Normally, this kind of setting would be an uncomfortable one for Sherlock. It would be unusual for anyone else to see him this way. But with Molly, it was as easy as solving a boring case without leaving his flat. They weren't at his place, however, but at hers. She had come home early, and quickly began dinner, eager to eat a home-cooked meal. Sherlock had asked if he could use her flat as a bolthole once more, but not for his usual reasons; he just wanted to spend more time with her.

They weren't together—not yet, anyways. It became routine for him to spend weekends with her. On this night, he had stepped out of the bathroom, freshly showered, and in his pajamas. His bare feet almost silently padded across the floor toward the kitchen. Sherlock quickly learned that he could no longer sneak up on Molly anymore, as she always seemed to feel his presence lately.

"Dinner'll be ready in a bit, darling." Her words flowed easily, the term of endearment slipping before she could stop herself. She quickly pressed a hand to her mouth, realizing what she had just said, making awkward eye contact with Sherlock—well, awkward for her. He began to smile, then he laughed. It was a real laugh from deep within. It made her so happy to see and hear him like this, she couldn't help but laugh with him out of joy.

"Terms of endearment before the actual relationship begins?" he asked when he finally caught his breath. It had been weeks since their discussion in the lab, but it was understood how they felt about one another.

"Shut up, it just slipped," she giggled, throwing a hand towel at him.

"Alright, I'll let it go…darling," he added with a wink, stepping closer. "Sweetheart." Another step. He was in front of her, his eyes holding her gaze. "My love." His head bent close to hers, just a breath away from touching. "Molly." This was whispered before his lips pressed against hers with just enough pressure to send her heart into overdrive. It was firm, but oh so tender. And sweet. God, it was a slice of heaven. The familiar scent of him washed over her, the feel of his curls between her fingers was joy in itself. Their kiss deepened, Sherlock being eager to really taste her. Someone moaned, but Molly wasn't sure who. It could have been both of them.

His lips traveled down her jaw, back up to each cheek, and finally, her forehead. The feeling of his arms wrapped tightly around her made her want to hold on tighter, herself. The only sound was their breathing and the faint thrum of two hearts beating for each other.

"Sherlock—"

"I love you."

There it was. Those three words that caused them so much trouble months ago, but sounded like coming home. He made it clear that he was ready; for them, for a new beginning.

"I love you too."

"I will win this, Hooper," he told her, his competitive streak coming out.

"You better look out, then," she warned him.

"No fair!" Sherlock complained.

"It's Mario Kart, Sherlock," Molly laughed. "Banana peels are allowed." His pouty face kept her laughing longer. "You can't be great at everything!"

"I admit defeat," he sighed.

This was how their weekends were spent—just relaxing, playing games or watching murder documentaries where they competed to see who could solve the case first. Most of the time, they'd solve it together. After three weeks of this, John had become suspicious that Sherlock now took the weekends off from cases. No one was aware that he and Molly were now in a relationship, but neither of them cared to make it public. This was something that was just theirs. And that's how they planned to keep it for a while.

"Mycroft?"

"Doctor Watson," he nodded in acknowledgment. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Either Sherlock's gone off the deep end again or he's in a secret relationship," John blurted out.

"Really? As much as I loathe romantic entanglements, I do prefer it be the latter," Mycroft replied. "Let's see what we can find out, shall we?"

Author's Note: John and Mycroft are on the case! Lol!