Buckle up for some feels, readers! And I think you'll like these feels. :) Before I let you read this whole thing, I'll make it clear right now that this is not actually the last chapter. There will be at least one more after this. I have an issue with being long winded, so there was no possible way I could close out the show in this one.

Just fyi, for those of you who guessed that I was inspired by Sense and Sensibility with the married name confusion in the last chapter, you were correct! Glad everyone enjoyed that. I'll let you get reading and hopefully you find this chapter as enjoyable as I did. I think I needed it! ;)

Molly pulled down her wooly shawl from the hook by the back kitchen door. It was becoming increasingly chilly, especially in the mornings. But she hardly had the luxury of spending the chilly mornings inside by the fire. As usual, Redbeard was excitedly clambering to get outside. Mrs. Hart was just coming into the kitchen as Molly unlatched the door to go outside.

"Morning, deary. I'll start some bread," the older woman said with an accompanying yawn.

"All right, Mrs. Hart. I'll give you a hand in a few minutes." Molly directed her following words to the excited dog pushing his way out the door. "As soon as you let me come back inside! You can't get enough exercise can you? No, you cannot!"

Molly stepped out into the grass behind her house and strolled leisurely as Redbeard bounded around happily. He did his business and then continued leaping about. Despite her fatigue and the chilly air, she never failed to smile as she watched him run around. He was so completely happy. She was happy to have him.

Of course every time she thought about how grateful she was to have him, she couldn't help but remember the fact that there was a man who owned this lovely dog...who may or may not be returning for him.

Molly let out a little sigh and pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders. It was too early to start with those sort of thoughts. She forced herself to run around a little bit with Redbeard and she threw him a nice stick a few times. Soon she had forgotten any of her sorrows. In the grand scheme of things, she knew she shouldn't spend time feeling sorry for herself. She'd made her choices, and she had no regrets.

Molly and Redbeard both slowed down and the happy dog went back to sniffing in the surrounding brush. Molly was getting ready to call him inside so she could get some tea and breakfast, but just then, Redbeard's head darted up from the grass he'd been sniffing. He barked once, then again...then he promptly took off running, leaving the back yard and disappearing around the corner of the house.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Molly groaned. Suddenly she wasn't feeling so terribly patient with the sweet animal. "Redbeard, come on, boy! Come, Redbeard!"

She began trudging through the grass in the back yard and making her way to go around the side of the house. She continued muttering words of irritation and occasionally calling for him.

"I cannot go running after you every day! Come on, Redbeard, come! I don't care if you saw that rabbit again!" As she rounded the corner she added. "If you get yourself lost, I will not be held responsible! You can try explaining to Mr. H-"

And that was where Molly's words stopped short. She halted in her tracks with her mouth hanging open, and his name left unfinished on her tongue...the name of the man who was crouched in the grass with Redbeard, staring back at her.

Sherlock rose to stand very slowly, but kept his eyes locked onto her. Molly had lost the grip on her shawl almost the second she saw him and stopped walking. Her hand came up and covered her still open lips. For a split second, she thought she might be imagining things in the dim misty light of morning. But then Sherlock took the first step toward her.

That was when Molly felt emotion crash over her, like a wave that had been building up many miles from the shore. Her vision clouded up as some tears filled her eyes. She knew he was real, and he was walking towards her, and it all seemed a lot to process for a typical Wednesday morning.

Molly finally shut her gaping mouth and brought her hands up to wipe the gathering moisture away from her eyes. He continued advancing toward her, wearing a very slight smile. As he came nearer, he produced a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

"Forgive me, I- I don't know why I'm crying," she said quickly as he finally reached her and held out the piece of cloth.

"Don't you?" he said in an impossibly deep and surprisingly soft voice. His lips curled in a pleasant sort of smirk. "I have one or two theories."

Molly sobbed out a small laugh, and finished drying her eyes. She sniffed a bit and then reached down to pick up her shawl, which Redbeard was currently trampling all over as he jumped around the four legs that belonged to the two people he loved so much.

