Chapter 3~ Pretty Woman

Molly rubbed her temples. She had drunk too much the night before with Patricia. She knew she shouldn't have done it but she was having such a marvelous time with her old friend. It didn't help that Patricia had encouraged her to do so, as a way of celebrating Molly's new relationship that was splattered all over the news papers. Still, she needed to focus on the reports in front of her.

It was going on one o'clock and truthfully she was surprised Sherlock wasn't there working on his experiments. He must have found a case. Still, he had yet to text her and she was certain he had seen the papers. She wondered how he was feeling about them becoming public. At first Molly had been floored when she saw it, but then, part of her liked it. Sherlock was doing so much better with sentiment, but they had yet to define what was going on between them. Now there was little doubt, they were most definitely a couple.

Molly closed her eyes and allowed her mind to drift back to their shared moments over the past month and a half. At first Sherlock was clearly out of his element. He struggled to put two sentences together when talking about his feelings for her until she all but yelled at him to just spit it out. It was the day after the phone call. Mycroft had just left her flat, having shown her the security footage from Sherrinford. She had been horrified at first, but then she realized the implication of Sherlock's second "I love you" as well as the destruction of the coffin…her coffin.

Ten minutes after Mycroft departed Sherlock let himself into her flat with the key she had made for him years earlier. Sherlock had expected her to be angry, and he started off apologizing for hurting her. He was most surprised when she wrapped her arms around his waist and began to cry. He held her while she sobbed into his chest.

"I know about Euros," Molly finally told him. "Mycroft showed me everything."

"The security footage," Sherlock realized.

"Yes," Molly said.

"I wish he hadn't. You didn't need to experience even more pain because of me." Sherlock said softly. "I know I hurt you."

"For a genius, sometimes you are an idiot," Molly said.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"You didn't hurt me. You were trying to save my life! And the coffin…I saw what you did to the coffin. I saw you, Sherlock, I saw what you were going through, what you were feeling."

"How can you know what I was feeling?" Sherlock asked.

"Because I have felt it too!" Molly yelled. "Every time you put your life in danger. When you faked your own death. When Culverton Smith almost murdered you. When you let John nearly beat you to death because you were trying to save him. I know what it feels like to think the person you love is about to die and there is nothing you can do about it! I love you, Sherlock Holmes. You are mean, self absorbed, and even cruel, and I must be nuts, because god what does that say about me, but there it is. I love you. I have loved you for years. I loved you while you were gone. I loved you while I was engaged to Tom. I left Tom because I loved you, not him. So now you know. The question now is, what are you going to do? Are you going to walk out on me? Are you going to tease me like you have in the past? Are you going to use my feelings to your advantage, again? What are you going to do? Do you feel anything for me at all or am I just imagining that what I saw on that video was you, you worried for me and my safety? What do you feel?" Molly watched a myriad of emotions play out across Sherlock's face. Shame for using her, guilt for being mean, and shock that she was actually yelling at him. But then his face settled, and what she saw was tenderness.

"Molly," Sherlock whispered, so softly she thought she might have imagined it. Then he took two quick strides to close the gap between them and wrapped her tight in his arms.

After that night Molly never questioned Sherlock's feelings for her.

She looked at her phone when it buzzed, letting her know she had a text message.

Molly, please come straight to Baker Street at 5:00~SH

Molly smiled and sent a quick text back to let him know she would. Then she forced her mind to get back to work.

John was down to his last two patients before he would finally be done for the day. He was in the middle of examining a four-year-olds ear infection when his mobile buzzed.

John, come straight home at 5:00~SH

John hoped Sherlock wasn't still thinking that he and Rosie would be going to Scotland. It just wasn't practical.

Sherlock looked at the photos of the deceased women. There was no particular type to them that he could see. One was blond, two were brunettes, and one was a red head. The only physical trait they had in common was their frame. All were petite women, very thin, but then it was natural for most brides to go on strict diets prior to the wedding to fit into their dream gowns.

The next thing he had done was research the backgrounds of the women. One bride was an elementary school teacher, the other an architect. The local woman was an employee at the local bed and breakfast not far from Roane Hall, and then of course there was Lady Thurgood's personal secretary. It was possible the secretary and the B&B worker knew each other, it was a small village, people crossed paths, but these women would have had no connection Sherlock could see to the two brides other than location, all were in Sutherland when they were murdered.

Then came the details of the murders themselves. All four women had been strangled. The killer had worn gloves so there were no fingerprints on any of the victims. All four women had been found laying face down out on the moors. The fact that the killer had strangled the women with his bare hands suggested the killer took pleasure from the killing, possibly sexual gratification, yet no evidence of personal DNA had been left behind for authorities to find. It was also doubtful the killer had murdered the women on the moor. More likely, he had killed them somewhere else and dumped their bodies at a secondary location.

A tug at his pant leg drew Sherlock's attention away from the computer screen. Looking up at him was Rosie, giving him a big smile.

