Molly awoke to bright sunshine prickling her eyes. She looked over at the clock on Sherlock's bedside table. It was past nine! He was nowhere in sight either. A moment of panic gripped her until the alluring aroma of fresh brewed coffee filled her nostrils. She sat up and glanced around. She had no idea where any of her clothing had ended up. Then she saw one of Sherlock's dressing gowns laid across the end of the bed. She smiled, hopped out of bed and slipped into the oversized garment. She had to roll up the sleeves and drape it at her waist so it wouldn't drag on the floor.
Her face heated as soon as she stepped into the living room and saw Mrs. Hudson cuddling Bethie Watson while John and Sherlock looked on. Before she could turn on her heel and flee back to the bedroom, all three sets of eyes found her.
"Oh, Christ," John's mouth hung open. "I don't think I will ever be able to get used to this."
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Be grateful you weren't within earshot of them last night."
Molly's skin full-on ignited then. She knew she must be as red as a tulip. Her gaze flitted to Sherlock's. His eyes darkened as they assessed her in his dressing gown. He had that oh-so-sexy, possessive look on his face that made her blood boil. She felt a tingle travel from her toes all the way up to her scalp.
"Care to join us?" He asked.
"Um, sure, if I'm not interrupting anything . . ."
John cleared his throat. "Erm, yeah, actually, I should apologize for interrupting your morning. I just couldn't get Bethie back to sleep. Mrs. Hudson seems to have the magic touch."
Molly shook her head. "God, don't apologize. It's lovely to see you."
She gave him a quick hug when he stood up. Then she leaned over the sleeping baby. She was so very precious. Tears stung Molly's eyes.
"Do you want to hold her?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
Molly looked to John. "May I?"
He nodded quickly. "Of course."
Molly stood for a minute cradling John's tiny bundle in her arms. Bethie gurgled and cooed like a little dove. She felt her throat constrict. Here they all were, a sort of thrown together family missing one of their most important members.
Molly's voice cracked when she spoke. "She's so beautiful, John."
John looked down. His eyes had a sheen to them.
"Thank-you, Molly."
After a few more moments, she handed the little girl back to Mrs. Hudson who had already outstretched her arms and beckoned for her return. Molly looked around. Seating was sparse. Then she heard a pair of taps as Sherlock patted his chair.
"Here," he said.
"Sherlock!" She hissed under her breath.
"Well, you're not sitting on John's lap!" He bit out.
John's head shot up and waggled back and forth. "Oh, what? God, no, go on then."
Molly felt as if she'd been dipped into a mud bath of mortification. Sherlock was lucky he was so damn handsome! He awaited her with raised brows. She rolled her eyes and let him pull her down to his lap. She was secretly thrilled to sit with him, of course. One of his hands rested on her knee while the other played with the hair at the nape of her neck.
John shook his head at the sight. "Ahem, so Sherlock was filling us in on this whole Sherrinford saga. Very well done, Molly."
She cast her eyes down shyly. "It was nothing."
His eyes widened. "It was bloody brilliant. You'll put Sherlock out of a job."
She pressed her lips together as she suppressed a smile. Then she wrinkled her nose as she thought about everything that had transpired.
"Actually, you know, he can have it."
"How magnanimous of you," Sherlock murmured.
She gave him a little elbow to the ribs. Mrs. Hudson handed Bethie back to John. John placed the sleeping child in a car seat next to the sofa.
"I think I'll get another cuppa," Mrs. Hudson said cheerfully.
"Anyways," John pressed as she skittered off. "Sherlock described everything in his usual manner which means I didn't catch half of it. I understand why Sherrinford didn't shoot him, but why do you think you were spared?"
Molly chewed her lip. Sherlock's fingers twirled her hair at the back of her head.
"She told a fib," he said simply.
Molly swallowed. All she could think was, "Uh-oh."
Mrs. Hudson called from the kitchen. "Yoo, hoo, anyone care for a refill? Molly, would you like a cup?"
"Erm, no thank-you, Mrs. Hudson."
John's brows flinched as they came together. "Molly Hooper refusing a cup of coffee? What has the world come to?"
Sherlock's fingers stilled on her nape. His body went rigid beneath hers. She felt his fingers grip her knee. When she turned her head to look at him, he was staring wide eyed at the opposite wall with his lips slightly parted.
"Bloody hell, I hate it when he does that," John complained. "What did I say wrong?"
Molly waved her hand in front of his face. His eyes contracted but he continued to look as if he were gazing at some far off island. After a minute or so, he shook his head and came out of his trance. He was thoroughly flabbergasted. His eyes searched her face.
"Y-you . . ." his words faltered.
He blinked rapidly for several seconds. "Y-y-you were serious."
She slowly bobbed her head once.
"Come on now, someone want to fill us in? I mean, I was kidding. What's really so astonishing about Molly refusing coffee? Unless . . . oh dear Lord . . ."
