Author's note: I made a spur-of-the-moment decision to write a Valentine story this year, after seeing that it is Molly Hooper Appreciation Week on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy the result!

Update 3/9/19 Thank you to the talented Elizabeth Robello for my new cover photo which shows Molly in the dress Sherlock bought for her. She is also wearing the necklace Sherlock bought her last year.

It was Thursday, February 14th, Valentine's Day, and Molly was just finishing a very busy day at the hospital.

Her breasts were feeling unpleasantly full and starting to leak, because it was one of those days where she had been too busy to use her breast pump to express some milk. Technically, she could have done so, but that would have meant inconveniencing others while she headed off to the loo, and she didn't like to do that.

Most days when Molly was busy and couldn't pump, it wasn't this bad, but this morning, Victoria had still been soundly sleeping when she got up for work, and she had not wanted to disturb her. So actually she had not fed the baby since putting her down for the night at around ten o'clock the night before. Victoria hadn't even woken in the middle of the night as she often did. It was a small miracle, which Molly was now regretting.

She sent a quick text to Sherlock, who was home with their daughter. He had just finished a case the day before and had said he was not going to start anything new until after Valentine's Day, because he wanted to do something special with his wife. "Sherlock, make sure Victoria is hungry when I get home. My breasts are killing me."

His answering text came back and made her smile. "Ah, you require milking. I shall make sure Victoria consumes nothing else until you come home."

Her smile widened further when he added cheekily, "However, if she refuses to ease your discomfort, I offer my services to manually milk you myself. My suction is much gentler than that of your breast pump."

Oh yes, Sherlock knew the many trials and tribulations of said breast pump. Using it was almost worse than having breasts that were uncomfortably full of milk.

"Duly noted," she texted back, before doing a few last things in the lab to make sure it was left spotless as usual. If there was one thing she really disliked, it was coming to work and finding dirty pieces of lab equipment in the sink or microscopes out of place. As much as Molly loved her husband, he did have a tendency to forget to clean up after himself. Sometimes when he was looking after Victoria, he would leave a wet or, heaven forbid, dirty nappy in a bag and forget to put it into the rubbish bin.

They had been married now for eighteen months, and there were definitely little things about Sherlock she found a bit annoying. They weren't on their 'best behaviour" anymore, as they had been when first engaged and married. This wasn't a fairytale, after all.

Yes, Sherlock sometimes left the toilet seat up, after all, he hadn't lived with a woman before who needed to sit on the toilet anytime she used the loo, and more than once, Molly had accidentally sat on the cold porcelain, which was not pleasant, especially when it occurred in the middle of the night in the dead of winter. He also had a tendency to use up the toilet paper and not replace the roll, and she would unknowingly sit on the toilet, have her wee (or other), notice the absence of paper and have to call out to Sherlock to grab a new roll, that is, unless she was home alone or had done a number two, in which case she would be left to be creative with the toilet bowl cleaner brush to give her enough length to reach for a new roll in the cabinet beneath the handbasin. Sherlock had been the recipient of her wrath on several occasions when it came to his poor bathroom etiquette.

After eighteen months, she was okay with him being in the bathroom if she was sitting on the toilet after a wee, but definitely not, as yet, after a poo. Now, that was still too embarrassing, even with the faithful use of poo-pourri to mask unpleasant odours. That stuff was actually a Godsend, even if Sherlock tended to forget and just had to use the regular air freshener instead after the fact. What was it about men anyway and their ability to spend more than a half hour in the toilet doing their business? Molly knew Sherlock took his phone in with him to check emails or play games while he sat on the toilet. She herself was in and out as fast as possible.

And then there were Sherlock's socks. No matter how many times Molly politely asked him to make sure he unrolled them properly after taking them off, he persisted in tossing them into the washing basket as is, and she would have to unroll them herself before putting them into the washing machine.

Of course, she herself was not perfect, and Sherlock had called her out on her own little idiosyncrasies he found annoying if she confronted him on something that irked her. Yes, the bathtub drain had been clogged on more than one occasion due to her hair getting caught in it, but really, it was easiest to brush her hair out immediately after washing it, before stepping out of the shower. Then there were the times she had to do her usual shaving routine in the shower, which meant she was in there longer than usual and used up all the hot water (according to Sherlock). Of course, that was not exactly true. The water was never actually cold, just lukewarm. However, Sherlock said it reminded him too much of the cold showers he had endured during their engagement when he had been trying to calm his libido down after a particularly heated session of kissing and sometimes a bit more, and he was struggling to keep himself from giving into temptation and consummating their relationship before the wedding night. This minor issue was not really an issue anymore though - well neither the cold showers, nor the lukewarm ones. Molly simply informed Sherlock if she would be taking a longer than usual shower, and he took his first. She didn't mind it if the water was only tepid by the time she was just shaving her legs.

