Chapter 35

Molly very quickly fell deeply asleep in Sherlock's arms. He looked at her tenderly, thinking how much he loved watching her sleep. She had the slightest of smiles on her face and her breathing was deep and even. Her body was healing well from her assault, he thought, considering all the upheaval, and her pain level was much reduced. She was managing the ache in her wrist now, with just paracetamol. He thought, not for the first time, how resilient and brave she was. He was hoping she wouldn't need that resilience too soon again. He sighed deeply and ran over the incident in the store again in his mind palace. He was very uneasy about it. He had literally just prevented an attempt on her life. To have another threat, so soon, was pretty unprecedented. His mind raced with the possible motivation for it but he couldn't narrow it down. It was possible that it could have been someone connected to the raids of the other night, out for revenge, but it was just another theory. He had nothing concrete to go on.

Slipping out of bed, he donned the dressing gown again and checked in with the British agents stationed outside the door of their suite. The men confirmed that their car had been replaced and that the Irish undercover Special Branch were combing the hotel, which was very busy, as it was a popular watering hole with Dubliners and tourists alike. Their corridor was quiet however, as Mycroft had booked out the entire floor, and his men reassured Sherlock that they were both quite safe. He thanked them and returned to his room.

He sat on one of the plush chairs, hands steepled under his chin, and looked across at his pathologist, his lover now. He knew that regretting being with her was pointless. Their union was unavoidable, inevitable, but he couldn't help feeling that they were 'damned if they do, and damned if they don't'. He also knew that he was prepared to do anything to protect her. He would have to make hard choices, when necessary, for both of them, because he knew she never would. Grimly, he picked up his phone and texted his brother,

'Please make preliminary arrangements to move Molly to a safe house.' Seconds later his phone beeped a message back.

'Already done. Try not to worry? Get some sleep. Talk in the morning.'

Sherlock managed a half smile. His brother was getting very sentimental. He was grateful to him though, he admitted to himself, because he knew that Molly's safety was a priority for his brother, just as Aoife's well-being was important to him now too. Molly murmured his name in her sleep and he smiled, amused, because she sounded like she was scolding him. He shook off the dressing gown and climbed back into bed beside her. She seemed to sense him and her hand reached over and rested on his chest. He covered it with his and settled down to sleep himself.

The suns strong Winter rays broke through a narrow gap in the thick hotel curtains early the next morning. Molly woke first, to find his warm hand resting possessively on her hip, and she drank in the sight of him, lying peacefully asleep beside her. The natural beam of light lit up his face, and flattered him, picking up the hint of auburn in his dark curls and further shadowed his sharp cheekbones and the strong curve of his jaw. She thought again how beautiful he was, and she felt an overwhelming surge of emotion. This man, whom she had loved for so long, was hers now, she knew he was, heart and soul. He had certainly proved it last night and staked his own claim on her.

She thought back on the night before with borderline disbelief. She had never come apart to the extent that she had last night with any other lover, and she knew intrinsically that it was because, his considerable skills aside, she had never loved anybody the way she loved him. She slid out of the bed to relieve herself and brush her teeth, but she didn't linger and soon lay back down beside him. She relished this time with him, and it was rare that he actually slept while she was awake. So she just lay and looked at him, and resisted the temptation to caress him. Suddenly his lips twitched. "You're staring Molly." She laughed gently and murmured,

"I am not. I'm just facing in your direction." Sharp aquamarine eyes flashed open in amusement at her, and a sardonic eyebrow lifted,

"Fibbing, Molly." She laughed again and succumbing to temptation, she ran her fingers through his curls and stroked his cheekbone with the back of her fingers.

"Well if I am, It's your fault. Your beautiful head is in my way.."

He rolled his eyes, and pursing his mouth, he kissed her fingers as they reached his lips. She exclaimed in surprise as he grabbed her and rolled her beneath him. Towering over her he ran a hand through her hair, brushing it off her face, and leaning down, kissed her firmly. Heat rushed through Molly again and she wrapped her legs tightly around him, gripping his hips to her, and kissed him back with all the passion she felt for him. He groaned into her mouth. He wanted her again, was ready for her again.

"Molly?" he gasped the question, and she reached down, taking him into her in answer.

"Please Sherlock, please?" and he moved deeply and fiercely within her. She met him thrust for thrust, and he brought them both to new and headier heights, and she shook and shuddered out her pleasure beneath him.

"Christ, Molly, I love you," he gasped out, as he followed her. Then, as he opened his eyes, he saw tears falling slowly down the sides of her face. His heart clenched in his chest, and he bent his head to kiss them away. She pulled him down fully on top of her, wrapping her limbs around him tightly. He nuzzled into her neck.

