A few nights ago, right before falling asleep, my brain decided to give me two cracky ideas for one-shots.

This one turned out to be a bit more feelsy than cracky.

(Thank you Sweets, for helping me out with that one sentence that didn't want to cooperate!)

Spare Bedroom

"Just the spare bedroom. ... Well ... my bedroom. We agreed he needs the space."

There were fairy lights strung about the sitting room of the flat, and Billy Holiday was playing softly in the background as Molly moved from person to person, asking them if they needed anything, such as a refreshed drinkie. Once her duty as hostess was finished with for the moment, she sat down upon the arm of her sofa next to Sherlock. He tilted his head back, looking up at her before he smiled. She smiled in return.

"Need anything?" she questioned softly.

He shook his head, a glass of scotch in his hand. "Only you," he replied. With his free hand he traced his finger along the length of her arm, his smile widening as he saw gooseflesh rise up on her skin. He didn't stop his movement until he reached her hand, his fingertip dancing over the diamond ring on her finger.

"Thank you for agreeing to do this," she said to him, continuing in her quiet tone.

He shrugged, before slipping his hand beneath hers, lacing their fingers together. "I knew it would make you happy. One last hurrah in your old flat."

She giggled. "This place does hold a lot of memories."

His gaze was soft, his eyes full of love as he looked at her. "Yes. It does. And we are certain to make a lot more in Baker Street."

She hummed in agreement, before scrunching her nose. "I just hope Toby doesn't mind the move too much."

"Blasted cat," Sherlock grumbled around the rim of his glass as he took a sip of scotch.

Molly gave his hand a squeeze. "Stop it you, I know you love him."

He brought their joined hands up to his lips and kissed the top of hers. "You're right. I do."

oOo

A short while later Mary wandered into the kitchen and found Molly plating up more canapés.

"Hey Molls I'm in desperate need of the loo. Having a baby really does destroy ones bladder!" she said to her.

Molly giggled. "It's down the hall. First door to your right, you can't miss it!" she instructed.

Taking the two plates she had filled, she carried them out of the kitchen and into the sitting room, before offering the food to her friends. Sherlock waved off her offer, before snatching a canapé from the plate right as she walked by. She shook her head at him, before putting the plates onto the coffee table. Just at that moment Mary came back into the room, a look of speculation upon her face. Before Molly could say anything to her, Mary had hooked her about the elbow and led her back into the kitchen. Sherlock had, of course, noticed this little exchange. Leaning forward he placed his glass of scotch upon the coffee table and stood, intending to follow them.

"How long have you been living in this flat?" Mary asked, once she and Molly were alone.

"Six Years. Why?" she replied.

"You don't have a spare bedroom."

Molly stared at her for a moment, before her cheeks flamed.

Mary smirked. "Don't tell me you kipped on the sofa whenever he stayed over?"

She shook her head.

Mary crossed her arms over her chest, continuing to smirk. "Were you sleeping together? Or just sleeping together?"

"Sleeping together," Molly mumbled.

"I knew it!" Mary crowed. "Wait ... what about Tom?"

Molly swallowed, her cheeks burning darker. "He was a body guard. Sherlock chose him as a bit of a joke, the twat.

Just at that moment, said twat entered the kitchen. Within seconds he knew exactly what their conversation had been about.

"The jig is up Sherlock Holmes," Mary said to him.

He rolled his eyes at her use of the ridiculous American saying, before walking further into the kitchen and putting his arm around Molly. "What of it?" he drawled out. "So, Molly and I have been secretly in relationship for years, I ask again, what of it?"

Mary looked at the two of them for a moment, before her smirk turned into a wide smile. "Well done, Sherlock. Here I was thinking you were an awful fibber and yet you've managed to keep a big thing like this completely hidden. I've had a slight inkling about the two of you, but I honestly didn't think it was for as long as it seems to have been."

He straightened slightly, tightening his arm around Molly. "When it comes to the important things, to protecting the ones I love, I will do anything and everything that I can. And at the time I thought it was best to not make our relationship known, and I'm glad that we didn't, because if Moriarty had been aware ..." Sherlock's voice trailed off, his jaw tightening.

Molly put her arm around him, placing her hand on his lower back. He blinked for a moment before turning to look at her. Mary watched them, continuing to smile before deciding that it would perhaps be best if she left the two of them alone. She didn't exactly need to be witness to Sherlock Holmes, World's Only Consulting Detective, snogging his fiancée, with tongue. As she scurried off she couldn't help but think that her discovery was going to be an interesting story to share with her husband when they got home that evening!

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Just a little bit of fluffy silliness!

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