Molly's other main fault was the way she tended to leave leftovers in the fridge way too long. She hated to just waste food and would always be convinced that they would eat them later. Unfortunately, Molly enjoyed cooking so much, they hardly ever ate said leftovers. Sherlock never remembered them either and would usually buy takeaway if he was home alone, completely forgetting that lovely leftover pasta or other such uneaten portions in the fridge. So, that wasn't entirely her fault, her intentions were good. Rather amusingly, Sherlock had threatened to do experiments on some of the containers of unidentified mouldy food that were occasionally found at the back of the fridge. Usually it was the putrid smell that alerted one of them to the presence of inedible leftovers. It was almost as bad as the smell of rotting flesh, Sherlock had declared on more than one occasion. Oops.

But today was Valentine's Day, and when Molly arrived home, she was not going to think of those trivial domestic issues that occasionally cropped up. She was going to enjoy their second Valentine's Day together.

As Molly took the Tube home, she wondered what Sherlock had in store for this year. He had made their last Valentine's Day incredibly special. They had eaten dinner at the Ritz with Mycroft and Elizabeth Smallwood (now Holmes). Mycroft had asked Sherlock to come along with Molly as he was a little nervous about proposing to Elizabeth.

After dinner (and a successful proposal by Mycroft), Molly had expected to just go home, but Sherlock had other plans. He had booked the same room they had used on their wedding night, had in fact booked both the wedding night and Valentine's Day at the same time.

They had spent a wonderful Valentine's night re-creating their wedding night, including the bubble bath that had preceded their making love for the third time. Molly smiled at the memory and received a few curious looks from other people on the Tube. She couldn't wait to see what Sherlock had in mind for this Valentine's Day, although she was curious to see whether it would involve their daughter or not.

As soon as she arrived home, Molly dashed up the stairs to the flat. She certainly hoped Sherlock was ready with the baby. She could feel the breast pads were no longer containing the leakage and she had forgotten to bring extras to work. In fact, she could hear Victoria grizzling quite loudly and it was causing even more leakage.

Thankfully, Sherlock opened the door in his maroon coloured dressing gown, bouncing the fussy baby on his hip and Molly entered, pulling up her jumper and working to unclasp the front fastening of her maternity bra as she walked to the sofa. Getting herself situated on it, she held out her arms. "Baby, now!" she demanded of her husband who had followed right behind.

Dutifully he complied, with a mild, "Not even a kiss hello for Valentine's Day?"

Molly didn't respond until Victoria had eagerly latched on and began suckling greedily, even as Molly gave a sigh of relief. She watched the baby for a moment as a tiny hand flexed across the top of her breast almost as if it could promote the increased production of milk flow. It was a common sight Molly never tired of seeing. Our little miracle, she thought fondly.

Then she looked up at Sherlock, whose lips were formed into a slight pout as he still stood in front of her, now baby-less. "I'm sorry, honey," she apologised. "You have no idea how uncomfortable it is to have a full milk supply, and I was leaking through the breast pads." Then her lips curved upwards. "Feel free to kiss me now, if you like."

Sherlock smiled and bent down to brush his lips against hers tenderly. Then he gave her one of those heart stopping seductive smiles and said, "Would you like me to relieve some of the ache in your other breast?"

Molly giggled. "You are so silly. I think Victoria will take care of it."

"You should thank me, Molly," he told her gravely. "When you texted me, I was just about to get her a bottle because she was already grizzling, but I held off and tried to distract her until you got home."

She grinned at him. "Much appreciated. So," she asked casually, "any plans for this evening?"

Sherlock sat beside her and put a hand on her knee. "As a matter of fact, yes. Once you've finished feeding Victoria, you can take a shower and get ready. I have everything ready for you in the bathroom, and the bedroom is currently off-limits, just so you know."

Molly raised an eyebrow at him. "Off-limits? What on earth for?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously it's off-limits for a reason, so I'd hardly tell you why now, would I?" He squeezed her knee. "You'll find out soon enough."

Molly felt a sense of anticipation run through her. She remembered one of their re-creations a year earlier where Sherlock had ordered her to stay away from the bedroom, and she had later discovered rose petals strewn all over the bed, petals that had been manually plucked by Sherlock and had resulted in several little jabs on his right hand by sharp thorns. There had also been candles placed around the room for romantic ambience. That had been an unforgettable night, but just one of many unforgettable nights they had shared together.

Twenty minutes later, Molly was feeling more like her usual self, milk supply depleted, holding a well-fed, contented baby. Sherlock had been puttering about, still in his dressing gown, doing various things, and he came over to take Victoria from her. "Go and have your shower now, sweetheart. We have reservations for seven and we need to drop Victoria off at your mum's first."

So he is planning on spending the evening alone with me, thought Molly. Out loud she asked, "Will we be picking her up afterwards?"

Sherlock shook his head as he held Victoria up to his shoulder and patted her back expertly to burp her. "No, everything's all arranged. I'll be picking her up tomorrow, once you've left for work." She was about to ask if he had everything ready in the changing bag, but he anticipated the question. "I have extra nappies, jars of baby food, and all I need to do is grab the extra bottles of breast milk from the fridge before we leave."

