Sherlock strode into the lobby of New Scotland Yard. He had barely had the opportunity to see Molly after she had returned home from nightshift, before he had to leave for his appointment with Greg Lestrade.
As soon as he entered, he noticed Philip Anderson leaning over the reception desk, obviously flirting with the receptionist, who was giggling.
Felicia was a new addition to the Yard, and he had only seen her a half dozen times. She was attractive, with short blonde hair, and to Sherlock's keen eyes, was clearly smitten with Anderson, as he was with her.
An annoying sound came from Philip's hand as he absently clicked and unclicked the end of a pen he was holding as he talked to her.
Felicia raised her eyes at Sherlock's entrance, as Philip straightened and looked mildly embarrassed.
"Good morning, Felicia. I have an appointment…"
"Yeah, Detective Inspector Lestrade is waiting for you," she interrupted him, nodding and jerking a thumb back towards the man's office.
"Thank you." As Sherlock walked past the reception desk, he noted suddenly that Anderson was clean-shaven for the first time in years. Interesting, he mused to himself, also catching a whiff of what was apparently a new cologne.
He still found it strange, walking down the corridor of the 'new' New Scotland Yard. The location change had only happened a couple weeks before his wedding.
Even as he knocked on the door to Greg's office, a larger one than the detective inspector had previously had, he heard another giggle behind him, as that annoying pen clicked and unclicked.
In the old days, Sherlock would have simply knocked and entered, but he was a more sensible, married man now, so he waited patiently until Greg called, "Come in."
Greg was sitting behind his desk, with innumerable papers strewn across it in front of him. "Thanks for coming, Sherlock."
Sherlock clasped his arms behind his back. "What's with the early-morning text? We discussed the details of the case last night and I was planning to ask John to come along with me this afternoon to the murder scene to look for clues."
Lestrade sighed and rubbed his hand across his face. "There's been another murder, same modus operandi, different location. And now we have two more suspects. I need you to come with me to the second crime scene. The victim was home at the time, and apparently knew the suspect."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Intriguing. This case is definitely more appealing than it first appeared. Tell me everything you know, so we can get to work."
For the next half hour, Lestrade filled Sherlock in on the new aspects to the case, as well as the identities of the two new suspects.
Sherlock sat across from Lestrade on a chair, with his elbows on the desk and fingers steepled thoughtfully.
Finally he said, leaning back in the chair, "Well, I guess we had best take a look at this house. You say the neighbours were alerted by the barking of the dog?"
Greg shuffled some of the papers on his desk, looking for the right one. "That's right." He picked up the paper with the address in question.
As Sherlock stood and followed Greg out of his office, he heard that infernal clicking coming from Anderson's cubicle a short distance away.
The remainder of the day was spent in investigating the two crime scenes, then heading to the hospital to look at the bodies of the victims. Sherlock was quite disappointed that Molly was on nightshift this week, otherwise he could have spent time with her and asked her about the post-mortems, but no, they had been done by someone else.
Sherlock had texted John to ask if he was available, but his friend had a full workload this week at his doctor's practice.
Upon leaving the hospital, Sherlock and Greg returned to the Yard. Suspects were to be called in the following day, and Greg wanted Sherlock there.
By the time he arrived home, Molly was getting ready for work, and they hardly had a chance to even talk, let alone enjoy more than a welcome home kiss.
The following day, Sherlock headed out once again, soon after Molly came home from work. He felt as if they were ships passing in the night and begrudged it.
The three suspects, all known to the Metropolitan Police to be drug dealers, were interrogated, and it was Sherlock's sharp eyes that noticed the dog hair on the jacket of the one suspect, which connected him to the second murder and proved him to be the culprit.
"Next time you off a person for non-payment if outstanding debts, you should probably not use the same method that connects you to both crimes," Sherlock commented to the criminal who merely glared before he was taken away.
Sherlock was about to leave for home when he noticed that Anderson's cubicle was empty. That blasted pen was sitting at his desk, in front of his calendar, and on impulse, Sherlock swiped it. He looked at it and saw the engraved initials P. A. Oh yes, this was obviously a sentimental gift, and one which would be missed. He had a little plan to get Anderson to Baker Street. It would be a treat for Molly. With a secretive smile, Sherlock put the pen in his pocket and headed home.
