Shortly thereafter, amidst a lot of chatter, mainly on the part of the women about buying baby clothes for Victoria and talking about how exciting it all was, Sherlock decided it was time to show Molly his room.

"Come upstairs, Molly," he urged, tugging at her hand. "I promised to show you my room."

Molly looked uncertain, glancing at her in-laws before returning her attention to him. "Are we going to come back downstairs and visit with your parents some more?"

Sherlock's parents exchanged knowing looks. "It's been a long day for us all," said Mummy Holmes. "I think we are going to have an early night. Why don't you young folks stay down here and enjoy the fire for a while? Sherlock can show you his room before you go to bed." With a meaningful glance at Mycroft, she added, "Myc, didn't you want to have an early night as well?"

Mucroft huffed a little, and his lips tightened almost imperceptibly, but said, "I suppose so. I'll see you all in the morning."

The three exited, leaving Sherlock and Molly alone. Still holding his wife's hand, he led her toward the armchair closest to the fire. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap.

He raised a hand to Molly's cheek and tilted her face towards him. "So, my devious little love, how long have you been planning this?" he asked, rubbing her belly gently, "and how is it that my mother seemed unsurprised at it?" he added, a little jealously.

"She didn't know we were having a girl," Molly explained, leaning into him. "Last time we spoke, when we were making arrangements for Christmas, you weren't home, remember?"

He kissed her hair. "Mhm."

An arm snaked around his waist, as Molly pulled back a little so she could look up at him. "I told her you had decided at the last minute you didn't want to know the sex of the baby, but that you regretted it immediately afterward." Her lips curved upwards and she continued. "She was the one who suggested I buy a Christmas cracker kit, and insert ribbons with pink or blue."

"Oh, so you weren't just keeping quiet to torment me in the limo?" asked Sherlock, suddenly realising this was why she had remained tight-lipped.

"Of course not," she assured hm, lifting a hand to tweak one of his curls. "I just didn't want to ruin the surprise."

Sherlock put his arms around her. "Now that you've told me, does that mean I have to follow through with all those things I was trying to tempt you with in the car?" he teased, tilting his head to one side.

"Mm, yes. A box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates does sound rather nice, and the flowers too," she teased back, with a flirtatious glance.

"Those were only my first two attempts to get you to spill your secret," he pointed out, inching his face closer to hers.

"Well , the fifteen minute back massage sounds nice as well, but the massage oil is at home," Molly noted with a pout, obviously pretending not to notice the proximity of his lips.

He closed the distance that separated them and settled a kiss on Molly, then pressed soft kisses to her cheeks and her forehead. He moved his mouth to kiss the tip of her ear and whispered into it, "Rain check on that one, then. How about the next thing I offered?"

He moved a hand from her waist to lazily trail his fingers along Molly's jawline, then grasped the back of her neck to pull her towards him for a deep, more sensual kiss.

"I, uh," stammered Molly, once their lips had parted, "I think the rest of those things would be more appropriate in the privacy of your bedroom."

"So, you are accepting my, shall we say, rewards for revealing the information about our baby?" His voice was very deep and he could feel Molly trembling. He knew it wasn't from the cold, as the fire was still burning brightly in the hearth.

"I'm not an idiot, Sherlock. Why on earth would I turn down the opportunity to enjoy such delightful things with you?" She raised both hands to clasp them around his neck and purr, "Isn't it time we went upstairs to see your bedroom?"

"That sounds like a very good idea to me," agreed Sherlock, moving his head towards her face once again, anticipating the sealing of their deal with another kiss. To his surprise and disappointment, Molly released her hold on him suddenly and hopped off his lap.

"What the...where are you going?" he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion, as Molly hurried out of the room towards the downstairs toilet. He supposed his mother must have told her where it was, because he had not even given her a tour of the house yet.

"Sorry, need the loo," she called. "You know, one of the side effects of pregnancy."

Sherlock groaned and waited impatiently for Molly's return. So much for being all romantic and lovey-dovey. This sort of thing never happened in films or those romance novels he had sometimes looked at, that Molly owned. Those people apparently had no bodily functions that needed to be attended to. As a matter of fact, he kind of needed to use the loo as well.

Molly was just exiting the toilet when he approached. "Aha," she accused. "Even non-pregnant people need to use the toilet once in a while."