She composed herself quickly and didn't dissolve into a blubbering mess. "So, you're back. Well, not really back I suppose. I mean, you aren't back to stay, surely. I just meant, um...you did what you set out to do?" Molly sighed internally, wondering how it was possible for her to be making such a fool of herself when he hadn't even been here for a full two minutes.

"I did, yes. I gather you had heard?"

"I did hear some things. It seems you did a wonderful thing for, well, for everyone...for England really."

"Mmm, I suppose so." Sherlock continued petting Redbeard who was standing on his hind legs for better access to his long absent master. He smiled down at his pet, then looked back to Molly. "He's grown. He'll not be a puppy for long now."

"I tried to tell him not to grow while you were away, but he refused to listen," she said with a smile. "So, I suppose he has not been completely obedient."

Sherlock laughed a little, but then his expression turned serious. "I missed him."

Molly searched his eyes and was surprised at what she saw. She was a little confused at what she saw looking back at her. He'd only said he missed his dog, and yet...

"I'm sure you did," she hastened to answer. "I think he missed you too. He would wander over to the front door sometimes, at odd hours. I think...I think he was waiting for you." She felt a lump in her throat growing in her throat again and had to work hard at swallowing it away.

Sherlock continued gazing back at her intensely. "I am so glad he did," he whispered.

Molly felt her pulse beginning to race. The way he spoke was making her question things, making her hope for things. Unable to give in to the tone of his words quite yet, Molly continued trying to converse casually.

"I imagine you came back to get him. Time for him to become a city dog now, I suppose," she said with a forced smile.

"Soon, yes," was all Sherlock said in answer, and it almost looked like there was something he wasn't saying, as if there was a secret concealed behind his bright eyes.

All of a sudden though, Molly frowned a little, because she had begun to take in his entire appearance more carefully. She realized the fact that his hair was a bit disheveled, his cravat was half undone, he had a couple smudges of dirt on his face, and in his hair was a...

"Um, forgive me but, you have a...twig of some sort in your hair," she said, as a little amused smile grew on her lips.

Sherlock suddenly dropped the intense expression of longing he'd been wearing and frowned in embarrassment. He hadn't thought much about his appearance. He'd only been thinking of reaching his destination as quickly as possible. As it was he had arrived an hour later than was his plan since he felt the need to stop and get his horse some water and allow her a rest. But he was now very acutely aware of the fact that he might just look a terrible mess.

"Is there? Oh, I see." He cleared his throat as he reached up and found the offending piece of branch and discarded it. "I suppose I must be a bit of a mess. You see, I rode from London all last night."

Molly's eyes grew wide. "All last night? You mean you haven't slept? My goodness...you must have been awfully anxious to get Redbeard back."

Sherlock's gaze became a bit heated again. "Among other reasons," he murmured.

Molly felt the color rise in her cheeks and had to look away for a moment. She was beginning to wonder what had changed in the past couple of months. Was she hearing him correctly? She was becoming almost uncomfortable, standing there under the warmth of his stare and wondering what she should do or say next.

"Well, since you've been riding all night, why don't you come in and sit for a while. I'll get you some tea, and we can get you cleaned up a bit."

"Thank you, I'd like that." He was honestly glad for the offer. The long night was genuinely beginning to catch up with him, and he did want to rest.

Sherlock, Molly, and Redbeard went back inside through the kitchen door and Mrs. Hart's mouth spread in a grin.

"Mr. Holmes! What a pleasant surprise to see you again, sir!"

"You as well, Mrs. Hart." He smiled at the woman. "I do hope Redbeard was little bother to you."

"Oh, he's such a dear! We enjoyed having him about the house. We'll be sorry to see him go!"

"Well, I am glad to hear it."

"Mrs. Hart," Molly cut in. "Would you mind getting some tea started, and I'm going to heat some water for Mr. Holmes. He's been riding for a number of hours and would like to get cleaned up."

"Of course, Miss, right away." She started the tea as Molly directed Sherlock to exit the kitchen.

