The South Downs were the perfect place, Sherlock decided with an approving nod of his head.
"I would never have pegged you as a country gentleman," Molly muttered warily as he took her for a tour of his newly acquired cottage.
"I'm not," he replied in mock horror. "I just happen to like the place."
She smiled then – a genuine, unguarded smile. "And you're serious about the bees."
"Definitely. There will be a row of beehives when I finally retire here."
"What will you be then? Consulting beekeeper?"
He allowed himself an amused smirk. "Maybe. I could always try my hand at some investigation, should one of the bees attempt to kill another."
They both laughed, couldn't help it. Then Molly pushed the door to the spare bedroom open, and frowned at the sight of his experiments cluttering the floor.
"You're not expecting me to sleep in there, are you?"
Sherlock raised a quizzical eyebrow and studied her for a moment. "There's always my bedroom."
Her frown only deepened as she stared back at him in confusion. "Where are you going to sleep then?"
"It's a double bed, Molly; there's room enough for the two of us. Besides, I've heard it's somewhat of a requirement for certain – activities."
"Oh," she murmured in a small voice, a sudden blush colouring her cheeks.
He wheeled round and breezed downstairs to make himself a cup of coffee; he reckoned it wouldn't take her more than five minutes to wrap her head around the idea.
And if he found a flustered Molly secretly endearing, that was something he was never going to admit, least of all to himself.
xxx
Mummy and Father would like to meet their daughter-in-law, Mycroft texted him as the Christmas festivities drew inevitably closer.
Not their daughter-in-law. And none of your business anyway.
Behave, Sherlock.
Never, he retorted somewhat proudly. Besides, what about their son-in-law?
I've no idea what you're talking about.
Give my best to Greg, will you?
That was when his brother abruptly stopped texting.
xxx
Janine was gracious enough not to make a fuss when he asked her to come over. Her cottage was just some ten miles away, and they were on friendly terms now.
"I have to go to London for a couple of days. Can you make sure she doesn't choke on her vomit?"
"I'm fine," Molly groaned from where she had collapsed onto the sofa.
"Always so romantic, aren't you, Sherlock?" Janine teased him lightly. "Of course I'll look after her."
"It's just morning sickness," Molly insisted weakly. "I can manage on my own."
"I'll leave you two to it," he cut her short as he dashed out of the front door.
When he was back three days later he found the two women chatting over a cup of tea, quietly sniggering behind his back.
"Whatever she said about me, it's not true," he declared, pointing at Janine. Molly only chuckled and refused to share the subject of their previous conversation.
"How's Mike?" Janine promptly cut in.
"Revoltingly happy. I've no idea how Lestrade manages not to drown in syrup."
He paused when a ginger cat sneaked up on him and dared to rub its head against his leg. "What's this?"
"Our cat," Molly replied with a suave smile, and he bit back a sarcastic reply. After all, he'd always known he had it coming.