Molly threw down the piece of paper she'd been studying onto the coffee table. "I can't do it!" she declared to her husband.
Sherlock, who had just walked into the sitting room, asked, "Why not? You love our re-creations. Why all of a sudden don't you want to do the one that changed things for us?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "Maybe it's just because it is so many words. I had almost forgotten the hurt associated with them, but with this script you gave me, I am reliving it, over and over."
"I'm sorry, darling," he responded, putting an arm around her shoulders. "If you feel so strongly about it, we will just forget it. I just thought you'd want to see the desperation on my face when I said the words to you. I still remember how I felt."
"I know how you felt," the pathologist said softly, lovingly. "Do you realize you said 'please' to me six times during that conversation?"
"I didn't take note of that. All I know is that I was desperate, begging you to say the words."
She leaned into her husband. "I could tell that by the tone of your voice, without seeing you. Instinctively, I knew something was wrong. I know we've been through this several times by now, analyzing it. Perhaps that is why I'm asking myself why I'd want to re-create it. It isn't something we need to re-write into a new memory, because the end result was the best result I could have ever wished for."
"Even though it took me three days to come to you?"
"I can hardly complain when you offered me an engagement ring and proposed. In my wildest dreams I wouldn't have anticipated you being ready so fast to embrace the bonds of holy matrimony."
Her husband chuckled, putting his free hand on her belly. "Don't forget fatherhood, sweetheart." Then he started a little. "She has the hiccups again, doesn't she?"
"I told you, she has been getting them three times a day at least, lately."
"She is certainly making her presence felt."
"Tell me about it," Molly sighed, indicating her feet on the coffee table.
"Not improving, I see," remarked her husband.
"Ever since we got back from America, they've been swollen. I think I may have overdone it there, all that walking around."
"I did tell you to take it easy," her husband pointed out.
"Well I did, eventually. I would not have given up that other nightclub re-creation for anything, though."
Sherlock grinned and turned her face to his, kissing her gently. "That song has become your new obsession hasn't it?"
Moly blushed. "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Oh, please, Molly. I hear you asking Alexa to play it every time I go take a shower. You've been quite obsessed with it ever since that university dream you had when we were engaged."
She blushed again. "Well, that 'Shape of You' was a big reason I dreamed such a sexy dream."
"Mmm," Sherlock nuzzled her neck, then called out, "Alexa, play 'Shape of You.'"
The Amazon Echo device responded with, "Playing 'Shape of You,' by Ed Sheeran." And the song started to play.
"I'm in love with the shape of you, baby," said Sherlock in a very seductive voice, just before he began kissing his wife in earnest. He slid his free arm under her knees and lifted her so she was sitting in his lap sideways to make it easier.
Molly wound her arms about his neck, loving the exquisite pressure of his lips on hers, letting the rhythm and lyrics of the song wash over her. Sherlock was right. There was something about this song that made her feel sexy, despite the fact that she was seven and a half months pregnant.
Her husband certainly found her sexy, whatever size she was, she reflected idly, as he began systematically removing her clothing. "Molly, my sweet, I can see why you like this song so much, because, as the song says, I'm in love with your body," he murmured even as he accomplished his task, leaving his wife completely exposed on his fully clothed body.
Molly shivered, despite herself. The fire was going out in the fireplace, and the room was getting chilly without the benefit of clothes. "Sherlock, you are not being fair." she protested, as he continued to kiss her, peppering her body with kisses that made her a little dizzy and caused her body to respond, as it always did. Then, without warning, he stood, still holding her in his arms and walked towards their bedroom. Molly always felt like a bride when he did that, even if she most certainly did not look like one at the moment.
He deposited her on the bed, then said, "Get under the covers, love."
She obeyed, even as he undressed himself as well. "You put on the electric blanket already!" She exclaimed happily.
Of course I did," he answered, sliding in next to her. "I know how you've been feeling the cold since we got back from those lovely sunny days in America."
"I'm so ready for winter to be over," she bemoaned.
"Technically it is spring already, my sweet."
"You know what I mean, Sherlock."
Her husband did not answer. His lovely warm, male body was doing a very good job of heating hers and she started to wonder why they had bought the electric blanket, it was getting uncomfortably warm now.
"Sweetheart," she began.
Her husband growled into her ear, "You are going to say you need the loo, aren't you?"
She giggled, "Actually, after our lovely Valentine's evening, I realized that my bladder doesn't need to be completely empty if we make love. Sometimes it makes things even more...intense."
Her husband looked at her in some surprise. His hands were drifting over her body, doing things to her and she squirmed. "Then what were you trying to say?"