"If you'd like, you can just wait in my father's old office. I'll be in soon with a basin of water," Molly explained as Sherlock stepped out of the kitchen.

Sherlock smiled in response and went down the hall, letting himself into Dr. Hooper's office. But the moment he stepped inside, he found himself looking around the room in wonder. If there were any possible way for him to fall more in love with Molly Hooper, walking into a room and seeing this would be the way to make it happen.

A few minutes later, Molly came into the room holding the basin and a cloth. Sherlock was standing at the table gently touching the microscope that belonged to him. He looked up at her as she came over and set the water down.

"This is a laboratory," he said with an impressed little smile.

Molly blushed with some pride as she looked around the room and then back at him. "Yes, well, I did my best. It was difficult at first to make a change, but I felt it was what I needed. I loved this room exactly as it was, because it reminded me of my father. But I also began to feel that it was sad to keep it untouched for all eternity. I think he would have wanted me to use it, and to make it my own. I wanted a place where I could be happy and do things that I enjoy. And I've been ever so happy with it now. Even though it's not my father's office anymore, it's still a place of...remembering. I come here and I study things, and sometimes draw and it relaxes me. It gives me the peace that I need."

Sherlock stuck his hands in his pockets as he glanced around the room again. "You did well. It is probably a better lab than I have at Baker Street."

"Oh, Baker Street?" she asked. "That is where you live in London, I assume."

Sherlock smiled as he looked back at her. She already felt like home to him, so it was sometimes hard to remember that she was not even familiar with 221B Baker Street. "Yes, it is. That's my home. And what are your...feelings on London."

Molly shrugged as she stuck the cloth in the warm basin of water. "It seems lovely to me. I've only been twice since after my father moved us here, and I should certainly love to go back someday."

Sherlock nodded, saying nothing, happily picturing her among the beauty of the city.

He walked over to the other side of the table where the basin was and pulled his already loosened cravat off. He had already removed his jacket after he'd walked in the room. He ran the warm cloth over the front and back of his neck as Molly stood by, looking as if she wasn't sure what to do with herself now. Redbeard had curled up comfortable on a blanket in the corner, which looked like a usual spot for him.

Sherlock stole a glance at Molly and they made brief eye contact. He continued wiping at his hands and arms, but couldn't help the impatience that was building quickly inside him. He'd never been terribly patient, once he knew what it was he wanted.

All at once, he stopped and placed the cloth back in the basin. He turned, hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the table, and smiled at Molly.

"Miss Hooper, would you mind?" he asked, gesturing to the wash basin and trying not to allow the sneaky grin to spread on his lips. "I can't see what's on my face."

"Oh, yes of course." She came over, wet the cloth again, wrung it out, and reached up tentatively to begin wiping at his face.

Molly tried to focus on what she was doing, instead of looking directly at him. She was suddenly overwhelmed with the memory of the first day they'd met, and had to smile as she thought about it. She also realized that there were some things that needed saying, though she was unsure of how to start. Best to just dive in...

"Mr. Holmes," she started slowly as she ran the cloth along his right hairline. "I think I should tell you that I...know something."

He raised an eyebrow. "Not surprising. I assume you know many things."

"What I mean is, I know about something that you did. Something you did for my father..." She met his eyes. "And for me."

Understanding passed over Sherlock's face. "Ah, I see. I suppose I knew it was possible you would hear of it. People do talk."

Molly pressed her lips together for a moment as she dropped the hand holding the cloth. But she did not step back. "Why did you not tell me?"

Sherlock drew a breath. "At the time, I did not think it necessary. I had done what was needed, and there would be no further benefit by telling you that I did it. And then later, I felt that it may be...unwise to share those details with you. It may have been inappropriate, given the circumstances."

Molly couldn't help a little smirk. "How often do you care about propriety?"

"Not often," he conceded with a smile. "But I did not want to disrupt what was, shall we say, developing for you."

Molly nodded, understanding his meaning. "You may find it ironic then, to hear that I learned of your generosity from none other than Dr. Charles."

