"So…?" Mary raised a brow at Molly as they walked towards the bathroom, following the unspoken rule that women go in groups. "How did Sherlock do today?"

Molly giggled, averting her eyes, and Mary smiled.

"Good. John was worried he'd cock it up but I had faith in him. What did you two do?"

Remembering the events of the day, Molly blushed, before replying, "Not much."

Mary grinned, knowingly. "Alright missy, keep your secrets." She rubbed her swollen belly. "Ugh, I'm so tired of being pregnant. I'm not sure I'll survive until the due date."

"March 8th, right?" Molly washed her hands as Mary took care of business.

"Yes, and it's only February 14th and I'm already dying. My back is killing me!"

They exited the ladies' room and returned to the table, Mary settling herself into her chair with help from her husband. Sherlock stood and pulled out Molly's chair for her which elicited a blush from the pathologist and a smirk from the other two.

"Have you gotten everything for little Amanda yet?" Molly asked the expectant parents, who began rattling off lists of items they had and others they still needed to buy.

Sherlock zoned out, just watching the interactions between his friends and his girlfriend. Hmmm, girlfriend. I like that. Why on earth do I like that? It's a childish name for her but it fits. Odd. Boyfriend, he wasn't so sure he could handle. Partner? No, that's John. In hindsight, that might be fuel for some of the rumors. Lover? No, don't want to send people's minds in the wrong direction. Companion? He nearly laughed out loud as he got a mental image of himself dressed as The Doctor and Molly wearing Rose's outfit. I'll figure this out later.

He cleared his throat as everyone stared at him.

"What are we talking about?"

Molly and Sherlock exited Angelo's first, still laughing at the owner's confusion at the two couples. At first, Angelo had assumed that Molly and Mary were a couple as well as John and Sherlock.

"I'm not sure he actually believes us," Molly giggled.

Sherlock put an arm around her shoulders. "Oh well. People are stupid." He turned to peer back into the restaurant to locate John and Mary. "What is taking them so long?"

"Oh be nice, Sherlock." Molly hit him playfully in the chest. "She's very pregnant. She's slow."

"Nonsense, you can't be very pregnant. You either are or you aren't."

"Have it your way." Molly shook her head at him and he pulled her closer as they waited.

John came through the door after a moment, supporting a waddling Mary.

"Oh, I'm as big as a house!"

Sherlock sighed. "Mary…"

"Oh, do shut up Sherlock."

He grinned. He really did like Mary.

They made to cross the street and were a few steps into the street, when the building across from them exploded, throwing all four of them to the pavement.

Sherlock lay on his back, his mind racing. There are no coincidences. Why now though? Molly. Is Molly ok? Did Mary land on her belly? He craned his neck, reaching out for Molly had recovered and was crawling to Mary, who lay flat on her back. He vaguely heard her soothing the pregnant woman.

"Mary? Are you ok? Does anything hurt?"

"Does anything hurt?! MY WHOLE BODY HURTS!" Mary shrieked. "What the bloody hell just happened?"

Sherlock sat up, his jaw clenched. "Gas leak no doubt."

"A gas leak? Or a gas leak?" John asked from his position a few feet over, still lying flat on his back. He rolled over and crawled on his hands and knees to his wife and began examining her. Satisfied there were no injuries, he helped her sit up and looked to Sherlock who was visually checking over Molly.

The street was covered in glass in pieces of the building in front of Angelo's. The entire corner was destroyed, but the blast was localized to the one building. Definitely not an accident. Just enough explosive used to level the building but not affect the rest of the street. Had an external trigger or it wouldn't have gone off at the exact moment we were crossing the street. A warning.

Sherlock was irate. Someone had put his friends in danger, his girlfriend, in danger, Sherlock inspected Molly for injuries, seeing her wipe a small amount of blood from a cut on her cheek and rub the back of her head. Make sure someone looks at that. He pulled his phone from his pocket, intending to call Lestrade, then Mycroft, but stopped dead when the display lit up.

7 Missed Calls.

All from a blocked number.

"Oh stupid, STUPID!" he hit his leg with his fist.

