Author's note: The case Sherlock has just finished at the beginning of this chapter will be addressed in a two-shot story of which I may publish the first part later this week.

Wednesday September 6, 2017

Sherlock sank into his chair with a sigh of relief, holding Molly's diary and a pencil to write comments below her entries as usual. The flat was very quiet and he knew Molly would be asleep as she usually was when she was working the night shift. It had been a very busy two days and he had barely seen her. Greg Lestrade had called him into Scotland Yard for a consultation on a case. Initially he had thought it to be simple, but the additional corpse and two extra suspects as a result had made it a seven, rather than the four he had initially thought. Fortunately, Sherlock detected the presence of a certain breed of dog hair on the one suspect's jacket, hair that could only have been there if he had been in the second dead man's house, and the culprit had been arrested. The two days of searching crime scene locations for clues and interrogating the suspects however, had been rather draining.

Sherlock was also disappointed that his long hours, along with Molly's, had meant they had also not made love in the past two days.

Now he decided he would relax by reading some of the diary entries until she woke up in what he estimated would be an hour, at eight o'clock. He put on his reading glasses, found the correct page and was about to start reading when the sound of the doorbell disturbed him. He knew Mrs. Hudson was home so he did not bother to answer. A minute later Sherlock groaned when he heard the sound of his brother's footsteps ascending the stairs. What was Mycroft doing here?

He dropped the diary and pencil, returned the glasses to the coffee table beside them and walked to the door, then flung it open and was about to ask the question, when he saw that Mycroft was holding his violin case. My violin. I haven't even thought about it since I played it at the wedding reception, he thought. Of course, music had been the least of his priorities over the past several weeks.

"Hello, brother mine," Mycroft greeted. "I was wondering if you were ever going to have need of this again? It has been at my house now for a month."

Sherlock's lips quirked. "Yes, well, I've had other things on my mind lately." He took the violin case from Mycroft and set it in its place in the corner of the room. He noted that his music stand was looking decidedly dusty from disuse. Mrs. Hudson was slipping in her usual "not a housekeeper" duties. Then he suddenly remembered he had a wife now. Time to discuss with Molly who was in charge of dusting, he supposed. Do I even own a duster? he wondered idly, then returned his attention to Mycroft. "Thank you. I'm surprised you didn't leave it here along with the wedding presents when you brought them over after the reception."

Mycroft pursed his lips. "To be honest, I did not think of it at the time. Then, seeing as I had the instrument, I decided to have it looked at professionally and had new strings put on it."

"That was very thoughtful of you," said Sherlock, feeling impatient to get rid of his brother so he could get to reading the diary. "Is that all?"

Mycroft looked around. "And where is your lovely wife? I thought I'd say hello, make sure she is still keeping you in line. Or is she already disappointed with you?"

Sherlock felt his face burn as anger rose within him. "Why would you think Molly would be disappointed in me?" he asked acidly.

"Well, the honeymoon is over after all, and life must return to normal at some point. Perhaps the bloom is off the rose?" Mycroft's lips twitched in amusement and Sherlock knew he was not really serious, but still, he felt the need to defend himself.

"That is preposterous, and you know it, Mycroft. For your information, we are very happy, especially in regard to our quite frequent sexual activity," he told his brother, folding his arms. He couldn't resist adding, "Furthermore, you're going to be an uncle in about eight months."

Mycroft's reaction was less than enthusiastic. "Well, congratulations, brother mine. I suppose that means I am going to be expected to learn how to deal with children in future, if I am to take on the role of benevolent uncle."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's all you have to say about it? I tell you Molly is pregnant, and you grumble about being an uncle and what it entails?"

Mycroft gave a superior sniff. "What did you expect me to do? Should I have applauded over the fact you have proven your, ahem - parts are in working order and were not rendered sterile after your previous drug use?"

Sherlock glared at his brother and was about to respond when he caught sight of Molly out of the corner of his eye. Their conversation had obviously awoken her, and she was wearing his blue dressing gown. She walked to Sherlock, sliding an arm about his waist and said, "Hello, Mycroft, everything about your brother is in perfect working order, and I have no complaints whatsoever." She looked up at Sherlock and smiled and he relaxed his posture, giving her a tender return smile. He did enjoy it when Molly came to his defence.

Mycroft tilted his head. "Oh, hello, sister mine, my apologies. I did not mean to offend. I was only teasing my brother a little. You know, brotherly affection and all that. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," Molly responded sweetly. "Please don't tell anyone about this. We 'were' planning to wait at least until we had heard our baby's heartbeat before making the announcement." She gave Sherlock a reproachful look.

"Sorry, love. It just slipped out," Sherlock said penitently.

