The news hit both the USA and the UK with about the same amount of widespread popularity. The renowned and well-respected Bliss family had been exposed to be underhanded crooks by Britain's best detective, Sherlock Holmes. The newspapers were even clear to point out that he was assisted by his wife, Molly Holmes, a pathologist at St. Bartholomew's Hospital. It was this bit of information that made John Watson accidentally spit out his morning tea and yell loudly for Mary.

"Oi, The people in the flats across the street can hear you!" Mary said as she waddled into the dining room.

"Have you seen this?" John handed her the paper.

Mary's eyes widened. "Maybe it's a typo? Or the police assumed they were married?"

"It says they were married shortly before traveling to America. That's no typo."

"Well then, maybe it was for the case? It does mention that he was working undercover as a marriage advice columnist. Makes sense that he would have to be married in order to fill the position."

"Of all the silly things to do just for a case," John muttered, reaching for his phone.

"You're going to call him, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am! I can't believe he didn't even bother to tell me about it."

"You would have tried to persuade him against it, love."

"So? He's my best friend, and whether or not the marriage was a vehicle to get him the job, I would have liked to be informed. I'll sort this out right now." John hit Sherlock's number and waited as it dialed.

"John, I can explain—"

"Explain that you married Molly for a bloody job and didn't tell Mary or me about it? What were you thinking? Why would you do that to Molly?"

"Honestly, she doesn't mind."

"What do you intend to do? Annul it? You're going to annul it, right?"

"Well we were going to, but there's no point now."

"How do you mean?"

"I love her."

This was followed by a very palpable silence, during which John stared at his mobile as if it had grown tentacles. "Come again?"

"You heard me, John."

"Mary, put some shoes on. I think Sherlock's fallen and whacked his head on something. Hard."

"John! John, I'm in perfect health. Besides, we're not home yet."

"Poppycock! I can hear Mrs. Hudson in the background going into a tizzy about the state of your flat."

Sherlock sighed.

"Listen, I'm sorry if I don't believe you, but you've always treated love as if it was a cancer."

"I know, but with Molly it's different. I can't really pinpoint why or how."

"Listen, why don't you and Molly come round for supper tonight. We can all catch up," John suggested.

"If I say no, are you and Mary going to show up here?"

"Most definitely."

"Fine...we'll be round."

"Excellent. See you then." John hung up and looked into Mary's inquisitive eyes. "The Holmeses are coming for supper. And I cannot believe i just said that."

"We could come up with an excuse. A new case across town or something," Sherlock said.

"He's your best mate, Sherlock. We owe him an explanation," Molly replied. She slipped into a mustard-colored cardigan, glad for the slightly cooler weather.

"I don't like explaining things."

"Oh yes you do. You love explaining exactly how you're right about something."

"That is on an entirely separate level. This is…personal."

"Well if you don't go with me to John and Mary's, I'll make things a lot less personal. As in, you can get reacquainted with sleeping on a sofa tonight."

"Be reasonable, Molly. You can't kick me out of my own bed."

Molly just looked at him. Something akin to worry crept into his eyes.

"Oh, alright then. If we must." Sherlock sighed.

Molly grinned. "That's better. I promise I'll make it up to you later." She kissed him, slung her purse over her shoulder, and headed out the door. Sherlock shook his head in defeat and quickly followed her.

It was raining when they got outside, a good, proper British rain that made everything look washed out. Everything except Sherlock, Molly noticed as they waited for a cab. Nothing could make him look dull. Even though the rain dripped in rivulets down from his curls as he worked to open their umbrella, he was vibrant with energy and warmth. Molly took advantage of this by huddling close to him under the big black umbrella until a taxi arrived to take them to the Watsons'.

When John opened his front door on Sherlock and Molly, his eyebrows immediately shot up. "Glad to see you could make it!" He said. "We weren't sure you'd actually come."

"It took some convincing," Molly said, leading the way inside.

John took note of how Sherlock's eyes stayed locked on her as she walked. "I'm sure it did," he muttered.

"Molly! Sherlock! It's been too long," Mary greeted, hugging each in turn. She inspected Molly's wedding ring and smiled. "You know, I always thought you two were suited for each other, but I never expected to see this."

"It's good to see you again too. How's the baby doing?" Molly asked.

"She's wonderful! Ever the tiny gymnast." Mary rubbed her belly. "Well come on then; the roast will be done any moment."

It was an interesting sight, watching Sherlock sit at a dinner table and attempt to be social. Molly had to keep suppressing laughter as John and Mary pressed him for details about the emotion room in his mind and what exactly had happened in America. The information regarding the case flowed from his lips effortlessly, but anything that involved her, or feelings, had to be dragged out of him. There was even the faintest hint of a blush on his pale cheeks.

"So will you two be staying at Baker Street or finding a larger place?" Mary asked.

Sherlock's forehead wrinkled. "Why would we move?"

"Oh you know, more room to spread out? Prepare for a family?" Mary said. John choked on his water.

"Er...we didn't…we haven't talked about…that stuff." Molly blushed and fiddled with a piece of her hair. She stared intently at her plate; she could feel Sherlock's eyes on her.

"There is no reason to leave Baker Street. Currently we are focusing on our careers," He said coldly.

Molly's cheeks deepened to crimson. She hadn't yet considered the idea of having children with Sherlock, but she knew well enough that he had no patience for them. She sighed inwardly, surprising herself. At one time she would have considered a childless life a fair price to pay for the love of Sherlock.

"Of course you are." Mary glanced knowingly at her husband.

"So have you decided on a name for your little one?" Molly jumped in before Sherlock could unleash his disdain of adolescent humans on the Watsons.

"Indeed we have." John beamed and grabbed Mary's hand, asking her permission with his eyes. She nodded, grinning just as wide. "We'd like to keep it a secret in general, but you two are practically family. She'll be called Eliza Catherine, after our maternal grandmothers."

"Not quite as good as my name, but not terribly bad either."

"Why thank you, Sherlock. Your input is much appreciated." Mary rolled her eyes.

Molly chuckled. "It's a lovely name, Mary."

"Glad you like it, because we've chosen the pair of you to be her godparents."

It was Sherlock's turn to choke. "Have you gone mad?" He wheezed.

"What he means is, what an honor! We'll be happy to accept," Molly said.

"Molly, do you know what being a godparent entails? It means we get stuck with the child if anything happens to John and Mary."

"I'm exceptionally aware of what it means. She's your best friend's daughter, Sherlock."

"Yes, his daughter, not mine."

"Sherlock." Molly's voice was barely more than a whisper, but Sherlock knew from her glare that he was in dangerous waters. He sighed, surrendering.

"Thank you, John. Mary," he said.

The tension in the room lessened as the Watsons accepted this strange sort of apology and moved on to what had happened in England while the Holmeses were away. It was fairly late in the evening when Sherlock and Molly finally bowed out.

"My, what a difference she's made in him. How did we not notice from the off?" Mary asked as they watched Sherlock open Molly's door of the taxi for her.

"It was certainly very gradual. Any power of deduction I possess would never have determined marriage as a possible conclusion," John remarked.

"Pity he doesn't like children."

"Believe it or not, he does like some of them. He opened his mind for Molly; perhaps—one day, very far in the future—there will be just a bit more space for children as well."