"Did you indeed?" he responded with some surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes playfully. "Clearly he was not frightened away."

Oh, she thought. So he knows of Tom's proposal. "No, I suppose he was not." Molly looked away again and continued the task of removing the dirt from his face.

There was a heavy silence for a moment, a sort of calm before the storm, and then Sherlock opened his mouth and spoke the words deep and soft.

"But you refused him."

Their eyes met and Molly saw the very slightest smile forming at the corner of his lips. She had to swallow hard to manage an answer.

"Yes, I did," she whispered, and then she shook her head a little. "I just, I couldn't. I know everyone thinks I'm foolish, but it does not matter...not really. It was my decision, and no one else's. He was a good man- is a good man, but he wasn't...I just couldn't."

Sherlock examined Molly's face as she spoke and he resisted smiling too broadly quite yet. He watched as she looked away and dipped the cloth back in the water with fingers that were shaking just a bit. It was time...

He reached over and slowly wrapped his fingers around her hand, making Molly's breath catch in her throat. The cloth fell into the water, quickly forgotten. Sherlock examined her small damp hand which he now cradled in his own larger one. He took his other hand, covering over it, now enclosing it gently and bringing it back between them. Finally, he locked eyes with her again.

"I know," he murmured.

Molly could only stare back at him in half shock, half elation.

"I know...and I am sorry. I'm sorry that I've been such a fool," he said very seriously.

She managed to form words. "Have you been?" she whispered.

"I have. You see, I thought I knew what was best. I have always been in the habit of believing that I am in the right. In this case, it was almost the worst mistake I have ever made. I thought I knew better than my friends, and you, and my own heart...and even your father."

Molly's brow furrowed. "My father? What are you talking about?"

Sherlock's thumbs had begun softly moving over the skin on her hand as he spoke. He let out a short chuckle. "I suppose it is to be expected that he would not have shared such a thing with you...he had wished for us to marry."

Molly's mouth fell open and tears immediately sprung to her eyes. She used her free hand to wipe them away as best she could while they rolled down her cheeks. "D-did he say that to you?" she asked in a broken voice.

"He as much as asked me to marry you," Sherlock answered, and his tone had turned a little sad. He hadn't considered, until this moment, the fact that he would be adding to her grief. He was the reason that her father had to die without knowing whether if she would have the family and life she deserved.

Sherlock reached up and helped wipe a stray tear from her cheek before continuing. "At the time when he had spoken so plainly to me, I did not even believe that I would ever want a wife. I thought I knew better. Eventually...slowly...my feelings changed, yet I was still hesitant. By the time I decided to speak to you, I simultaneously convinced myself that you deserved a different sort of life than what I could offer you. I believed Dr. Charles could offer you that life. Again, I thought I knew what was best."

"You left," she said between sniffles. "You left me thinking that I'd...you thought I would marry him, and still you said nothing."

Sherlock nodded. "I believed that if I left, and kept silent, you would move on. I knew, not being completely blind, that you held some regard for me. But I also believe that you liked Dr. Charles enough to let him give you a happy life. I was unsure that I could do such a thing, in the long term."

"Why?" she asked, shaking her head as she stared at him in wonder. "How could you think that? How could you believe that anyone could make me happier...than you?" Her voice broke again and another tear escaped.

Sherlock couldn't help a little smirk. "I was trying humility on for size...I don't think I like it."

Molly sobbed out a little laugh.

He reached up to wipe her face again, this time letting his hand stay, cradling the side of her face. He watched her tears stop and her eyes shut as she leaned into his touch.

He let his hand slide away, cleared his throat, and began speaking again. "I just learned last night, from my brother, that you had refused Dr. Charles' proposal. And I finally realized just how wrong I had been. I was wrong about what would make you happy, and what you would want. It also made me realize that perhaps it was not just that you didn't want Dr. Charles, but that you wanted...someone else."

Molly began to smile again, and suddenly Sherlock got nervous. Some of his insecurities about their possible union came flooding back and he felt the need to make sure she knew exactly what she was getting into. He began speaking rapidly.

