Prequel chapter can be found in my "The Littlest Watson" series, chapter 6: Princess Flowers. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
Since they had started officially dating a year ago, it wasn't uncommon for Molly to join Sherlock at Baker St on the evenings when he babysat his goddaughter, Lily, so that John and Mary could have some time to themselves. Molly was especially glad to get inside and out of the colder-than-it-should-be October wind.
As she climbed the steps to Sherlock's flat, she could hear the thump of tiny feet and a child's voice shouting, "She's here, Uncle Charlie!"
It had been a while since Molly had seen little Lily Watson; she had been swamped with work, Sherlock had been taking case after case after case, and John and Mary had been likewise affected by the turn of the seasons in an almost-steady stream of patients complaining of colds and flus. In fact, it had been a week or two since she had seen Sherlock, too.
The door at the top of the stairs was open and she could see the fire burning cozily behind the guard of the fireplace and Lily was on the floor, colouring in a book. She looked up as Molly hung her coat over the arm of the chair beside the door and ran to hug her.
"Hi, Molly! Why are you late? Uncle Charlie and I have already had supper. Did you have lots of bodies to cut up today?"
"Wow, you sure have a lot of questions, Lily. Let's see if I can answer them all. I'm late because I had to work and, though I don't know how or why you know what my job is, no, I didn't have lots of bodies today. All boring paperwork, I'm afraid."
"Oh," Lily said, sounding disappointed.
"But look how big you've gotten since I last saw you! How old are you know? Five?" Molly knew it had been, at most, a month since she had seen the little girl, but decided to play it up.
"I'm five and half, actually."
"Five and half already? Pretty soon you'll be ready to move out and live on your own."
"No, I won't. I'm just a kid."
"Right," Molly said, slightly awkwardly.
"Jokes, Molly," Sherlock admonished, coming to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. She swatted his arm and they sat down on the couch while Lily returned to colouring. "Now, tell me about your day."
"Like I said, it was mostly paperwork. Nothing you'd find interesting and I know that's the only reason you're asking. I don't know why you bother in the first place since Lestrade calls you before he even calls me."
"I'm asking because I care," Sherlock replied, trying in vain not to smirk. Molly curled up beside him, tucking her feet underneath her as his arm fell easily around her shoulders.
"You're such a liar."
"Molly, I'm offended by such a ridiculous claim. I am nothing of the sort. For example, I wouldn't be lying if I said that I've missed you."
Now it was Molly's turn to hold back a smile. "Are you sure?"
"Cheeky, Miss Hooper. There is a child present," Sherlock said, kissing her indulgently on the lips.
"Ewww, gross!" Lily said from the floor.
"Sorry, Lily," Sherlock and Molly said in unison.
"I'm not sorry at all," Sherlock then whispered in her ear.
"Are you not? I never would have guessed."
"If I may make a deduction, Miss Hooper, I would say that you've missed me too."
"Oh dear, was it that obvious?"
"Shut up."
"Only if you do and we both know that's never going to happen."
"Uncle Charlie?"
"Yes, Lily?"
"When are you going to give Molly her special present?"
Molly had to laugh as Sherlock nearly choked in response to what seemed like a fairly innocent question. "You have a present for me, Mister Holmes?"
"Lily, that was-"
"I'll go get it!" the little girl shouted over Sherlock and dashed off down the hallway to his room.
Molly looked up at Sherlock inquiringly.
"Where is it?" Lily hollered from Sherlock's room. "I can't find it!"
"Let's just leave it for-"
"Oh, never mind. I found it!"
She came running back with a small, bright yellow velvet box.
"What's this, Lily?" Molly asked, uncurling herself from Sherlock's side and sitting up straighter on the couch, looking into the girl's eyes. Her heart was pounding in her chest and blood was rushing through her ears. She had a sneaking suspicion of what was happening but tried to keep down the hope that had risen so quickly within her.
"It's a present for you, Molly."
"And do you know what it is?" she asked, trying to maintain a calm exterior; her idea might be completely wrong, after all.
"No," the girl pouted, "I wanted to see before Uncle Charlie hid it but he wouldn't let me."
"But maybe now isn't exactly-" Sherlock tried to say but Molly ignored him.
With a quick look at his panicky, flustered face, she turned back to Lily. "How about we find out now?"
"Wait!" Sherlock said, loud enough for them both to jump. "Since this is happening right now and there doesn't seem to be any way to stop it: Lily, wasn't there something on top of the present that you forgot to bring?"
