Sherlock couldn't sleep. He glanced at the digital display on the nightstand next to the bed. 1:47 AM. He had been tossing and turning for two hours, his mind filled with memories of last night's conversation with Molly. All that talking about death, about God, about children - it gave him much food for thought.
Slipping out of bed, he quietly left the bedroom and went to the kitchenette to make a cup of tea. He idly tapped his fingers on the counter as he waited for the kettle to boil. Then he noticed Molly's phone there, plugged into a charger. She must have forgotten to take it into her room when she went to bed.
An idea formed in his head. It could be brilliant, or it could be a total disaster. Picking up the phone and removing it from the charger, he was surprised to see an image of himself on the display screen. It was a picture from John's wedding that she must have taken at some point during his best man speech. I'll bet the ex-fiancé would not have liked seeing her taking a photo of another man for no apparent reason, he thought, smiling a little.
A press of the button revealed the lock screen and notification to enter the passcode as the touch ID did not recognize his fingerprint. He tapped the keys for Molly's birthdate. The 'try again' message came up. Thinking for a moment, he wondered if it could really be so simple? She had used a picture of him on her screen after all. Slowly he entered the digits of his own birthdate. The phone immediately came to life in his hand, revealing a screen of icons.
By the time he had done this, the kettle had boiled, so Sherlock made his tea and sat at the table to sip it, while he entered the numbers to once again unlock Molly's phone.
Feeling a little guilty at having access to her personal data, Sherlock deliberately avoided looking too closely at any of the icons displayed.
Knowing exactly what to look for, he pressed the green icon with the phone symbol on it, followed by the contacts image at the bottom of the phone screen. He scrolled through Molly's contact list. There were surprisingly few contacts; Molly had obviously not been kidding when she said she didn't have a lot of friends.
Finding the "H" section, Sherlock saw only two names - Mycroft, with an eye roll emoji after it, and his own name, with a love heart after it. He wondered briefly if that heart had been a recent addition.
Unfortunately the entry he was looking for was not there. No Hooper.
Pondering his next move, he then decided to check the "M" section. Kaitlyn Martin's name was there and below it there was one word - "Mum." Delighted at his success, Sherlock transferred the contact details from Molly's phone to his own.
After finishing his tea, Sherlock put Molly's phone back on the charger where he had found it. He had every intention of owning up to hacking his beloved's phone, but not until he had put his plan into action.
Sherlock returned to his (Molly's?) bedroom and fell asleep, thinking of Molly and their future together.
Sherlock awoke to the touch of Molly's lips on his forehead. "It's nine o'clock, sleepyhead. I've made bacon and scrambled eggs if you want some breakfast." Sure enough, the delicious scent of cooked bacon wafted into the bedroom, making an interesting contrast to Molly's freshly showered scent. She smelled good enough to eat, too, he thought.
He sat up and pulled Molly down onto the bed so he could plant a firm, good morning kiss on her lips. "I look forward to when you can awaken me with a kiss every day," he murmured. "Do I need to choose between you and the bacon? If so, I choose you."
Molly laughed and said, "You are so ridiculous, Sherlock Holmes. Now come and eat before the food gets cold."
Obediently, Sherlock followed her from the bedroom and went to the table where two servings of bacon and scrambled eggs were waiting on flower-patterned china plates.
The couple ate together, occasionally glancing at each other and smiling. "Delicious," proclaimed Sherlock as he collected the plates and took them to the sink.
"Thanks," responded Molly. "I've had quite a few years of living alone to work on my culinary skills. Just wait until you try my homemade pasta sauce - it will blow your mind." She grinned. "Go take a shower, and I'll take care of these dishes."
"Yes, ma'am." The idea of domesticity and wedded bliss suddenly became even more real to Sherlock. It was a rather appealing prospect.
When he came out of the bathroom, it was to find that Molly was sitting at the little dining table, busily writing on her notepad.
