The Lucky Break
I require your assistance with an experiment. -SH
Me? Um, sure where are you? Still at work.
I am at 221B. How long will you be working? -SH
Well I can finish up with this last stiff and be out in ten minutes, I'll hurry. -M. Hooper
Quickly, she threw the cover back over the body and nearly shoved him back in the wall, not wanting to keep him waiting.
At 221B, Sherlock sat stiffly in his chair, fingers steeped as he contemplated this experiment. There were several possible outcomes. He needed to consider them all. He would have a better idea once she got there.
In a cab, on my way. -M. Hooper
Good. The door is unlocked. You may come right in. -SH
Oh sure. - M. Hooper.
When the cab pulled up, she stepped out cautiously and looked up and down the building, even checking the window, no one there.
Sherlock took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He had to be certain this was the experiment he wanted to attempt. Once he told her his hypothesis, there was really no turning back from it.
"Um... hullo? Sherlock?" Molly climbed the stairs and poked her head through the door, "I'm, uh, here..."
"Come in, Molly." Sherlock rose from his seat. He looked down at her. Yes, Molly Hooper. Just as always. He gave her a small nod.
"I hope I did not rush you with your work. I was however very eager to get your help."
"No, no, not at all, but sure I'll help out with anything," she said quickly and slightly blushed, "So what are you testing?"
"Domestication," Sherlock replied. He looked over Molly, seeing her blush and her eagerness. That boded well, "I believe we should get married."
"...what?..." her mouth kept opening and closing though nothing else came out and she stared baffled.
"Married. Wedded. Become husband and wife," the detective rolled his eyes, "I did believe I was quite clear in my statement, Molly. Is something still unclear?"
"But- but I uh... shouldn't we start, um, dating first," Little Molly Hopper was hit by a train and in picking herself up, she saw a glimmer of hope, though it was still bizarre. Why now? Sherlock wrinkled his nose.
"Isn't that a rather pointless exercise? We have known each other for three years now, Molly Hooper. Dating is a means to become accustom to one another. We are already accustomed to one another." He took a step towards her.
"Do you not wish to marry me?"
"W-well I uh suppose this is true..." she averted her eyes and shifted her weight back and forth on her feet, "its-its just so sudden and well, frankly I'm a bit shocked is all..."
Sherlock arched a brow at Molly, cocking his head.
"Are you telling me you've never had fantasies about being married to me, Molly Hooper? I would have thought you would have considered it, given your feelings for me."
Her eyes grew big and her head snapped up to meet his eyes and she stepped back before she said quietly and sadly, "Am I that obvious?"
Sherlock smiled down at her. "Molly, I am the world's only consulting detective," He carefully brought a hand to her cheek, "It is my job to notice things like that. Besides, it is advantageous. You are the only person I would consider marrying and your feelings are an asset to that."
At his touch, her heart raced and her body stiffened afraid to move. After taking a gulp Molly looked up to him, "How long then... have you- you had feelings for me?"
Sherlock sighed. "Moriarty." He didn't want to mention the name. Knew it was a sensitive subject for her.
"Mor- Jim..." her voice squeaked in panic, "Oh so then...awhile..." Molly turned over the situation in her mind. Sherlock Holmes, her colleague or what she thought what was her colleague whom she had an enormous crush on for so long, proposing? It had to be her imagination. Dream.
"So... well... then w-why not I suppose..."
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly. "Really?" He suddenly felt very... Odd. He didn't know what he had expected. He had asked her after all. Did he not WANT her to say yes? He leaned in towards her. "And by 'why not' you mean you'll marry me?"
"I- I dunno I just... I don't know what I'm saying," Molly shook her head, "please Sherlock I don't understand, why now? Why out of the blue?" And then it struck her.
"Is this... this the experiment?"
Sherlock paused. His brain worked so much different from everyone else's. "You are attracted to me. I am attracted to you. You are one of only a handful of people in this world I can have an intelligent conversation with. You will not force me to abandon my career as a Consulting Detective. Rather, you will assist in it with your own position at Barts. I..." He trailed off, looking at her, "I wish to be with you. But I do not wish for the triviality of dating. We are beyond that."
"Sherlock... it's almost what we do already isn't it? Also I didn't think you were interested in me or was I wrong?" In his phrase she felt a mixture of emotions, because was she just another person to be used to help him along, but then again he sounded sincere when he said he trusted her. Sherlock didn't know what to say anymore. He never thought there would be a time when he was speechless. But he did have a response for Molly.