"Guilty as charged, love. Just go back to the sitting room so we can pick up where we left off." He gave her a sultry glance. "No more excuses after this about needing the loo."

"It wasn't an excuse! It was my bladder, and I would prefer not to have the urge to use the loo during my rewards." She winked at him.

A couple minutes later, Sherlock return to Molly, who was sitting on the armchair. Something was dangling from her hand. He drew in his breath sharply when he realised it was her bra.

"I thought we needed to make up a bit for lost time." She gave him a seductive smile.

"Oh, my little vixen," he murmured. "It's very naughty of you to do that when my parents are upstairs." He pulled her up and slid his hands up inside her blouse and jumper to feel the creamy skin of her breasts, no longer covered by her bra.

"Good Lord, Sherlock," she protested, breathily, "I wasn't suggesting we do anything downstairs. I was just giving you a head start, as I said."

"Fine," he grumbled. "Upstairs with you, wench." He removed his hands from Molly's chest to give her a little swat on the bum, then raced her upstairs.

At the top, she stood uncertainly, not knowing where his room was. Sherlock took her hand and walked her down the passage that extended all the way to a door which led to his parents bedroom, which had its own set of stairs as well that was accessed through the small sitting room in which they had opened their gifts earlier. Turning her around, he indicated a door on the left, Mycroft's bedroom. The next door was for his own bedroom. He led her past it, however, showing her the bathroom beyond it, then took her hand and led her up the second flight of stairs so she could have a quick glimpse into the second floor which housed two more bedrooms that led from one into the other, beyond which was a huge storage room.

"There is one other bedroom as well," he explained to Molly, which had its own set of stairs and was above the extra reception room which lay beyond the large dining/sitting room where they had eaten their dinner. He didn't bother showing her that bedroom, because it would have meant heading back downstairs again to the ground floor.

Instead, he led Molly back down one flight of stairs and to his own bedroom, which was actually the smallest of all of them. He opened the door to his room and snapped on the light. "Welcome to my former domain," he told her with a smile, waiting for Molly to precede him into the room, before closing the door and turning the key in the lock.

Molly stood with her mouth open at the sight that met her eyes. The walls were lined with bookshelves, all of them filled. She walked around the bed which took up a substantial amount of the room itself, and ran a finger along the spines of some of the books - Agatha Christie, John Grisham, Stephen King. There were many non-fiction books as well, most of them related to crime-solving, chemistry, forensic analysis and the like. Her fingers stopped suddenly, and she turned to him. "There's a Good News Bible here."

He looked at her in surprise. "Oh, I had forgotten about that Bible completely. You already know about the King James one Mummy and Daddy gave to me for my 21st birthday, that I had at Baker Street, but never looked at except for that one case."

Molly pulled the Bible from the shelf and nodded. "It's such a shame it was destroyed by the explosion. So when did you get this?"

"My parents gave me this one for Christmas when I was maybe ten or eleven."

"That makes sense. The Good News Bible is definitely a little easier to read, and it has pictures too."

"Yes, I think I just flipped through some of it to look at the pictures, then put it in my bookshelf, never to look at it again."

Molly replaced the Bible, then looked at Sherlock. "I know how happy your parents are, now that you have become a Christian. This just shows even more how much your parents have always wanted what is best for you, despite their mistakes over what happened all those years ago."

Sherlock nodded. He harboured no resentment over what had happened, he had forgiven his parents, even as he knew he too had been forgiven for all his own mistakes. The past could not be changed. What mattered was the future and making the best life for himself and his family.

Sherlock watched with a slight smile as Molly inspected the rest of his room. She seemed utterly fascinated at getting a glimpse into his past. While she continued to move about his room, he turned on the lamp next to the bed, before turning off the bedroom light. Then she glanced down at the bed properly and remarked, "I'm rather glad it isn't a single bed, even if it does take up a significant portion of your room."

Sherlock chuckled. "It used to be a single bed. When I left for university I insisted I would not come home for holidays unless my parents bought me a double bed."

Molly slid her arms around him, "I can't wait to join you in it."

"No time like the present." Sherlock kissed her, walking her backward until her legs hit the side of the bed and she was forced to sit. He leaned over her. "Now, where were we?" he murmured silkily.

"I...I think you were going to reward me," supplied Molly, and he could see her chest rising and falling a little more rapidly than it usually did.

