"Sherlock, I'm home!"

Getting no response, Molly went to check the bedroom. She sighed when she realised that the flat was empty.

She was woken up when the mattress moved and the duvet was pulled, though not uncovering her.

"It's just me. Go back to sleep."

She hummed her response as she fell asleep.

She next met Sherlock just as she was retiring the next night.

"Where were you? No response to texts or calls…"

"Busy, have to keep in touch with my homeless network after all. You look beat, go to bed."

"I'll put the kettle on, let's have some tea."

But he was already in his mind palace, so she cancelled her tea plans and called it a night, though she did smile sleepily when later, he snuggled her into his arms and slept.

Living with Sherlock wasn't easy and she felt she shared more romance with her cat and his Belstaf than the man himself.

And she wasn't surprised in the least.

She had expected irregular schedules, abrupt departures and arrivals, long silences when he was in his mind palace or away solving cases. Insults, patronising barbs, impatience and him leaving her was mid-sentence when he suddenly remembered something.

She knew the cases would take precedence, his 'bored' phase would get on her nerves and his experiments would driver her mad.

There would be fights, long discussions and intense arguments over minor things.

There would be minimum romance or display of affection.

But then, there were moments, rare and in-between, when he took her breath away.

When he would just hold her close, no questions asked, after a bad day or an autopsy involving children. When after a particularly tiring day, the fridge would be full and hot food would be ready on the table. When he would read through her favourite books just so they could spend a rainy day in, discussing and dissecting the books to its final words…who knew there were so many more angles to the Harry Potter series!

When he would look at her across a room filled with people and for just a moment the mask would fall and his eyes would convey the full force of his feelings. When he would kiss her passionately, make love to her tenderly, worship her.

When he would smile at her, gently squeeze her hand or kiss her head. When he would make her feel beautiful.

Yes, living with Sherlock Holmes was not easy at all. But when the heart was content, nestled in the warmth of true love, faults got covered by the truth beneath.

After all, even a rose plant had thorns, but the fragrance was still as sweet as ever.