The detective took a hold of her, pulled her close and seared his lips against hers. It had been a very long time since he'd kissed anyone and never had he done it with such intent. His hands slipped down to her lower back, pulling her close to him.
No. What. This isn't happening. What's he doing. What's he doing? Sherlock... he's... what... But finally Molly's mind gave way and all there was left to do was react, so she pushed up against him and held him tight.
"...blimey..." she gasped as she pulled away to take in some air, "blimey..."
Sherlock looked down at Molly. His tongue slipped out over his lips and he could taste her lip gloss. "Tell me what you need from me."
Simultaneously she felt her heart hammer against his, absolutely erratic.
"All...all I want is you, Sherlock, you are clever and brilliant and... just... simply amazing," she answered as she rubbed his back.
"Then you will marry me," Sherlock said with a smile, "It will take fourteen days for our marriage license. However, after that we can go to the registrar. You may move your things in here at your earliest convenience."
"Wait, what about John? Are we putting him out though? Does he have any idea what's happening?"
Sherlock went quiet. "John is moving out."
"And he's just ok with this? Did he find a girl?" Molly tilted her head curiously. Sherlock nodded.
"He and Miss Morstan are quite happy."
"Oh Sherlock that's wonderful," she beamed and sort of jumped into his arms, "Yes, yes absolutely."
The detective was a bit surprised at this action from Molly. It was more forward than he would have thought her to be. Well. He was getting married. They were getting married. "What should we do now?" He asked, uncertain what the proper protocol was.
"Uh... what do we do? Well I never been proposed to before so um...hm... o hell," Molly stood tip toed and kissed him.
Sherlock allowed Molly to kiss him. Really, this part of it all didn't seem bad. She was very good at it. Slowly he slipped his arms around her and guided her to the sofa. Setting himself down comfortably, he pulled her with him, positioning her so she was on his lap and smiled.
"No tiptoes necessary," Sherlock murmured against her mouth. So Molly pressed her lips into his again, and took up the courage to run her tongue along his lips. After that, she inhaled sharply and shivered when she let her fingertips brush against his neck, his skin slightly cold. Sherlock groaned at the feel of Molly's tongue against his lips and opened his mouth to allow her entrance. When he fingers snaked over his neck he moaned and his hips bucked up. Interesting. Up until now Sherlock hadn't realized he was particularly sensitive there and in response his hands ran along her skin up her legs slowly.
Her tongue darted a bit behind his teeth and at his touch Molly felt an old part of herself slip away, maybe it had been the fear and doubt. But she did not dwell on it for long, rather wanting to focus on Sherlock instead. Without much thought, her other hand weaved down his chest, near the buttons that always strained to hold themselves together somehow and the other wrapped around his neck to cradle him.
Sherlock tilted his head into the kiss, his tongue tangling with Molly's and without needing to ask he began rucking up her blouse and the fingertips trailed her back. There was a small moment where he thought of asking her if it was all right, but they were going to be married. Certainly a fiancé could touch the woman he was going to marry under her clothing. Wanting to be a gentleman regardless and had started to open his mouth to ask. For Molly it was enough to allow a moan slip from her mouth and her hand tugged at his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. In a passionate kiss that answered Sherlock's question, she finally found herself sitting comfortable on top of him, allowing her hips to settle on top of his.
Sherlock groaned and his hips arched up, rubbing against her. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, he might really quite like married life. It would certainly make downtime from his cases more enjoyable. He pulled away from Molly's mouth.
"May I remove your blouse?"
"If I am allowed to remove your shirt," his fiancé answered and gave a small smile.
"You may remove anything of mine you wish," Sherlock replied, quickly pulling her shirt up over her head and leaned in, sucking on her collarbone. He'd wondered what that would be like when she wore blouses with a lower neckline.
"Sher-" he was wonderful, it was almost scary how well he was doing because Molly assumed Sherlock had not been many partners, still nevertheless he was unraveling her. Happily her two hands met at the middle of his chest, savoring the seconds she took to unbutton each one without hurry, wanting to preserve the memory. The feeling. And shiver again when his spidery fingers wrapped around her skin.
