"A lady's imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony in a moment."
Xxx
They laid in bed, Molly draped across his body, Sherlock's hands playing with the loose strands of her hair. He placed a soft kiss to her head, and couldn't help but smile.
"That was…"
Molly leaned up, trying to meet his eyes. "Satisfactory? Pleasant?"
"Extraordinary." He responded, a glint in his eyes.
She giggled and laid back on his chest, her fingers drawing shapes on the exposed skin. She began to place soft kisses all over, careful to press especially loving ones to any of his scars and new scratches. He sighed happily and pulled her closer, his body buzzing with release and satisfaction.
Although he had about a million things he wanted to say and ask, instead, all he managed out was a soft, "I love you."
Molly grinned and kissed him softly. "I love you, too."
And with that, they both fell asleep, Toby entangled with their feet, making his own satisfied noises.
Xxx
A week had passed since their coupling, and they had yet to inform anyone about their relationship developments. They hadn't exactly settled on labels, given as they were the least traditional people when it came to relationships. So, they weren't too keen to start answering questions such as, "Are you sure Sherlock Holmes has a girlfriend?"
At any rate, since Molly's relationship with George had ended not even two months ago, she felt uncomfortable making the announcements immediately. Throwing in her mother's condition, she just felt that happy news would be inappropriate.
So, they were for all intents and purposes… sneaking around. And on that overcast Sunday night, Molly just arriving back in the city from a weekend with her family, she stopped off at Baker Street. Sherlock had been reading and snuggling with Toby (he was now keen to cat-sit whenever she went up north) when Molly came into his flat, her face full of longing.
At her face, he sat up, suddenly concerned. "Molly? What's wrong? Is it your mother?"
She laughed and tossed her bag, quick to run into his arms. Before he could shoot out another question, she was in his lap, pressing hot kisses to his face.
"No. She's wonderful. Her tumors have shrunk almost sixty percent," She stopped to suck on a patch of skin below his ear, causing him to moan, "I just desperately missed you."
He smirked and kissed her, settling his hands on pulling her out of jacket, and the ridiculous sweater dress she was wearing. She pulled away from his lips to begin to unbutton his shirt, her eyes locked on his, and her smile amused.
"What?" He asked, his hands running along her deliciously soft hips, playing with the material of her knickers.
"I just never got to properly thank you for helping my mother," Her voice was pure business, although her hands hinted otherwise. She drew his lips in for another kiss, before her hand snuck into his trousers, and began a generous palming of his excited cock.
He grunted into her mouth and pulled away. "Molly, you don't have to thank—"
He stopped the minute he was freed from his trousers, and her hand was fully wrapped around the engorged length. She smirked and began to move her hands, her eyes locked on his blue orbs.
"Oh? Should I stop then?" She asked teasingly, nibbling on her bottom lip.
He groaned and shook his head, quickly pressing another hungry kiss to her lips.
Her hands began to move faster, their kiss growing more intense and rather sloppy as he got closer to his breaking point. He attempted to rid her of her bra as her hand continued to move, but the garment was proving to be too much for the genius. He abandoned his pursuit, and instead pushed the cups down to free her chest.
He kissed down her chest and captured a soft, pink nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the bud, his cock bouncing happily at the actions of his mouth.
"Oh Sherlock—" She gasped out, her head thrown back, her hands not slowing down.
"Oh… SHERLOCK!" a male voice yelped out in surprise, followed by the giggle of a delighted baby.
Sherlock groaned and raised his head, his eyes landing on an equally surprised and disgusted John Watson, who covered the eyes of a very happy Rosie, who was strapped to his chest.
Molly screamed and grabbed the blanket from the sofa, quickly wrapping herself up and retreating out of the room. Sherlock growled at John and painfully shoved himself back in his trousers, immediately redirecting a glare at his mate.
"Why didn't you bloody leave?" He screamed at John, equally as angry that his friend had seen Molly's bare chest.
John sputtered for a few moments, before his brain started to work again. "You. Molly. How? When?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "A week ago. The day of Lestrade's wedding."
"And you didn't tell me?!" John looked almost as upset as he looked surprised.
Sherlock groaned. "We're still coming to terms with what to call this."
"It looked like messing around on the sofa to me."
Sherlock grinned at that, before his face contorted into an angry scowl. "Yes. It was. Until you bloody walked in and didn't leave!"
John rubbed his eyes, trying to banish the memory. "I fucking froze! I didn't even know your cock knew how to bloody work!"
Sherlock scoffed. "Oh, it works very well. Thanks for asking."
That caused John to gag. He put his hands on his hips and continued to stare at Sherlock.
Sherlock made a face. "What?"
"Well? You aren't going to share how you went from lovestruck and the friend zone to snogging Molly in your sitting room?"
"We were doing more than snogging."
"SHERLOCK!"
"Alright. If you insist. I visited her after the wedding. I played her the song I wrote. Then I told her how I felt again. She cried. And then we made love."
John just blinked. "So… She loves you too?"
He couldn't help but grin. "Indeed, she does."
"Took you long enough!" John hit him upside the head and glared. "You kept rambling on about some bloody plan and nothing was fucking happening!"
Sherlock made a face. "On the contrary, John. My plan worked perfectly."
He blinked. "Excuse me? How?"
"I had forty steps for how I would win her love."
John fell into his chair, giving Rosie a toy to occupy her. He snorted. "Great. I've got to hear this."
