A/N: Thanks everyone for following this story so far! This chapter is a bit long and quite a bit fluffy so I apologize in advance. But it's important, I promise. Thanks for reading!-thefaultoflegend

"Molly! Have you seen my phone?" Sherlock Holmes was quite literally tearing his bedroom apart while searching for his mobile. He had misplaced it somewhere between that morning and that evening. He had spent the day with Molly, relaxing at the flat, and only noticed its lack of presence now that he was getting bored. Molly was currently in the kitchen, talking with Mary and John while she cooked a meal for the four of them.

"It's in the first drawer in your side table!" she called back. She heard a faint ah-ha as she imagined her boyfriend finding the lost object.

"What about my…"

"Watch? On your dresser, love."

"My gun?"

"Ha! Nice try!" she called back to him and John and Mary smirked from where they sat at the kitchen table. Molly caught him shooting the walls just the week before and had found the perfect hiding place for the gun. A place that Sherlock wasn't even able to track down. Yet.

"Sorry," started John. "Did you two move into together?"

"No."

"Yes." Sherlock emerged in the kitchen now, buttoning his sleeves on his dress shirt. He smirked at Molly when she said no.

"Sherlock," she said with an accusing tone.

"Molly," Sherlock said back in the same way.

"We're not living together," she told John and Mary who were completely enjoying the exchange in front of them. Their little girl, Ava, cooed from where she laid in Mary's arms.

"Please," scoffed Sherlock. "Out of the last thirty days you have spent twenty-one at 221B Baker Street. You have also referred to this place as your home no less than twelve times in the past week. Also Toby has taken residence here. He's been here for at least six days now. We're living together." He gave Molly an amused smile and watched as she blushed crimson and realization dawned on her.

"And when exactly were you going to point out that I had moved in with you?" she asked while averting her gaze from everybody in the room.

"I thought you would figure it out eventually," he remarked.

"And that's okay with you? Me being here?" she asked skeptically. They had been dating for four months, and had gotten even closer during that time, but even Molly knew that living together would be a big step for the consulting detective. But apparently they had been doing just fine over the past month.

"Please me reasonable, Molly. I haven't kicked you out yet have I?" he asked a bit harshly but then playfully bumped his shoulder into hers. She simply rolled her eyes. "Of course it's okay with me," he relented and carefully placed a kiss on the top of her head, just along the part. Mary and John smiled at each other widely. Watching Molly and Sherlock's relationship grow as well as watching the growth of their baby girl brought such happiness to their lives. The relationship had changed both Sherlock and Molly for the better. Sherlock was much less irritable and Molly was coming even more out of her shell. And overall, they were both sickeningly happy.

Everyone was in fact. Things had improved so much around the group of friends. Mrs. Hudson loved that Molly was spending more time at the flat because that meant Mrs. Hudson could gossip and have "girl talk" with Molly. She became like a daughter to her and Molly didn't mind listening to the older lady one bit. In fact, she rather enjoyed her talks and Mrs. Hudson was more than grateful that she didn't have to clean Sherlock's flat as much now that Molly was there, although she still brought the pair tea in the morning.

Lestrade was also incredibly happy as of late. Sherlock at first thought it was because the detective inspector had been going through more cases than ever before, and some even without the help of Sherlock. But soon, the signs began to show. Wearing the same clothes as the day before, coming in looking like he hadn't slept at all but still with a wide smile on his face, another man's cologne always clinging to his clothes, his phone going off incessantly. Molly caught on, too. And she talked to Sherlock constantly about not saying anything to him, even though he desperately wanted to. Molly loved that Lestrade was happy with the new man in his life. And she didn't want to take away from that at all.

John and Mary were enjoying their lives with their new addition. Ava had brought them both so much joy and had healed any leftover wounds from the shooting incident. John still helped Sherlock out on cases when the safe life became too much for him, but he had cut back a little bit, much preferring to ensure his safety if only for the sake of his daughter. Sherlock understood, of course. He had become much more understanding of other people's needs. And besides that, he had Molly now.

Yes, Molly Hooper. His Molly Hooper. His pathologist. He had fallen into the boyfriend routine surprisingly easily, though it helped that he had Molly as a girlfriend, a term he no longer minded using as long as it meant that she was his. She was the only one who could put up with the experimenting and pouting and tantrums and mood swings, usually able to bring him out of whatever slump he was in. She even let him retreat into his mind palace whenever he needed to, which he greatly appreciated. His words still failed him at times, but he tried to show Molly that he truly did care about her in physical ways, with kisses on her head becoming a regular occurrence, as well as kisses anywhere else. He still struggled with public displays of affection but it had become easier when John and Mary were around.

So yes, the whole crew was happy. But they all also wondered when the penny would drop, when the next terrorist attack would hit, when another villain found their way into their lives. They were a tight group, protecting each other until the very end, but looming threats still kept them up at night. Nightmares from past experiences made them huddle close to each other, clinging to the things they held most dear. During the day, they did their best to hide it all and pretend like something bad wasn't going to come along again.

That's what the Watsons and Sherlock and Molly were doing today, just like every other day. Trying to forget. Which looked a lot like happiness. The happiness of Molly drinking wine and laughing with Mary while stirring a pot on the stove, both of their faces flushed and cheeks hurting from smiling. The happiness of Sherlock and John discussing their latest cases and searching for more interesting ones. The happiness of a warm kitchen with smells of good food and the company of even better friends. Trying to forget looked like normalcy. Well normal for this group of friends anyway. Normalcy was the ping of a recently found phone and an exclamation of joy coming from a consulting detective.