John looked up from his wife, questioningly. "Sherlock, what is it?"

Sherlock tossed his phone to his friend who looked at the screen and paled before passing it to Molly.

"Why didn't you answer him?"

"I was… busy." He eyed Molly speculatively.

Shit. I let her distract me. I was so wrapped up in her that I ignored vital information. Stupid sentiment. Stupid.

He didn't register that John had make his way over to him until he felt a hand on his shoulder. John helped him to his feet and leaned in close, lowering his voice so only Sherlock could hear him.

"Don't you dare blame this on her. You can do your work and have room for her too. I won't let you use this as an excuse to push her away. Not when you're finally happy."

Am I that obvious? Sherlock made to protest but John cut him off.

"Don't tell me you aren't happy. I watched you all night. I've never seen you act the way you do around her."

Sherlock thought a moment and gave a curt nod, striding over to Molly, helping her to her feet and taking his phone from her.

He shot off a text to Lestrade, telling him to get his arse to the scene and dialed Mycroft's number. His brother picked up and he could hear his parents in the background singing. No doubt they were waltzing around the kitchen as they did every Valentine's Day after a little too much wine. He grinned in spite of the situation.

"Yes, brother? Are you coming to relieve me?" Mycroft's exasperated voice came through the speaker.

"Hardly," Sherlock scoffed. "Actually, I need you to come here."

Mycroft's sigh was audible. "I have no interest in participating in your night of sentiment."

"There's been a bombing."

"In that case, I'll be there within the hour."

Thirty minutes later, all four friends were lined up on the curb, covered in orange blankets. Actually, Molly was under a pile of them because every time one was placed on Sherlock, he took it off and wrapped her in it. The medics were persistent though, so poor Molly had about a dozen by the time Lestrade arrived.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the Detective Inspector as he lingered a bit too long at Molly's side, asking if she was alright.

Mary was being checked out again, and was going to be taken to the hospital for a cautionary internal exam, but nothing seemed to be wrong. John, Sherlock and Molly each had a couple cuts and bruises, and they would each be sore where they contacted with the pavement, but they were otherwise fine.

Mycroft strolled up a few minutes later and surveyed the situation, muttering under his breath to Anthea who never looked up from her Blackberry.

When he got to the four on the ground, he greeted them all, his eyes lingering on the pathologist. He raised a brow at Sherlock.

"Walk with me brother."

Sherlock sighed. He knew what was coming. Getting to his feet stiffly, he followed. Best to get this over with.

"Are you sure that right now is the best time to grow a heart?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Really? I did fake my death for some people a while back, remember? And I shot someone in cold blood to protect two of the people over there." He waved vaguely in the direction of John and Mary.

"And you forced your pathologist to move into your flat while lying that it was necessary for her safety."

"It was! Is!" Sherlock raised his voice, indignantly and Mycroft gave him a look.

"My agents follow her every time she leaves Baker Street. Do you really think we couldn't do the same at her flat?"

Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. Of course I know that.

Just then, he heard the ping of an incoming message. His eyes narrowed, the only people who would text him were in front of him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and opened the message, reading it quickly before passing it to Mycroft and striding back over to Molly, who was engaged in conversation with Greg.

He put his arm around her shoulders and she looked up at him, her eyes widening as he swooped down and captured her lips.

"What the fuck?" escaped from the detective inspector.

Sherlock stopped kissing a dazed Molly long enough to glance over at Lestrade. "In the future, please stand a bit farther away from my girlfriend."

Everyone within hearing stopped dead. John and Mary gave each other a high-five.

Greg stared at them for a moment, during which Sherlock was pleased to see that Molly was staring up at him with undisguised adoration and, if he wasn't mistaken, more than a bit of lust.

The detective inspector threw his hands up in the air before walking away, mumbling something about making up their minds under his breath.

Mycroft appeared, handing his phone back to Sherlock and giving him a disgusted look.

"I have a car here for you all. We can drop the Watsons off at the clinic and then go to Baker Street."

Sherlock and John both pulled on one of Mary's hands to help her from the curb and they all walked over to the car.

Sherlock's mind raced.

DON'T IGNORE ME AGAIN.