Disclaimer: Boots? Check. Umbrella? Check. Muffin Pan? Check. Yetis like muffins. Oh, sorry, didn't see you there. Well, I'm off on a journey to Mt. Olympus. You see I realized that I asked Santa and the Easter Bunny for Lestrade or Sherlock or John but I forgot to ask Eros, the god of love, how stupid was that? So I'm off to hunt him down and ask him. Enjoy the story and I'll keep you updated as to my progress. For now, they're still not mine and I make no money off of these stories.

A/N: Okay, here the story will diverge from the show. All of the major events will still happen but it now has a Honey 'Verse spin. Surprise pairing at the ending. Points if you can guess who the pairing is and I'm not telling until it comes out in the story. That will probably be at the end of the story so you'll have to wait for however long that takes. Still if you review and you have the pairing correct I might tell you that. Read on and enjoy!

At St. Bart's

"Sherlock?" John questioned softly of his husband as they sat in the quiet confines of a cab on the way to St. Bart's for some experiment or other. "Why is Sgt. Sally texting me to 'make you stop it'? And stop what?"

Sherlock turned his attention from the view out the window of the cab to his befuddled husband. "I'm sure I have no idea, John," he said laconically.

John merely gave him a disbelieving look. "So this has nothing to do with the press conference about the suicides? Somehow I think you know exactly what has irritated Sgt. Sally to the point of whining to me about you."

Sherlock made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat before turning back to the window but John saw the faint smirk and sighed.

What exactly did he do? John texted Sally.

Texted all the journalists that we were wrong. Three times! Make him stop! We look like idiots!

John manfully tried to hold back the snicker working its way up his throat but he couldn't quite help it. That was just too funny in a Sherlock kind of way. He could just hear Sgt. Sally's whiny, put-upon voice in his head. "Sometimes Sherlock, you can be very cruel."

Sherlock turned to him again and gave him a delighted smile. "I do try, my dear John," he tried to say in a serious voice but the mirth behind it shone through.

Sorry, Sgt. Sally. I'll have a talk with him.

The pair was exiting the cab at St. Bart's before the reply came. John handed the cabbie the fare before he checked the message.

I know you're laughing at me. Lestrade said you would. I don't really care just make him stop it!

John snickered again. Sgt. Sally was in a fine fury. He limped up the steps to the front entrance of St. Bart's and then realized that his husband was nowhere to be found. Cursing long legged men he hurried towards the morgue.

By the time he caught up with his husband Molly was already showing him to the body. John thanked his lucky stars for Molly. She was one of the few people who didn't find Sherlock more trouble than he was worth.

"He used to work here," Molly was saying. "I knew him. He was nice."

Sherlock rolled his eyes at her prattle. "Fine. We'll start with the riding crop." He smiled in delight.

"Must we?" John whined just to make Sherlock scrunch his nose and glare. "I mean really? Why can't you start with a cricket bat first for once?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again. "I do not own a cricket bat, John. Neither do you, if you'll remember."

John shrugged, unconcerned. "I'm willing to be that Molly does, don't you, Molls?" He grinned engagingly at the mousy woman.

"I…I d-do, actually," Molly stammered with a blush. "But I don't…don't bring it to work with me."

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly. "Well, well," he drawled. "Isn't our little Molly just full of surprises for us today? Bring it next time, won't you?"

"Um…okay," Molly answered. "Why?"

Sherlock snorted. "To please John, why else?"

"Right," Molly nodded absently and she and John exited the room, leaving Sherlock to his experiment.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

John shook his head fondly as his husband beat the elderly gentleman's corpse in a quest for truth and justice. "I'm going to the cafeteria, Molly, you want anything?"

"That's very sweet of you, John, but no thank you. I'm fine." She gave him a smile.

"Keep an eye on him, would you?" John requested. "He's in a bit of a mood today so he might be a bit…um, not nice."

Molly let out a light laugh. "I'm very well acquainted with Sherlock's various moods, John. He never says anything that I can't brush off. He'll be fine and I have a thicker skin than you'd think."