On the way home, Sherlock sent a text to Greg, asking him to put a word in Anderson's ear, that Sherlock was available for consultation if needed.
The following day, Sherlock received a frantic text (he deduced the frantic nature by the number of exclamation points at the end of the text) from Anderson, asking for his assistance. Someone had stolen an object of great value belonging to him.
He sent a text back to Anderson.
I would be happy to help you with your little problem. Please be at my residence at seven o'clock this Saturday evening.
Friday was a bit of a write-off for Sherlock, at least during the day. Molly had come home from nightshift with a rare headache and had spent most of the day in bed. Occasional trips to the bathroom due to her morning sickness, which did not limit itself to mornings, did not help matters. Why is it called morning sickness anyway? Sherlock wondered to himself, not for the first time.
In the evening, Molly was feeling better and Sherlock related to her the details of a dream he had had the night before, in which he had been smart enough to realise he wanted Molly for himself after he had come to her for help in planning the correct alcohol consumption to prevent becoming intoxicated when traveling from pub to pub for John's stag night.
In the dream, Molly had broken off her engagement to Tom and they had become a couple instead. He had ended up proposing to her at John and Mary's wedding and the dream had ended in a lovely wedding night for both of them after they too were married.
As usual, the re-telling of the dream had let to them indulging in their own amorous pursuits, so the day wasn't a complete loss, Sherlock reflected, as he held Molly in his arms afterwards.
Molly's scheduling at the hospital after a week of nightshift always meant that she was scheduled to work the weekend that followed, because she had had a day off between shifts, so the next day she was up and off to work, thankfully headache and nausea-free.
On Saturday evening, after Molly returned home from work and they had eaten their dinner, Sherlock decided it was time to tell her of the impending visitor. They had just finished doing the dishes and settled themselves on the sofa, and Sherlock slid his arm around Molly's shoulders.
"I have a little treat for you this evening," he told her, squeezing her shoulder before kissing her cheek.
Molly turned her head to him dreamily and smiled. "Is it of the non-verbal communication type?" She leaned into him.
He chuckled. "I feel certain it will lead to that eventually, but not immediately."
She gave him a quizzical look. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"As it happens, I have a client coming at seven this evening."
Molly pulled away from him slightly and frowned. "Why would you set up a client consultation on the weekend, when we have barely seen each other all week?" She gave him a disappointed stare.
Sherlock swallowed. Perhaps this had not been the best idea after all. "Let me explain," he pleaded, placing his left hand over hers which was now sitting primly in her lap. "Remember at our wedding reception, when you asked me why Anderson credits himself with being the first person to pair us together?"
He felt Molly's hand relax somewhat. "Of course I remember. Are you going to finally tell me?"
"Well actually-" He hesitated, darting a glance at her hand and then her face, "I thought I'd get Anderson to tell you himself."
She shifted slightly closer again, laying her head against his shoulder. "Are you saying you invited him here to tell me himself?"
"Well..." Sherlock hedged. "Not exactly." He blew out a breath, then continued. "I kind of did something a Bit Not Good, in order to get him here." He flashed her a quick, apologetic smile.
She gave him a disapproving look, then sighed. "Tell me what you did." Her tone was flat, resigned.
He darted a glance at her again then looked away, feeling embarrassed. "I might have, uh, nicked his favourite pen so he would come to me for help to find out who took it."
Molly pulled away from him and stood up, then looked down at him. "Sherlock!" Her voice held the exact same note of disapproval that Mrs. Hudson's had when she was chastising him for putting body parts in the fridge. But really, where else was he supposed to store them? If he had left them on the counter they would have gone bad, and he simply didn't have time to do all of his experiments at one time.
He looked up at his five-foot-three wife, noticing that she had folded her arms. He really disliked it when he had to look up at Molly, used as he was to looking down at her. He enjoyed his superior height advantage.
He moved as if to stand, but she immediately stuck out her arms and pushed on his shoulders to keep him seated. "Oh no you don't. What on earth possessed you to do something like that? Why didn't you just ask him to come over for a visit?" She glowered at him and he cringed.
