The sky outside the hospital window had just begun to lighten in the pre-dawn hours as Molly Hooper found herself in somewhat of a trance.
"Looks like the excitement was too much for the boys," Mary's voice brought her back to reality.
John had long-since fallen asleep on the small armchair next to Mary's bed as she continued to hold the now wide-awake Abigail, who was blissfully quiet after her most recent feeding. Several hours earlier, Molly had sat on the small sofa next to Sherlock, as the pair of them recounted their earlier adventures at the Ministry of Sound, an ice pack resting on Molly's slightly swollen ankle. Molly couldn't help but notice a few particular details being left out of Sherlock's retelling.
It was now that Molly found herself leaning against the arm of the sofa with the rather heavy warmth of Sherlock draped over her lap. It was in the middle of a conversation with Mary about the benefits of jogging strollers that she noticed him dozing off next to her, his body slowly working its way to the side until his full weight was resting against her shoulder. A quick repositioning of her arm allowed the two of them to comfortably lounge on the seats, his head in her lap as she gently wound her hand back and forth through his hair.
"Yes, I suppose it was," Molly finally responded, smiling wistfully at the sleeping face of Sherlock. His breathing was deep and even, with every now and then a small snore working its way into the air.
She looked up at Mary, who had apparently been studying John's sleeping form as well, and they shared a quiet giggle.
"What have you done to that boy?" Mary asked, raising her eyebrows and nodding her head towards Sherlock.
"What?" asked Molly, her hand stilling in Sherlock's hair, eliciting a small noise from him as he shifted in his sleep to bring his legs up onto the sofa, curling into a position that seemed much too small for his tall form.
"I have seen Sherlock do a lot of things- some of which I really wish I hadn't seen-but I've definitely never seen him fall asleep in someone's lap like a kitten."
Molly rolled her eyes but there was a smile on her lips. "I suppose that's the downside of never sleeping normally. I've actually seen him fall asleep on a mortuary table before."
"And why was he on a mortuary table, Doctor Hooper?" Mary said with mock seduction, causing a slight blush in Molly's cheeks.
"Nothing like that, I assure you. Sherlock Holmes has absolutely zero interest in a relationship. With anybody. Especially me."
Mary hesitated for just a moment, before continuing with caution. "What makes you say that?"
Molly looked down at Sherlock, who had brought up a hand to circle her knees, hugging them closer together. His hair had begun to re-curl itself, falling errantly into his eyes. She brushed a stray curl out of his face before answering.
"Before," she looked up to make eye-contact with Mary, unsure if she would understand without elaboration, "before…he jumped-I tried several times to get him to…to even notice me. He would flirt when it was convenient for him to get something out of the morgue, but for the most part he thought of me as a stammering imbecile."
"From what I've heard John say, he was actually nicer to you than most people," Mary switched Abigail into a new position, as the tiny baby had started to squirm.
"Well, whatever it was, it was deserved. I was a stammering imbecile before he left."
"And now?"
Molly sighed, thinking back to all she had gone through, re-opening old wounds. "It was easier with him gone. It was like he was really dead. Do you know I actually cried when he left? Then I met Tom and I thought I was where I wanted to be and-"
"-And then he came back."
Molly blinked at Mary, hoping she would understand it as an affirmation.
"What happened to Tom?" Mary asked.
"I didn't think it was fair." Molly answered, resuming her lazy strokes of Sherlock's now fully re-curled hair.
Mary scrunched up her forehead in question. "What wasn't fair?"
"It wasn't fair to marry him when I was-am- in love with someone else."
Mary nodded silently, unable to keep a slight smirk off her face.
"What?" questioned Molly, her eyebrows raised, preparing herself to be mocked.
"Nothing," replied Mary, shaking her head. "It's just…I think you underestimate the emotional capacity of Sherlock Holmes."
"What do you mean?" She briefly stopped the motion of her hands as Sherlock began making light mumbling noises in his sleep.
"I mean…" Mary hesitated, unsure if she was prepared to play double-agent again so soon, "I mean that Sherlock is more interested in a relationship with you than you think he is. In that he is interested. Quite interested."
Molly rolled her eyes in disbelief before looking down at Sherlock again, whose noises had become slightly louder.
"I'm serious!" Mary whispered loudly, not wanting to upset the baby in her arms (or the other two currently sleeping).
"What are you talking about?" asked Molly, doubt seeping into her tone.
"…Seventeen…" mumbled Sherlock, grasping Molly's knees a little tighter.
Both women giggled softly before Mary continued. "What would you say if I told you that I know from a reliable source that Sherlock Holmes is actually in love with you too? And that that reliable source happens to be currently having a dream about seventeen of something?"
"I would say that I can't wait until I have a baby so I can get some of whatever you're on to think that," chuckled Molly, resuming her gentle petting of Sherlock's hair absentmindedly.
"I know I have been less than trustworthy in the past, but I wouldn't lie to you about this." It had actually been Sherlock's idea to inform Molly of the truth in what had happened with his shooting. At the time, John and Mary had been uncertain as to why this was important, but her lack of surprise indicated that she had deduced most of what had happened on her own.
Molly's chuckles died down a bit before she responded. "What on earth makes you think that he has suddenly completely changed?"
"Haven't you noticed how different he acts around you?"
"Well," Molly began, her smile lowering as she began to doubt herself again. "He's been different ever since…I mean, he came to stay with me for a few days…after the…fall. I stopped being so nervous around him, and he started to act…I don't know…more…human? I guess." Molly's eyes darted back and forth as she remembered the nights spent with Sherlock huddled on her sofa, the long conversations into the night about what he had to do to dismantle Moriarty's network and how he would come back one day. She shook her head in a hazy attempt to wipe away the memory. "I'm different. He's just reacting to that."
"Molly, are you blind? You picked an eyelash off his face this morning and his heart almost stopped. Take it from someone who has been the cause of that before-that man is head-over-heels for you. He just doesn't know what to do about it."
Molly scoffed before quieting and lowering her gaze to Sherlock's sleeping form on her lap. "I wanted him to feel that way for so long, but I'm not going to throw myself at him."
"So make him throw himself at you." Mary gently began to rock Abigail, whose vocalizations were humorously similar to Sherlock's at the moment. Molly gave her an uncertain look.
"If you're willing to commit yourself to a few simple experiments," Mary inclined her head towards Sherlock, indicating how he would approve of her word usage. "You will have him begging for mercy before you know it."
"Ok, Boss," Molly smiled as she playfully covered Sherlock's ears. "What do I do?"