Sherlock peered over her shoulder to see what she was writing. He saw she was making a to-do list of things for the wedding. There were check marks next to some of the words at the top like "church" and "reception". Then there were a few more things listed, such as "flowers", "cake" and "honeymoon".
"You might want to add 'photographer' and 'videographer' to that list," suggested Sherlock. "I will take care of the honeymoon arrangements if you give me an idea of what you'd like to do for it."
"The only thing I don't want to do is a lot of travelling from place to place. I just want to be alone with you, somewhere quiet and romantic."
Sherlock was extraordinarily pleased with his Molly's words. He too was looking forward to them being alone together with no other distractions.
Once Molly had added his suggestions to the list, Sherlock drew Molly to her feet and gave her a long, lingering kiss. He clasped her tightly to him, cherishing the feel of her soft body pressed against his.
When they left the flat together at half-past-ten and settled into the seat of the waiting taxi, Molly asked, "So, besides seeing Lestrade today, what else do you have planned?"
"Oh, I'll probably speak to Mycroft at some point and ask if he will be an usher then make some other wedding-related arrangements," he said vaguely. "I need to see whether this new case of Lestrade's is going to be time-consuming or not."
Upon arrival at St. Bart's Hospital, Molly leaned over to give Sherlock a quick kiss goodbye and said, "Text me later, okay?"
Sherlock nodded and watched her walk into the hospital as the taxi pulled away from the kerb and went towards New Scotland Yard.
As soon as Sherlock entered the police station, he was accosted by what's-his-name Anderson, the forensic scientist who had often annoyed him in the past when they were both working the same case. Of course, Anderson was doing his job while Sherlock was acting in his capacity as unpaid consulting detective as a favour for Lestrade.
The men weren't exactly friends, but the relationship had definitely mellowed over the past several years.
Anderson clapped him on the back and said, "So you finally got a clue, eh? I told Lestrade years ago that you and Molly Hooper had a thing going. So have you been seeing her secretly all this time? Congratulations on your engagement, by the way - saw it on the telly last night."
"No," responded Sherlock shortly. "Molly and I were not a secret couple. She was even engaged to someone else for a while, but thank you anyway for your congratulations."
Nobody stopped Sherlock as he walked towards Greg Lestrade's office; he was a regular fixture at the Yard. Tapping on the open door, he poked his head into the office.
"You have a case for me then?"
Lestrade looked up from the paperwork on his desk. He shuffled through some of the papers and pulled out a case file, proffering it to Sherlock. "Here you go. I just can't figure out who did it."
Sherlock examined the case file and looked at the forensic analysis of items found at the crime scene in question. A few minutes later he stated confidently, "It was the pregnant girlfriend of course."
Explaining his logic to Lestrade, the detective inspector was amazed as usual at how obvious the answer was once Sherlock explained it to him.
"Well, that went a lot faster than I thought," he commented and placed a call to have the suspect in question arrested.
"You called me in for a case that wasn't even a three. Well, if that's all you have for me..." began Sherlock.
"Just a minute, before you go on with your day. I wanted to congratulate you and Molly. Do give her my best wishes. I did wonder if her relationship with that fellow who looked and dressed like you would last. I had my doubts, once you were back in her life. I always figured you were the one she really wanted - glad too that you finally woke up and smelled the coffee. She's a fine lady, and you're a hell of a lucky man."
"I know I am," agreed Sherlock. "Believe me, I'm not wasting any more time. I know Molly will be putting you on the guest list, so expect an invitation in the mail sometime in the next few weeks."
He made a mental note to tell Molly to add "invitations" and "guest list" to her notepad with wedding preparations. "Well, I'm off. Let me know when you need me again, Greg."
Sherlock smiled in satisfaction as he left, glad that he had finally added the detective inspector's name to his long-term memory.
Now that was progress.
Author's note: I just had to address Anderson's "theory" of Sherlock surviving the fall from the roof. If he thought about Sherlock and Molly having that totally hot kiss, he had to think they belonged together LOL
Updated 7/30/19 with minor corrections/revisions, thanks sis!