He kissed her neck, then the pulse beating frantically at the base of her throat. She was so lovely, his Molly, his beautiful wife, his heart.

She arched into him, pulling him down onto the bed with her, and Sherlock felt that heady desire he always felt when they were together. Her hands reached to undo the buttons of his suit jacket and shirt, sliding them both from his shoulders so she could splay her hands across his bare chest and feel his own heartbeat racing in rhythm with her pulse.

Then he lifted off her blouse and jumper in one smooth motion so he could crush her against his chest. He would never get tired of the feeling of her skin against his.

He kissed her, over and over, long, drawn out kisses that left them both gasping for breath and panting.

"Tell me, Molly," he asked, in his richest, most seductive voice, "what do you need?"

"You," she gasped as Sherlock caressed her body with his hands and his mouth, then returned to kiss her lips and whisper to her, "You know what the best part is about being married to you, my beautiful wife?"

"What?" she asked, trembling with the desire they both felt.

"No more cold showers every time I want to make love to you."

Then he was moving his mouth along her skin, divesting her of the rest of her clothing as well as his own. Two became one, in a union of heart, mind, body and soul, and it was beautiful as always, as God intended it to be.

It was afterwards, as they lay in each other's arms, slowly coming down from the rapture of shared intimacy, Sherlock's hand resting lightly on his wife's belly, that he felt it. A tiny flutter, a vibration beneath his fingertips. Not certain if he was really feeling what he thought he was feeling, he asked," Is your stomach rumbling, sweetheart?"

Molly gave a soft gurgle of laughter. "No, my dearest love. I think we woke her."

Sherlock felt a grin spread across his face. This was his best Christmas present, feeling for the first time the movement of the life they had created with their love, and his eyes filled with tears. He felt blessed beyond measure.

They drifted into a sleep of pure contentment.

It was several hours later when Sherlock woke. It was still the early hours of the morning and he had the sudden feeling that he needed to do something.

Then he remembered - the present, the one he had secretly brought for Molly. He had entirely forgotten to give it to her in all the excitement of discovering he was to become the father of a sweet little princess.

Carefully, so as not to wake his sleeping wife, he slipped out of bed and donned his boxers. He considered putting on his trousers, but decided to not bother. He was only going to be a minute. Fortunately the light was still on in the upstairs passage. He ducked downstairs, back to the small sitting room and spied the bag next to the sofa where he had left it earlier. He was just able to make it out in the light of the dying embers from the fire. Sherlock reached into the bag and pulled out the present, then hurried back upstairs.

He reached his room to discover it empty. Where was Molly?

The bedroom lamp had been turned on, and his keen detective eyes scanned the room. He noticed his shirt was missing from the floor and made the obvious deduction. His wife had gone to the loo, as she often did during the night now. Finding this rather fortuitous, he placed the gift on her side of the bed. Then he took his boxers off and slid back under the duvet. He leaned back against the headboard, resting his head against his hands nonchalantly and waited.

Molly returned to the bedroom a couple minutes later. "There you are!" she exclaimed. "When I woke and saw you weren't here, I thought you'd gone to the toilet, but you weren't there. Rather fortunate, seeing as I was busting for the loo myself." She gave him a grin.

Sherlock thought she looked positively adorable in his shirt, although it barely covered her, especially around the middle where her belly was threatening to pop his buttons. "I just had to run downstairs for something."

"What did you..?" She stopped speaking as she got to her side of the bed and saw the package sitting on the duvet. "What's this?"

"Christmas present," he said matter-of-factly.

"But we opened our gifts on Christmas Eve, because we were coming here," she said, furrowing her brow.

He flashed her a quick smile. "I saved one."

"Oh." She bent over and picked up the present.

"Get back into bed and then open it," Sherlock advised, lowering his hands so he could pat the space next to him. "It's too cold to be standing outside of the bed."

She lifted the duvet to get underneath it, but Sherlock stopped her and took the gift from her. "Shirt off," he ordered. "You know the rules about sleeping in bed. No clothes. You know I like to feel your body against mine."

"Yes, sir," she said, saucily unbuttoning it slowly and sliding it off before slipping her bottom half beneath the covers. Of course, the other half was still completely exposed and already tempting him. But first things first.

He dropped the rather amateurly wrapped package back into her lap. He knew he was rubbish at wrapping gifts, but he also knew Molly wouldn't care. "Now you can open it."