"Am I ignoring you? That won't do," Sherlock said. He reached down and picked her up, making her squeal. "How about a song?" He set Rosie down in his chair and picked up his violin. He quickly played Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star followed by Hickory Dickory Dock. Rosie clapped and bounced up and down.

Sherlock pulled his bow across his violin once more, playing a slow but happy tune. He was feeling quite proud of himself. He had had a most busy day but he had managed to get it all accomplished. He had made all the travel arrangements, finished all the shopping he needed, emailed payment arrangements with Dickey, and done the necessary research he needed to have a starting point in the case. Plus, he had picked Rosie up from her day care center an hour ago and fed her a bottle.

"Daddy will be home any second," Sherlock told Rosie. He put his violin down and picked her up. He held her close and breathed in her sweet baby smell. He understood that baby's smelled the way the did for a purely biological reason, to make sure the parents loved the baby and thus ensuring the survival of the offspring, but there was no denying that he loved the smell, even if Rosie wasn't his. The stomping of tired feet up the stairs told him John was home.

"Well, here I am," John announced as he entered the room and stopped. "Sherlock, what in the hell is all of this?" John asked.

"It's our things for travel," Sherlock explained.

"I already told you Rosie and I aren't going. Not to mention where did all of this come from?"

"I went shopping," Sherlock explained. "It was necessary for the case. Now we will be leaving at…"

"Hello," came Molly's soft voice from behind John.

"Hello, Molly," John said. "Perhaps you can help me explain some sense into Sherlock."

Molly looked about the flat. Trunks and suitcases were everywhere.

"Are you all going somewhere?" Molly asked, suddenly looking a bit sad.

"No."

"Yes"

"I…I don't understand," Molly was clearly confused and could sense the rising tension in the room.

"I have taken care of everything," Sherlock announced proudly. "We will all be catching the 8:00 train out of London to Scotland.

"All?" Molly said.

"All," Sherlock confirmed.

"Sherlock, I have to work tomorrow, I can't just run off to Scotland," Molly replied with a laugh.

"Actually, you don't have work tomorrow. Mycroft has already contacted St. Bart's and made arrangements for you to have the next week off," Sherlock announced happily.

"You what!" Molly gasped.

"I…I had Mycroft..."

"I heard you the first time," Molly shouted. "But Sherlock, you can't just go and do that. This is my career! Do you have any idea how hard I had to work to build my reputation, to prove my worth to my superiors, my very male superiors!"

"I…I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't think. I can call Mycroft at once and have him undo my mistake."

"Hold on," John interrupted. "How did you talk Mycroft into doing this in the first place? Unless it is a matter of national security Mycroft has never helped you for a case."

Sherlock got a wicked grin on his face. "Mycroft is putty in my hands at the moment, my dear Watson. After I reminded him that he was the reason Moriarty tried to murder me and everyone I loved, as well as the fact he hid my sister from me for pretty much my entire life, which also nearly resulted in mine and your deaths,"

"You guilted Mycroft," John said with a laugh. "I wouldn't have believed such a thing were possible. I wouldn't have thought Mycroft capable of even feeling guilt."

"Perhaps my brain wasn't the only one Euros managed to scramble that day," Sherlock replied. He turned back to Molly. "I am truly sorry. I will remedy this at once." His pulled his mobile from his pocket.

"No," Molly said, placing her hand on his. "It's okay, but just this time. You must promise not to do this in the future. At least give me a warning before you take it upon yourself to contact my employers. Promise?"

"I promise," Sherlock said. He leaned down and gave Molly a quick peck on the cheek.

"Goodness," Molly exclaimed. "If we are taking the 8:00 train then I need to run home and pack!"

"Don't bother," Sherlock said. "I took the liberty of packing for you."

"You did?" Molly asked, scrunching up her forehead. "You went to my flat and grabbed my things?"

"No," Sherlock replied. "I went shopping. This is all for you." He pointed to the large pile of department store boxes and bags. Molly gave Sherlock an inquisitive look and stepped over to the boxes and began to open them. Inside Molly found trousers, blouses, and dresses from Dior, Burberry, Channel, and stores she had ever only dreamed of shopping from. She blushed when she saw Sherlock had even gone so far as to buy her knickers and nightgowns. After a moments excitement though a frown came to her face.

"Sherlock, you don't like the way I dress?" Molly was clearly feeling self-conscious.

"Don't be silly. I have no qualms about the clothes you wear. But we will be staying with a rather old aristocratic family at their Scottish castle. You will need to look the part! Oh, here, and I almost forgot this." Sherlock pulled out a ring case from his jacket pocket and opened it up. Inside was the most beautiful ring Molly had ever laid eyes on. It was at least a 1-carat princess cut diamond circled by smaller diamonds all around it set into a gold band.

"Sherlock, are, are you proposing?" Molly asked, looking slightly faint.

