I own nothing. The first 17 chapters are not betaed, I forgot to mention that... all mistakes are mine.


Molly found a dressing gown on the back of Sherlock's door and slipped it on before she made her way out of his room the next morning. She wasn't sure how she felt about finding new woman's pajamas (in her size, although she would have liked them a bit bigger) laying on the pillow when she'd gone to bed the night before. When he said he'd get her something to wear she assumed he meant something of his. She added that to the list of things that needed to be addressed. She would have put her clothes back on, but they had disappeared in the night. He is a strange man. One thing she was sure of was that she wasn't walking out into the middle of Sherlock's flat wearing skin tight boy shorts and an equally tight tank top. What the hell was he thinking?

Okay, she had a pretty good idea what he was thinking, however it was still simply too much to wrap her brain around. After an evening of so much information and Sherlock's... admission... proposition... declaration? Still not clear on exactly what he wants from me...commitment, sex... what? Then after the big dinner (as per usual Sherlock was right, she didn't realize how hungry she was) Molly drifted off to sleep in what she could only assume was the most expensive bed she'd ever laid upon in her entire life. It also smelled of Sherlock...in short, it was heaven. Now she had to get back to the matter at hand, all the while wishing she could do so in something other than tight fitting night things and Sherlock's dressing gown (which also smelled distractingly like him.)

When she opened the door she was immediately met by the consulting detective. "You're up!"

She folded her arms across her chest (she wasn't wearing a bra and didn't much like it.) "Ah, showing off those detective skills before I've even had my coffee."

"There's a new toothbrush in the bathroom for you. Join me when you're done, I have breakfast for us," he said quickly, then left her in the hallway.

Molly shook her head and headed for the loo. After she used the toilet she found the toothbrush and cleaned her teeth. Standing looking in the mirror she tried to calm herself down. Sherlock had stayed at her flat many times (especially over the last several weeks) this should be no different. She needed to just take a breath and go eat breakfast as they always did.

But of course this was different. Everything was different after last night's conversation, and that wasn't her fault. She had given up on Sherlock years ago and they had settled into a very comfortable friendship. What he was proposing was completely uncharted territory, and dangerous too. That's why this felt different.

She wished she could have seen this coming somehow. John had jokingly suggested that Sherlock fancied her on more than one occasion when they had discussed his unusual behavior. She really never considered it once. He had been kind and attentive but never showing a hint of romantic interest. At one point she thought it was all part of some strange experiment, she felt a bit like a mouse in a maze at times. Finishing up her morning routine she realized, as much as she'd like to hide in the bathroom all day, it really wasn't an option, so she made her way to the sitting room.

"Okay, I have scones, muffins and here's you're coffee," Sherlock said as he handed her a mug. She took a drink, even though she had just cleaned her teeth she could tell it was just how she took it (her favorite flavored creamer already added.)

"Thanks, this is nice," she said with a fake smiled as she sat down.

"You're terribly uncomfortable Molly," Sherlock said looking a bit disappointed.

"Um, well... sorry," she sighed.

Sherlock huffed. "That's part of the reason I've been spending so much time with you. I'd hoped it would help squelch any awkwardness when I suggested a change in the dynamic of our relationship." Sherlock looked down to pick imaginary lint off his trousers.

"Have you ever met me? Awkward is sort of my trademark." Molly's attempt at a joke did nothing to ease the tension in the room. As she studied Sherlock for a moment she realized as annoying as the last two months had been that perhaps it had been some kind of misguided courtship.

"Okay, stop," she said and Sherlock looked up. "We're friends and we've known each other for what, six years?"

"Six years, eight months, and twenty-two days. Would you like the hourly breakdown as well?"

Molly smiled. "No, that will do. This whole thing is very new to me. I'm trying very hard to assimilate everything, understand?"

"Yes, yes of course. It's just... I'm not uncomfortable because I'm unsure. I'm uncomfortable because you seem to be. And frankly uncomfortable is not the reaction I had been hoping for," he said running his hands through his freshly washed curls. "I had really hoped after everything we'd been through together, that this would be the easy part."

His eyes, Molly realized, were soft and vulnerable not unlike the night he asked her for her help to beat Moriarty, the night he had asked her to convince his best friend (and the world) that Sherlock Holmes was dead. She knew that this wasn't a part of himself that the detective allowed many people to observe and she felt honored to be one such person. It still didn't completely ease her mind.

Sherlock, for his part, was almost starting to doubt himself... could I have been wrong? Have her feelings changed? Can a door kept closed for too long never be truly opened? He had to make her see.

"Molly, I understand that you're still hesitant about this whole situation. But let me explain from the beginning, maybe that will help."

She nodded her head.

"Mycroft came to me after the Baskerville case and tried to tell me about this whole thing. I completely blew him off. Told him he'd watched one too many science fiction shows. The two of you could bond over Doctor Who, you should know." He laughed nervously. "Not long after that I was throwing myself off the top of St. Barts and then I was off destroying Moriarty's web."

Molly gasped.

