This is a continuation of the last drabble I posted, Murphy's Law. Penaltywaltz on Tumblr was having a bad day, so I added a little bit on to that story to cheer her up. I might write another story in this series eventually, so let me know if you'd be interested in reading it. Right now, I'm focusing all my energy on writing my Sherlolly Big Bang fic, though, so it might be a while before it's posted. Enjoy!
Sherlock and Molly decided to return to 221B after Molly finally convinced Sherlock to stop beating himself up for forgetting the ring. (It only took a rather long, passionate kiss on her end, which Molly was only too happy to bestow.)
Instead of hailing a cab, they elected to stroll through the quiet streets of London, hand in hand. Sherlock had not officially asked her anything, but Molly was practically humming with excitement, knowing what was to come when they arrived back home.
She chattered happily as they walked, shifting from topic to topic so quickly that only a man as astute as Sherlock Holmes would have been able to follow her train of thought.
She felt him chuckle as she told him about a particularly gruesome autopsy she had performed that day. He kissed her temple before whispering in her ear (and he knew how much she loved when he did that, damn him!), "Only you would be this excited about investigating a suspected poisoning, Molly. And, well, me," he amended hastily, after she pulled away and playfully glared at him.
She wrapped her arms around him again, perfectly content to stay in his embrace forever, and continued on with her story as though he hadn't just interrupted.
They arrived back at the flat nearly an hour later. By this time, Sherlock was nearly dragging Molly along, the long day finally taking its toll on the pathologist.
"We're here," he said softly, trying not to startle her. She blinked at him drowsily, wiping her eyes to try to dispel some of her fatigue.
"Would you like to continue our discussion from before, or wait until tomorrow when you're more alert?" At his raised eyebrow (the smug bastard!), she was almost tempted to make him fret a bit longer, but anticipation was thrumming through her veins again, his quiet reminder waking her more effectively than yelling would have.
"Well get on with it, then." She tried to infuse her voice with as much irritation as possible, but was fairly sure her excitement shone through instead.
She bounced impatiently on the balls of her feet as Sherlock went to fetch the ring, wondering how he planned to ask. Would it be a simple "Will you marry me?" Or would he try to be more romantic for her, waxing poetic about their supposed complementarity?
Hearing Sherlock's footsteps in the next room, Molly entwined her fingers behind her back, shifting nervously back and forth. He stopped in front of her, a small, black box resting innocuously in the palm of his left hand.
He trailed his free hand down her arm, leaving a trail of goose pimples in its wake. She shivered as he untangled her hands, grasped her left between his fingers, and knelt in front of her.
He opened the box, revealing a stunning, white-gold band with a princess-cut diamond in the center. Surrounding the jewel on either side was a small sapphire. Molly was utterly captivated, feeling herself tear up. He had remembered her favorite gemstone.
Gently, Sherlock stroked the back of her hand, gazing deeply into her eyes as he mentally rehearsed the speech he had so carefully prepared for this very moment. Taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth-
"Yes!" Molly hollered eagerly, before he could say anything, beaming brightly at him. Some of his exasperation must have shown on his face, because Molly covered her mouth apologetically. "Sorry," she muttered, embarrassment and remorse coloring her tone.
He sighed good-naturedly, wanting to assure her that he was not angry that his plans had once more been foiled, this time by an over-excited forensic pathologist.
(And, really, he couldn't be mad at her when she smiled at him like that. He did have a heart, after all, and she happened to be standing in front of him.)
Squeezing her fingers to once more illustrate his forgiveness, he said dryly, "Now, can I put the ring on, or are we going to discover the jeweller got the size wrong?"
The ring, as it turned out, fit perfectly. Molly thought she heard him mutter something that sounded suspiciously like "Thank God," but then she was throwing her arms around his neck and snogging him soundly, and he was too preoccupied with his beautiful fiance to worry about silly things like horrible days and ruined plans.
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