When Sherlock opened his eyes, it was to discover he was alone in bed. He felt both disappointed and glad. He was disappointed, because he liked waking up next to Molly and cuddling with her. On the other hand, he was glad, because he really didn't need that temptation. Despite his resolution of the previous night, he knew it wasn't going to be an easy thing to pull their relationship back to a point where passion did not rule their hearts and minds.
He could hear Molly in the kitchen, singing along to a song she was obviously playing through her phone. He could also smell bacon and his stomach rumbled in response. He looked at his alarm clock and was amazed to see it was already nine o'clock. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept for so many hours. Hastily, he got dressed and went to the kitchen.
Molly came up to him and kissed him. "Good morning sleepyhead," she greeted. "I was just about to wake you. "Breakfast is almost ready and coffee is already made. Take a seat."
Obediently the detective sat down at the table. "What is that music you were singing to?"
The pathologist blushed. "I didn't know you could hear me. It's my favourite band, Paramore. I was listening to their self-titled album. There's this one song, 'Still into you' I can really relate to."
"How so?" questioned the sleuth.
"Well, it talks about being together for a long time and how she should be over all the butterflies, but she's still into him. Yeah, I know we haven't been together like that, but I have loved you for a long time, and you do give me butterflies every time I look at you." She turned away and put their eggs and bacon on plates, then brought them to the table.
Sherlock was touched by her words. "Just so you know, Molly. I feel the same way."
As they ate, he discovered Molly had not been idle while he slept. She had taken the damp laundry items upstairs and hung them on the airers, after taking off the now-dry items. She had also made an appointment with the registry office for eleven o'clock.
"I heard Mrs. Hudson puttering about downstairs at eight, so I asked her if she would write a letter confirming our address. She also put her details, as it said was needed for the letter. " With a flourish, she pulled the letter from the middle of the table and waved it in front of her fiancé. "We just need to get our birth certificates."
"Impressive," remarked Sherlock. "You have been busy."
"Don't worry. I left stuff for you to do," grinned the pathologist. "You need to call the jeweller and the photography business after breakfast."
Sherlock called the jeweller first and was pleased to discover that the rings were ready to be picked up. Then he called the photographer. He was able to book both photographer and videographer for the day of the wedding.
"Done," he told Molly. "You can put a line through photographer on your list. I just realized we haven't discussed music for the reception. Are we going to use a DJ? I think Mary may have had a friend do it for her wedding to John, which would explain why it isn't in the planner she made."
"Maybe we can use the same one. Perhaps you should ask John about that?" suggested the pathologist.
Sherlock took his phone off the charger and sent a text to John. He knew if he didn't do it right away, he would forget. He was collecting the breakfast dishes when Molly's phone rang. He started doing the dishes while his fiancée talked on the phone.
"Kaitlyn is inviting us to to Ribon tonight with her and her boyfriend David. She is suggesting we meet there at six-thirty and she can make the reservations. Is that okay with you?"
"I don't see why not," responded the detective. "I was thinking of taking you out for dinner this evening anyway."
"Great. I'll tell her six-thirty is fine then." She spoke for another couple of minutes then hung up.
Sherlock had finished with the dishes by that time. He walked over to Molly and kissed her, making sure he did not linger too long. It was not easy when the touch of her lips against his always made him yearn for more.
"What was that for?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"Am I not permitted to kiss my fiancée whenever I feel like it?" he asked her in return, with a smile of his own. "If I have to keep our kissing to shorter lengths of time, I need to compensate in some way, by making them more frequent. Does that fit in with our guidelines?"
Molly reached up and gave him a brief kiss of her own. "I have no objections to that." She went to the bathroom to get ready for their outing. Looking in the mirror, she was pleased to note that the faint bruising on her face from her kidnapping was now entirely gone, and the cut Moran had inflicted with his ring was also almost completely healed. That was welcome news. No more need to use concealer on her face to hide the discolouring. She returned to the sitting room and her fiancé.
Sherlock's phone pinged at him. John had answered his text, giving him the name of the DJ as well as his phone number.
"Great, I'm going to call this Andrew now and see if he's available," he told his fiancée. When the call went to voicemail, Sherlock left a message and his number.
