Thanks to PrometheusDavid'sGirl, casper22, ariadnekb, coloradoandcolorado1, Petra Todd, Zacha, Sharpietattoo, Laytonloverdg, Henr233e, SlipperyQuill, I Wouldn't Be One Of Them, AdamPascalRocks12, celeryy, Clockwork Mockingbird, a little sarcasm, katdemon18, Mrs Dizzy, Way Worse Than Scottish, chironsgirl, Hey Nonny Nonny, Nocturnias, startrekjunkee, PrettyLittleScars, franythesupernova, SCDW, Lannie, andy-chan24, rory'sfan04, Adi, SerengetiRose, beautyqueen24, ishallfindit, Moriartied, MuteBanana, Amelia and hotflower901 for their reviews.

Thank you to Pablo and Lexie for making sure I don't go off the rails with my writing!

Also: The Full House has spawned a new fanfiction. crashbangwallop has written the story "The Pathologist & the Virgin" set in TFH-verse. Please go check it out here at . It is story #8137023.

PART THIRTY-SEVEN

Molly was sitting at a computer in her office, carefully transcribing Veronica's notes from her last post-mortem.

The door swung open and she smiled when she saw Sherlock stride in, carrying something behind his back. She gave him a warm smile as he immediately swooped in and pressed a kiss to her lips.

"Mm," Molly hummed happily. "That certainly breaks up the monotony of work. Thank you."

Sherlock jerked his head to the supply cupboard. "Give me ten minutes and I could completely obliterate any workplace ennui."

Molly giggled in a way that was entirely too girlish and she really didn't blame Sherlock when he rolled his eyes at her.

"It was just a joke, Molly," Sherlock assured her. He brought his hand out from behind his back, holding out a colourful gift bag to her. "This is for you."

Molly accepted the bag warily. She narrowed her gaze on her lover. "What have you done?"

Sherlock frowned, tilting his head. "What makes you think I've done something?"

"You're giving me a present for absolutely no reason," Molly replied. "That suggests to me you've done something I'm not going to be happy about." She considered the situation for a moment. "Okay, you've been pouring yourself into cases to show Moran that you're backing off him and show yourself that you're capable of working even with our relationship. This morning before I left, you'd gotten an email from Violet Hunter, so... You're going to Hampshire and you want to make sure I'm not upset about it by giving me a present."

Sherlock's lip curled in a half-smile. He leaned in close to her. "Doctor Hooper, are you sure you can't take ten minutes in the storage cupboard?

Molly arched a brow. "Got it right, did I?"

Sherlock gave her a gentle nudge. "Open it."

Molly opened the bag and peered into it. She frowned slightly, pulling out the jar inside. She turned it, looking at it from every angle, at the organ perfectly preserved inside. "Sherlock... This is a human heart."

Sherlock smiled at Molly. "I had to use connections at another morgue. I wanted to surprise you and Veronica would never assist me in such an endeavour."

Molly shook her head slowly. "It's a human heart."

Sherlock seemed to deflate. "You don't like it."

"I didn't say that!" Molly protested. "It's just... Unexpected. I've never heard of a boyfriend giving a human organ preserved in a jar."

Sherlock nuzzled Molly's neck. "Would you have preferred flowers? I thought this was more personal. I was also under the assumption- given your profession- you would appreciate the real thing rather than an inaccurate representation."

Molly laughed, despite the fact there was a prickling in her eyes. It was actually a terribly romantic present. But it was something that only Sherlock would ever do, making it all the more meaningful.

She got up from her seat and slipped a hand behind his neck, guiding him down to press their mouths together. "Thank you, Sherlock," she murmured against his lips. She then pulled back, giving him a small smile. "It's wonderful. Do you think you can do me a favour?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed in question.

"Can you keep it in 221B? I don't think Mrs Hudson will care for it and I'll get in trouble if I have it at my desk at work."

For some reason, this request made Sherlock absolutely beam. "You can keep anything you want at 221B. It can go on the mantel next to my skull."

Molly's hands slipped down Sherlock's coat, grasping his lapels. "As for the case, I'm not angry, Sherlock. It's work. I understand that. There are horrible things happening all over England that need the brilliant brain of Sherlock Holmes working on them. I'm not going to keep you in London if you're needed."

