Married life was filled with changes. Sherlock had expected that, but he hadn't expected to actually feel the emotions that would go along with it. He wasn't like normal people, and had locked away feelings for most of his life. He'd learned to feel for his friends, that it didn't have to hurt or interfere with his mind. Molly was important to him. Being married to her though was something different.

The first few days it was strange just waking up to her every morning. All he could focus on was how this wasn't how life should be. There were a few nights when he didn't go to bed, making an excuse to stay up. He'd give everyone time to fall asleep. Then he would play his violin quietly trying to get his thoughts in order. Molly left him to himself the first few times, but was too worried and loved him too much to not eventually investigate.

One night he was too absorbed in his thoughts and the random notes that accompanied them to hear her walk up. He only felt he wasn't alone. He turned to look, and Molly was standing there. He didn't say anything, but changed the music to one of her favorite melodies. They spent hours that way, finally falling asleep together on the sofa. Molly called in to work the next morning, and asked Mrs. Hudson to watch Ian while Sophie was at school. She and Sherlock spent the day just resting in each other's arms.

After that, Sherlock came to bed when she did. Normally he was awake before she was. He'd get up and make breakfast a few times. Others, he found himself watching her sleep. He couldn't explain why he was so fascinated by that. It should have become routine to him soon. Instead, it felt like a new experience each morning.

The morning came when he woke up in an empty bed. For a few seconds, he wondered if he was back in the real world. He felt an uneasiness, but that was wrong. If he was in the real world again he should be glad of it. The sleep cleared from his head, he saw he was in a double bed, not his own single one. The pillow beside his had been laid on. This whole experience was affecting his mind. Why else would he be relieved?

Molly came in carrying in a tray with two plates. Her hair weren't brushed yet, and she was in her nightclothes. Technically, it was one of his shirts and a pair of pajama pants. So many things in this world defied logic. She shouldn't look attractive this way. She smiled at him, and he wondered why he'd ever said her mouth was too small. Somehow she was becoming prettier, even though she wasn't doing anything differently to herself.

"I'd have made breakfast," he told her. She leaned in and kissed him.

"You may be a graduate chemist, but you have no idea how to combine food ingredients." She slid in to bed beside him. It was a cold morning, her being close was like an extra blanket, comforting and warm. This world wasn't what he had been used to. That didn't mean it was unpleasant. He forced himself to remember not to get accustomed to it. This wasn't right, and he didn't belong here. The only thing that bothered him was it was getting harder to remember that each day.

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Cases still came. Sherlock found having a family didn't change anything that way. Sometimes a case came up when Sophie had a violin or dance recital, but small delays didn't keep him from being able to solve problems. In fact, he was more relaxed than he used to be. Before long he realized he wasn't going through anywhere near as many cigarettes.

John couldn't always come with him on cases. Sometimes there were just things at home that had to be done. Sherlock still liked to have someone come with him on cases, and remembered Molly had enjoyed coming with him. She wasn't surprised when he started asking her to come. This version of him must ask her fairly often. She was an excellent assistant. Not only was she observant, but through he questioning she often redirected his thoughts on the right path sooner than they would have been otherwise.

There was one mystery at home Sherlock had yet to solve. Molly kept a piece of string made into a ring. She wore it right next to her wedding ring, and clearly treasured it just as much. Sherlock couldn't see why. It matched the fiber of his coat, and he'd noticed a slight fray that hadn't been there before. When had this world's version of him torn his coat to make a ring for her? Why had he done that? He could buy her jewelry easily enough, but that meant more to her than gold or diamonds. It must be attached to some very special memory.

He couldn't ask her about it. She would have been hurt that he didn't know why it was so special. There was still someone he could ask. Only Sophie knew and believed the truth. She was little, but she had his curiosity about things. He was sure she would have asked questions about how her parents ended up together, and when he asked he found out he was right.

"Sophie, why is that piece of string so important to your mother? I know your daddy gave it to her, but I don't understand why."

"He didn't have a ring when he asked her to marry him."

"He didn't think ahead and plan the moment?" That didn't sound like him. He wouldn't just suddenly ask her to marry him. He'd even had a ring for his fake proposal to Janine.

"He couldn't. He had to ask her to marry him fast, otherwise it would have been too late. She'd have gone away. I guess Daddy didn't want to get married until he thought couldn't get married."

He could believe that. He knew what he had felt when he'd realized Molly was engaged, and how he hadn't noticed that when he should have. He supposed that's why he didn't realize Molly was leaving in his own world. The heart definitely affected the brain, and sometimes his heart simply wouldn't let him see things he didn't want to.