Disclaimer: Not mine!
Author's Note: Thank you so much for your interest in this little story of mine! Please review and comment, I love hearing all your thoughts.


Molly Hooper frowned all the way home one Saturday afternoon, trying to figure out why Mike Stamford had asked her to go in that day. There was nothing important pending, and she was usually given the weekends off, mostly because Mike liked her, and she needed to be careful about over extending herself. She'd been glad to go to Bart's if it had been something of significant, but there hadn't been, and she'd basically spun in her office chair all day until Mike had poked his head in and told her to go home.

When she got to Baker street, the door of 221B swung wide open before she could even touch the door handle, "don't come inside," Sherlock took a step outside, practically pushing her down the front steps with his chest.

"What?" she was bewildered, frowning up at her man, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he told her, straightening the collar of his coat, "just don't go inside. Let's go somewhere quiet, just the two of us."

She lifted a brow, "what's going on?" she repeated "why can't I go upstairs?"
"Trust me," he bent down to give her a kiss, "hello darling, by the way."

"Hi," she grinned, gripping his coat, "we can go out if you want but I need to change. I feel dreadful."

"Our entire family's upstairs," he finally told her, looking as if he had just told her that their toilet had exploded and their apartment was covered in sludge. "Your mother, my parents. Your brother, my brother," he shook his head, "ghastly. They kept saying something about a house warming party for you."

She laughed, "Sherlock, we're not just going to leave our guests upstairs," she put her hand on his chest, intending to push him back to the door so they could go inside.

"But why," Sherlock didn't yield, "I was thinking you and I could go somewhere tonight, maybe somewhere where there's dancing," he narrowed his eyes, "why should we accommodate our unannounced, unwanted guests? They should've called, we have plans elsewhere."

"No we don't," she told him, wrapping her arms around his waist and looking up at him, "let's go back inside and entertain our uninvited and unexpected guests, then once they're on their way, we can dance to our tune."

He rolled his eyes again, "fine," he bent down to kiss her again, slowly this time, taking his time and she clung to him, there in front of Baker street. He tasted like tea and chocolate, and most of all, he tasted like home. "Back into the lion's den," he sighed, turning around, and keeping her hands wrapped around his waist from behind as they walked back inside.

Upstairs in their flat, their family were waiting almost expectantly for the couple to come upstairs. Greg and Mycroft were standing by the windows, each holding a glass of something in their hands, their head close together as they talked. Mrs. Hudson was in the kitchen with Mrs. Holmes, directing John and Mark who had apparently volunteered to help them cook. Mr. Holmes was sitting with Rosie in his lap, and even they were in deep discussion about something. Sarah Hooper was the first one to spot the couple as they walked upstairs, "hello dear," she came to hug her daughter.

"Hi mum," she pulled away from her mother, Sherlock sneaking out from behind her with a huff, taking her coat and his to their bedroom, "hello everyone! What an unexpected surprise!"

"We knew Sherlock lacked the sense to throw you a house warming party, so we took it upon ourselves," Mrs. Holmes told her, coming forward to envelop Molly in a tight hug.

She noticed Sherlock was standing ramrod straight behind his mother, with the most perplexing expression on his face. He looked slightly thoughtful, more constipated than anything. "Molly, I—"

Mrs. Holmes quickly cut him off, which confused Molly even more. "Why don't you go and change, dear," she suggested kindly, "we've decided it's a formal occasion."

"Oh…kay," Molly was even more confused as she walked to their bedroom. After a quick shower, she put on one of her favorite purple dresses with pale flowers, blow drying her hair, slightly impressed at the fact that she managed to make it look chic. Rosie snuck in, helping Molly put on just enough make-up, even putting on some lip gloss on her goddaughter.

When they walked out, the amount of noise in the room made her laugh. Everyone seemed to be talking at the same time, some people drinking alcohol, some choosing tea instead. She laughed aloud when she saw Sherlock sitting on the couch between their mothers, looking completely engaged with whatever they were discussing.