"Damn," he grumbled. "I was hoping to get that done and out of the way as well."
"We have plenty of time," laughed Molly. "Let's get our birth certificates and then we can head off to our appointment."
After retrieving their birth certificates and the letter of tenancy from Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock placed them in a folder to carry the documents without creasing them.
"My handbag is big enough for the folder, I'll take it," offfered Molly.
The couple retrieved their phones. Molly put on her jacket and Sherlock his Belstaff. Then they were out the door and hailing a taxi to take them to the registry office.
The appointment went smoothly. The documentation was recorded and wedding date noted. Sherlock wrote a cheque for the filing fee. As the couple left the office, he remarked, "Well, that wasn't too painful, I guess."
"Did you expect it to be like a trip to the dentist?" Molly teased.
"Well no, I just thought it would take longer and that we would be kept waiting." He put out his hand to hail a passing taxi, and then they were headed to Westfield London. During the twenty minute drive, Sherlock held his fiancée's hand tightly. He would have liked to spend the whole taxi ride kissing her, but he was determined to be on his best behaviour.
Molly was the one who unexpectedly leaned into him and brushed his lips with hers. "I know you are keeping a tight rein on yourself, but you don't have to cut off the circulation in my hand," she laughed.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Controlling emotional responses used to be second nature to me. When I am around you however, I have to exert all my willpower into restraining myself from taking you into my arms."
Molly leaned her head against his shoulder. "We can survive a few more weeks."
"Weeks that will feel like years," he grumbled.
Upon arrival at the mall, the pair immediately headed for the jeweller. The clerk brought out the rings and Sherlock inspected them closely, to make sure the engraving was done correctly. Satisfied, he paid the balance on the rings. "Let's just check them for size." He tried on his ring and then slipped Molly's onto her finger. Both rings fit perfectly. The detective felt a surge of emotion course through him as he looked at the rings on their fingers. In a few weeks, they would be the outward sign of the vows he and Molly were going to make.
"I know, I feel it too," said his fiancée, and he knew she understood by the look of devotion she gave him.
Reluctantly, he took the ring off his finger and then pulled off Molly's, so they could be placed in their individual boxes until the wedding day. He gave Molly the bag containing the rings, which she tucked into her voluminous handbag.
"Anything else you want to do while we are here?" inquired the sleuth.
"I guess we could have some lunch."
They found a small casual restaurant which wasn't too busy. Towards the end of the meal Sherlock's phone rang. He answered it to discover it was the DJ he had left a message for earlier. Andrew was available to do the music for the reception. The detective noted with satisfaction how things were falling into place.
"Well, my love, we have a DJ for the reception," he told Molly, in case she had not been paying attention to his side of the conversation.
"So, we don't have too much left to do, besides wait for the invitations to arrive and send them out next week. Then we have to wait for the responses in order to do seating arrangements."
"What about the dinner at the reception?"
"Our church uses a catering service. I just need to set up an appointment to discuss what we want for the meal. I'll give the church secretary a call about that or speak to her on Sunday."
Sherlock nodded and stood up. He offered his arm chivalrously to the pathologist, who also stood. Having paid for the meal, another taxi took them to a supermarket near Baker Street.
The couple walked the short distance back home, arms laden with shopping bags. Once inside the flat, they worked together to restock the fridge and cupboards.
"I don't think this fridge has ever held so much actual food," remarked the detective.
"Yes, well most people do use their fridges to keep food cold, rather than body parts," said Molly crisply.
"I didn't need to use it for food before. I lived on chips, take-away food and Mrs. Hudson's scones and biscuits."
"It's a wonder you weren't grossly overweight."
"Probably because I also skipped a lot of meals, especially when I was on a case."
Moly reached up and threaded her fingers through his curls, drawing his head down to hers. "Well, you have me now, and I will take care of you properly."
Having Molly's face so close to him was too much. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her, a long lingering kiss that left them both breathless before they drew apart.
"I have been wanting to kiss you like that all day," confessed the detective.
"Me too," she said softly. "See, we can still enjoy this level of intimacy without things getting out of hand. I think our problem has been allowing ourselves to discuss a lot of deeply personal matters that intensified what we were feeling."