She thought for a moment and then ran off again. In a moment, she came back, smiling as widely as possible. She was holding a sunflower which she placed carefully on top of the box and then jumped back, clasping her hands together under her chin. If she hadn't been so nervous, Molly might have laughed at the little girl practically vibrating with excitement in front of her.
"Molly, I-" Sherlock started to say as Molly shifted on the couch to face him. "I, uh. This wasn't how I wanted this to happen and I had a plan all…planned out. A whole evening leading up to this moment but since my plans have been…changed, this will have to do. I hope it won't reflect poorly on me or my feelings for you. Obviously, this past year has-"
"Sherlock?"
"Uh, yes?"
"This box, is it the same colour as the dress I wore to John and Mary's wedding?"
"Um, maybe," he said slowly. "I didn't know the exact shade so it might not be a perfect match but it was as close as I could get it."
Molly's brown eyes sparkled with emotion, "I'm sorry. I interrupted you. Please, do go on."
"Okay, right. Yes, Molly. I tried to think of how best to tell you…everything I wanted to tell you and after a wastebasket full of paper, I decided that words weren't going to work."
"Uncle Charlie?"
"I'm never going to get anywhere with the two of you interrupting me all the time. What, Lily?"
"Don't remember what I told you when we were practicing? When you ask a princess to marry you, you have to be down on one knee and tell her that you love her and give her the most beautifulest flowers you can find and then wait for her to kiss you. Except don't do that last part while I'm here because that's gross."
There was silence in the flat and nothing could be heard but the crackling of the fire. Sherlock cleared his throat and slid off the couch onto one knee. "As has been stated by the ever-helpful Miss Watson, Molly, I am indeed asking you to marry me. I chose the sunflower because it, like me, turns to face the sun. Always. You are my sun, Molly and I never want to be facing away from you. The light you brought to me all those years ago, during my darkest hours, that was what helped me stop. That was how I got through.
Every time I thought of how disappointed you would be and the danger you put yourself in when you could come to find me, all those times made me stop and think about what I was doing. More often than not I would give in regardless, but it was always with a sense of guilt that I had betrayed you. You've stuck by me when no one else would and even when others were there, you were too. I guess, I'm trying to say that I love you, Molly. And I would like the chance to spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy and safe as you have made me. So. Will you marry-"
Molly had caught up his lips with hers, the box lay forgotten beside her on the couch. Sherlock's hand reached up to cradle her head and she grasped his hair with both hands.
And then they both felt a tiny hand on their shoulders, pushing them apart. "Molly, you haven't even opened the present yet. And Itold you before: that's gross, I'm right here. Open the present, Molly. I want to see what it is."
Sherlock smiled and shrugged his shoulders in helpless resignation of Mary Watson's persistent daughter. "You should probably open it, Mrs Holmes. And put it on."
Molly took the velvet box in her still-shaking hands and opened it.
"Wow, it's so sparkly!" Lily exclaimed, bent over so that her nose was almost touching the ring. A white gold rose with a single diamond at the flower's centre that sparkled magnificently in the firelight.
"It's beautiful," Molly whispered.
"It would look more beautiful on your finger than in the box, though," Sherlock pointed out, taking the ring and putting it on her finger.
"Can I be the flower girl in your wedding?" Lily asked eagerly. "'Specially 'cause I brought out the sunflower."
"Of course you can," Molly said, smiling at the girl.
"Okay, good," and she went back to her colouring. Sherlock returned to the couch and Molly snuggled back up against him.
"Do think Toby will like it here, Mrs Holmes?"
Molly's heart skipped a beat (or several) at his use of her future name. "I think he'll learn to, Mister Holmes."
"That's a relief. I wouldn't have wanted you to have to get rid of him."
"And who says I would be getting rid of him?" Molly asked, admiring her ring in the dim light and delighting in the weight of it on her finger.
"Mrs Holmes, you wound me."
"Well, I certainly hope you'll be all healed up for the wedding, Mister Holmes. I wouldn't want you bleeding all over my pretty dress."
"Shut up."
"Nope. You're stuck with me so you'd better get used to it."
"Perhaps I should have thought this through…"
"Perhaps you should. Too late now; hindsight is twenty-twenty, they say."
"I love you."
"I love you more."
"Not possible."
"Do not get into this argument with me, husband, we both know I will win."
"You know, you're sort of se- pretty when you're cheeky."
