Sherlock heard a giggle.
'I know that laugh…'
The question was, what was Molly Hooper so giggly about at two in the afternoon. Especially since she was supposed to be working on her speech for the upcoming weekend at Oxford.
Stepping into Baker Street, Sherlock stared at the sight before him. There sat his fiancee (in his favorite sundress she owned) giggling like a schoolgirl at the portly gentleman who occupied his chair.
"Uncle Hercule?" Sherlock shouldn't have been surprised, not really. Once he and Molly had announced their nuptials, family had been coming out of the woodworks to congratulate them.
"Sherlock!" Molly held out her hand to him and he went to her. "Look who stopped in!"
"I see…Uncle Hercule," Sherlock held out his hand to his relative. Hercule Poirot smiled, the points of his immaculately waxed mustache turned upwards, a twinkle in his eyes.
"My dear boy, I had to come as soon as your brother told me the news. I am pleased to hear you have found someone who makes you happy at last. I wondered when you would see sense and snap up this English Rose. If you had waited any longer, perhaps I would have beaten you to the chase, eh?"
Molly giggled again, much to Sherlock's surprise, seeing her flush, clearly amused and delighted at his Belgian uncle's antics.
"Yes…well…I am glad to see you."
"And I you," his uncle's smile was fond then, a tinge of bittersweetness in his eyes. "I have seen your sister."
Sensing a family discussion, Molly got to her feet, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "I'll be upstairs. I've got typing to do. Call me before you go Uncle,"
"I will, I will mademoiselle," he took her hand, kissing her fingers. "Hmm, like a lily you are, pretty and-"
"Uncle," Sherlock's tone was warning, though amused and Molly giggled again, before heading upstairs.
Later…
"You know he was flirting with you," Sherlock said, once his uncle had gone, not before promising to come again, and of course attend their wedding as well.
"I do," Molly laughed. "He's very charming! Why, Sherlock" she noticed his frown. "Are you afraid your uncle will steal me away?"
"No, I'm only surprised you could giggle so insipidly," he returned her teasing tone, smirking at her. He knew full well his uncle was something of a charmer to ladies, Molly would be no exception.
"I do not!" she laughed.
"Well you certainly don't behave that way around me."
"That's because I know you," she replied, swatting his bottom as she passed by him. "Maybe you ought to speak french more."
Suddenly Sherlock's strong arms encircled her, and he drew her close to him, mouth lowered to her ear
"Ma belle, je parlerais le français tous les jours si çae permets de t'avoir dans mes bras pour toujours..."
Wide eyed, Molly stared up at him, her mouth forming a perfect 'o'.
Seeing her reaction, Sherlock smirked to himself, saying quite a bit more, all of which Molly didn't know, only a few naughty words her old college roommate had taught her.
He hadn't a chance to finish his sentence, for she'd thrown her arms around him and kissed him quite thoroughly.
"Teach me," she insisted, once they parted.
"What?" he asked, dazed from the kiss (he still loved that these marvelous kisses came in so many different types and none were ever boring).
"Teach me how to speak French."
"Oh!" Sherlock's eyes lit up, rather liking the idea of Molly speaking French. "Well if you insist."
"Oui mon cher…" her smile was naughty, and Sherlock decided to make a mental note to thank his dear old Uncle Hercule for forcing him to learn French, all those years ago.