A/N: I wrote this as another birthday fic for the lovely welovesherlolly on tumblr. She's always been supportive and so very sweet. I hope you'll all enjoy this second (and final) part to Occasions! :) xx

Returns

"You know I would never accede to this." Mycroft began.
"And yet, you will…"
"Because she has achieved the impossible," Mycroft interrupted, "You like to believe you're immortal. And yet, you have let her give you salvation."
"Must you be so dramatic?" the detective said, rolling his eyes.
"This isn't dramatic. It is the truth." Mycroft said matter-of-factly,

Sherlock remained silent, inadvertently acknowledging that his brother was right.

"So really, it's the least I could do." Mycroft continued.
"I suppose." Sherlock said with a smirk.
"I'll have it sent over by the end of the week," said Mycroft, returning to his desk.
"You'll know where to find me?"
"Certainly."

True to his word, even before the week was up, Mycroft had sent Sherlock the thick, leather-bound collection of information requested. Sherlock was currently taking residence in a warehouse by the docks when his brother sent the package. He had to check the quality of it, of course. Sherlock went through every page and made sure it was sufficiently stocked with all the classified material the British government had gleaned over the years on Jack the Ripper.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, impressed, as he went through the folio. His brother had outdone himself, having compiled all sorts of rare photographs and secret investigative notes from over the decades.

"Looks like he loves you too, Molly Hooper," the detective said, smiling to himself, "He'd have never done this for me."

With the gloriously heavy folder in hand, the detective humbly wrapped it in brown parcel paper and secured it with parcel string. Mycroft had sent it early, which meant it was too early for Sherlock to present it to her. So Sherlock decided to just check in on her every so often, sneaking peeks at her life in the days leading up to the right date. It was a good thing too because Molly sometimes got into a few domestic fixes and he would surreptitiously get them sorted. He had even managed to help clean up and replace a broken mug on the very morning he was to present her with the parcel.

When she had received it, she had been delighted, but more so at their reunion than the wonderful present in her hands. It had been a splendid birthday surprise, doubly surprising too, as she had quite forgotten the occasion.

Hours later, as the couple lay in bed, groggily soaking up morning sunlight between her sheets, Sherlock's mobile phone buzzed incessantly from texts. With an annoyed exhale, he reached for it, careful not to jolt Molly awake.

How did it go? - MH

Did she like it? - MH

Was there enough material? I can make more requests to our archival experts at HQ. - MH

Would she like a few original photographs? The ones in the folio were high-resolution copies. I could arrange for the genuine ones to be sent over. - MH

Sherlock, how did it go? - MH

Was it sufficient for her? - MH

Sherlock, where are you? Did you even manage to send it to her? - MH

"What is that constant buzzing?" Molly asked, stirring awake. She draped a lazy arm across Sherlock's chest and buried her face in his neck.
"Just someone who's a little anxious to please you," Sherlock answered, turning his face to kiss her forehead.
"I've had enough pleasing for one night, thank you," she said with a chuckle.
"Ha, not quite the same, Molly," he replied, amused.
"Who is it?" she asked.
"Mycroft."
"Is everything all right?" she asked, sitting up with a start. It was a knee-jerk reaction. In her mind, constant texts, non-stop phone calls and Mycroft conjured nothing but a crisis or an emergency.

Sherlock laughed softly and reached for her shoulders, coaxing her to lie back down.

"He just wanted to know if you liked your present…" the detective said.
"Oh," Molly answered, relieved.
"So, did you?" Sherlock asked, a little anxiously.
"Of course, I did, Sherlock," Molly answered, sitting up again. "I can't wait to sink my teeth into it. There was just so much…I still can't believe it."

She was about to lean in to kiss Sherlock when her own mobile phone buzzed on the nightstand beside. Molly turned and reached for her phone, sinking back into her pillows to read it.

Dearest Molly, many happy returns. - MH

I trust my brother has handed you your gift. I hope it finds you well. - MH

If there's anything else you need, please don't hesitate to contact me. - MH

Molly smiled, then returned the phone to its original spot.

"What are you smiling about? Who was that?" Sherlock asked.
"I think," Molly said, turning to Sherlock and propping herself up on her elbows, "Your brother loves me."
"Ha, I'm sure…" Sherlock scoffed.
"He's just sent me three whole text messages that had nothing to do with any kind of espionage or secret medical supplies. He just sent me a birthday greeting…"
"So?" Sherlock interrupted.
"He must love me," Molly said with a grin. "He really is just a giant sweetheart, you know…"
"Sweetheart?" Sherlock said, nearly choking.
"Oy," Molly exclaimed, poking Sherlock in the chest.

The detective grinned and sat up suddenly, turning to pin Molly back against her pillow. A devilish smile played on his lips as he leaned down to kiss her slowly and softly from the base of her ear to the ridge of her collarbone.

"We both love you, Molly Hooper…" he said between kisses.
"Ha, you're finally admitting it," she said, trying to regulate her breathing every time his mouth touched her skin.
"Yes," he murmured, "But the only one allowed in your bed is me."
"Well, that depends. You're always disappearing…" she replied, her words slurring slightly.
"Who said I was leaving this time?" he said, grinning.

Their lips finally collided, concluding their conversation, and celebrating the very many happy returns indeed.

END