"Obviously. Took you long enough to catch on."
"Aren't you glad that I did?"
"You're such an idiot."
"Ah, but, as you said, you're stuck with me. I'm your idiot now, Molly Holmes."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur of witty banter to hide pounding hearts and shaking hands. John and Mary came to pick up Lily who seemed to have forgotten all about the excitement of the evening and prattled away about her drawings and what Sherlock had made her for dinner.
Molly didn't think she could be more reluctant to leave anything than she was that night but she had a long day of work ahead. Sherlock accompanied her in the cab to her flat, apparently just as unwilling to leave as she was. Toby came to greet her and she got ready for bed, deciding to leave the ring where it was rather than risk it falling off her nightstand and getting lost.
The next morning, when her alarm shocked her awake and she reached over to turn it off, she spotted the white rose still on her finger. Her heart swelled until she thought it would burst; it hadn't been a dream. She really was engaged to Sherlock Holmes. The reality of the situation was driven home by the number of unread text messages on her phone.
OMG MOLLY WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?
ARE YOU AND SHERLOCK REALLY ENGAGED?
CONGRATULATIONS! I'M SO GLAD HE FINALLY
CAUGHT ON. YOU'LL HAVE TO TELL ME EVERY
DETAIL. ALSO, LILY IS VERY EXCITED ABOUT
BEING FLOWER-GIRL- 3 Mary
Though I'm sure Mary has already texted you (and
you should reply to her; both she and Lily are
bouncing off the walls and dancing around the house)
but congratulations on your engagement! Should've
known Lily would involve herself but I'm glad it
worked out all the same! - JW
WHEN'S THE WEDDING? SERIOUSLY, TEXT
ME BACK. OH, SORRY, IT'S LATE AND YOU'RE
PROBABLY ASLEEP. OR MAYBE YOU AREN'T.
E! - 3 Mary
Prepare yourself for an onslaught of texts from the
Watsons. Mary has been texting me all night about
the details. I assume she has done the same to you. I
don't have any cases for the day so I might come by
Bart's. I've got an experiment or two I've been
meaning to get done. And, no doubt, by now Anderson
will have heard the news. I don't need him telling me
how right he was, not when I'm finally happy. - SH
Molly ignored the ones from John (she would send a 'thank you' later) and Mary (she wouldn't be satisfied with a text anyway) and focused on Sherlock's. She wasn't even going to reply because she had no idea what to say. And it was so lovely to just in lay in bed and think about how much her life had changed, literally, over night. But then she thought that she should probably send him something to avoid him sending her a million more texts just to get her attention.
I'm really happy too. Why isn't there a better word
than 'happy'? Because that's how I'm feeling right
now. Whatever is stronger than 'happy'. - Molly
That's what you got from that text? Can I come by
the lab or not? Also, there are many more words for
that feeling than just 'happy'. My first act as your
fiancee will be to get you a proper thesaurus. - SH
Since when do you ask about coming to the lab first?
And I don't need a thesaurus. It's just too early to be
thinking of synonyms for 'happy'. - Molly
In that case, I'll bring your new thesaurus by later. - SH
I don't want a thesaurus. I want coffee. I'm not making it
for you anymore. - Molly
I'm bringing it anyway. It might come in handy. And why
aren't you making me coffee anymore? Ever? What about
after we're married? - SH
Stop panicking. I meant, you can bring/make me coffee
too sometimes. This is one of those times. Still don't
want the thesaurus. Now let me get ready for
work. - Molly.
No. And I'm bringing it. - SH
I could just stop replying, you know. Seriously, don't. - Molly
No you couldn't. And I'm going to. Deal with it. - SH
Is that a bet? Also, I hate you. - Molly
Yes. Or, as your thesaurus will tell you: a challenge, a dare,
a gamble, a risk, a test. And one I will win. And then you have to
make a large cake for Mycroft. Also, no you don't. - SH
Molly desperately wanted to know why Sherlock would want to give Mycroft a cake but there was no way she was going to let Sherlock win. She left her phone beside her and got out of bed. She would ask him at Bart's later. Halfway to the shower, she laughed as she remembered that Mycroft was, apparently, on a diet at the moment and probably wouldn't appreciate a large cake showing up out of nowhere. She shook her head and carried on getting ready. Sherlock Holmes might be an idiot sometimes, but he was right: he was her idiot now. And that thought filled her with happiness until she felt she was shining as bright as a sunflower.