It was true, despite the man's physique Sherlock hadn't had too many partners. In fact, they're only been two. An experiment during University and then, a secondary experiment to confirm the results he didn't much care for sex. Yet it seemed that neither of those women were Molly Hooper. He was already becoming excited by her ministrations. But perhaps that was because it was Molly, a woman he found fascinating on many different levels. He let his fingers slip over her, trailing over her bra. She was quite lovely.
Finally at the last button, she was able to push aside his shirt and found herself staring and gawking. For someone who never ate and the only exercise he seemed to get was chasing after criminals, Sherlock was... completely...
"Blimey Sherl," Molly accidently said aloud and realizing her mistake she laughed at herself, "I'm sorry, I don't mean to."
Suddenly Sherlock glared at her for a moment because he did hate that name. But his look then softened, one corner of his mouth curling in a small smile.
"Well, you're going to be my wife. I suppose that gives you special privileges. Even if it is an AWFUL nickname."
"Oh, I'm sorry Sherlock," Molly felt herself shrink a little, "I won't call you that ok? Then... not Molls... Jim used to call me that..."
Sherlock leaned in, pressing small kisses to the swell of her breast. "What should I call you? Moll? Doctor Hooper? Darling?"
"Hmmm," Molly rubbed his chest in thought, "I think I like 'darling'," was answered before she ran a hand through his hair and ground against him, "I think I would like that a lot, love."
In response Sherlock made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, both at her movements and at the term of endearment.
"Molly... Darling..." He gasped.
"It clicks well." Molly smiled and leaned in with a bit of hesitation before planting a kiss on his neck and pushing his shirt of his shoulders, "Darling sounds perfect."
"I've never been much for terms of endearment," Sherlock admitted, "However, I think Darling suits you. I do not mind being 'Love'," he paused, "In private. When no one else is around." He let out another groan at the feel of Molly's lips.
"Agreed," she answered and admired his arms and shoulders as well. His groaning kept making her stomach flutter and a nerve suddenly shot through her. Never felt before... strange.. the sensation... her hands were at the rim of his trousers even when Molly did not realize this as her tongue was too preoccupied in Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock was attentive to everything, just as he was at a crime scene, feeling Molly's hand at his trousers and moved his hands to cover hers, pulling away from her mouth briefly.
"Would you like to remain on the sofa or would my bedroom perhaps be more appropriate... I suppose it is our bedroom now, is it not?"
Wrapping her legs completely around him and holding tight, she hugged his neck, "Take me away Mr. Holmes," and then began to giggle to herself. The detective lifted Molly up in his arms carefully, carrying her towards his- their- bedroom, with a hand firmly beneath her bottom as he went. When they arrived at the foot of his bed, he gently lowered her, spreading her out.
"You appear to be quite enticing," Sherlock crawled on top of her and began to divest her of clothing. Molly gasped a bit and was a little shocked by Sherlock's eagerness and bit her lip in a slight whimper.
"Thank you Mr. Holmes, really you think too highly of me."
The only thing to quiet her was when Sherlock leaned down and pressed his mouth to Molly's, then trailed kisses over the newly bared skin. He pulled back and began to strip off his own clothing.
"Molly Darling..." his mouth curled in a smile. "I want you."
"Same..." she smiled and moved up, kissing his chest. One her hands dared to massage his sides and another tugged at the rim of his trousers. The thought made her body flush and she was surprised with herself, usually she was never like this, but then again the situation did not occur every day.
Her man brought his hands down to help Molly remove his trousers since they seemed rather pointless right now. Anything between him and Molly seemed pointless. He sucked on her throat, letting out a moan against the soft skin.
"Perhaps we should have a talk about birth control. I suspect you are not looking to have children. At least, not right away. Give it a year, to see how our marriage progresses. I do have condoms, however if you are on some sort of pill or injection, I am clean of STIs."
"Oh, um..." Molly turned slightly pink, having forgot about all that and was grounded back to reality, "Well, um, clean for me too and sure, condoms are f-... wait you bought condoms? When ever do you- … or did you expect-... never mind then," she shook her head. The way Sherlock talked so scientific or formal, still sometimes set her back a step But then there was another thing.
"So then... you want children too?"
Sherlock arched a brow. "Molly Hooper, I am an expert at human behavior. I knew we would end up here," he trailed off and smiled, "Or else John just left them after he moved out." He nuzzled her jaw line. At her question, he pulled back and sat on his haunches.
"If you do not want children, I am fine with that. However, I had the impression you did given the affection you lavish upon your feline. I would not mind children. I am sure am progeny of ours would be quite interesting."