"Well, I did only come here to deliver Sherlock's violin, so I will be going now just in case you feel like having a row about it," said Mycroft with a little smile. "I am delighted for both of you, and I will keep your secret. Goodbye for now."

With that, Mycroft turned and left the flat, closing the door softly behind him. Sherlock listened to him walk down the stairs, then Molly commented, "I think he was a bit ashamed of his treatment of you, Sherlock. So why did you feel the need to blurt out that we're having a baby?"

"Mycroft gave me such a hard time about us wanting to wait till our wedding night to consummate our relationship, and he gave me such grief about being a forty year old virgin, that I had to throw it in his face that I could actually perform the act consistently, even after a month, and get you pregnant as well," Sherlock explained, hoping she wouldn't be too cross.

To his surprise, Molly laughed. "You men and your egos!" she said, dissolving into giggles again. At Sherlock's offended look, she stopped and wrapped her arms about his neck. Then she pulled him down for a steamy kiss. "Waiting just made it all the sweeter, my love," she stated, once their lips parted. "So, how was your case? Did you manage to wrap it up?"

"I did," he responded, "and I was planning to read your diary until you got up, but now that you are-"

She looked at him coyly. "Yes?"

For response, Sherlock untied the belt to the dressing gown and slid it off her shoulders, revealing that she was naked beneath, and he caught his breath.

"Oh my God," he breathed. "I can't believe you had the nerve to walk in here and talk to my brother wearing a dressing gown and nothing else."

Molly smirked. "Well, I heard the doorbell, and I was in a bit of a hurry to see what was going on. You know we sleep naked so it seemed rather impractical to put clothes on. Besides, I have to take a shower."

Sherlock raked a glance over his wife's very sexy body. "In that case, mind if I join you? I was in need of a shower myself."

Instead of responding, Molly began to unbutton his suit jacket followed by his shirt.

He worked at unfastening his trousers and kicked off his shoes. Then he hopped on one leg followed by the other to remove his socks as they headed towards the bathroom. His boxers soon followed.

Once in the shower he kissed Molly passionately, holding her close to him, feeling the water coursing over their bodies. Making love in the shower was not as comfortable as in bed, but after two days of abstinence, it was still very satisfying. It was also a very convenient way to cool their bodies afterwards.

Sherlock also enjoyed the sweet intimacy of washing Molly's body and feeling her wash his own. He had to constantly remind her that she had to use soap on him, not her body wash. Much as he loved the jasmine vanilla sent on her, he didn't particularly care for it on his own body. There was something to be said though for the way her loofah sponge created a nice lather. It definitely did a better job that using a flannel or his hands to turn the soap over and over when he washed himself. "I may have to get one of these for myself," he commented, as he scrubbed Molly's back. "But not in pink."

Molly giggled and turned around once he had finished. "Not manly enough for you, huh?"

"Definitely not," he agreed. "Perhaps I will look on Amazon for a colour that befits my manly status." He smirked and raised his arms into a "manly pose", showing off his arm muscles, as Molly laughed.

Then she took her turn, scrubbing his back, using soap on her pink loofah. It still had a slight jasmine vanilla residue, of course. Yes, he definitely needed his own loofah. Perhaps I should even invest in some male scented body wash, he mused as he assisted Molly out of the shower before exiting himself and they towelled themselves dry.

"Would you like me to braid your hair for work?" asked Sherlock, once they were both dressed.

"That would be lovely," responded Molly with a smile.

Soon afterwards, she settled herself on the floor in front of his chair and he wove her hair into a tight braid, with her help as an extra hand. He would have to keep practicing so he could do it without her assistance, he reflected. If they had a daughter, perhaps he would one day braid her hair as well. He did find it quite an enjoyable experience and Molly seemed to enjoy it as well.

"Thank you, darling," she said, standing once he was finished and settling herself onto his lap for a tender kiss as he rubbed her back. Every time she sat on his lap it provoked an automatic response by his all-too-willing body, so he didn't allow her to prolong it. They still needed to eat dinner, after all. So much for reading the diary this evening. It would have to wait.

In the end, he didn't get to read the diary until Molly left for work, not that he would complain about the second round of love-making which helped to make up for the two days of enforced abstinence. After reading that novel a few nights earlier, which led to that interesting dream where he had been a marquis, Sherlock decided that reading the diary might work as a sleep aid. He settled himself into bed with the diary and his pencil at the ready to make comments, took out his extra pair of reading glasses from the top drawer of his bedside table and began to read.

.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../.../

September

Well, Diary, I haven't written in you for a few months. I've been busy with work and going out on the weekends with Tom. He still lives with his parents which is probably a good thing, otherwise I feel sure he would want me to stay overnight with him. The family does seem to like me as well. In fact, Tom's parents are really nice too. They always make me feel welcome when I come over for a meal and a night of Telly. They are rather enthusiastic fans of the Chelsea football team. I honestly could never get into it. Kicking a ball from one side of a huge playing field to another in order to get it into a net bores me, but I pretend to enjoy it for Tom's sake. Guess I'm not really a sports person, although I did used to watch the cricket on occasion with my dad while growing up.