Sherlock nuzzled his nose against Molly's hairline. "Mycroft's men will be keeping a close eye on you. I don't want Moran to get any clever ideas while I'm away."

"I'll be fine," Molly insisted. "Mary and I can use the time to get to know each other better." Her fingers tightened on his lapels and she looked up into his eyes, which appeared greenish in the light. "Just... Be careful. Come back to me."

Sherlock brushed his lips against Molly's forehead. "Of course." He cupped her cheek, stroking it gently with his thumb. "Stay at 221B while I'm gone."

Molly's brow furrowed. "Sherlock..."

Sherlock's gaze was intense on her. "Molly, the only reason you are avoiding 221B is because you do not yet want to co-inhabit with me again. However, if I am not present, you will simply be inhabiting. My bed is far more comfortable than the sofa in Mrs Hudson's sitting room. Do look at this logically."

Molly considered it for a long moment. It really did make sense. She gave Sherlock a silent nod of agreement and he smiled. He pressed another kiss to her forehead before pulling away. "John is waiting for me. We've got to catch the next train." He tilted her head to kiss her lips once again, lingering against her mouth. "I'll send you a text."

Sherlock strode out of the office without another word and Molly went back to the desk to go back to work. After a moment, the door opened once again and Sherlock poked his head in. "Molly... You got one thing wrong. I always have a reason to give you a present."

Molly beamed at him. "There's always one thing, right?"

Sherlock winked before disappearing once again.

Molly curled up on the sofa in 221B. Toby was snuggled next to her, purring softly as Molly stroked his back. She held the phone to ear, listening to the rings. After a moment, it picked up.

"Molly, hi!" Greg answered. "Sorry. You caught me in the middle of paperwork."

Molly smiled. "I'm really sorry to bother you at work, Greg."

Greg laughed. "Not a bother... Like I said, you caught me in the middle of paperwork."

Molly gripped the phone a bit tighter. "I just thought... Well, I don't know if you know that Sherlock is out of town."

"I know," Greg replied. "He contacted me before he left. Wanted me to keep an eye on you. Moran and all."

"Did he?" Molly felt torn about this pronouncement. She didn't want to be followed around... Well, she supposed she was being followed by Mycroft's men, but they were very subtle about it. But there was also something nice about the idea that Sherlock wanted to make sure she was protected while she was away. In the end, she would come down on that side. She didn't want to be sore at Sherlock. Besides, things were very dangerous, even if Moran claimed to have made a deal with Sherlock.

"I didn't get to tell you before... But I'm really glad you and Sherlock have worked things out."

That rather surprised Molly. She wouldn't have thought Greg would have any opinion on her relationship with Sherlock other than morbid curiosity. "Really?"

"Of course," Greg replied. "That git was absolutely intolerable without you. He was going to drive us all spare."

Molly smiled softly. "I really should not enjoy that so much." But she did. The idea that Sherlock fell apart without her gave her a perverse pleasure. It amazed her that he really did truly need her.

She hesitated for a moment, uncertain she wanted to make her request. "Umm... Greg... Remember what I mentioned to you the last time we went out?"

Greg had been pretty pissed that night. That was the usual drill when it came to Molly and Greg going down to the pub with John and Stamford. But there was something about the silence on the other end. Greg knew exactly what she was talking about.

"Here I was hoping you were too drunk to remember that," Greg sighed. "Molly, are you really sure about this?"

Molly hugged her legs tightly. "I am. It's not like I want to do it... But it's never going to get any safer around here, is it? Not unless Sherlock suddenly he decides he wants to pursue beekeeping professionally."

"...Beekeeping?"

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. "Don't get me started. Anyway, Sherlock does dangerous things and he gets a lot of dangerous people mad at him. I've had a gun pointed at my head twice because of him! John had bloody Semtex strapped to his chest! I have to be able to do something if I ever get into a tight spot."

Greg sighed deeply. "Have you talked to Sherlock about this, Molly?"

"Oh Lord no." It was not that she thought Sherlock would disapprove. On the contrary, he would most likely find it useful. But the truth was, she was uncomfortable with him knowing. It would be too tempting for him. He would think it a sign she wanted to investigate with him in a more active capacity than simply being his Pathologist.

Greg was silent again for a good while. Finally, he sighed. "Molly, I'm going to ask you just one more time: Are you sure about this?"