Molly unwrapped the gift to discover a small, square box. She opened it to reveal a delicate gold filigree cross necklace.

"Oh, it's beautiful, Sherlock," she breathed as her lips parted and she gave him a look that tempted him further. "I've always wanted a cross necklace, but I just never got around to buying one for myself. Thank you, my love! Will you help me put it on?"

"Of course, darling," he responded, removing the necklace from the box. He swept Molly's hair aside, kissing the back of her neck briefly, before fastening the necklace around it.

Molly fingered the necklace reverently. "You spoil me too much," she said, leaning her head back against him.

Sherlock laid his hand gently on her face, turning it towards him. "I like to spoil you, sweetheart. Wives, especially pregnant ones, are supposed to be spoiled." Then his hand drifted lower to trace one of her sweet curves. "But I shall not object if you wish to thank me properly."

Molly turned into him then and pressed herself against his long length, then threaded her fingers through his curly hair, kissing him deeply. This time she was the one taking the initiative, kissing his cheekbone, his jaw, his throat, making his heart race and desire stir within him once again. She kneaded his shoulders, then moved her hands to grasp his biceps before trailing her hands along his chest and inviting his mouth to kiss her again and again.

Sherlock's hands traced a course along the same path, massaging Molly's shoulders before travelling to her own chest and the delights of her womanly curves.

Suddenly she stiffened in his arms. "Sherlock," she whispered urgently.

"What, my love?" He was a little confused at her sudden stillness.

she chewed on her lower lip. "Ah...did you happen to pick up my bra when you went downstairs?"

"Nope," he said, popping the p as usual, trying to coax her back into the mood with his mouth trailing feather light kisses along her torso, along those scintillating curves.

She gasped a little, then struggled to speak. "Sherlock. My bra, it's still down there! What if your parents, or Mycroft, heaven forbid, find it?"

"Don't care," he responded, continuing his ministrations and eliciting another satisfying little gasp of pleasure from her.

"But, Sherlock-" she tried again.

Sherlock moved his mouth and silenced her with a kiss, prolonging it until she relaxed once more in his arms and succumbed to his tender caresses. As far as he was concerned, if someone found Molly's bra before they could retrieve it, was it really a big deal? They were still newlyweds after all. If people came to the obvious conclusion, what of it? Newlyweds were expected to make love frequently.

This time, when he held her afterwards, Molly asked, bra subject completely forgotten, "Do you think we make love more often than most couples?"

He pondered the question. He had researched it somewhat and found that studies showed frequency to be somewhat, okay, significantly less than theirs. "Almost certainly, but it's not really something we can compare." His arms tightened around her. "After all, I had forty years of celibacy first, so I have a lot of catching up to do, as do you, my darling."

Molly sighed happily and cuddled against him. "I love you so very much, Sherlock Holmes. I'm so glad you married me."

Sherlock's heart swelled with love for his wife and their unborn child. "As I love you. I'm glad you were willing to take me on as a husband. You've given me more than any man could ever dream of. I am blessed beyond measure." He kissed her hair.

With those words spoken, he allowed himself to sleep again, with his wife nestled securely in his arms, where she belonged.

Author's note: I was originally intending to end this Christmas story here. Then I thought it would be fun to explore what happened next, with that mislaid bra, and who found it.

So this story will continue a bit longer.

Update: 10/21/18

I do hope that some people are trying this out for the second time and enjoying it more than the first time, with the revisions and improvements I have made.

In fact, I completely altered the way I had originally written the layout of the house, in order to reflect the true layout of the home used in "His Last Vow". If you look up Trewallter Fawr, Vale of Glamorgan, you can see the listing for the house, with photos, as it was on sale recently for £950,000. There is also a floor plan if you want to be able to envision the house correctly. I figured I might as well use it, to be true to the idea of it being the Holmes house, although of course my house is based in Sussex rather than Wales, the real location of the house. I have been reliably informed that the value of such a house in Sussex would be significantly higher, so the Holmes family would have to be quite wealthy. The six bedrooms will come in handy for my 2018 Christmas story.

Updated 8/21/20 Minor corrections and some revisions made to fix some inconsistencies relating to an as-yet-unpublished Diary chapter which includes a discussion about the Bible at Baker Street that leads to a very interesting dream.