"You do understand, don't you, that my life in London is almost nothing like your life here? I cannot pull you into a life that you do not want, no matter how we feel. The day could very well come when you resent me for it. That would be unfair to both of us. You should know that I don't sleep some nights. I stay away from the flat for days at a time...though I would make that a less frequent habit...I rarely eat when concentrating on a case. I play my violin when I'm thinking, often at odd hours, and my flat is really rather small. I become moody and difficult when I have no work, I can be moody and difficult when I have work. In fact it would likely be simpler if I were to list for you the times when I am not moody and diff-"

Sherlock was cut short when Molly reached her hand up and pressed her fingers against his lips, hushing him.

Molly smiled with a gleam in her eyes. "Mr. Holmes, I do not claim to be some sort of expert, but I feel very sure that I should stop you right here. You may be going about this the wrong way. Perhaps a bit out of order. There may be something you should say first."

Sherlock frowned for a moment as Molly removed her fingers from his mouth, then realization hit him. Ah yes, probably best to actually propose before flooding her with the reasons why her life would be so different once we were married.

"Ah, yes," he agreed.

He cleared his throat as he renewed his grasp on her hand and looked back at her, trying to think of the right words. It was difficult, with her smiling back at him already. What he really wanted to do was to simply pull her into his arms, kiss her, and marry her on the spot. Words! he reminded himself. Say it!

"Molly Hooper, what I am about to say are words that, for most of my life, I had not ever imagined saying. I suppose that is fitting though, considering I never imagined that I would meet a woman like you. I never imagined a woman like you could exist at all. You took me completely by surprise, and that is no small thing. What I am trying to say is that, despite my best efforts to remain indifferent, you left me no choice but to fall in love with you."

Molly bit her lip as she smiled listening to him speak. She could hardly believe what she was hearing, let alone that it was coming from his beautiful lips.

"And now that I have come to my senses, what I want, and I very much hope that you want as well...is for you, Molly, to be my wife." He stared forward, eyes locked on hers; almost unable to believe he'd just said those very words. And he could hardly believe that it felt like her answer had the rest of his life's happiness connected to it.

Molly began to wonder how many times she was going to start crying this morning. But naturally, more tears had formed as she heard him finally propose, so she had to wipe them away before answering. She quickly wiped her hands on her apron before reaching down and grasping both his hands and grinning at him.

"Yes, of course I want that. I want to be your wife. God knows I would have said yes months ago!" She let out a laugh. "But it doesn't matter now. I do not care how long it took you to realize what was right. What matters now is that we have the rest of our lives to be together. And before you start saying a thousand things again, I don't care where that life takes us. I don't care if it's in London, or here, or anywhere else! And there is nothing that you've told me, or that I've seen in months past, that makes me any less willing to share my life with you. In fact, I cannot wait to share my life with you."

A grin spread on Sherlock's mouth that matched Molly's. He reached up and grasped her face gently, touching his forehead to hers. What happened next could hardly be attributed wholly to either one of them, because without verbal communication, each of them moved forward at the very same moment, and at the very same speed. So when their mouths finally met, it was with a harmony as beautiful and satisfying as actual notes played in a chord.

Molly let out a sigh and felt herself melt just a little. She reached up and placed her hands on his chest, enjoying the thrilling feeling of his heat pounding against her palm. How many times had he made her heart beat that fast? And now she knew that he felt the same. She could literally feel it.

The kiss was relatively tame, considering that it was Molly's first kiss and Sherlock's first real kiss. He didn't exactly count those couple of times on an undercover case. As he slowly pulled away, he was overwhelmed with the complete sensory experience. He'd seen, heard, touched, and smelled her before. But now he had tasted her lips, and it was as if the final piece of the puzzle fell into place. It left him feeling full, like she was everywhere, all around him and coursing through his veins. And yet, there was also a newfound hunger...because he was very sure he would never have enough.

Sherlock gazed back at her, still holding her face. "We will marry in a week," he said in a slightly husky voice.