"I suppose I am. I mean, an engagement is part of the natural process of a relationship. Don't worry though, I insist on at least a two-year engagement. After all, you were engaged to Tom for almost a year and still left the poor man alone and heartbroken. I figure you will need at least twice as long with me to determine if you really want to put up with me for the rest of your life. I know I am not easy to live with." Sherlock plainly ignored the laugh turned cough that erupted from John.

"I…I…" Molly was clearly speechless and looking even more faint.

"Sherlock, I think she needs to sit down, and perhaps you need to slow down," John warned. Sherlock nodded in agreement and quickly guided Molly to her new chair, which she had yet to see or comment on. Her breaths were coming rather rapidly.

Sherlock held Molly's hand in his and lightly placed his thumb on her pulse in her wrist. "Molly, darling, I need you to breath, and then, to tell me what you are thinking. I'm not very good at this. I can't read your mind but the fact that your pulse is racing, your face is flushed, and your breathing a bit ragged has me thinking that I was too hasty with my proposal."

Molly took a deep steadying breath and closed her eyes for a moment. Her breathing finally slowed and she was clearly pulling herself back together. "Honestly, Sherlock, I don't know if I should kiss you or punch you," Molly finally replied.

"Do I have any say in the matter?" Sherlock asked as he got down on one knee so he could look into Molly's eyes.

"I think you have said quite enough for one day," Molly replied. Suddenly Molly noticed the new chair she was sitting in. She ran her hands over the arms, noticing the color and the large rose print. It didn't match the décor of the flat at all.

"Do you like it?" Sherlock asked, giving her a genuine smile.

Molly examined the chair closer, looking behind her and seeing the soft blanket. She cocked her head to the side. "Did you do this for me?" she asked.

"Of course, you will need somewhere to sit, to read your trashy romance novels while you relax."

Molly released a deep sigh that ended with a smile. "What am I going to do with you?" she asked, and then wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.

John felt a little ashamed for watching the exchange between Sherlock and Molly, yet he couldn't bring himself to leave the room. At the moment he felt as proud of Sherlock as he had of Rosie when she started crawling. He was watching Sherlock take a monumental leap towards growing up. The notion made him smile.

"Sherlock, I accept your proposal, and I will go with you to Scotland, but I can't accept all these things. It's too much. You spent too much. You don't have to buy me expensive gifts."

"Gifts! These aren't gifts. I told you, they are for the case. As much as I love your colorful jumpers and your fuzzy pink slippers, if we are going to pretend to be a newly engaged snobby rich couple we have to look the part. Besides, I was always told that women like to play dress-up in expensive clothing. The sales clerk assured me these were perfect as she assembled all the outfits. Apparently it has something to do with some woman named Julia Roberts.

"Pretty Woman," John supplied.

"I guess the sales clerk could be described as a pretty woman," Sherlock asked. "I really wasn't paying much attention to her."

"Pretty Woman, it's the movie you are, oh never mind," John exclaimed.

Molly took another look at the pile of expensive clothes and blushed. "How do you know my size?"

"I lived with you for a month, remember. Plus I have had access to your closet recently."

"Yes, but,"

"Don't worry, I made allowances for the seven pounds you have lost in the last few months. I know I put you under a lot of stress during that time but you really must remember to eat and take care of yourself," Sherlock admonished. "Now, go and change. We have a train to catch." Molly smiled, gave Sherlock a quick kiss on the cheek, then grabbed several of the boxes and bags and dashed off to Sherlock's room to change.

Sherlock stood up and was looking rather pleased with himself.

"Sherlock," John asked once Molly was out of earshot, "please tell me you didn't spend the rent money buying all of this?"

"Please John, I would never be so stupid as to spend the rent money and leave poor Rosie homeless."

"Well, then, where did you get the money to buy all of this. Mate, this is several thousand pounds worth of merchandise, and that's not including the ring. I can't even begin to calculate how much you spent on the ring."

"Technically I didn't spend a cent on any of this," Sherlock replied.

"What do you mean? You stole it?"

"Please John, I am many things but I have never been a thief. Mycroft bought all of this."

"Uh, yeah, does Mycroft know he bought all of this?" John asked.

"He will at the end of the month when the bill comes in. I nicked his credit card the last time we were together."

John started laughing; an honest to god belly laugh and so did Sherlock. Soon they were both holding their sides.

"I hope you and Molly enjoy the case, and your time together."

"Well, since you are coming too you will be able to keep an eye on me and make sure I behave accordingly."

"Sherlock, I have to go to work tomorrow."

"Actually, no you don't," Sherlock said with a grin.

"You didn't," John said.

"I did," Sherlock chuckled. "And I even made arrangements for Rosie. Ms. Pole will watch her during the day. She is Dickey's nanny. His daughter Cecilia is six, but his son Thomas is only three.

John shook his head and groaned. "You cock."

"I know."