Sherlock leans down to kiss her cheek like he does every morning, only to pull back at the last moment when he realises that his parents are staring. Mary rolls her eyes and grabs him by the lapels of his coat, his lips landing at the corner of her mouth this time around.
He doesn't kiss John because the good doctor hates public displays of affections, even more so in front of his unofficial in-laws; but that's okay, and it won't take long for Mrs Holmes to put two and two together anyway.
"May I ask what's going on here?" she enquires after her son and his best friend have bolted through the door. Mr Holmes wisely decides to make himself scarce, and Mary can't say she really blames him.
"Sherlock has finally agreed to move in with us – and about time too."
Mrs Holmes spares a glance for the baby that is sleeping soundly in her crib, then turns her gaze back to Mary. "As a live-in friend?"
"As our husband, and the father of our child" she corrects her, a smirk playing about her lips. "Problem?"
"Not at all, as long as it's enough to keep that ridiculous boy out of danger."
Mary thinks about the night when she had to shoot Sherlock in the chest; but that's a conversation for another day, and they drink their tea in a companionable silence.