"I'm crushing you Molly."

"Oh hush you, you're not. I like it. Stay there a minute." So he laughed and kissed into her neck. He shifted then slightly and rested his head on her chest, stroking her hip languorously.

"This is fast becoming one of my favourite positions." She sniggered mischievously.

"Really? I can think of a few that top it!" He chuckled deeply.

"You, Dr. Hooper, are a very wicked woman." She laughed softly and sighed contentedly. Then her tummy growled with hunger and he laughed, and leaned over to pick up the hotel phone.

"I'm ordering breakfast for us and then I'm afraid, we'll have to make a move. Don't forget, my parents are on their way too, Molly." She gasped in shock.

"Forget?, you know bloody well you never told me that, you git! Oh my God! When?" He roared with laughter.

"Stop panicking. They'll adore you."

"Will they? Why will they?" He tilted her head at her, puzzled at her question.

"Because I do." And that, it appeared, was that.

The left the hotel, showered and fed, and were on the motorway out of Dublin within the hour. Sherlock noted that their new vehicle had bullet proof glass and that they had an armed escort. Aoife had provided a driver too, so he opted to sit in the back with Molly. He was keen to get to the sanctuary of the house and was relieved that their motorcade, keeping to a steady speed, and using sirens when necessary to clear their path, swept through the gates of Aoife's house forty minutes later. Molly went up to see Mary and the baby and before she did, she whispered to him that she was going to have a nap afterwards because she was 'a bit tired' and he smirked smugly at her. She rolled her eyes and ran, laughing, up the stairs.

Mycroft watched her go from the study door and smiled at his brother.

"She looks happy."

Sherlock, clasping his hands behind his back, couldn't resist turning to watch her as she disappeared down the landing to Mary and John's room. He turned back solemnly then and looked at his brother.

"She is, and I'd like her to stay that way, obviously. Show me what you've got?" The brothers went into the study and Mycroft ran the film of the incident in the store for Sherlock. He agreed with Mycroft, there was nothing to be garnered from it and the suspect was very careful. Aoife came in to greet him and he took her hands, squeezed them and kissed her cheek. She smiled with fondness at him.

"My mother is going to fawn all over you, Sherlock, when she sees you. Be warned!" Mycroft sniggered,

"Oh he's used to that Aoife, our own Mother has fawned over him our entire lives!" Sherlock laughed deeply.

"Well, she has always displayed impeccable taste.."

"This is the same woman who also adores popular musicals, brother mine" and the two men laughed.

The house was a hive of activity for the rest of the afternoon. Caterers and bar staff streamed through the house and out into the marquee, setting up for the evening. All had been screened by security and all faces were familiar and safe. Aoife had relinquished her own master bedroom for the Holmes' and moved in with Mycroft, who'd asked her, only half joking, if he was to expect the wrath of her father. She laughed and told him softly that "he just wants me to be happy Mycroft. It's all he's ever wanted, since Oisín, and he will see that I am, with you."

He took her into his arms then, and kissed her, and held her hand as he greeting his parents at the door. His parents took one look at their clasped hands, and their sons face, and his mother gasped and grabbed a laughing Aoife into a bear hug. Then she swept her eldest son into her arms and exclaimed,, "Well done, my boy, she's quite lovely!" As she shook his fathers hand he laughed too, and kissed her on the cheek.

"Yes, Mother, she is." Mycroft agreed. "Now, wait until I tell you about Sherlock..."

"Do shut up Mycroft!" and his Mother and Father looked up and saw their youngest son, beaming with pride, and holding the hand of a lovely, but apprehensive looking, young woman, as he led her down the staircase to greet them. His mother's hand flew up to her mouth with astonishment, and tears filling her eyes, she held out her hands to Molly.

"Oh my goodness! I know who you are! You're Dr Hooper, Molly. I bloody knew it! Finally come to his senses, has he? How are you my dear? And she enveloped Molly in a warm embrace. Molly's nerves disappeared and she hugged her back. As Aoife led the women into the living room for afternoon tea, their father held both of his sons back in the hall.

"I have always been proud of both of you, but never more proud then I was this week. Individually, you are both quite brilliant and excel in your fields, but when you combine your skills and resources, you are unstoppable. Well done, my sons." As his two sons stared at him, dumbstruck, he laughed then and added, "you've also made your mother very happy indeed. She was beginning to give up on the notion of having grandchildren altogether.." and he led his two sheepish looking sons into the living room.