"Oh, yes. Very good Molly. James was one of us, in a matter of speaking. It's why I thought, for a split second, that he might have been behind the broadcast. We are a bit harder to kill than our predecessors. Don't worry though, we've been very thorough, he's gone." He took a deep breath and continued. "Mycroft kept me informed about the group and the research while I was on the mission. By then I, of course believed him, after getting the full story about Moriarty."

Molly gave him an odd look.

"That's for another time." He shook his head. "So much information. Anyway, when I got back I found myself so wrapped up with Magnussen and Appledore, and John and Mary I didn't have time to focus on any of this." He laughed. "It was Mycroft, actually, who pointed you out to me."

"What do you mean Mycroft pointed me out?"

"While I was gone he asked about you and the nature of our relationship. I could tell he'd been looking into you're records. He always vets my associates but he had gone very deep with you. Then came the personal questions. I knew what he was insinuating. He wasn't even being careful. Doesn't matter. I came back and you had Tom and I thought you were happy. Then, of course, the drugs and the bridesmaid and I nearly got sent to my death... so many things got in our way." He jumped off of the sofa, getting agitated. "But now... can't you see? It's us, you and me? I'm trying to explain this as best as I can but... God Molly. Can't you smell me, I can smell you." He walked toward the window.

Molly couldn't figure out what had riled him up so quickly. She wondered, perhaps if it was Magnussen. He hadn't spoken about the shooting much at all in their time together. When he did, however, he always seemed to slip back a bit into the mercurial Sherlock she had known for six years. As for this heightened awareness to pheromones, she was still very dubious. Molly got up and walked up behind him. "Sherlock, I'm sorry, I don't understand how any of this works. All I can smell is your aftershave, but..."

He turned on her. "I don't wear aftershave or cologne Molly. I never have. It interferes at crime scenes and also annoys me, I assume because of my heightened senses.

"Oh." As soon as she said it Sherlock's hands were on her face.

"That's just me Molly."

"Oh God!" she said. "You're gonna kiss me now aren't you?"

He didn't answer, not exactly. He slowly bent his face to hers almost touching but not quite. "This is how it works," he whispered just before softly pressing his lips to hers. When their lips met Molly immediately felt dizzy and lightheaded, she steadied herself with her hands on Sherlock's hips. Sherlock sighed into her mouth and it felt like he was breathing for her. Sherlock lightly brushed away tears she didn't remember shedding before he pulled back to look at her stunned face.

"See," he said. "You believe me now, don't you? Isn't it wonderful Molly?" He kissed her again this time grazing her bottom lip with his teeth lightly gently asking for permission.

Molly couldn't believe she was wrapped in Sherlock's arms and engulfed in the most overwhelming kiss of her life. When she felt his teeth nip at her lip she gladly opened for him. That's when she felt, even more than heard, him growl. He lowered his hands to her back and pressed her against his chest as his tongue fully investigated Molly's mouth. They finally broke once again but Sherlock held her close.

Molly's breathing was a bit labored from the thorough snogging. "Wow."

"Yes, wow." For two highly intelligent people they suddenly seemed to have a limited vocabulary. He was smiling like an idiot. He took a deep breath. "Don't you see? There's nothing wrong with me Molly. I'm not a freak, I'm not a sociopath, and you are like me. We don't have to be alone anymore."

It all finally came together for Molly right at that moment. Being an Advantis answered so many questions for Sherlock. He had isolated himself, from most of the world, because he thought there was something wrong with him. However, with this discovery he allowed himself to be a part of something much larger. Now, he could accept what she had all ways offered him, because he could accept himself.

Molly smiled. "I do Sherlock, I understand."

Sherlock nodded his head.

"I know, it's okay. We'll do this together. Whatever the hell this is, although I'm certain there is more you're not telling me." Molly hated ruining their moment but there was something he was holding back, she could feel it and she needed to get the full story.

Sherlock released his hold. "Um, yes. Well... the government would like us, that is paired Advantis to, procreate... to have children."

Molly backed away a bit having felt like a bucket of ice water had just been dumped on her head. "Like... I'm to be... breeding stock."

"No, no-no!" Sherlock reached for her but she backed away more. "This is what the government wants, not me!"

"The government, as in you're brother, who is undoubtedly an Advantis as well."

"Yes, he has been putting some pressure on me since my pardon." Sherlock looked guilty.

"How many children does Mycroft have?" Molly asked accusingly.

"Anthea is pregnant. It required in vitro. Rare, as most of the group seem to be quite fertile."

Molly nodded, it seemed like every time she turned around there was a new group of variables to consider. She was beginning to think Sherlock was right about one thing, now that he had brought it to her attention she understood why she felt so much emotion from others and for them as well. She could feel waves flowing off of Sherlock, there was not a hint of a mask present. He was hurting. She could tell he was afraid of losing her at this moment. Afraid that this development would be the end their burgeoning relationship.

"Okay, I understand Sherlock, I do. I'm not saying that I'm going to let myself get pregnant any time soon. But I believe you. Come here." She held out her arms and he rushed to her. They held each other tight.


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