prompted by mychakk: #53, "I'm flirting with you." Post-TST but Mary's still alive.

"Ah, Molly, what a lovely surprise," Sherlock grinned.

"Surprise? You asked me to bring you more thumbs," Molly laughed.

"Yes, well, Rosamund and I did not expect you so early," he explained.

"You're watching Rosie?" she asked. He nodded in confirmation. "By yourself?"

"Yes, of course," Sherlock defended. "Why does everyone find me incapable of caring for my goddaughter?"

"Never said you were incapable," Molly shouted from the kitchen. Rosie was gurgling as she played with the activity gym set between the two chairs. She walked back to the sitting room and set herself down on the floor next to their goddaughter. "You're a happy baby today, aren't you?" Sherlock couldn't help but smile at the scene before him.

"So, Molly," he began. "You look...becoming. And your intellect is most admirable."

"Um, thanks," she inwardly cursed herself for blushing. He watched a few moments longer as Molly played with Rosie. She was always glowing in the presence of the little Watson.

"You know," Sherlock spoke up, "motherhood would look well on you." Molly looked up at him, furrowing her brows at the strange remark.

"Where is all this coming from?" she questioned.

"Well, Rosamund, it seems your Aunt Molly sees but does not observe," he teased. The look on her face displayed her confusion plainly.

"I'm flirting with you," Sherlock elaborated. Molly's eyes fluttered in realization and her lips softened into a smile. He joined her on the floor, taking her hand in his. "Domestic bliss would look well on you too."

"Oh?" Molly replied. "However will I find it?"

"I hope you will find it with me," he spoke softly. Molly cupped his cheek, tracing her thumb along his cheekbone. She inched forward, her lips tenderly caressing his.

John and Mary arrived moments later to pick up Rosie only to find them snogging.

"Look at you two playing house," Mary teased. John gaped at the sight of Sherlock and Molly. They separated quickly at the sound of Mary's voice. Their faces were flushed from being caught.

"But you-Molly-I, what?" was all John stammered.

"You owe me fifty quid," Mary smirked at her husband.