poor Molly off, too, and she's wearing such a pretty dress. I would've loved to have a photo with all of us in it!"

"Darling," Mr. Holmes said, taking his wife by the elbows, "We're all here now, why don't we take a photo when we say hello to Ruth and Charles?"

"You know I love my boys very much," Mrs. Holmes said to Molly as they joined the reception queue, "But they've always been so willful."

Mr. Holmes winked at her, "They get it from their mother."

Molly was greatly amused by the knowledge that the two most headstrong men she knew were greatly in awe of their mother. Mrs. Holmes was certainly opinionated and persuasive, having convinced Molly to stay at their house instead of a hotel after the party. But there was something wonderfully maternal and affectionate about her that made Molly think of her own mother. And Mr. Holmes reminded her so much of her own father, quiet, gentle, supporting person that he'd been. She knew that the soft core the brothers guarded so fiercely had come from those two loving people.

After they gave their congratulations to the married couple and the photos were taken, they went to find their seats. Molly suspected that it was Sherlock's doing that they were at a different table from his parents. He was carefully avoiding his mother's pointed gaze.

"You're Ruth's cousin, Sherlock Holmes," Molly's seat-neighbour exclaimed. She felt Sherlock tense beside her and knew what that could mean. She gently laid a hand on his knee, giving him a warm smile.

"Yes," was all Sherlock said.

"I'm a fan, read your partner's blog. He should think about writing a book," the man said further.

"He's been offered a deal," Molly supplied brightly.

"I would read that, your exploits are fascinating."

She didn't have to look to know that Sherlock was preening slightly. What a vain creature he was sometimes.

"You're thinking of running in the next elections, you should go for it," Sherlock said to the man.

"How did you..."

"I overheard you on the phone earlier." The man laughed uproariously and Sherlock joined in with a chuckle. He introduced himself as Simon and his partner as Leo. Sherlock in turn introduced Molly.

Leo nodded at her, "I didn't know you were in a relationship."

Molly very hurriedly protested, "We're not..."

"My private life is my own business," Sherlock interrupted her.

Simon nodded wisely, "As it should be."

Dinner proceeded amiably, with Molly happy that Sherlock was comfortable conversing with Simon and Leo, both men interested in science themselves. Their engaging discussion was interrupted when it was time for the speeches. The best man acquitted himself admirably but Molly couldn't help but whisper to Sherlock.

"I think your speech for John was better." She liked to believe that flush on Sherlock's cheeks was a blush and not just the heat from the venue.

When the newlyweds stepped on to the dance floor for their first dance, Sherlock's mother came over to their table. "I expect you to dance with Molly," she said, "And save one for your mother. Shame to let all those dance lessons go to waste."

"Dance lessons?" Molly teased. This time she was sure that it was a blush on his face.

"With a bit more discipline, he could have been a professional..."

"Mother!" Mrs. Holmes pecked him on the cheek, "I will be expecting you out there," and then went back to her table.

"Tom and I took a few dance lessons when we...well, I don't think I was very good at it, anyway."

"Don't worry. Just follow my lead."

She stared up at him, "I always do."

He stared back at her, opening his mouth but nothing came out. Suddenly her heart was hammering in her chest, her palms felt sweaty. She'd been here before, in this moment, many times. Every time she'd come crashing back into the harsh reality that Sherlock just didn't feel the same about her. The crowd's applause diffused the tension and needing a minute to sort her emotions, she excused herself to the ladies' room.

She made use of the facilities, then washed her hands. She smiled self-deprecatingly at her reflection in the mirror. She felt silly for her reaction earlier.

"Would you like to practice before we do it in front of the others?"

His voice startled her, not expecting him to be waiting outside the loo. He held out his hand and she took it, ignoring the wobbling in her knees. He led her to the foyer, swinging her around so they were face to face. Her hands felt clammy again. She felt like a teen at her first dance with a boy she fancied. Perhaps at heart, she was still that person.

Raising their clasped hands and placing his other on her waist, Sherlock whispered, "Trust me."

With her shaky nod, he slowly began to waltz them around the space.

"One, two, three, one, two, three," he quietly counted and Molly concentrated on getting the steps right. When she stumbled, he simply stopped for a second and then started again.

"One, two, three, one two, three," she began to count with him, finding it easier to keep in step this way.

Gradually the movements became more natural to her and she relaxed into the dance. Sherlock must have sensed that and started adding a few pauses and turns to the basic steps. The lessons she'd had with Tom had never felt this effortless or this light. Unlike Tom, Sherlock was completely confident with waltzing her around the small foyer, making her feel capable, elegant even. With one last twirl, their dance came to an end and on impulse, Molly kissed his cheek.

"Thank you, that was…that was something."

"Yes," he agreed, smiling down at her.

An impish voice in her head made her ask, "You waltz beautifully, but do you conga?"

Not only did he conga, he did everything in between. A natural show-off, he was the sensation on the dance floor that night. She'd wanted to dance with him during the Watson wedding but his leaving early had obviously stopped her from doing so. She'd contemplated following him then, yet hadn't found the courage to. But tonight was certainly making up for that lost time.

They were swaying to an oldie, a crowd pleaser as couples joined them on the dance floor. Even Sherlock's parents were dancing, lost in their own little world.

"They're lovely people," she said, watching Mr. Holmes mouthing the words to the song.

"They've been married for over forty years and they're still happy. I still don't fully understand how but I'm glad they are," he commented.

"I think it's finding the right person to make it work."

He smiled at her enigmatically, "Yes, I think you're right."