'Is this a dream? If it is, please don't wake me from this high.

I've become comfortably numb, until you opened up my eyes

to what it's like when everything's right.'

- You Found Me by Kelly Clarkson

Molly woke the next Saturday clutching her stomach and groaning in pain. Sherlock was immediately alerted and smoothed her hair back from her forehead, noting she had a fever.

"Can you move?" he asked with worry. She shook her head, the sharp pain from her cramps making her eyes well up with tears. "What do you need, sweetheart?"

"Midol," she replied.

"Okay, I can get that for you. Would a heating pad help too?" he asked her.

"Yes, thank you, Sherlock," she told him. When the pain subsided, Molly was able to get up and get a few things done before he got back from the shops. She was curled up on the sofa, covered with her afghan, watching crap telly when he came back. "What is all this?" She was giggling up a storm now.

"Well, I wasn't sure what specifically you needed and it just sort of happened," he explained. "I may have texted Mary about it. She said to make sure you had chocolate and comfort foods. I wasn't sure so I just got different kinds of soup and herbal teas." He set the bags down on the coffee table and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He fluffed the pillow behind her and warmed up the heating pad.

"You didn't have to go through all this trouble," she replied, taking the bottle of Midol that Sherlock handed to her. Without warning, she was crying, completely overwhelmed by it all.

"Did I do something a bit not good? Molly, I'm sorry," he panicked.

"No you silly man," she laughed through the tears. "You did very good. No one's ever done anything like this for me." It was that moment when Sherlock mentally cursed the men of Molly's past for not taking better care of her.

"Well, then they're imbeciles, the lot of them," he smirked.

Sherlock held her in his arms whilst they watched Doctor Who. Molly had been attempting for weeks to at least get him to watch from the ninth doctor on and had been surprised when he suggested they watch it together. He had to admit, though, that as illogically fanciful as the series was, he enjoyed it quite a bit.

Molly snuggled into him more, if that was even possible. Her cramps were gone and the feeling of his fingers running through her hair was heavenly. She loved this impossibly brilliant, and sometimes clueless, man who would walk to the ends of the earth for her. Sherlock seemingly melted into her when she pressed her lips to the side of his neck.

"Thank you, Sherlock," she whispered to him. The smile he gave her made her heart beat faster.

"You are most welcome, Molly," he spoke softly, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She eventually fell asleep sometime after eating the soup he made for her and it was getting quite late. He gently scooped her up in his arms and brought her to their bedroom and tucked her in before sliding in beside her. As if she sensed him, Molly immediately curled herself around his side, one leg thrown over his. Sherlock decided that he needed to have a word with Mycroft and soon. Christmas was next month after all.

"Oi, where do you think you're going?" Mary asked her husband, attempting to sneak away with Sherlock. They were all over at the Watsons' residence having tea.

"Lestrade has a case for us," Sherlock piped up.

"He needs us—both of us—immediately," John added. Molly and Mary nodded as if they bought their story, when, in fact, they both knew that Greg wasn't even working today because, thanks to Molly, he and Meena were on a lunch date. They watched as the two of them bolted out the door quite comically.

"Suspicious?" Mary asked.

"Very," Molly replied. Rosie was babbling as she coloured in her colouring book. "Follow them?"

"Definitely," Mary agreed.

They took the car with Rosie settled safely in her car seat. They kept a good amount of distance, watching as they both went inside the Diogenes Club.

"He never goes to see Mycroft of his own free will," Molly pointed out.

"Damn and we don't have any way to disguise ourselves as men," Mary remarked. "All I have is this fake mustache."

"Why do you have a fake mustache?" Molly asked with amusement.

"Well, I don't know when it could be handy," Mary told her, sticking it on her face. "I should be asking you why you're wearing Sherlock's deerstalker."

"Because it's fun," Molly replied, sticking her tongue out. In the midst of their bantering, they didn't even notice they had been spotted. After a light knock on the car driver's side window, they both screamed and Rosie giggled.

"Unca Sherwock!" Rosie shouted. Mary lowered the window begrudgingly.

"You're losing your touch, Mary," Sherlock smirked. "And Molly, I presume this was your idea?"

"What makes you say that? Mary's the former assassin," Molly argued.

"Because, oddly enough, between the two of you, you're more of a troublemaker," he replied. "Though, I must say, you look lovely in that deerstalker."

"Sherlock, you just left me in there with your brother. Why the hell—Mary?" John panted after running over to them. "Is this some joke on the mustache I had?"

"It looks better on me," Mary smiled smugly.

"Why did you lie about Greg having a case for you? He's on a date with Meena," Molly challenged. "Why would you lie to me at all?" The conversation took a turn as Sherlock realized that she felt hurt. "Not that you can't see your brother, of course, but why do you feel you have to lie about it?"

"I'm sorry, Molly, I wasn't doing it to hurt you," Sherlock's voice softened. "It was for a good reason, I promise. Please, you have to believe me. I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I trust you," she told him. "You'll tell me when you're ready." John let out a heavy breath, relieved that there wasn't going to be a huge blowup. If anyone knew how to navigate relationships, it was Sherlock and Molly, surprisingly.

After the Watsons were alone, Mary had to know.

"Why the lie, then?" she asked. John furrowed his brows. "Come on, out with it."

"As long as you don't tell Molly," John told her. "Sherlock's trying to surprise her." Mary nodded in understanding. "He needed to talk with Mycroft to make sure he wasn't going to use their grandmother's ring for Anthea. He isn't, since he opted to buy her one instead."

"Sherlock's going to propose?" Mary gasped.

"Yes, for Christmas," John confirmed. "I only went with him to act as a buffer in case there was an outburst." Mary was excited for their friends, but then quickly realized an important factor.

"You owe me ten quid," she smirked. "I said he'd propose before the end of the year."

"Damn it," John frowned, much to her amusement.

Author's Note: Lots of shenanigans and fluff! Gonna do a bit of a time jump and get into Christmas next chapter!