Molly swallowed hard. She really didn't want to do this, but it seemed like the wisest choice if she was really choosing to live a life with Sherlock. "Yes."

"Fine. On your own head be it." Greg sighed once again. "I've got some time tomorrow. Half six. I'll text you with directions."

Molly smiled. "Thanks Greg. I owe you."

"You're as mad as he is," Greg grumbled. "Night Molly."

"Goodnight Greg." Molly hung up, just as the door to the flat opened and Mary entered, a miserable look on her face. Molly and Mary were still getting used to each other. They'd had dinner and coffee several times along with John. Now they were also both living within 221. It was still strange, without the buffer of the boys around. However, the look on Mary's face suggested she didn't at all need any awkwardness.

Molly immediately got to her feet, scaring Toby off with her movements. "You look like you could use a drink." She walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of wine from the bottle she'd already taken a drink from. She went back to the sitting room and offered the glass to Mary.

"Ta very much," Mary sighed before collapsing into John's favourite chair.

"Are you all right?" Molly asked, slipped back into her spot on the couch.

Mary rubbed her temple. "I got lost... And I nearly got run over by a cab."

Molly's hand went to her mouth. "Oh my God! Are you all right?"

Mary nodded before taking a gulp of the drink Molly had given her. "Just a bit shaken. I'll be fine." She sighed deeply. "I've been living in Africa for six years. I'm still suffering a bit of culture shock. To top it off, the interview I went on didn't go nearly as well as I had hoped."

Molly's nose crinkled as she picked up her own wine glass, still half-full. "You didn't get the job?"

"Didn't feel my experience would translate well to their school." Mary sighed. "I spent six years working with children whom needed to be taught English before I could do anything else. You think I'd be able to handle some privileged little swots."

Molly idly ran her finger over the rim of her glass as she stared down into the red liquid. "You wish you hadn't left, didn't you?"

"I really liked the work I was doing," Mary admitted. "But I love John. And I have come to terms with the fact that he loves Sherlock. You of all people should know if you're in a relationship with one of them, you're in it with the other as well." She shook her head. "Besides, six years is a long time. It was probably time for a change. It's just going to take me a while to acclimatize. I just hope Sherlock is paying John enough that we can get ourselves our own flat."

"Don't feel you have to rush to move out," Molly said, a bit quicker than she meant to.

Mary arched a brow. "Just how long do you plan on holding out, Molly?"

Molly hesitated, finishing her glass of wine in one swallow. Her cheeks reddened. Whether it was from the alcohol or the question, Molly didn't know. "It's not like I have a set timetable on this whole thing. Being with Sherlock is wonderful. But it's... Intense. And after everything we've been through, I think we just need to take things slow. Wait for it to feel right."

"It feels right to him already," Mary commented with a small laugh. "You know he's been taking the things you had stored down in Irene's flat out and putting them in here." She pointed around the room.

Molly looked around and he eyes widened. She hadn't noticed that. How had she missed it? Some of her books were on one of the shelves next to Sherlock's. A photo of her parents on their wedding day was sitting on one of the end tables. The corners of her mouth curved up in a smile when she set her gaze on the preserved heart next to the skull. "That cheeky bugger," Molly said fondly.

Mary leaned back in her chair. "The truth is, I think he's starting to get excited about the idea of John and me moving out so you two can have the place all to yourselves."

Molly shook her head. "It's like training a labrador puppy." She sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do with him."

"You're going to move in with him," Mary replied, shaking her head. "It's just a matter of time and you know it."

Molly thought about the statement. Really, it was true. Now that she and Sherlock were together, she couldn't see any other way than for it to be for keeps. But they had to tread carefully. She smiled again at the preserved heart on the mantel. "He needs to learn some patience still."

Molly let out a soft moan as she snuggled deeper into the pillow that smelled like Sherlock's shampoo. She could dimly hear the sound of her ringtone, which at this time of night was far too chipper. She blindly reached to the bedside table, trying to locate it. She knocked over her glasses in the process and they clattered to the floor. "Dammit," Molly murmured, still half-asleep. Finally, her fingers brushed against the phone and she picked it up, answering. "'Lo," she yawned.

"Miss Hunter's employer has made some very strange requests of her with regard to her personal appearance. She has gone along with them. However, they do not at all relate to taking care of a child. In fact, in many ways, some of the changes could be considered ill advised for a child care worker."

