"Molly?"

"Yes?"

"Have you given our...ah...wedding any thought?"

Sherlock had been playing his violin. Since their announcement, they hadn't really spoken about it. He was beginning to realize that she didn't want a large affair. Her family was quite small, she had but one younger sister whom she wasn't terribly close with.

Molly was dusting the flat. She enjoyed tidying up. Her general tendencies were pretty laid back, so it didn't bother her that the flat wasn't really in her taste. She felt that, should they stay there, she'd want to change the sofa, perhaps hang a painting she had in storage, but that was really all. She looked at Sherlock.

"No. Honestly, I haven't really. Have you?"

"Well, now that you mention it...I have," he set down his violin. "What do you say to returning to Italy? We could wed there & honeymoon. It seems that you really don't mind either way, so it might prove to be the best option."

"That's a wonderful idea!"

Sherlock's face lit up.

"But..."

His face fell.

"But what about Mycroft? John & Mary? I'd want them there."

"Well...so long as its just them, we can invite them along."

She ran to him & wrapped her arms around him. "You really are quite brilliant. I do love you so."

"I know. It's startling, really."

She looked up at him quizzically. "Which bit?"

"Both. It never ceases to amaze me that you love me. And I'm often astonished at my intellect."

"Bastard," and she kissed him fully. His hands wrapped his arms around her.

"You know, Molly, I believe it's long past your bedtime."

"Is it?" She smiled crookedly.

"Yes...you have been naughty. Time to see to that..."

::::::::::::::::::::::::

Molly Hooper was readying dinner. She was irritated that Mary Watson brought up her lack of engagement ring while on the phone again. Surely Sherlock can afford it. What's he doing, anyway. She insisted that he wasn't avoiding the matter. It wasn't important to Molly, why was it bothering her? Sometimes she wondered why she bothered with Mary, but she did like her...mostly. Actually, if she thought about it, she much preferred Odessa's company. She had some of Mary's bluntness, but had a touch of tact she lacked. She would always love Mary, but she also felt that it might be good for their friendship if she distanced herself a bit until after her & Sherlock were married. It would give her less to criticize.

Sherlock entered the kitchen dressed for dinner. "Well. How are things here?"

"Wonderful. Is the table ready?"

"Just as you asked."

"I suppose now we just need our dinner guests."

Sherlock's phone rang out a text. Couldn't be Mycroft, he never texts.

"Found him. Am apprehending. Stop by in the morning?"

-GL

"Ah. Lestrade..."

"Oh Sherlock...not tonight!"

"No. In the morning I'll need to..." and they heard Mycroft enter downstairs. He was laughing with Odessa.

In they strode. "Good evening, Sherlock, Molly. Here. I brought some refreshment."

He handed Sherlock a bottle. "Thanks Mycroft. Hello again, Odessa. Looking lovely..."

"Thank you. Good to see you, Molly."

Pleasantries were then finished after Molly gave Mycroft a hug. The meal passed along well enough, though Sherlock had been interrupted a few times by texts from Scotland Yard.

"Can't you turn that off, Sherlock? It's bothersome," Molly was irritated.

"Middle of a case."

"I thought you had solved it."

"Oh, no. The killer is crafty..."

Molly was confused. "But...Greg said he apprehended someone."

"A decoy," Odessa interjected.

Sherlock looked at her. "Quite right...how did you..."

"Well, it's what I'd've done with a crafty killer," she smiled her crooked smile.

"Indeed," Sherlock was impressed. "Tell me, Odessa, & I hope I'm not being too meddlesome, but what does your tattoo mean?"

Odessa's mood changed ever so slightly.

Mycroft glared at Sherlock. "Really, Sherlock, that's hardly appropriate. Apologies, Odessa."

"No...I don't mind. It's a silly story, really." She took a sip of brandy. "No doubt...NO doubt, Mary had filled you in on some of my past." She received no indication that they hadn't, so she continued. "My mum...she was lovely. I am much more like her than my dad. Not that I don't love him, but we are very different. At any rate, she died when I was six. A few months before she passed, she told me a story about her family. She said that we were of a Welsh clan...one that could summon fairies." Sherlock's eyes rolled a touch. "But because the fairies were in danger here, in danger of human people, we needed to lock them safely away, so no harm would befall them. She showed me this key..." She referenced her arm. "She said, take good care of it Odessa. You have the secrets to all that is mysterious in this world. She had the key always around her neck as my grandfather had given it to her. I took a picture of it, since it was buried with her, & had it tattooed to my arm so I'd have it always."

Molly was transfixed. "That is...lovely."

Sherlock was vindicated. Sentimental.

Mycroft was staring into space. He thought that if there was ever occasion to tattoo ones person, that was it.

Odessa smiled. She spotted something by the window. "Who plays?"

"You mean the violin? Sherlock. He's wonderful," Molly beamed at him.

"And Mycroft, you play piano?"

"Yes...& the violin. But Sherlock is, admittedly, a touch better."

"We should all play sometime. I don't nearly as often as I should like," Odessa was excited.

"You play?" asked Sherlock.

"Yes. The viola."

"Is there anything you cannot do, Odessa? A true renaissance lady," there was a touch of irritation in Sherlock's voice.

"Much like you, Sherlock. And yes, there's plenty I cannot do," she winked at him.

Sherlock laughed aloud. He might have met his equal. Mycroft was certainly, in many things, better than Sherlock. But he'd never give him the satisfaction of declaring it.