John pressed a wine glass in her palm, "here," he grinned, toasting her with his own glass, "welcome to Baker street!"

"Cheers," she grinned, sipping from the wine.

Baker street was full of laughter and noise that night, with a myriad of discussions popping around. Whereas Sherlock was discussing knitting patterns with their mothers on the couch, John, Mark and Mr. Holmes were talking about that mornings football game between Liverpool and Arsenal, Mycroft and Greg discussing police tactics and politics within Scotland Yard. Mrs. Hudson was mostly in the kitchen, but kept popping her head out, a proud Liverpool fan, she was delighted at that mornings score, and teased Mr. Holmes endlessly about it. "Was it three or four, I can't remember," she grinned slyly before sneaking off into the kitchen.

"Molly," Sherlock got her attention a few hours later, having shooed their mothers away, "I want to ask you something," he gestured for her to come and sit next to him, right beneath the painted smiley face.

She plopped down next to him, grinning into her love's eyes. She hadn't really wanted to entertain their family either but she was rather enjoying herself now, surrounded by the people she knew loved her and her Sherlock. "What?" she asked after kissing his cheek affectionately.

"So, I've been ring shopping," he told her, reaching for something on the end table. It was one of those ring size things that jewelers usually had, "and I don't know your ring size."

"Ring shopping?" Molly choked on the sip of wine she'd just taken, nearly spraying him with it, "ring shopping?"

"Yeah, ring shopping," he told her while rolling his eyes in exasperation, as if unable to comprehend why she was so astounded, grabbing her left hand unceremoniously he continued, "I didn't want to have to guess about your size, and I've no idea how the hell these sizes even work."

He took possession of her ring finger and started fit her fingers through the various metallic rings that would help him decipher her ring size. She was astonished, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind, unaware that the entire family was watching them now, all grinning widely, with Greg Lestrade surreptitiously holding a camera to record it all.

"Sherlock?" she looked at him, genuinely wondering if he'd lost his mind, "you daft cow, you're supposed to keep this a surprise!" she laughed her surprise.

"What's the point of it being a surprise? I mean wouldn't it make more sense if we just acknowledged the fact that we live together, we love each other, and we are definitely hoping to spend the rest of our lives together. I mean, I'm planning on spending the rest of my life with you. I don't understand the social custom of marriage but you appreciate it, and my parents insist on it, and I've received several threats of violence from your brother if we didn't get married soon. The only person who doesn't mind that we're not married yet is Mrs. Hudson but I feel as if her less than reputable marriage to a drug kingpin somehow speaks more of her moral turpitude than her views on marriage or whatever social construct of relationships we have insisted upon ourselves," he finally paused for a breath, "none of these fit your finger."

She sat there, blinking at him, unable to say anything.

"Here, try this," he told her, and she looked down to see that he'd slipped a diamond ring on her finger.

Her world stopped, coming to a screeching halt as she looked down at the ring. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, the band in intricate roses and vines, cushioning a square diamond. He was down on his knees in front of her now, his mercurial eyes luminous, holding on to the sofa by placing his hands on either side of her, caging her with his body.

"Is that a yes?" he asked in a thick voice.

She was bewildered, speechless. Her heart racing, "you haven't asked me anything," she told him on a whisper.

"OH! Right," he laughed nervously, "Molly Anne Hooper, my love, my heart and soul. My Molly. Will you marry me?"

"Oh my God Sherlock yes," she gasped, crying and laughing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hugging him so hard neither of them could breath, "a thousand lifetimes yes," she told him as the room erupted in applause and the sound of champagne bottles being opened.

Later, John Watson would tell her that he'd talked him out of writing "will you marry me?" in a petri dish with different bacteria's and poisonous that had been the cause of death of any investigation they'd conducted together, and how they'd all been worried he would hyperventilate and pass out while getting ready for her to get home.

She pulled back to look into her Sherlock's eyes, brushing away his tears as the room disappeared around them. Molly smiled for her Sherlock, seeing in his eyes everything that she had ever wanted. It had taken them a while to get to this place, but once they finally found it, how sweet it was. It wouldn't be easy for two extraordinary people to live together without clashing, but they had overcome so much already, she couldn't imagine what they couldn't handle together. "I love you," she told him.

