As they walk through the door into Molly's home after a long and arduous afternoon and evening with Sherlock's parents, Molly is giggling over some lame joke that Sherlock had cracked as she clings to his arm. He grins and closes the door with his foot, helping her out of her coat. Slipping out of his Belstaff, he hangs it up before they both kick off their shoes. Molly smirks and slides across her wooden floors in her socks, Sherlock following and nearly crashing into her.
"Hey! Don't smush me!"
"I'm not, I stopped myself!"
"Barely!", she giggles. "Hungry?", she asks, heading into the kitchen and peering into her cabinets.
"Just a bit."
"Ooh, how does mac and cheese sound? I could go for some. I'm surprised I'm still hungry after everything your Mum gave us to eat."
"That sounds amazing actually. I'm used to her trying to overfeed me." He goes over and joins her, helping her prepare the pasta.
Molly smiles and points at the window. "Look, it's starting to snow. Thank goodness we got home in time; the driving would have been terrible."
"Mhh, that wouldn't have been too convenient, agreed. But doesn't that mean I won't be able to make it back to Baker Street tonight?"
"Why does it matter, do you have a case or something?"
"Well, no. But I feel like I have been here a lot recently, and I don't want to intrude. I know that you love me, but I also know that you like your alone time sometimes."
She smiles lovingly at him. "You know I don't mind when you come over. I love when you're around because I love you. You can stay here whenever you like, Sherlock."
Sherlock grins and pulls her close, capturing her lips with his. "Mm…that's good to know, because I find it more and more difficult each night at 221B without you around. Sometimes I even talk to you then realize you're not actually there."
Molly peers up at him happily and strokes his cheek. "That's oddly comforting to know actually."
He nods and watches her pull away to pour the pasta into the pot. He smirks and sneaks out of the room, grabbing the multiple, and he means multiple, fleece and down blankets, throws, pillows and other soft cozies that Molly has around her home. He moves the sofa back and tosses them in front of it, creating a giant blanket cocoon type nest. Sherlock can never quite get comfortable holding her on the sofa since he is so tall. He meticulously places the pillows in the right formation and makes sure there is enough blanket covering the floor so that their bottoms don't get sore.
Molly glances over and gasps. "Oh my God, what is that!?"
Walking around it and back up to her kitchen island, he grins proudly. "It's a blanket fort. Well…more like a...nest. There's no covering. But I figured it would be more comfortable for us both than trying to fit on the sofa.
She giggles and nods. "That's really cute! It's funny, when my brother and I were little, we used to make those all the time when it was rainy or snowy and we got to stay in and watch movies. I haven't made one in years."
"Then I'm glad I made one for us! How about the new murder documentary that just came out on Netflix? I only know about it because I keep getting advertisements on my phone for it for some reason. Technology, I swear."
Molly laughs as she stirs the cheese into their macaroni. "Sherlock I'm pretty sure all you do on your phone is look up murder scenes and causes of death as well as various poisons and compounds. Is it really any wonder that the ads you get have to do with murder?"
He makes a face and shrugs. "I suppose. It's just odd how they basically track everything. I'm tracked enough by Mycroft; I don't need my phone turning against me too."
"Well that's true, but Mycroft tracks you to make sure you're safe, for the most part. Annoying but he does technically have good intentions when he does that." She hands him a bowl of mac and cheese and he smiles and thanks her. Molly then grabs two Sprites from her fridge and goes over with her bowl and the drinks, settling herself into the plush nest of blanket and pillows.
Sherlock sits next to her and pulls the excess fabric over their legs as he leans his back against the sofa, drawing Molly nearer to him. "Mycroft has selfish intentions. They are not mostly pure, believe me. You know what he did to Eurus and what resulted from that. He thinks he's the smart one, but he fucks up just as much as I do."
"I know, but…I guess it must just feel a little bit better to know that he's watching out for you. Even if he makes mistakes. You are, after all, both human."
"Now I am."
Molly chuckles and looks at him. "You always were, you just tended to suppress the best parts of yourself because you were terrified of being hurt again so deeply."
Sherlock shrugs and eats his food hungrily; Molly does the same but leans her head on his shoulder endearingly. Placing her bowl down, she grabs the remote for her television and goes to Netflix, playing the new murder documentary that he mentioned. She leans up and kisses his cheek, glancing at the accumulating snow outside of her window.
"Hey Sherlock?"
"Yes, Molly?"
She chews her lip a little. "I saw the picture at your parents' home earlier of you and Victor Trevor. I really am sorry about his loss. His funeral this past summer was lovely, and I'm so glad his parents got closure. But...I know you needed that too."
His face becomes a bit sullen and he stays silent, pretending to be too enthralled with the documentary. Molly gently cups his face and turns him towards her. He looks down at her and sighs. "I should have found him. I should have solved the ritual."
"Stop. I know that if he could tell you, he wouldn't blame you. You were all little kids. How could anybody know, especially with how Eurus was? You were a little boy", she nuzzles his nose. "Victor doesn't blame you. Mary doesn't blame you. And in my opinion, I believe they are both up in heaven exchanging crazy stories about you. I bet Mary is laughing about how you were as a baby, and I bet Victor is laughing about the silly situations you get yourself into. They both loved you, and they would never blame you. They're like your guardian angels now. And you need to trust me on that because I didn't think I have ever steered you wrong since we have known each other, and I certainly wouldn't lie to you."
Sherlock cracks a smile and places his forehead against hers, their eyes meeting. "I don't deserve you, Molly Hooper. You are the most incredible woman, and I'm so lucky that I didn't lose my chance to be with you."
"Well if we are exchanging compliments, I don't think I deserve you either. You are also incredible, and I'm glad I didn't lose my chance to be with you either. Also, your international reputation speaks for itself in regard to how intelligent and how genuine you are. But your heart speaks to me in regard to who you really are as a man, and I love everything about you."
Sherlock leans in and kisses Molly deeply and sensually. She happily returns the emotion fueled kiss and threads her fingers within his curls, pulling him closer to her. As the fluffy winter snow falls and their kiss turns to love-making, the nest of blankets become intertwined between their bodies and murderous screams come from the telly in true, morbid Sherlock and Molly fashion.