His Molly could be fierce when she wanted to be. "I thought it would be fun if he would tell you himself, the theory he had about me surviving the jump off Bart's roof, but I wasn't sure he would do it unless I could find a way to make him willing to explain it. It is a preposterous theory, after all, and he should really be embarrassed about it, even if he did strike upon a shred of truth in the way he thought you were part of it." He gave her a half-hearted grin, hoping she would see the funny side of it.
She didn't. Instead she gave him that same baleful glare. "And how are you proposing that you would get him to explain his theory, if it is so preposterous?" She crossed her arms once again, and Sherlock felt like a schoolboy who was in trouble for cheating on a test or putting glue on the teacher's chair.
He looked up into her eyes, then down again in shame. "I thought – well I thought I could make a deal with him; you know, if I could correctly deduce the object that was missing and why it held such sentimental value to him, that he would in turn tell you about that theory." He looked up at her again. "It does involve a rather steamy kiss between us," he ventured, hoping that would interest her.
He was relieved to see a glimmer of interest spark in her eyes. "A kiss, you say?" she asked.
He leaned forward, pressing his advantage, looking into the dark pools of her eyes. "A steamy one, as I said."
She uncrossed her arms again and stared at him thoughtfully. Sherlock hastily stood, and this time she didn't push him back down but followed his movement with her eyes. Looking down at her from his superior height once again, he pulled her against him, rubbing his hands along her back.
She resisted for a moment, then capitulated, sliding her hands around his waist and resting her cheek against his thudding chest. "After he tells his theory, you're going to apologise for stealing his pen and return it immediately." She paused for a moment, then said, "Actually, you are going to return the pen and apologise first and he can choose whether to share his theory or not."
Sherlock kissed the top of her hair. "I promise, love." If people could see the way Molly could bend him to her wishes, they would probably think he was totally browbeaten. He didn't feel that way though. He just knew he would do anything for her, to keep her content, because he loved her. If that meant he was browbeaten, then so be it.
He raised his left arm up briefly to check his watch. There were still twenty minutes before Philip was due to arrive. Surely time enough to enjoy some steamy kissing while they waited?
Molly looked up at him questioningly, having felt the shift of his arm.
"Just checking the time." Her lips invited him and he lowered his head to press his lips against hers, moving a hand to the back of her head as he did so.
She let out a little contented murmur against his mouth and tightened her grip on his waist. He deepened the kiss, using his other hand to rub small circles on her back, keeping her close. He was beginning to regret inviting Anderson over, when he could be doing much more…productive things with his wife.
With regret, he released his hold on Molly as the doorbell rang. Anderson was early. As usual, there was no need for Sherlock to get the outer door as the master- well, mistress of the house, keeper of the keys, was on hand as usual to admit the visitor.
Molly straightened the client chair in preparation for Anderson to sit on it, then sat on the sofa, while Sherlock opened the door at Anderson's Knock.
"Come in, Anderson," said Sherlock, gesturing to the client chair. "I'll bet you are glad to not be here in order to look for drugs this time," he quipped. He pasted an insincere smile on his lips. The men would never really be friends, but he had his uses.
Philip Anderson walked over to the client chair and sat obediently, then looked expectantly at Sherlock. "So do I just go ahead and tell you what's going on?" he inquired, looking at Sherlock who had seated himself with Molly, rather than in his usual chair.
Sherlock crossed his legs and leaned forward. "Actually, Philip," he stressed the name to indicate they were on friendly terms, "I have a proposition for you."
Author's note: For a chronological timeline of this story, I refer you to my story, A Journey Through Molly's Diary, the current story in my Journey series. The dream Sherlock relates to Molly is another of my dream stories, The Overly Long Engagement, if you are interested in taking a look at it.
Thanks to a reader who informed me that New Scotland Yard changed premises in 2017, so this story includes that change of premises.
Well, well, Sherlock has a sneaky idea to let Molly know the details of that fabulous Sherlolly kiss we all love. I just had to do a story about this. Don't you agree that is the hottest kiss ever shown on television or even in a movie?
So, do you think Philip is going to be cross with Sherlock? Is he going to comply with Sherlock's wishes?
Share your thoughts in the review box below!