She thought a moment. Pregnancy amnesia was definitely a thing, she was so forgetful lately. Of course, Sherlock always had that effect on her anyway. Oh, that was it. "You can turn the electric blanket off now, I'm hot."
"You most certainly are," her husband agreed, giving her his sexiest look, but nonetheless reaching over to turn the blanket off. Then he took her in his arms once again. "Are we done talking now?"
"Yes, Sherlock." She sighed happily, allowing him to demonstrate his affections and love for her. He really was a Barbara Cartland hero, she thought dreamily as his mouth and hands did wild things to her and made her body vibrate to his touch.
"My precious, adorable little wife," he whispered huskily as they made love, and their hearts soared together into bliss.
Afterwards, nestled in Sherlock's arms, Molly said drowsily, "Sherlock?"
"He kissed her neck. "Yes my sweet?"
"Have you been reading my Barbara Cartland novels again?"
There was a pause, before he questioned, "Why do you ask?"
"Well, the Barbara Cartland heroes are always saying stuff like 'my precious,' and 'my sweet.' Your love vocabulary seems to have increased somewhat lately."
Sherlock huffed. "Am I not allowed to address you in such terms?"
Molly shifted so she was facing him. "I don't mind you using them. It's no wonder I've been thinking you are more like a romantic hero than ever lately..." She could have sworn her husband blushed.
"I've been, uh, experimenting," he told her.
She arched an eyebrow. "In what way?"
"Testing your reaction to different terms of endearment."
Molly snorted. "You're a very bad liar, Sherlock. You know I respond to every term of endearment, no matter what. So, calculating my response to certain terms of endearment makes no sense. I think you read those novels because you secretly like thinking of yourself as the hero. Ever since that first dream you had soon after I got pregnant, every now and then you have another one."
This time Sherlock definitely blushed. "To be fair, you've had those same type of dreams too. Is it so wrong to want to be a woman's hero?"
"You're already my hero, honey. You do so much for me, you're unbelievably romantic. Any woman would be blessed to have a man like you."
"Just don't tell Mycroft. I'm trying to maintain an image of being a sex god rather than a romantic lover."
The pathologist burst into laughter. "I think you have already ruined that by kissing me in front of him, rubbing my belly, making grand romantic gestures..."
"Gestures and actions can still convey a sex god image, Molly. It's the other stuff that ruins it"
"How so?"
"The way I call you my darling, my precious, my sweet, my naughty little angel..."
"Which is my favourite of course." She looked at him coquettishly. "You seem to have this thing about getting turned on whenever I am not wearing any knickers."
"And you have this habit of telling me about it for that exact purpose. Now close your eyes and sleep or there will be a round two."
Mollys snickered. "So tell me exactly why we are going to sleep at two in the afternoon on a Saturday?"
"Because making love and all this conversation has worn me out."
Suddenly, over her husband's shoulder, she spied the novel "Love Leaves at Midnight" still on the corner of his nightstand. "You were reading in here while I was out there studying the script you made me."
Sherlock groaned. "Guilty as charged. All that romantic stuff about their wedding night and how he 'made her his,' it well, made me want to do the same."
"And you even turned onthe electric blanket for me in preparation. There's no getting around it, my love. You are the world's only consulting detective, and the world's best romantic hero as well. And because of that, I've changed my mind."
"Changed your mind on what?" He sounded puzzled.
"On re-creating the 'I love you' scene. I want to look at you as you say the words. But I want to shorten it a bit, maybe just start with me saying , 'I'm not an experiment, Sherlock,' because that is where you really started to get desperate. Before that, you were trying to control your emotions. Besides, you worked so hard on making me that script, I don't want it to go to waste."
"Alright, my...little love," he agreed, deliberately using a romantic novel term. "When?"
"Tonight. I think I'm ready. We can take a nap now."
"About bloody time," her husband responded, kissing her before she turned her back to him again so he could spoon against her and they could sleep.
Author's note: This chapter makes reference to an Ed Sheeran song that kind of inspired some of the writing of my "What if We Met at Uni?" story. References to the nightclub re-creation are from a future publication about Sherlock and Molly's time in America after the setting of my one-shot "The Interview."
If you read only a story or two of mine, you will not get all the references. Because my entire volume of work takes place in the same universe, you will get the most out of these stories if you take them as whole, but I hope you can still enjoy them individually if you don't want to read everything I've written.
Are you looking forward to the second part of this two-shot? How do you think the re-creation will play out?
Please post your review and let me know. I do hope you enjoy the humour I try to insert in my stories, I like to make people smile!