John sat back with both hands on the top of his head. Then his head fell back in laughter.
John clutched his abdomen and called to Mrs. Hudson. "How do you feel about a couple extra tenants, Mrs. H?"
She returned with a cup of coffee and set it down next to her on the side table.
Her brows lifted. "I'm not bothered. I assumed Molly would live here eventually and I suppose that means her cat as well. Why? Who else are you talking about? Really, Sherlock, I'm not running a hostel!"
"How about a daycare?" John snickered.
"Oh, Be quiet, John!" Sherlock snapped.
Mrs. Hudson eyes went round as billiards. She gaped.
"My goodness, are you pregnant, Molly?"
Molly's face burned so fiercely, it almost felt cold. "Yes . . . but it's early yet, Mrs. Hudson."
The older woman's hands flew to her face. Her eyes instantly filled with tears. "I'm going to be a Nana!"
Sherlock grumbled something unintelligible. His fingers tapped on the arm of his chair. Then, without warning, he hauled Molly to her feet along with himself.
"Visit's over everyone. John, I'm glad we reconciled. Mrs. Hudson, thanks for the coffee but . . . you both need to get out."
A laughing John picked up his little girl in her car seat whilst Mrs. Hudson kissed Molly on both cheeks.
"You let me know if you need any assistance at all, dear," She reached up and patted Sherlock on his cheek. "And you let me know if there's anything she needs. Ooh, I'm so excited! A wee Holmes. I can hardly stand it."
After they left, the flat was silent as a bank on Sunday. Molly found herself facing an almost unreadable Sherlock Holmes. It was one thing for him to plot and scheme and theorize about things as if he were an actor in a Shakespearean play, it was quite another face life's actualities. She was petrified of what was really going through his mind. Did he want this or would the reality of the situation prove disagreeable?
"Stop it," he mumbled.
She fanned her flushed skin. She was going to cry. In two steps, he stalked up to her and cupped her face in his hands. She steadied her hands on his stomach.
"Stop doubting this, Molly, doubting us. I am sorry that I am not normal, that I rarely . . . no, never say the right thing. I have said this before, but it will be a fact until my dying day. I am a ridiculous man. If I have ever given you the false impression that you were not good enough, believe me, this was never my intention. You are, and always have been, much too good for me despite your atrocious fashion sense. Yes, I have endeavored to keep you at arm's length but only out of the sincere belief that you were better off without me."
She swallowed. It was beyond glorious to hear such praise from him. She felt as if her heart was too large for her chest.
"But w-why did you say what you did? You said you did not want to commit to me . . ."
His cheek twitched. "You misunderstood."
She worried her lip. "But . . ."
"I cannot excuse my behavior. I was wrong to meddle with your contraception but in my mind, it was the most logical course of action. I had waged a battle against my desires for so long that I grew weary. I decided to indulge myself because I knew it was something we both coveted but I did not want you to be saddled with me out of some promises we might make. So, when I said I did not want to give you any assurances, it was not that I did not want to commit to you. Sherrinford had me nearly convinced I was deficient. I-I didn't want to deny you anything, ever, especially the chance for a family. I thought that if I could not provide you with children, you could walk away from me having invested as little as possible."
A tear slid down her cheek. "Oh, Sherlock."
He pressed his lips to hers gently. His hands slid down to pull her more securely against him. A moment later, he lifted his head and stared down at her. His eyes shone with uncertainty yet hope. His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper.
"You must know how I feel. You cannot doubt it now. You are . . . everything, everything to me. Have I not openly admitted it several times? All that talk of sentiment and counting and mattering to me . . . what did it mean if not that I loved you, have always loved you and will love you until my very last breath?"
She thought he could not do anything more to shock her but she was speechless. She knew he loved her, she knew, but hearing him admit it set a memory reel spinning in her head. Images flashed by her mind's eye starting with the slight parting of his lips the first time he ever laid eyes on her. Then there was the apology he issued that one Christmas, the surprise in his eyes when she said she didn't count, the intensity of his expression when he said he needed her to save him from dying . . . all of it, she'd missed every opportunity. She could kick herself.
Tears ran down her cheeks. "And you're okay with us . . . having a baby?"
Sherlock smiled. "If I'd have given into my impulses sooner, Molly, we'd probably be on our second by now. So, we're hardly rushing things. I'd say we have time to make up, actually. On that note, when are you and Tobias moving in here?"
Molly couldn't help but grin in aggravation. "You are impossible, Sherlock Holmes, and why do you insist on calling my cat Tobias? His name is Toby."
Sherlock looked down his nose. "Toby is far too undignified a name for that creature."
"Oh, Lord, are you sure it's not him you're in love with?"
Molly squealed as Sherlock dipped and hefted her into his arms. "No. There is only ever one being I will ever love in that way, Molly, and that is you."