Molly rolled over so she could nuzzle into the pillow once again. "Sherlock? Are you continuing a conversation you were having with John? Because I'm Molly. John's probably asleep." She reached a hand up to rub her eyes. "I'm probably asleep too."

"You wanted me to let you know I was still alive," Sherlock replied innocently. "This is your notice I am still fully functioning."

"You said you would send a text." Molly closed her eyes and felt herself warmed by Sherlock's voice in her ear.

"I decided to call you instead."

Molly smiled despite her weariness. "You know, most men start a late night call to their girlfriend with 'What are you wearing?'"

"Why would it matter what you are wearing?" Sherlock asked. Molly could almost hear his eye roll. "That's a ridiculous detail to know for a phone conversation. Your state of dress makes absolutely no difference to me. Besides, you are asleep, meaning you wear what you always wear for sleeping. So Mr Rucastle is a widower with a six-year-old son..." Sherlock trailed off. "What are you wearing?"

Molly's smile grew. She briefly buried her face in the pillow before going back to the phone. "One of your t-shirts."

Sherlock went quiet for a moment. "That's not a lot of information, Molly."

Molly's smile became a full grin. "That's not a lot of clothing, Sherlock."

"Oh." Sherlock's voice raised in pitch slightly. "OH." He cleared his throat and his voice returned to his low purr. "You're not wearing anything else?"

"Not even a little bit," Molly stretched in the bed. Her toes curled into the sheets.

"You're only wearing my t-shirt and you're sleeping in my bed." Sherlock stated plainly. "You would never be so free in Mrs Hudson's sitting room."

Molly let out a small giggle. She felt somewhat mischievous, alone in the dark with nothing but Sherlock's voice. "I am in your bed. It feels strange not having you here with me in it."

Molly could hear Sherlock swallow. "You sleep without me often."

"I never like it though," Molly replied, closing her eyes. "I like feeling your arms around me. Feeling your warmth."

"Molly Hooper," Sherlock's voice had grown deeper. "You need to stop this right now."

"Stop what?" Molly asked innocently.

"I am on a case," Sherlock replied. "I cannot be distracted. I need to keep my mind clear. You are muddling me."

"Am I?" Molly asked breathily.

"Molly..."

"I'm just talking," Molly teased.

"No, you are making me want to come home," Sherlock replied. There was still a strain to his voice.

Molly couldn't help but smirk. "But if you came home, I'd have to go back and sleep on the sofa."

Sherlock groaned. "Then let's not start something we cannot see through. I believe that is called being a tease."

Molly giggled. She had never in her life been called a tease. There was something very empowering about the idea of being able to cause this sort of reaction in Sherlock. "Maybe I should hang up then, if I'm so distracting," Molly sighed. "I was in the middle of a very good dream. It was you... and me..."

"Molly," Sherlock said firmly.

"What do you dream about, Sherlock?" Molly asked innocently.

"Pirates," Sherlock replied. "I dream about pirates."

"Am I in your dreams?" Molly cooed.

Sherlock paused for a long time. Finally, she heard in take in a sharp breath. "Yes."

"What do we do in your dreams, Sherlock?"

Sherlock groaned. "I have to get back to the case, Molly. I'm still alive. That should be sufficient."

"Mm," Molly closed her eyes and felt the weariness begin to take over her again. "Thank you for still being alive. Stay that way."

"Molly, I-" Sherlock trailed off. He sighed. "Good night."

Molly pouted slightly She'd been hoping that he would say something else. "Good night, Sherlock."

"I-" Sherlock started once again. "-Hope to return to London by the end of the week."

Apparently, he knew what she was expecting and was trying to tease her now.

"I-" Sherlock again trailed off after the first word.

"I'm going to hang up, Sherlock," Molly sighed. "I need to get some sleep."

"I love you," Sherlock finally said.

Molly smiled. She knew those words would not come often and would treasure them when they did. "I love you too, Sherlock. Stay safe."

Molly hung up the phone and set it back on the nightstand. She curled up in the bed. It was comfortable and warm, but without Sherlock with her, it felt far too big and empty.

POST-NOTES: In my brain, Sherlock dreams "The Pirate and the Doctor" by Petra Todd. Which if you haven't read... WHY HAVEN'T YOU? It's amazing. BTW, one fic character dreaming about being another fic character is what we call "Fic-ception".