She felt a bit dizzy having to suddenly take this all in, so when he finished, she just nodded and felt slightly silly for fussing over Toby, the cat, for so long.
"Of course I want children, love children... it's a dream to be a mother for-for me. I think you can be a great father."
Scooting forward, she kissed his chest and smiled affectionately at him. Sherlock's head fell back as Molly pressed kisses to his chest. That was certainly different. He had been quite rushed in his other two attempts at sexual intimacy and it was very by-the-numbers, not a lot of attention was spent exploring. He honestly had not known them terribly well, but now, he wanted to explore Molly and let her explore him. In all honesty he was curious about it all, where before it just seemed like something to do.
"A great father?" Sherlock repeated. Of course, he was great at most things. Yet actually taking care of a child... It seemed unlikely. "I would do my best."
"Great," Molly wrapped her arms around him and hugged. After a moment, she slid down and let her hands drag down, gripping the rim of his boxers. Pulling them down to his thighs he sort of sprung at her and she leaned back now bashful. She knew what to do, what she could do, so carefully her fingertips touched him and began to curl around while her other hand pushed against his thigh.
Sherlock paused as Molly touched him. It had been so long since he'd experienced the sensation of another hand against him. In truth, it had been a while since he'd experienced ANY hand on him. He didn't indulge himself often and she was very good, naturally becoming attuned to his body. He had to give her credit for being about to read his reactions well enough to know what he liked and didn't want to selfishly take from her. Admiring the delicate body before him, Sherlock brought his own hands down, cupping her breasts and testing the gentle weight, thumbing the nipples.
"Lovely," he purred. Molly winced as he neared sensitive spots, she licked her lips nervously and slowly leaned into him, simply breathing on his manhood from sheer hesitation. Giving herself another minute, her longue lightly poked the tip of Sherlock's head, soon enveloping his entire head with her lips. In the act of doing so, Molly gave a little shiver and a flame raged through her chest, still not believing this was happening. Beneath her Sherlock gasped, his hips bucking. His eyes went wide as he looked down at little Molly Hooper, her lips sliding over his manhood.
This was new.
This was different.
He hadn't actually tried this, the last two times.
Now he was wondering why he hadn't.
The feeling was becoming so much, he gave a groan and his hands went to her head, sliding through her hair as another moan escaped his throat. His hips were aching to buck forward, but he was resisting the temptation. There was a fear he might choke the poor girl. His poor girl. What had he gotten himself into? The plan was considered for such a long time and now that it was a reality, he was fair certain he had overestimated his abilities to handle the situation. But as her tongue slipped over him, he decided he would improvise. Yes. Improvisation would be good. He wasn't going to back out now. No. Definitely not.
Talking to herself through it, Molly dared herself to look up to him and lifting her gaze slightly as she took him in further. It was startling to find such energy in his eyes, a storm of grey, raging for her, bearing down into her, the wonton look and need. Given that, she took the chance and swallowed him a bit, enough so her nose was pressing into his pelvis. Thinking of his stare, Molly groaned a little, his cock vibrating in her mouth, eventually the tip poking the back of her throat. Furthermore each buck made her heart skip a bit, though she admired his resistance not to be hasty with himself.
The detective had his fingers tangled in Molly's hair and he closed his eyes tightly, letting his head fall back. He had to control himself. He couldn't lose himself in her mouth, as tempting as the thought was. He could fell the ache for climax deep in his belly. But he was able to control his body. Normally, he didn't even permit his body to get this far. After allowing himself another moment of pleasure, he forced Molly to release his cock.
"Mm," he hummed, getting her to lay down and nudged her thighs apart, "It's my turn." He bowed his head and took a long lick of her sex. Carefully Sherlock took several long licks, wanting to become acquainted with her taste and then moved his mouth up a bit, tongue teasing her clit while one slender finger sank into her depths.
"Tell me what you need," Sherlock murmured against her. Her back arched up and a cry was caught in her throat, as if no sound could escape. The new sensation made her squirm back slightly, and her fists gripped the bed as if her life depended on it.
"Shhhh-...Sh-Sh-...Sher..." If Molly did not know any better, she might think he had been with numerous partners with the knowledge to know exactly what to do and which spots to push, lick, pull. It was the greatest feeling, as a finger slipped inside, causing her to push her hips forward wanting more.