"It does seem that way. Yesterday, when things were uh, heating up before Mrs. Hudson came upstairs, I had been thinking about how I felt at Sherrinford. Perhaps revisiting the past is not the best idea, at least, not until we are married and it won't matter if we get carried away in the moment."
"Well, we have some time before we are meeting up with Kaitlyn and David. Why don't you find something to watch on the telly? I'm going to go upstairs and see if the clothes are dry."
Sherlock went into the sitting room and turned on the television. He flicked through the channels without much interest and finally threw the remote down in disgust. Restlessly, he rose to his feet and turned on his laptop, then retreated to his chair. He decided to go through emails and check out if there were any interesting cases he could solve without travelling too far. There were a couple return emails from the ones he had sent days earlier. Two in particular seemed promising, not as exciting as murder, but mysteries nonetheless.
Molly entered the room with a "Nothing worth watching then?"
"Nope," responded her fiancée. "How would you like to go on a crime solving expedition with me tomorrow? There are a couple local ones I can take a look at."
"Well, as far as I know, I have no specific plans for tomorrow. Are you sure you want me to tag along?"
"It's always good to have an assistant, and you've demonstrated you can keep up with me on the day we worked together. I don't want to bother John when he has Rosie to worry about, and is already coming on the road with me on Tuesday."
"In that case, if you really think I can be of use, I'll come."
"Good. i'll just send off these emails to let them know I will be heading their way tomorrow. I think one before lunch, and the other after lunch."
"Fine. I'll go have a shower now, before we head out for dinner," the pathologist remarked.
"Mhm." Sherlock was absorbed in reading. He still was way behind on his emails. It seemed he was always being inundated with the most trivial concerns. Some of the scenarios seemed contrived, almost as if they were just excuses to meet the famous London detective. He was usually able to sort through the "spam" cases as he called them, to find legitimate ones.
When Molly cane back in again, he had just closed his laptop. He whistled when he saw her in one of her new dresses. She had braided her hair into a twist at the top of her head with a few tendrils of hair framing her face. She had put on some makeup, not a lot, but enough to accentuate her lovely brown eyes and the curve of her lips. He felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked at her in appreciation.
"You look stunning," he breathed. He placed his hands on his fiancée's shoulders and kissed her. It was as well that she was wearing lipstick, because it forced him to kiss her more gently than he would have otherwise. He didn't want to ruin her makeup.
"There's still time for you to shower as well if you want, although you look perfectly fine in the clothes you are currently wearing," she said.
"I think I will take a shower," he decided out loud and went to the bedroom to select a change of clothes, including his aubergine shirt. Molly had put the bag with the wedding rings on his bedside table, and he took the ring boxes out of the bag and into his top drawer for safe-keeping.
Upon reentering the sitting room after his shower, the detective saw that Molly had taken out her wedding list and was studying it. She glanced up at him and smiled.
"You're wearing my favourite shirt. That shade of purple is lovely." Then she indicated her list. "We have almost everything organized, thanks to me not working this week," she said. "I kind of feel like I should not have been given a whole week off from work, though."
'I disagree," countered the sleuth. "You had a terrible nightmare only two nights ago, and there is no guarantee you won't have occasional relapses into those traumatic memories in the future. This week has been a very good distraction for you because we have been busy."
"Perhaps so. In any case, there is not much else for us to do right now. I must remember to email the list of our wedding party to Nancy tomorrow, for the wedding bulletin, and we need to select a front cover for it." She indicated the pamphlet with sample covers Pastor Briggs had provided the previous week. "I'll leave this on the coffee table for now and we can check it out later tonight or tomorrow."
Sherlock agreed. "Well, my beautiful love, are you ready to get going?" he asked.
'Yes, let's go," she answered, and they exited the flat to get a taxi to the Japanese restaurant.
Author's note: Things are moving along well with the wedding arrangements. What did you think about the way they tried on their wedding rings? I think it would really make everything more "real," seeing them actually on their fingers.
I researched the requirements for the registry office as well, and the Westminster one is indeed the closest to Baker Street.