Molly let out a shaky giggle as she grasped his hands and held them, removing them from her face. "Mr. Holmes-"

"Sherlock," he quickly urged. "Please call me Sherlock now."

Molly gave him an official little nod, then spoke again. "All right, Sherlock, I was going to say that a weeks' time is not really enough. We have to have at least three weeks to-"

"No, no. That won't be necessary. I will get a license and we will have no need of these silly traditions and added time!" he said with a roll of his eyes.

"I honestly do not mind. There's no need for the added expense and trouble. Besides, there will surely be things to take care of and plan, and goodness knows those things take time..." Molly would have continued on, but she was cut short.

Sherlock hopped down from the table he was sitting on. He took Molly by the waist and turned them around quick as lightening. With one arm locked around her waist and his other hand behind her neck, he leaned down and kissed her again. This time was quite different. Molly quickly reacted by sliding her arms around Sherlock's neck as this kiss made leaps and bounds beyond the one he'd given her only moments before.

After Sherlock had successfully conveyed the message to his bride to be, he pulled away and looked down at her with his eyes as much on fire as hers.

"Well, um," Molly cleared her throat. "If you would prefer to get a license, I suppose that would be fine."

He gave her a pleased smile as he watched the bright color very slowly fade from her face. "I'm glad you agree. I had a feeling that I would be able to help you understand my...logic."

Just then, Sherlock felt something moving around his ankle. He frowned as he tuned a bit and looked down. He thought it hadn't felt like Redbeard, and his suspicions were confirmed when he saw an orange tabby cat winding around his leg.

"Molly, that is a cat," he stated, staring down at the purring animal.

She giggled a little as she watched his reaction. "I am pleased to see your skills of deduction remain untouched by sleep deprivation. Yes, that is indeed a cat. His name is Toby. He likes you!"

"What is he doing here?" Sherlock watched as the cat strolled over to sniff around at Redbeard where he lay.

"He just started coming around about a month ago. He wasn't even full grown then, but he's just about an adult now I think. I believe he was homeless before, but he took a liking to us and seems to have adopted us. Even Redbeard seems to tolerate him rather well." Molly smiled as she watched the dog snuffle a little as he tried to sleep despite the cat's interest. "They certainly don't try to kill each other at least."

"I see," Sherlock said, observing the scene as well. "Well, as I said, my London flat is hardly spacious...but I suppose we can discuss it."

"I suppose there is a fair bit that needs to be discussed. What about my father's house, and what about the few staff I still have, and where we will go after the wedding." She shut her eyes for a moment then opened them wide. "Forgive me, I can hardly believe this is happening!"

"I know." He smiled back. "And we will discuss it all, I promise. It will all be sorted as quickly as possible. Perhaps I can send the carriage for you tonight and we can work out some of the details."

Molly looked excited. "All right, that sounds wonderful."

A bit of the excitement drained from Sherlock's features though, and Molly noticed right away.

"Sherlock, what is it? Is anything wrong?"

He tilted his head in thought. "I wouldn't say there's anything exactly wrong. But there is something I will need to do."

"Oh? What is that?"

"Well," he began slowly, looking a little apprehensive. His expression already made Molly want to giggle, even before he uttered his next words.

"I shall need to have a little talk...with Mummy."

There we have it! They're finally together! It only took me 21 chapters to do it, for crying out loud lol! I swear I didn't mean for this fic to get this long. So, as I said there will be at least one more after this. Who knows, maybe two...you never know! Thanks, my bff, for editing for me on this one. Always much appreciated. 3 I'll get the next one out in a week or so I'm sure. I'd love to hear your thoughts, as always. So feel free to talk to me on here or Tumblr. ;)

PS- I bet you die hard regency history fans already know this, but in case anyone is wondering, there's a reason why I specifically had Molly said there had to be at least three weeks till they were married. And Sherlock wanting to get a license was also historically accurate, if you had the money and wanted to speed the process. It's long to explain the whole thing, but I encourage you to look it up if you're not familiar with it. Might just explain the whole process a bit more clearly. Hehe, I gave you homework! ;P