So, Molly reflected, this will be only our second night alone since Victoria was born. The last time had been New Year's Eve, yet another memorable night. She would miss Victoria of course, but it was rather exciting to know that she and Sherlock would have another uninterrupted night together.

Molly stood and reached up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek, then departed for the bathroom. The first thing she noticed when she closed the door was the deep purple dress on a coat hanger dangling from the hook behind the door. This was a dress she had not seen before. It was a full length, deep purple evening gown with spaghetti straps that ended in a sweetheart style crossover bodice. A long, slim skirt fell from the natural waist of the dress, and there was a thigh-high split on the left side. The material itself also glittered. It was a gorgeous gown and Molly hoped she could do it justice. Sherlock had bought her clothes several times and surprisingly, showed an excellent taste, probably because of his discerning eye and attention to what would flatter a certain body type.

Once she had looked thoroughly at the exquisite dress, Molly noticed clean knickers on the washing basket. Sherlock had even thoughtfully added fresh breast pads for her to place inside the dress, which had built-in cups and was intended to be worn without a bra. He had obviously taken note of her comment about the saturated state of the pads she had pulled out from her maternity bra. There was a pair of high-heeled strappy black sandals in front of the basket. Sherlock thought of everything.

She had to smile when she noticed a full toilet roll in the holder, with an almost empty one balancing on top of it. No need to ask for help with the new toilet roll today, apparently. So far, this was turning out to be a very nice prelude to the evening.

Molly turned on the water and stepped gratefully into the shower stream cleansing herself thoroughly with her jasmine vanilla body wash, then washing her hair with her usual strawberry scented shampoo she favoured from The Body Shop. She knew Sherlock always loved those scents on her hair and skin, even if they didn't really go together.

When she stepped out of the shower, after brushing her hair out and remembering to check the drain for strands that had got caught in it, (if Sherlock could be thoughtful about the toilet roll, she could also do her part), Molly dried herself off and put a towel around her body and another around her hair, wondering how she was going to dry it. She usually allowed her hair to dry naturally, but that was not something she could do if they were heading out in the cold air. Her hairdryer was in her bedroom.

She exited the bathroom and was about to ask Sherlock about her hairdryer when he came up to her, even now still in his dressing gown. Victoria was sitting in her playpen, happily chewing on one of her soft toys. "I've put your hairdryer in the sitting room, and you can use the mirror above the mantelpiece." Molly was about to point out that the mirror, perfectly positioned for him to see into it clearly, was a little high for her, when he added, "I've put a step-stool in front as well."

She smiled. "You think of everything, don't you?"

He slid an arm around her waist and pulled her towards him, almost displacing her towel. "I try," he murmured, giving her a longer, more satisfying kiss than the one they had shared earlier when she had been feeding Victoria. "Now hurry up, or we'll be late." He swatted her on the backside.

She dimpled at him. "I'm not the one who decided to spend valuable time in kissing rather than getting ready."

He merely rolled his eyes at her and headed off for the bedroom, presumably to get dressed himself.

Fifteen minutes later, Molly was ready, dressed in her lovely gown, with hair in loose waves around her shoulders, but something was missing.

When Sherlock came out of the bedroom, he was wearing a suit and, for once, a tie. He was also holding something in his hand. He held it out to her and she saw it was the necklace with the hearts descending from it in different sizes and shades of pink that he had given her last Valentine's Day. "Thought you might want this," he said.

She smiled at him and lifted her hair so he could place the necklace around her neck. "What about earrings, though?" she questioned.

Sherlock shrugged. "You can't see your ears anyway, so what's the point in even wearing them?"

She had to concede he was right about that.

Ten minutes later, Sherlock and Molly were in a taxi, with Victoria between them, on their way to Ruth Hooper's flat to drop off the baby before their special night together. Molly was looking forward to it.

Author's note 2: This was going to be a one-shot, but as usual, I found myself writing more than I expected, so there are two chapters to follow.

So, what do you think so far? I hope you are enjoying seeing a glimpse at what a real marriage is like. My usual married stories for Sherlock and Molly are a bit more fluffy, but, as this takes place in the "now" timeline of my version of them, which is 18 months after marriage, I figured it would be nice to hit readers with a dose of reality, and humour as well - did you like the toilet humour? Have you ever read a story that talks about poo-pourri and bathroom habits before? Life isn't a fairytale and no couple has a perfect relationship. Can you relate to any of these little things Molly is reflecting upon? If you're a mother, can you relate to her issues with sore breasts? I used my own experiences to describe her discomfort.

There's a reference in this chapter to some of my previous stories - First Valentine's Day and Night Together, and Throwing the Boutonnière, as well as the more recent A New Year's Eve Party for Two.

Does anyone care to make a deduction about Sherlock's plans for Molly and why he won't let her into their bedroom?

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