Sherlock scowled. "If you insist. I won't go through each step but it was quite simple. Step 10: Reaffirm friendship. Step 16: Make sure George knows I am threat. Step 28: Take her on romantic holiday that she doesn't know is a romantic holiday. Step 33: She dumps George. Step 40: We make love."
He yawned and ran a hand through his curls. "Quite simple, really."
John sat up and glared. "Oh, no! You do NOT get to claim that you predicted her mother's cancer diagnosis!"
Sherlock waved his hand. "Of course. What a terrible thing, really. Yes. I admit. That was not a part of my plan. However, Step 37 was to provide some sort of grand gesture to prove my love. Admittedly, my idea was more along the lines of buying her another cat or something like that. But given what happened with her mum, it just… Worked."
John mumbled to himself and rubbed at his eyes, unbelieving of Sherlock's words.
"So, let me get this straight. You're going to claim that from the point she rejected you, and you decided to win her love, the plan you created encompassed everything that happened?"
"Yes."
John growled. "Bullshit! What about Greg's—"
"His wedding? Child's play. I saw six business cards of various jewelers around London and his inquiring into Sally's ring on multiple trips to his office. I also could tell that his girlfriend was pregnant and that the wedding would be rushed. Ergo, I was able to pinpoint a three-week range that the wedding would fall into."
Sherlock yawned and grabbed a discarded cup of tea and took a sip. He hummed, full of positive energy.
"Admittedly, I hadn't expected to miss the entire ceremony. And I did plan on winning Molly's affections during the after party. When that didn't happen, my trip to her flat was Plan B for Step 39."
John just groaned again and kept his eyes focused on the ceiling. "I bloody hate you. You know that?"
Sherlock just grinned. "No, you don't. You're my best friend."
John mumbled to himself. "Debatable."
"No. It isn't. And for that reason, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I was so difficult to deal with these past few months. I was experiencing two feelings I never had before—love and heart break. So, I regret that on occasion, I used you as a punching bag."
John sighed and forced a small smile. "It's alright, Sherlock. You just better not hurt Molly. Because if you do, I will gut you."
Sherlock smirked. "Noted."
He rose to his feet and motioned towards the door. "Now, please see yourself out. Molly and I have quite a lot to catch up on."
With that, John gagged and walked out, leaving Rosie to spit out gurgled words and wave excitedly at Sherlock.
He grinned and waved at the child, before walking down the hallway towards his bedroom, happy to rejoin Molly.
A child. That's an interesting thought.
Xxx
A few weeks later, Molly was carrying the last of her boxes into 221b, Toby scampering through her legs every time the door opened. It had been a busy weekend clearing her flat, and she could now officially call Baker Street her home.
While Sherlock had been a delightful boyfriend and helped move some boxes, he did leave the remainder for John, who proceeded to complain the entire time, with such ringers as "She's not my girlfriend" and "I don't even live here".
Sherlock, in the meantime, entertained himself with the cat and Rosie, flipping through a delightful children's book about how everyone used the toilet. He was listening in on John and Molly discussing where a table went in the bedroom when his mobile went off.
He answered it with a droll, "Hello?"
A haughty voice filled is ears. "Ahh, Sherlock, how is my dearest baby brother?"
"Delightful," Sherlock responded, his eyes still glued to the children's book.
"Mhm. It has come to my attention that Dr. Hooper's flat is now available to let."
Sherlock yawned. "Yes. That is the case."
"It has also come to my attention that Dr. Watson has been helping Dr. Hooper move boxes into your flat all day."
"That is also accurate."
Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, must you make things so difficult?"
"I'm sorry, brother. If you had a question, perhaps you would just ask it?"
"Indeed. Are you and Miss Hooper now in a relationship?" He asked.
Sherlock snorted. "It's Dr. Hooper, to you."
Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh. "Sherlock."
"Yes. Molly and I are in a relationship."
Mycroft couldn't help but smile from the other end of the line. "I would lecture you for not informing me, but I suppose I have no right."
"No, you don't."
Mycroft sighed again. "I'm proud of you Sherlock."
"Splendid. I always need your approval."
He groaned. "Sherlock. What I'm trying to say is… I'm happy for you."
Sherlock swallowed, suddenly feeling his chest get heavy. He looked over at Rosie, who was busy chewing on a toy. He couldn't help but smile.
"Thank you, Mycroft. For everything."
A silence greeted Sherlock on the other end of the line, telling him that the conversation was over. He ended the call, just as John and Molly reentered the sitting room.
"Well, I'll be off. I'm taking Jane to this new restaurant. It's called Netherfield Park. Down in SoHo. Are you sure you're fine watching Rosie?"
Molly grinned and nodded. "Of course, she's in good hands. Have fun, John!"
Sherlock watched with an unreadable face as Molly hugged John and bid him a farewell. When she turned and spotted Sherlock, she raised an eyebrow. "What? Don't tell me you're jealous that I hugged John."
He blinked. "Of course not. But did you hear what he said?"
"Yes. He has a date with Jane."
Sherlock rolled his eyes, before adding, "At a restaurant called Netherfield Park."
Molly made a face. "I don't understand—"
As if the wheels started turning, she gazed at Sherlock with her mouth agape. He just laughed.
"Come along, my dearest Molly. We have activities to catch up on."
"Sherlock! Not with Rosie around!"
She giggled and allowed Sherlock to lift her up, Rosie within her arms. The two embarked on a passionate kiss as he strolled to the bedroom, Toby scampering not far behind. They fell into a pile on the bed, Rosie climbing on his chest, letting out words of gibberish. Molly grabbed his hand, her smile as big as it had ever been.
How is it possible to be this happy?