Tonight though, it was Tom's birthday and I was invited over for the family celebration. Something very unexpected happened. His parents kept looking at me oddly throughout the meal and I suspected something was going on. Little did I know that he had everything planned. After dinner, his mum brought out a birthday cake. I thought it was sweet that there were three candles lit on the cake, one to represent each ten years of his life. It's a bit embarrassing to think I'm a few years older than he is at times. Anyway we sang happy birthday and afterwards his mum said, "Make a wish, Tom."

Instead of closing his eyes and making a quiet wish to himself, he said, "I wish… that Molly Hooper would marry me." Then he blew out the candles and reached into his pocket and showed me a ring. I didn't know what to say. To be honest I felt put on the spot. His parents were looking at me expectantly, with smiles on their faces, so I said what I felt I had to. I said yes.

His parents and his two sisters cheered and then we were all kissing and hugging and they were congratulating Tom and me. Even the dog seemed to know what was going on because he came up and licked my hand. Tom put the ring on my finger and I looked at it. It's very pretty, but I feel this curious sensation in my stomach. Tom has told me he loves me and I have felt obligated to say it back. I do love him in a way. I'm scared though, because I don't know if I'm in love with him, and I know why that is. I'm scared that I haven't really laid my feelings for Sherlock to rest. But Sherlock's gone and the die is cast. It has been almost 2 years already since I've seen him, and I have pretty much resigned myself to the fact that I will probably never see him again, but a tiny part of me was still hoping. Now that Tom has proposed and I've said yes though, the door has closed on whatever the future might have held if he were to come back.

I have come to realise that time is passing me by. If I spend my life pining after one man, I'll never have the family that I want, and I do want children so much, I want to be a mother. My heart aches for it. Is it weird that I keep trying to put out of my mind the fact that having children with Tom means we will need to sleep together? Well, I plan on having a long engagement. I'm not sure he will want that, given that he obviously wants sex, but if he loves me, he will wait for me.

Not a football fan, eh? Neither am I. Sports have never really held my interest, although I did participate in cricket as a young lad at school.

It was interesting for me to read about how you became engaged. Even though it hurts to know that you made a commitment to someone else, I know I have no right to feel that way. At the same time, I admit that I can't help feeling a little bit glad that you had your doubts. If I was reading this as an outsider, I'd be questioning whether you were marrying the right man. At the same time I can understand your desire to have a family. It sounds like Tom's family was also very nice. May I say I am very grateful you didn't want a long engagement with me? 10 1/2 weeks was still too long (but of course, you were worth the wait, my darling one)!

Almost forgot to mention that I am very relieved that you will be having a family of your won with me, rather than Tom. You are going to be a wonderful mother. XOX

October

Oh dear God, just when I thought things were moving on in my life, the worst, or maybe it was the best thing happened. Sherlock is back. A few days ago, I was at Tom's place watching another boring football game with his family when it was interrupted by a news broadcast revealing that Sherlock's name had been cleared after almost two years of investigation into Richard Brook's past and the revelation that he was indeed really Moriarty, the master criminal whom Sherlock had claimed him to be. Even Tom made a comment that he knew Sherlock was innocent. I wonder what he'd think if I told him I knew Sherlock? Anyway, I was so relieved to hear Sherlock's good name had been restored.

Anyway, today when I was about to leave work I opened my locker door to put my lab coat away when I saw Sherlock's reflection. I swear, my heart skipped a beat, and I wondered whether I was hallucinating. I turned around and there he was, large as life. He smiled at me and I couldn't help myself. I ran to him and hugged him as hard as I could. To be honest, if I weren't engaged to somebody else, I probably would've kissed him, split lip and all, my heart was so full of emotion. I could never do that to Tom though. Sherlock didn't say much, just reassured me that he was back for good and that he needed to get some things sorted out. He said we had things to discuss and that he would call on me when the time came. I don't know what that was all about, but I guess I'll find out. Why couldn't he have come back a month ago? I feel like my world has suddenly been turned upside down.

Ah yes, Mycroft did work tirelessly to exonerate me. It is rather nice to know that your former fiancé believed in my innocence as well.

I wonder what I would've done if you had kissed me. I'm glad you didn't though, because I know you would've felt guilty about it afterwards, being engaged to Tom. I still remember you telling me about that dream you had where you did kiss me, but of course, in that particular scenario, we had already been intimate and shared a past together - a rather passionate one, if I remember correctly from your account of the dream ;) XOX

November

I should be writing about how happy I am with Tom and our engagement, but my heart is breaking. Today was both the best and worst day of my life. I got a text this morning from Sherlock asking me to come to Baker Street. I didn't have work today so I went straight over there. It was really weird how he walked to me and he asked if I wanted to solve crimes. Foolishly I started to ask if he wanted to have dinner at the same time. I don't even know why I said that, maybe it was the look in his eyes, so intense as he walked towards me.