Molly watched John as he left the room and then pulled out her phone. She sent off a quick text and then turned back to watching Sherlock.

SH/JW SH/JW SH/JW

"John Watson?" A voice called out as John tried to juggle the two trays he held and the cups of coffee. He turned around and faced the caller as the plates slid alarmingly.

John searched his memory for the stranger's identity until it finally clicked. "Mike Stamford?"

"Right in one," Mike's round face creased in a smile. "Sherlock told me about that nasty business in Afghanistan. I'm very sorry, John."

John gave a half shrug and a small smile. "No matter, really."

Mike gave him a smile back. "Did you want some help, John?" Without waiting for an answer he took one of the trays and a cup of coffee from John's hands. "For Sherlock, right? Where's he at today?"

"Thanks Mike. Yes and he was in the morgue but he's probably at the lab by now. I'd forgotten how long the lines at the cafeteria are."

"I know what you mean," Mike chuckled.

The two walked the halls of the hospital speaking companionably about everything and nothing. John hadn't seen Mike in more than five years but they'd kept in touch while he'd been abroad fighting. Mike kept a discreet eye on Sherlock for him and sent him amusing stories of Sherlock's antics within the walls of St. Bart's.

"Afternoon Sherlock," Mike sang out cheerfully as he held the door open for John to enter. Sherlock merely grunted in reply. "We brought you lunch."

"Not hungry," Sherlock responded without ever taking his eyes from the microscope in front of him.

"Tough," John said and pulled his husband away from the microscope and put a sandwich in his hand. "Eat or else," he warned.

"Or else what?" Sherlock asked interested despite himself.

"What do you think?" John gave him a significant look and Sherlock took a bite of the sandwich. John could be very scary when he wanted to and he never made idle threats.

Sherlock held out his hand imperiously. John sighed and set down his own sandwich before handing Sherlock his mobile, well Harry's mobile. Sherlock used one hand to type out a quick text and then handed the mobile back.

"It's nice to know that the two of you are the same as ever," Mike chortled.

"Did you expect anything different?" Sherlock asked archly.

Mike only laughed and then got to his feet. "I've a class to teach. I will see you later won't I?"

"I'll call you and we'll go out for drinks," John assured him. "It was good to see you, Mike."

Mike waved a hand and walked to the door of the lab. He held the door open for Molly who was carrying a cup of coffee and left.

Molly handed the coffee to Sherlock and then blinked when she saw the one sitting on the table. "Oh," she said quietly. "I didn't know John had brought you one."

"I'll drink them both, Molly." Sherlock assured her. "I'm finished here. John, go call us a cab. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary." He swept up both cups of coffee and disappeared out the door.

John shared an exasperated look with Molly before he too limped out the door.

"He's doing well," a voice said from the shadows.

"Yes," Molly responded without starting at the suddenness of the voice. "He's limping a bit but it's getting better. Sherlock says that just because it's mostly psychosomatic doesn't mean that it's completely psychosomatic. His shoulder hurts him when he's tired but other than that he's improving at a very rapid pace."

"Excellent," the man breathed out. "Someone needs to keep Sherlock in line." He paused for a moment and looked at her intently. "And you, my love? How are you feeling?"

Molly beamed at him and crossed the room to put her arms around his waist. He held her close and breathed in her fresh scent. "I feel fine, love. A bit tired at times but otherwise just fine."

He simply held her to his chest for a few moments. "We will have to tell them soon," he said eventually.

"Yes," she answered him before pulling away. "We can tell them whenever you're ready, dearest. Will I see you for dinner?"

He smiled softly at her, his blue eyes filled with an expression only she ever saw and the sun bringing out the red in his hair. "I shall be home by seven, Molly love, I promise."

She tilted her chin up for a kiss and then placed her hand along his jaw as he obliged her. The sun coming from the windows glinted off of the diamond on her ring finger and for a few moments the room was silence.

"I love you, my husband," Molly whispered as he finally broke the kiss.

"And I you, my wife," he whispered back.