"J-jus just y-you, l-love..." Molly breathed out and panted. Sherlock continued to slide his finger in and out of Molly's channel. He continued to tongue her, the taste pleasant, more pleasant was the auditory stimulation Molly provided. Never before did he imagine Molly Hooper stammering his name would be something erotic and yet, as he heard her, he could feel himself ache for her. Giving in to what her body demanded, Sherlock slipped a second finger into her.
"You have me," he assured her, "Just tell me what you want me to do.
What do I want him to do? Well...basically anything and everything, the thought crossed her mind though was further distracted when he filled her space with a second finger. She began to squirm, squeezing a bit against his fingers in his exploration, "Just more, anything please!" Molly begged and allowed her hand to sift through Sherlock's curls, massaging his head lovingly. The fiancé slipped his fingers out of Molly and brought them up, examining them closely to take an experimental lick at them.
"Hmmm..." Sherlock hummed softly and then took them into his mouth, sucking them clean, "Is missionary an acceptable position for our first coupling?" He pressed kisses to her lovely neck.
"As I imagine our 'honeymoon' will be spent experimenting with positions, we can experiment with what works best for us." he nudged against her entrance with his arousal and hissed softly in pleasure. Even as things were occurring as they did, Molly still couldn't help but giggle at Sherlock's formality and academic speech in such a situation as this.
"Yes of course silly, I'm... I'm not afraid anymore," she smiled and tilted her head up to kiss him. In doing so she tasted herself, very foreign and unfamiliar, though not bad, probably better for him, Molly figured. Sherlock's hissing made her sigh, happy to see this other side of him, a little unreserved and the lust look in his eyes.
"Still, I thought you did not wish to have children right away," she said and tapped a finger to his nose.
"Oh," Sherlock glanced down and nodded, "Of course." He pulled away from her for a moment. He'd become so lost in the haze of arousal, he'd wanted to just plunge forward. Then he reached to the nightstand and took a condom from the drawer. With a bit of effort, he opened it and slipped it on himself and returned to his position between Molly's thighs.
"Is this better?" he asked, his voice low and husky.
He pressed a kiss to her lips as he slowly began to slip inside of her. The sensations were indescribable as he plunged into her depths. In that moment, he didn't know he hadn't been doing this with Molly Hooper for ages. There was no way Molly could answer Sherlock now. Her hands flew to his back, holding him tight and her head dipped back.
For the first time she was experiencing it well and proper. Having very few other men in her life there was the very awkward and unfinished first time and with Jim... no. Such a man was not to plague her mind now and ruin the moment. Very successfully Sherlock kept her attention back to him as he began to move slowly and delicately inside her.
"Sherlock..."
"This is..." Sherlock gasped against her flesh. He didn't know if he would ever figure out how to describe what they were doing. He didn't think he wanted to. He just wanted to experience it. For the first time in his life, he didn't want to categorize or analyze. He just wanted to feel. With ease Sherlock slid into her to the hilt and slowly withdrew before sliding back in again.
"Molly," he groaned. Slowly, he began to pick up speed. He didn't know how long he would be able to last inside of her.
"I know," Molly murmured quietly and then continued to gasp for air as Sherlock moved deeper. In this heat all Molly could do was dig her nails into the skin of his back from the intensity of it all and somehow managed to roll her hips up to meet his. It was amazing to see the machine switch off and the human emerge from hiding, the man behind the detective. A good deal her eyes had been shut to draw in all the other senses, but when she had the opportunity she saw him. Really was able to glimpse into the real Sherlock Holmes. Her mouth then preoccupied his, her tongue plunging into his mouth for a taste, hungrily asking for more. Sherlock's mouth moved smoothly against hers. He sighed against her lips.
"Molly," he groaned and continued to move his hips against her. There was the desire to gain wanted everything and the need to hold this woman tightly in his arms. It frightened him that he desired that so much. He paused and looked down at Molly and touched a hand to her cheek. "Molly Hooper..."
There was no way he could not give this up because Sherlock was an addict and he had already gotten his taste of Molly Hooper.
"How do you feel about me?"
Taken aback, her eyes widened as she stared up back at him, all enveloped in her innocence. Something seemed out of place, Sherlock slowed and near stopped, his blue eyes shifting around slightly because he was nervous, Molly concluded. A small something in his head must have been holding him back.