Anyway, it seems that he and John are not speaking. That's understandable, because John thought he was dead. Of course John is the one who gave him the split lip last month, and I can't say I really blame him. I'd be pretty upset too if my best friend faked his death and didn't tell me about it, then reappeared unexpectedly two years later. Mind you, I don't approve of the apparently violent way John behaved. Sherlock asked if I'd be his assistant, do John's role, and I agreed. To be honest I was desperate to spend some time with him. I've missed him so much, more than I ever knew.

I filled in as assistant for a while, then we headed off to aid in an investigation that Greg Lestrade called in for Sherlock, which turned out to be a hoax. After that we went to see a man named Shilcott who had an interesting story about a man who disappeared from the Tube. It was most intriguing. During the whole time we were there, I felt this sort of connection with Sherlock. He kept looking at me and my heart melted every time. It was almost like we had a little secret. I can't explain it but I felt this closeness to him that I had never felt before.

After we left the train guy's flat, Sherlock asked if I wanted some chips. I suppose he remembered my earlier little line about having dinner. Anyway, when I questioned him as to why he wanted to spend the day with me, he said he wanted to say thank you for everything I did for him. He told me I was the person that mattered the most to him. It was this look in his eyes, they were so soft. My heart was positively pounding. And then he noticed my engagement ring. I told him about Tom and he said, "I hope you'll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it." Then he gave me the sweetest kiss on the cheek I've ever had. He left me then and I came home and cried for an hour. Now I'm writing just to get my feelings on paper. I think I've made the biggest mistake in the world. I think I'm engaged to one man, when I might possibly still be in love with another. I feel so horrid right now, like Im the worst kind of person for feeling this way.

Another worst day and best day, sweetheart? you are repeating yourself. Just teasing :P (Is that the right way of doing a stuck out tongue in text format? I can't just pick an emoji when writing by hand.) Incidentally, when did emoticons become emojis? I think I am getting old, but I digress, sorry about that. I am beginning to take on your own tendency to go off on a tangent ;) (I know that is the winky face in text format at least.)

My darling, my sweet, that day is one I remember so well. Do you realise it was the most time we ever spent together in one day? I felt so comfortable with you. Dare I say I was even having fun? I did enjoy our time together when we were investigating that silly hoax and we were definitely thinking alike. I also enjoyed our time at that Shilcott guy's place. I felt that connection too even though I tried to tell myself it was just that I was glad to see my good friend again and spend time with her. What an idiot I was. When I saw the ring on your finger though, it was a shock. For years I considered you my pathologist, as it were. I felt like all of a sudden I had missed a big, important part of your life. It hurt, but again I was denying my feelings of jealousy. I repressed those feelings and told you to be happy. Any thoughts I might've had about beginning something with you died that day before they even had a chance to take root. I was a blasted fool. If I hadn't been, I would've begged you to reconsider your engagement and give me a chance. Thank God that part of our lives is over now and you're MY wife, even if it took me another year and a half to realise how I felt about you. I'm so glad you didn't marry Tom, sweetheart. XOX

.../.../.../.../.../.../

Sherlock set the diary and pencil on his bedside table, along with his reading glasses, then shook his rather aching hand. Too much writing at one time. He was finally feeling very sleepy. As he lay in bed, he thought about what he had just read. That day was still imprinted indelibly in his mind, even more so as it ended in the bonfire in which John had been trapped. He remembered how Magnussen had later said that John was his pressure point. What would've happened if the man had instead recognised Sherlock had feelings for Molly, if Sherlock had actually been aware of them himself at that time? What if Magnussen had decided that Molly was his pressure point instead? With these troubling thoughts in his head, he fell asleep and began to dream.

(To see what happens in the dream, read Sherlock's True Pressure Point)

Author's note: So, here we are getting a little more backstory for Tom and Molly. I hope you are enjoying my interpretation of their relationship. I also wanted to make clear that Molly was having doubts even then as her heart warred with her head and loyalty to Tom.

Over the next several chapters you will start seeing the timeline of my "Realizations of Love Dreams" series. If you have not read them, I encourage you to head over to these stories as they occur during the Diary saga and leave your feedback on them as well as on this chapter.

Proverbs 3:27 NIV says "Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to act." When you follow/favourite/review, you are doing good to me, lifting my own spirits and helping me continue my work here. As it also says in Matthew 9:37 NIV- Then he said to his disciples, "The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few."