"Lestrade caught a lead on our case. It turns out our suspect's alibi didn't check out after all and they're going to track him down right now. Along with the girlfriend. I knew she had something to do with it. The game is on, John!" Sherlock quickly ran out to grab his coat and scarf, even though it was the middle of July. John ran after him, giving a quick kiss to Mary and the baby on the way out.

"We'll be back," he said. "Promise." They had been following this case for a week now and finally getting a break on it was like Christmas for the duo.

"Hey, what about dinner?" called Molly after the detective who was already half way out the door. He stopped on his heels, almost running into John. He was still getting used to answering to somebody else, at having to share his whereabouts with another person. He didn't mind sharing them with Molly, though. He walked into the kitchen with that devilish smile on his face and wrapped an arm around Molly's waist.

"Thirty minutes," he said with a twinkle in his eye and redness in cheeks. He would look like a five year old asking his mom to stay up later if it weren't for the hold he had on his girlfriend.

"Thirty minutes," agreed Molly and Sherlock quickly kissed her lips before darting away again. "Be careful, Sherlock!"

"Always, Molly Hooper!" he shouted back before the door slammed shut and Molly and Mary were left in the kitchen, erupting into giggles at the ludicrousness of their boys and knowing that they wouldn't be back for at least an hour and a half.

Thirty minutes later, Sherlock and John were chasing their suspect down a side street with smiles on both of their faces. It had been a while since they did any sort of chasing and they both missed it. They grinned at each other, their paces matching exactly, before taking off around another corner. Sherlock was mapping out the alleyways in his mind, picking out their route before the suspect even did. The case was a murder case where someone had killed their landlady because she threatened to evict them. It obviously hit home for both of the men, knowing full well how special their landlady was to them and how she had never threatened to evict them, despite holes in the walls and loud banging and burn marks on the wallpaper and daily explosions and occasional trained killers and the world's worst criminals showing up at the building. So, they took the case of the strangled landlady, dedicating themselves to finding their killer.

It was obviously someone who lived in the building but the original suspect had an alibi that proved to be false. So now here they were chasing him down, the man's girlfriend already in custody. Sherlock and John got closer to him and it didn't take long before they had him by the back of his shirt, John clipping the handcuffs around his wrists. Lestrade pulled the police car up to the street and pushed the man inside.

"That's fifteen solved cases in one week. We're on fire," Lestrade told the men standing before him.

"Yes and so are you and your new boyfriend judging by the state of your clothing," remarked the consulting detective.

"Sherlock," groaned John as he ran a hand over his face. Meanwhile, Lestrade turned beet red and started smoothing out his clothes. "Not good."

"One more deduction than I was expecting. My apologies. Please don't tell Molly I said anything," remarked Sherlock to which the other two men laughed. Molly did have a way of keeping him under control.

"It's okay," mumbled Lestrade and climbed back in the car, ready to take their criminal to the station.

"But I do know that cologne. Do I know this boyfriend?"

"Sherlock," John warned through gritted teeth.

"Nope. Gotta go. I'll text you with more cases," said Lestrade quickly before he was off again. Sherlock and John watched him drive down the street.

"He's hiding something," remarked Sherlock.

"Not really, Sherlock. Remember, you always miss something," replied John and smiled at the gaping consulting detective before walking off.

When they arrived back to 221B, they found a very tired looking Mary and Molly sitting on the couch with baby Ava asleep in her carrier. They made their apologies for being so late, and John quickly got his girls out of the flat and heading home. Sherlock sat down next to Molly and she nuzzled her head into his shoulder, breathing in his scent. She never got tired of being near Sherlock. She was always afraid she was being too clingy, but he never seemed to mind much, as long as they were by themselves.

"You and Mary were using my laptop to watch idiotic YouTube videos," he said as he stared at the coffee table where his computer sat.

"Not idiotic. Funny," she corrected and he nodded just his head instead of arguing back. They sat in the still of the flat for a few seconds before Molly broke the silence. "So… living together," she said with a shaky breath and looked up at him from under her eyelashes.

"Yes. Living together. Do you have a problem with that, Dr. Hooper?" he said as he turned his head to look at her.

"Let's see. Living with Sherlock Holmes. Well you are loud. Moody." She started ticking things off on her fingers and he nodded his head to each one. "You like to blow things up. You are incredibly messy. You mix food with body parts. Sometimes you can't sit still for days. Other times you won't get up for days." At this point he grabbed her and pinned her down on the couch under him as she let out a delighted squeal and laughed. "You haven't let me finish."

"Are there any good points to this little speech?"

"Of course. You make good conversation. You are incredibly brilliant. You amaze me every day. You're a great kisser. A decent cook. Never boring. Okay looking."

"Okay looking?" he protested and she giggled.

"Extremely handsome." She smiled up at him and he smirked down at her. "I suppose I could live with you."

"Molly Hooper, don't play games with me. You are the happiest you've ever been knowing that you're now living with me," he remarked between planting kisses all over her face.

"How do you know?" she asked defiantly.

"World's only consulting detective," he mumbled into her neck and she grinned as he kissed her. He was right, of course. Ever since she realized it in the kitchen that day she couldn't stop thinking about it. When he came to ask her to help him three years ago, she never in a million years thought it would lead to this. And now here she was, a faked death, a triumphant return, two engagements, one wedding, a broken engagement, a shooting, a killed criminal, a four minute exile, another return, an abduction, another killed criminal, and an imprisonment later, being kissed by Sherlock Holmes. And not even that, being kissed by Sherlock Holmes on a regular basis. A kiss to her lips brought her back to the present and she stared up at her blue-eyed detective, both of their pupils blown wide and hearts racing fast.

"Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," she whispered. "Deduce this." She took him by surprise and flipped them both off the couch and onto the floor before kissing him deeply as they both enjoyed their first official night of living together.