Author's Note: I was advised to up the rating on this because of a general overview of a particular scene, though it is not explicit. So, if that's still not your thing, you can just skip over where it gets too steamy for you.

The clouds began rolling in during the early afternoon. Molly and Sherlock had been sitting at the table in the garden after lunch. They were talking about everything and nothing, their hands laced together across the table. The first few drops of rain were felt not long before it started pouring down. Molly let out a small squeal of surprise, laughing at their soaked state. Sherlock grabbed her hand before she made it inside, pulling her to him, snogging the breath out of her. They still stood under the falling rain, their foreheads pressed together, and Molly brushed her nose against his affectionately.

After they changed out of their wet clothes and into pajamas, Molly found Sherlock digging through the hallway closet.

"Looking for something?" she asked. He turned to her and smiled, thinking she looked adorable in her pink and black polka dot shorts and black camisole. Her hair was still damp and she had braided it into pigtails, which would result in waves in the morning.

"Actually, I just found it," he replied, taking down a small stack of board games. She saw that Scrabble and Cluedo were among them. "Are you up for it?"

"The game is on," she smirked.

"Arsenic? Should I be worried?" Sherlock joked, making Molly laugh. They had decided to play Scrabble with periodic table elements only to make it more challenging. The sound of the heavy rain could be heard along with the crackling fire they sat in front of.

"You're worried that arsenic is the element I spelled out rather than the fact your girlfriend is a pathologist who could easily cover up a murder?" Molly asked him.

"Nonsense," he remarked. "You're not just merely my girlfriend. You're more than that." Molly felt her heart swell with all the love she held for him.

"It's your turn," she gestured toward the board, not sure why she was covering up how much his words had affected her. They went back and forth, attempting to spell out elements. Molly had won in the end, spelling Molybdenum.

They had just begun a game of Cluedo when the first big boom of thunder sounded. Molly jumped up off the floor quite literally, scrambling straight into Sherlock's arms, their character pieces knocked over.

"It's alright, Molly," he spoke softly, attempting to hold back his laughter. Her quick reflexes reminded him that of a cat.

"Sorry," her voice was muffled from her face being buried against his shoulder. "It just caught me by surprise is all." He rocked her in his arms for a moment until she felt better. They continued their game after the pieces were standing upright once more. They played up until another crash of thunder sounded and lightning flashed through the windows, causing the power to go out.

The game was set aside, whilst Sherlock attempted to fix the breakers, but nothing worked.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for it to come back on its own," he told her. "I'm sorry, Molly."

"What for?" she asked. "You don't control the weather."

"I just wanted to give you a nice weekend away," he sighed, clearly frustrated.

"Now, who said it hasn't been a nice weekend. I do enjoy thunderstorms," she told him. "And you're here with me." This made him smile before he quickly lifted her up into his arms in one fell swoop. "Sherlock! What are you doing?" She was giggling, whether by surprise or the small glass of wine she had, she didn't know.

He led her to the bedroom and laid her down, kissing her so tenderly, her heart was soaring. The words forming on her lips were never voiced as she felt him nibble on her ear and trace her skin with the tip of his tongue. Her fingers were buried in his curls, gently running through them. He kissed the soft swell of her breasts before pressing his lips to hers once more. She felt rather than heard him moan as their tongues tasted each other. His hands laced with hers, pressed down into the pillows.

The thunder did not compare to the sound of their hearts beating fast in their chest. She wrapped her legs around him, holding him closer to her. Sherlock felt her nose brush against his and he placed a kiss on the tip of it much to her delight. He felt he could kiss her forever; stay in this cottage and grow old with her.

"I love you," he whispered, the look in his eyes making her stomach flutter.

"And I you, my sweet William," Molly replied, lost in the moment. She felt she could drown in his eyes. He blinked, unsure if he had heard her right. No, she definitely called him William. His theory was right; it sounded just as wonderful, if not more, from her lips. "Oh God, sorry, I just…" she trailed off. He kissed her again. And again. And again.

"Don't be sorry," he told her. His lips moved down over her neck, kissing her pulse point. She gasped as she felt the tip of his tongue trace the swell of her breast. "Want you." His words were hardly audible, but she heard him clearly.

"Are you sure?" she asked, lifting his head to look at her.

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "Yes," he repeated before kissing her gently.

They made love slowly, reveling in every touch and every kiss. He had played her so beautifully like the violin he often composed on. He was concerned when she cried, but she assured him he did not hurt her; that it was out of happiness. They laughed together throughout, mostly in disbelief that they were finally connected as one. It had been a wonderful, beautiful moment between them. The sound of the rain and thunder nearly swallowed the sounds they made.

Sherlock held her in his arms afterwards beneath the duvet. Her head was lying on his chest, over his heart. He shivered when Molly kissed the wound where he had been shot. Though he had been frightful of it, the scars on his back from when he took down Moriarty's network did not deter her from being close to him like this. Though, he knew it was silly for him to fear such a thing. Molly loved him unconditionally, scars and all.

"I can hear you thinking," she teased.

"That's my line," he chuckled, his thumb rubbing circles against her skin.

"Are you alright?" she asked, clearly concerned that maybe he wasn't as ready as he said he was.

"Molly, I'm fine," he assured her. "I promise you, I am." This seemed to convince her and she settled back into his arms, nuzzling her nose against his neck. A small humming sound came from him and she realized he was actually singing the words from an Ed Sheeran song.

'When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath. But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight.'

It wasn't long before Molly drifted off to sleep with a warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart. Sherlock followed soon after, keeping her in his arms the whole night.