John opened the door to a very anxious Sherlock.
"John, I don't know what to do!" The detective exclaimed, pacing around the Watson's sitting room running his hands through his own hair. "I can't think, I can't work, I can't even breathe!"
"Sherlock, what is the problem?"
"Molly. She has begun to pervade everything. I eat, sleep, and breathe thoughts of her. I can't live like this, John. I just can't."
"Then tell her. Tell Molly Hooper that you are helplessly in love with her."
"She wouldn't believe me. I've been pushing her away so long, using her affections for access and parts for experiments. I'm sunk. The woman I love won't love me back anymore because I've been stupid." John had never seen Sherlock like this, scared and unsure of himself.
John found it difficult to contain his laughter. He knew of Sherlock's feelings of sentiment toward the pretty pathologist. He knew that she still loved the irascible consulting detective. He also knew that Molly was with Mary in the nursery putting their little girl down for the night.
"What do you find humorous about this, John? I've become unstable because I have fallen in love with Molly Hooper and I don't know how to tell her!"
By now, John couldn't contain a chuckle. Sherlock was perplexed, why did his best friend take amusement in his distress? It all became clear when the doctor said, "Sherlock, turn around."
Standing in the doorway to the sitting room was Molly.
Sherlock seems rooted to where he stood. His eyes were wide and full of fear, his normally pale skin, alabaster. Would she reject him now or would she wait and let him down easily and privately?
"Did you mean it, Sherlock? Was what you said true? You love me?" Molly Hoper asked timidly.
He swallowed hard. He had one and only one chance to get this right. "Yes, Molly, I do."
"I love you, too." Molly said as she embraced the consulting detective.
Mary and John left the new couple to look in on their daughter. They returned to their own sitting room only after they heard their door close signaling the new couple had left.
It is possible that the individual that first said that true love never ran smoothly knew the Holmes's. Their wedding was a near disaster. The official got ill and the groom's brother had to fill in at the last minute; as the British government Mycroft was completely authorized. The bride slipped at the end of the reception and fractured her wrist. The groom broke a string on his violin just before serenading his bride (he did have a spare, thankfully).
The honeymoon, or sex holiday as Sherlock termed it with a glint in his eye, wasn't much better. The trip to A and E to set Molly's wrist meant their wedding night didn't begin until four AM with both too tired to do anything about it. They overslept, missing their flight. The Greek villa they had rented was perfect but the unusually constant rain made them stay inside for much of their honeymoon. On second thought, that was a positive.
The marriage was, for the most part, a non-disaster. One could even call it a success. Baker Street proved to be a fantastic home for Sherlock and Molly. Within a few years, the old flat was filled with the laughter of children. The house was bought from Mrs. Hudson with the stipulation that she be able to live there however long she wanted. When she died at the advanced age of 93, it was Sherlock and Molly that were with her as she took her last breath.
Together the Holmes family watch time go by. The raised their children. They watched them marry, Uncle Mycroft filling in as he had so many years before. They became grandparents. They eventually handed the London home over to their children and it became the home of the Watson-Holmes clan. They retired to Sussex, to the home that Sherlock grew up in.
Friends and family visited often, Sherlock proudly teaching their grandchildren about keeping bees. John and Mary came to live with Sherlock and Molly when they retired. John wrote and published a book of the exploits of their younger days. Occasionally literary tourists and crime enthusiasts tried to seek the quartet out but talking to strangers was never on their list of joyous things to do. John and Sherlock did "endure" and interview with their grandson but, otherwise maintained a very private life.
After over fifty years together, they took stock of their lives. In all those years there was but one regret. They could have had even more time together if he had realized what he felt sooner.