"How was the couch?" I ask Tom in the morning.

"Hell." He answers.

"Next time, stay out of my business."

"Not a chance." I roll my eyes at him.

I look at the clock. Shit. I'm almost late for work.

"Damn it," I say. "I woke up late. Good thing I'm already dressed."

"Yeah, I guess so." Tom said, standing up and walking over to me. He placed a kiss on my lips, and I smiled at him.

"See you after work?"

"See you."

I grab my coat and walk out of the door.

The day goes by slowly, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. I'm still cross with Tom for telling me to stay away from Sherlock. It's none of his business. Well…maybe it is, but what is there to worry about? Sherlock wouldn't hurt me, would he?

No, of course he wouldn't. Why would he?

"Hello, Molly." A baritone voice says, snapping me out of my thoughts. I turn around, and see Sherlock standing behind me,

"Sherlock?" I say. "Are you on a case?"

"Kind of," He says. "Someone kidnapped John last night and put him in a bonfire, and I'm trying to figure out who did it."

"Oh my god, is he okay?"

"John? Oh, he's fine."

"Good."

"Do you know who would have done that?"

"How would I know?"

"Well, maybe you noticed something, or someone that has to do with this."

"No," I tell him. "I have no idea. Sorry."

"It's fine. I'll figure it out." He says.

"I hope so."

"Molly?"

"Yes?"

"We are having a bit of a get together at Baker Street tonight," He says. "Mary, John, and Lestrade will be there, along with Mrs. Hudson of course. Would you like to come?"

"I'd love to, but Tom and I were going to go out tonight."

"Tom?"

"My fiancée."

"Oh, of course," Sherlock says. "He can come too."

"Let me ask him," I say. "No promises though."

Sherlock gives me a smile and then leaves the morgue, leaving me to my autopsies and thoughts.

I open the door to 221b, the sign on the door said to just come in. I walk in and Tom stands at my side, holding my hand.

"Hello everyone." I say.

"Hey, Molly." John greets me.

"This is Tom," I introduce my fiancée. "Tom, this is everyone."

John stares at Tom, almost as if he's having a double-take, then he looks across the room at Sherlock.

"Hi." Tom says. John has a huge smile, but still has a look of surprise on his face. I can't imagine why. Is it that surprising that I'm engaged?

"Hi." Lestrade says, smiling and looking at John.

"It's really nice to meet you all," Tom says. He looks at John, who is still smiling. "Hi."

(Sherlock's POV)

As I look out the window at the crowd of paparazzi, I listen to the conversation going on behind me. So, Molly's fiancée is here. Well, better get this over with. I turn away from the window as John speaks.

"Wow," He says. "Yeah, hi. I'm John."

"Ready?" I ask, walking towards John, who is now looking at me, like he's waiting for something. The smile on his face tells me it's something he finds funny, but I may not.

"Ready." John says. I walk past Lestrade, and give him as friendly of a smile as I can. Then, I see him.

Tom. So, this is what John was waiting for. Tom looks like me. I don't mean he looks a bit like me, I mean he looks like me. He could be a more believable brother for me than Mycroft.

I feel my jaw drop a little as I stare at Tom. He has dark, curly hair, which is a little shorter than mine. His eyes are a pale blue, and he has prominent cheekbones. He is wearing a dark overcoat, with the collar turned up. He wears a scarf around his neck, and it's tied the same way that I tie mine.

"Champagne?" Lestrade asks Molly.

"Thanks." Molly says, accepting the glass he held out to her.

I look over John, my jaw still dropped, and he is still grinning wildly at me. He looks like he's expecting something. Probably what horrifically rude thing I am going to say to Tom. I have several things in mind, but I instead shut my mouth and reach out my hand. We shake hands and I walk between Molly and Tom, and leave 221b, John follows behind a moment later, shutting the door behind him.

Out on the landing, I loop my scarf around my neck, and John looks at me.

"Did you, er…?" He asks quietly, pointing back at the door.

"I'm not saying a word." I say, just as quietly.

"No, best not."

(Molly's POV)

Shit, this was a mistake, wasn't it? He's going to say something about Tom. Oh my god, I seriously hate him sometimes.

Sherlock stood in front of Tom and I, his jaw dropped. Okay, what is wrong with everyone? What's so shocking? He looks over at John, who is still grinning. Sherlock looks back at us, and just when I think he is about to say every rude thing about Tom, and every deduction he's made, he sticks out his hand, and Tom takes it. Then, he walks in between us and leaves the flat with John following soon after.

"Thank you." Tom says as Greg Lestrade offers him a glass of champagne.

"Sit down, love." I hear Mrs. Hudson say.

"Oh," Tom says. "Thanks." He walks over and sits on the sofa. Greg turns to me.

"So, um, is it serious, you two?" He asks me.

"Yeah," I say, smiling. "I've moved on!" Greg looks doubtful, and looks over towards Tom. I ignore his expression and sit on the sofa next to Tom.

"You two serious, then?" Sherlock asks me a few hours later. Tom got a headache and went home early, and I stayed at Baker Street, just to irritate Tom. Mrs. Hudson went back to her flat, as well as Greg. John and Mary were in the kitchen, so Sherlock and I were in the sitting room alone.

"Yes, of course." I tell him. He looks doubtful, but then gives me a weak looking smile.

"Well, I hope you will be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it."

I smile at him. "Thank you."

He looks down, and his smile fades.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Nothing."

"Something's wrong. What is it?"

"I've just missed it here." He confesses.

"Oh."

"I'm glad to be back, surprisingly joyed."

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"While you were away, what happened?"

"I searched for member's of Moriarty's network and–"

"No," I say. "I mean, something happened during all of that. You're acting different Sherlock. Why?"

"I just," He says. "I've just missed you."

"Me?"

"You, and John. And Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson."

"That's not it."

"Okay, okay. Something happened, and it's not easy to get out of my mind."

"Can't you just delete it?" I ask him.

"No," He says. "I've tried. It's just a strong, unpleasant memory."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not particularly."

"Okay."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, and then I speak again. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Sorry?"

"If you ever need to talk to someone, I'm here."

"What would I need to talk to you about?"

"I dunno," I say. "Anything. Just so you know, Sherlock. You can always talk to me." He smiles at me.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"I really mean it, Molly."

"I know." I smile at him.

I take out my phone and check the time: 10:00.

"I should be getting home." I tell Sherlock.

"Okay," He says. He stands up and walks to the door, me following him. He holds the door open for me, and I look at him. I smile, and hug him. He's unresponsive for a moment, but then puts his arms around my waist and hugs me back.

"I'm glad your back." I tell him.

"Me too, Molly Hooper."