A/N: Written for the two year anniversary of the "I love you" scene from TFP. Rated K+ and nothing but fluff. Enjoy!

"Happy anniversary, darling."

Sherlock scrunched his face up in an expression of confusion worthy of John Watson at his most uncomprehending. "Molly, we've been together 147 days, and although I marginally accept the sentimentality behind a 6-month anniversary, we're still a bit short of -"

She stopped the flow of words with a soft, lingering kiss. A most welcome way of silencing him, to be sure, but he still had questions.

Well, one question. "So...not our 147 day anniversary, then."

She shook her head and let him pull her down so she was sitting on his lap, warm in the embrace of his arms. "Nope. Guess again, genius consulting detective."

He ignored her gentle teasing, frowning a bit as he cast his mind backward. "It's not the anniversary of when we first me, that's still three weeks four days away...the first autopsy I watched you perform was on that same day, so that's not it…"

Molly's brow quirked in amusement as he continued to mumble to himself. "You remember the first autopsy you watched me perform?"

"Mm, yes, Mrs. Davenport, 97, suspected poisoning turned out to be an-"

"Aneurysm," they chorused, smiling at one another in fond remembrance. "It was only the second autopsy I'd performed entirely on my own, without supervision. I was so nervous…"

"It didn't show," Sherlock chimed in. "Your hands and voice were steady, your movements absolutely precise...I rather doubt you remembered Lestrade and I were even observing once you made the initial Y-incision…"

"Oh, I always knew when you were there," Molly assured him with a fond smile. She reached up and ruffled his perfectly coiffed curls. "Always." Her smile turned mischievous. "So. What anniversary falls on this date, Sherlock? It's a fairly important one, at least to me."

A quick glance told him she was still teasing, rather than hurt or worried. Something important to both of them, that fell on this exact date… "Ah," he said softly as it finally clicked.

"Ah indeed," Molly murmured. She wiggled herself into a more comfortable position, which raised all kinds of delightful possibilities in Sherlock's mind - and trousers - and moved her fingers away from his hair to stroke his cheek. "A year ago today we both said it."

"I love you," Sherlock said. "You made me say it first, say it like I meant it…"

"And you did," Molly finished as he pulled her face closer to his and kissed her like his very life depended on it.

One way or another, she always saved him.