"How do I feel about you? I hate you. I hated how I was ignored for the first few years, I hated having to stand by and watch you run around always in danger. I hate that you came to me for help because I was terrified you might still die anyway. I hated the way you impressed me with your deduction when I should have felt exposed. I hate how lovely your cheekbones are, much too stunning on a natural human being. Finally I hate how loving and kind you can be to someone like me when there are others much more deserving of you."
Sherlock paused once again, looking down at Molly. She kept repeating that she hated him. But he eased himself when she continued on. "Will you be happy with me?" Sherlock asked, running a thumb over her brow. "With me dashing around, solving crimes with John?" He brushed his mouth against hers. "I don't know if I'll ever give it up, Molly." He trailed his kisses over her jaw. "But I like being here with you. In this moment. I think... I would like more moments like this."
"I have always been happy when you were with me, and even now reinforces it," Molly explained, "No, you shouldn't give it up, I think you would actually die if you did so and I want you to be at your best love." One of Molly's hands cupped the side of Sherlock's face, pressing gently.
"I just love you..."
From that Sherlock remembered he had told Molly he wanted to marry her and told her he had feelings for her. But he wasn't sure he could say those words. Not yet. There was so much weight to them and their was safety in an entire certainty. Instead, Sherlock pressed his mouth to hers and kissed her deeply, stepping up the speed and force of his thrusts.
"Molly," he gasped, slipping a hand down between them and rubbed her clit with his thumb. "I'm close," he warned. "I want you to go with me."
"Ngh, Sherlock!" she whimpered and held onto his neck. "Yes, please- I can't!" The velvet voice went straight to her hips eager to meet with his, and she tightened to completely realize the extent of Sherlock inside her. At first there were a few small ones, then the sudden tighter squeezes and releases as Molly reached the pinnacle of climax.
Above her Sherlock had been groaning loudly into Molly's ear and thrust his hips frantically into her, feeling her lose control around him. The blood was rushing in his ears and he didn't know if he could stop, if he would ever stop. For God sake's Sherlock just wanted to drown in Molly. But finally, he was there, his pleasuring rushing over him. He gave her a bruising kiss, grunting against her mouth. After a few more gentle thrusts, riding his orgasm to completion, Sherlock settled down, slipping out of her and rolling onto his back. He slipped off his condom and disposed of it in the wastebasket.
"So. That was different."
Gasping and panting, Molly could barely move, her muscles relaxed though having no desire to move. Finally she manage to turn over and snuggle into him.
"Just... marvelous... yes... yes very different…" she grinned into his chest and gave a light kiss, "you are a fantastic lover." The adrenaline raced through her, the euphoria made her not give a care in the world of anything else and then slowly it began to sink in who and what had just happened and why.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around Molly somewhat hesitantly. He was sticky and really just wanted to get into the shower. The other girls he'd been with had banished him from their beds as soon as he was done. But there was something pleasing about the way Molly nuzzled against him.
"You are quite skilled yourself," Sherlock tried to compliment her. He sighed softly. "So I will be an adequate husband for you?"
"You? Of course you will, really. I have much faith in you," Molly answered and sighed. Then she realized how uncomfortable Sherlock must have felt because his body felt slightly tense even when he had an arm wrapped around her.
"Oh, please forgive me," she said and sat up moving away from him, deciding to pick up a brush and comb some of the tangled hair. Sherlock sighed softly.
"I've not slept with someone else before," he replied. "Not actually SLEPT. It will take some getting used to the concept." He rose to his feet and slipped out of bed. The truth was, he wasn't really tired. "You should rest. It's been a long day. I can go to your flat and pick up some clothing for you, as well as your cat. We can begin to get you settled here."
"Wow! Really? If you are doing that I can make us dinner while you're out. Just be careful with Toby, might be a bit scratchy with strangers," Molly beamed with a smile and climbed out of bed, "I'll just shower real fast and start ok?"
With a peck on the cheek she wrapped herself in Sherlock's dress gown. Sherlock smiled gently at Molly wearing his dressing gown. He pulled his clothing on and went out to retrieve some of Molly's belongings. On his way out, he glanced one more time inside and Sherlock smiled as he saw the familiar robe on someone else for once, now convinced logic was not the only existence in the world. The other half was luck, no explanation for it. It had to be because otherwise this beautiful woman, his Molly, would not be his fiancé, the future wife.
"I guess I was wrong," he concluded and finally left the flat.