"I love you too," he told her, before kissing her breath into his lungs.

"I met Sherlock and Molly on the same day," John Watson told everyone, holding a Champaign flute, wearing a black tuxedo with a dusty rose-colored tie that matched the bridesmaid's dresses, "I was looking for a flat mate and was taken to Bart's hospital to meet him. He was beating a dead corpse with a riding crop, and she brought him coffee," the wedding guests chuckled, "and after that day, my life was never the same.

Sherlock is…insufferable. In his own words at my wedding, he described himself as—" John consulted his notes, "'an unpleased, rude, ignorant and all around obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.' And he was right. He's an arsehole, but delightfully self-aware. Never in a million years would I have thought that I would be standing here, best man for Sherlock Holmes, who somehow managed to be worthy of Molly Hooper."

He paused to clear his throat of the emotions that were slowly creeping into his tone, "Sherlock Holmes is one of the best men that I have ever met, however he describes himself. He is capable of great love, his intellect is unmatched by anyone, except his brother Mycroft. But when I met Molly Hooper, I knew she was too good for him. She possesses a kindness I have never encountered, a strength that blows me away, and as rumor has it around Bart's, she can slam revolving doors, her calendar goes from March 31 directly to April 2nd because no one fools Molly Hooper, and she can unscramble an egg. But I stand here today, sure in the knowledge that Sherlock has made himself worthy of this wonderful woman, and I am so privileged to stand here as witness. At my wedding, Sherlock took up most of the day with his speech, I'm not as verbose, lucky you all."

John raised his glass, using Sherlock's own words, "ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding, and help me toast Doctor Molly Anne Hooper and Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes. To the bride and groom!" he recited with a grin, looking at Sherlock and Molly:

May you be poor in misfortune,

Rich in blessings,

Slow to make enemies,

Quick to make friends,

But rich or poor, quick or slow,

May you know nothing but

Happiness from this day forward.

Sherlock looked down at his beautiful wife, mesmerized by her, completely ignorant of the guests that encircled them during their first dance, the flash of the camera dim compared to how she glowed in his arms. His wife looked so achingly beautiful, he hadn't known what to do with himself in the church when he'd first seen her, walking down the aisle on her brother's arm, her face covered by the lace of her veil holding a bouquet of flowers that were nothing compared to her beauty.

John had chuckled, whispering, "breathe Sherlock, breathe," behind him. He didn't know why he'd been surprised at the simple elegance she exuded, her dress made of chiffon with a lace top that seemed to kiss her skin.

"My Molly," he whispered now, taking her into his arm as they waited for the music to start. He hadn't let her choose the song for their first dance, having practically taken over all the wedding planning tasks, citing his previous experience planning John and Mary's. She'd been exasperated when he'd insisted that he get to pick their song, but had relented.

"As long as I get to dance with you, as your wife, I don't care," she had told him before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him oh so slowly.

He waited now, one arm wrapped around her waist, the other holding her hand against his chest. When the song started, he grinned at the way her face lit up in recognition, and they started moving together to the song that seemed to define their relationship.

Take your accusations, your recriminations

And toss them into the ocean blue

Leave your regrets and impossible longings,

And scatter them across the sky behind you

And come into my sleep

For my soul to comfort and keep

Come into my sleep

Sherlock put his lips against his wife's ear, "whatever I am, whatever I was, whatever I may become, Molly Hooper, I will always need you, and only you."

Fin.


Author's (final) Note: That's the end! Thank you each and every one of you for sticking with me as I put Molly and her Sherlock through the ringer for all our benefit and entertainment lol I sincerely hope you've found everything to be...believable. I've drawn on a lot of personal experience in creating their relationship so...

I am planning on writing more slices of life in this particular Sherlolly universe so be sure to follow me and get alerts etc. I just had to get their relationship established before proceeding with everything else.