She woke up with a terrible headache and in a daze. As her sight became clearer, she realized she was surrounded by Mrs. Hudson.
"Well this is rather embarrassing," she thought to herself.
"Are you alright love?" she asked her.
"Oh gosh, did I have a bad fall again?"
"Well Sherlock saw you running for the loo and he was waiting for you to come out of there, but you never did. He thought something had happened to you. He ran and saw you were conked out right there on the bathroom floor. I'm just glad Sherlock spared the bathroom floor from being shot at. He can get a tad hysterical when he's upset you know," she shook her head.
"Where did everyone else go?"
"Everyone else is at the reception now. Sherlock and I stayed behind to make sure you were alright and didn't need to go to the hosp-," she was cut off by Sherlock taking her face into his hands, studying her.
"Oh Molly I was so worried about you. You feel hot," she felt his cold hands on her.
"Get your bloody hands off me!" she smacked them away. "You are overreacting. We should all probably get to the reception before they start it without us."
"You were on the floor-"
"Yes I was. I would really prefer to not speak about it. Now let's pop in to the reception now shall we?" she hissed at him. She darted off, not looking behind either for Sherlock or Mrs. Hudson. She was now officially in a rotten mood. Luckily the reception wasn't too far down. It was at the very fancy Italian restaurant Brasserie's. As soon as Molly walked in, Greg came up to her.
"Where on earth were you dear? I was wondering where you went," he put his arm around her. He'd obviously had a few drinks. Everyone else had been unaware of her late arrival. John and Mary were in the middle of all the action, chatting everyone up. Little name cards were all over the place. She frowned greatly when she saw hers.
"Of course it is next to bloody fucking Sherlock," she frowned. As if today could not be any worse. She took a deep sigh as she sat near the almost full table. His chair still sat empty. She chatted quietly with Harriet, John's sister. She was already drunk and telling wild stories of her youth. When Sherlock walked in, she was almost thankful of it. His eyes still beaming of concern as he sat in the seat next to her. Greg was still going on about something she could care less for. She noticed Sherlock quietly holding her wrist. She realized quickly he was taking her pulse.
"You are being daft," she huffed at him and crossed her arms.
"You are hiding something from me Molly," he told her coolly, almost a whisper.
"I am hiding nothing. You haven't talked to me in weeks. I'd sure as hell like to know why. Obviously you are hiding something from me too probably right?" she stared him down.
"Molly, you are never like this. I've never known you to have mood swings like this. You are usually very polite."
"I don't have to be polite to you," she grimaced. As soon as she spoke, there was the sound of forks hitting glasses. It was time for all the long speeches for John and Mary. Sherlock gave a rousing one as laughter filled the room. Everyone except Molly, who was at the edge of her chair trying to not have Sherlock touch her. Finally when all of that ended, the food started coming around. Molly only took a little bit for herself, letting the rest of her table have more of the fettuccini alfredo.
"You should try and eat some more Molly," Sherlock tried speaking soothingly. Instead of aiming his hands for her wrists he caressed the open neck.
"You are very hot Molly," he was deducing things and she knew it.
"Sherlock Holmes, I am not interested in your deductions today okay? Save them for the dead if you mind," she stuffed herself with the pasta. She forgot how famished she was. He leaned in even closer so Harriet would stop eavesdropping looking as if she was watching a soap opera at the two.
"You have been following every symptom as I have read. Mood swings, nausea, fainting, you are eating all the bread here, and you are ghastly hot. You had to have fainted from all the incense. Smells can be triggering around this time also. Molly… you have to be pregnant then," he said quietly. Her blood ran cold. She hadn't even thought about getting a pregnancy test. Yet he was able to deduce the hell out of her. She felt like she was going to be sick again. She silently threw her fancy napkin on her plate and got up from her chair. She couldn't deal with this realization, let alone he just realized it for her. Molly found the outdoor sitting area. Luckily, John and Mary had booked the entire restaurant to themselves for the day. No one was around. Of course once more, Sherlock followed her.
"If you thought I was pregnant, why didn't you talk to me then?" she yelled at him.
"I… I didn't know what to do about the situation. We had sex only one time. Obviously we were too much in passion to think of consequences."
"Consequences, oh yes I know. How John and cases are so much more important to you. I of course would screw all that up for you. I didn't even have a test yet because I didn't think I was," she started to sob uncontrollably on the outdoor table. She was so upset, she couldn't think straight. She felt so tired and drained. Sherlock was quickly on the phone with Mycroft to take them back to their place. He told John and Mary she wasn't feeling well and they understood, of course not knowing any of the situation. She closed her eyes as the car moved, listening the drops of water hitting the car.