With everything packed and in the boot of Mrs. Hudson's car, Sherlock and Molly were on their way to the village of Bury in West Sussex. The sassy landlady wasn't keen on lending out her car, but when he told her it was because he was taking Molly on holiday for the weekend, she happily allowed it. Sherlock looked over at Molly in the passenger seat, smiling as she sang along with the Ed Sheeran album she brought to listen to; he was a current artist that Sherlock actually liked, thanks to Molly introducing him to his music. The lyrics playing hit him hard in good ways and bad.

'Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you. But ain't nobody love you like I do. Promise that I will not take it personal, baby, if you're moving on with someone new. 'Cause baby, you look happier, you do.'

He was painfully reminded of the day they spent together solving crimes, only to be heartbroken at her engagement. At the time, she seemed happier than he'd ever seen. Sherlock knew he hurt her multiple times, but like the song mentioned, nobody else loved her like he did. After the sad memories faded, he now realized that right here in this moment, Molly was even happier than she was then. It prided him to know he made her happy, that he no longer caused her unnecessary pain.

"You okay?" she asked when the song changed.

"Hm? Oh, yes," he replied. "In fact, I'm more than okay."

"Oh?"

"I've never been happier, darling," he smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"You have the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen; it's not fair," she laughed. Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle at that, for he thought Molly had the most gorgeous smile. She gasped when he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

"I love you, Molly Hooper," he spoke softly.

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes," she smiled brightly. The way she said his name sent his heart aflutter. It was as if his name only contained the best letters of the alphabet. Often he wondered how it would sound if she called him by his true first name; perhaps an experiment to enact at a later time.

Molly had no idea what he had planned for them this weekend—or maybe he hadn't actually planned anything which would be very unlike him, but she was happy either way. A part of her wondered if he was ready to take the next step in their relationship; that maybe this is what this whole trip was about. If that was his plan, she was definitely not complaining. And if not, she still wouldn't complain, because a weekend alone with Sherlock, away from the hustle and bustle of London, was nothing short of a dream getaway.

After ninety minutes on the road, they finally arrived at their destination. The quaint cottage was enchanting. It was brick and had a thatched roof with a chimney. The floral bushes out front only gave a small preview of the garden in the back that Molly would soon discover. Sherlock insisted she go on inside and explore whilst he retrieved their bags. When he entered the cozy sitting room, he saw her face all lit up.

"Oh, this is so lovely," she mused. "Sherlock, this is perfect." He set the bags down and wrapped his arms around her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder.

"I'm glad you think so," he told her with a kiss pressed to her cheek. He followed her to the double doors that led out into the garden and her eyes sparkled. There were varying plants throughout, a small table for two and a pond where two ducks were currently swimming.

When they returned inside, Sherlock grabbed their bags and brought them straight into the bedroom. The walls were white with a couple of photos hung above the queen size bed. There was a small table on either side of the bed as well with a lamp on each.

"Are you hungry?" Sherlock asked.

"Definitely," she answered. They ate a small breakfast before they left but it was getting close to lunchtime now. Stepping outside of the bedroom, Molly watched Sherlock getting plates and utensils out. He knew exactly where everything was. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" he replied.

"I have a deduction of my own," she smirked. He stopped what he was doing to give her his full attention, waiting for her to continue. "You know this place really well. You've been here before haven't you?"

"You are correct," he smiled. "This is actually my parents' cottage. They rarely use it anymore and Mycroft had the key to it. I was never allowed to have the key during the years of my many danger nights for obvious reasons. But, in all actuality, the cottage is really mine. Mycroft didn't want it."

"Really? I'd love to have a place in the country like this," Molly told him. "I had to sell the cottage I grew up in after my dad passed because I needed the money to put me through school."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

"It's alright. It was hard to let go of, but had I not gone to school for my career, you and I would never have met," she explained. "I'd rather have you than my parents' old cottage. You're my home now, Sherlock."

It was no secret now that Sherlock was a more emotional man than he let others believe, but he definitely wasn't one to cry easily. But, somehow, Molly's words brought tears of happiness to his eyes. Molly noticed the state she had accidentally brought him to and embraced him tightly. She felt him kiss the top of her head, his arms holding her close.

"You're my home too." His voice was all broken up but his heart was far from feeling shattered.

Author's Note: Photos of the cottage are on my ao3. As I've said before, I really do prefer ao3 over this site for the reason that I can provide visuals on that site.