Well, this is it. For real this time, this is the last chapter. I honestly never thought this fic would get so long. In fact, I think the word count even exceeds I Told You So, and that's quite a feat haha! So anyway, I hope you're all ready for a fluffy lovey feels fest. That's exactly what you're about to get. This is also about as steamy as you'll ever see me get. Read it nice and slow and enjoy it, because you'll rarely see me venture into this territory. And on that note, let's pick up exactly where I left off in the last chapter! See you on the other side... ;)

Sherlock slowly stepped into the candle and fire lit room. He had removed his jacket, vest and cravat, and replaced them with a dressing gown over his shirt. He looked exactly as Molly had imagined he might, and it made her smile. That beautiful man right there...that was her husband.

Little did Molly know, but Sherlock almost tripped over his own feet when he walked in and took in her entire appearance. Her bare feet and calves peeked out from under the hem of the nightdress and hung over the side of the bed. Despite the loosely flowing fabric of her nightdress, the curves of her petite body were still highlighted. The waves of her chestnut hair, which picked up some of the reddish glow from the fire, cascaded over one shoulder and framed her face. Sherlock had never seen Molly look anything like this, but somehow she still managed to look like home. He closed the door behind him, but stayed standing by the door, just staring at her and grasping the oil lamp tightly in his hand.

"Hello," she finally said.

"Hello," he answered softly.

Molly cracked a smile. "Are you going to stay over there?"

Sherlock gave his head a little shake, trying to think clearly. He blew the lamp out, set it down on the little table by the door, and finally began walking slowly over.

"Forgive me, I..." He sat down next to her on the edge of the bed and met her eyes. "I never thought I'd be here."

Molly laughed a little. "Never?"

"Well," he clarified. "Not until recently."

"I suppose I can say the same. If you had told me over a week ago that I would be here...like this...I never would have believed it. To be here with you..." she stopped and shook her head. "It's like it isn't real."

Sherlock's hand drifted over to where hers was on the bed and he felt some of the delicate fabric around her wrists between his fingertips. "This is new. I like it. A gift?" he asked, smiling a little.

"Yes, actually, it was. It was from Anthea and that friend of yours in London, Miss Adler."

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit. "Really? Well, I suppose it is good to know she's happy for us."

"She had feelings for you, didn't she?" Molly asked, now absentmindedly running her fingers over his hand on the bed.

Sherlock shrugged. "Only as much as Irene Adler is capable of having feeling for someone. She certainly never wished to marry me. She has no wish to marry at all. That was never her interest."

"But she was interested in something, wasn't she?" Molly asked in a teasing tone. It was rather enjoyable being able to ask him things like this now. He was her husband, and she his wife, and there was nothing they could not discuss. No subject was off limits or inappropriate.

Sherlock smiled slyly. "Perhaps she was. Her interest was ultimately unrequited, I might add."

"I should hope so," Molly said in a mock indignant tone.

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock spoke again. "So they left some port in the room for us."

"Oh, you saw it?"

"No..." He looked amused. "But I can smell it."

Molly blushed and smiled in embarrassment. "Oh of course, you can...figure that sort of thing out. Sorry, I just, I thought maybe I needed to..."

"Do you feel the need to be intoxicated tonight?" he asked, and now he wasn't even trying to hide the teasing.

"No!" She laughed along with him, but when her laughter stilled she laced her fingers through his and looked at him seriously. "I do not need anything. Not really. I was nervous when I was here alone, but now that we are here together, I have never felt more comfortable than I do at this moment. I haven't been this happy in a very long time. This whole past week has been so completely different from the past couple of months. The only way I can imagine being any happier right now would be if my father could have been alive and with us today."

Sherlock squeezed her hand and paused for a moment. "I think he knew it would happen," he whispered, and meant it.

"Do you?" she whispered back.

"I do. He saw that we were right for each other. I imagine he knew that it was only a matter of time before I came to realize that for myself."

"I am glad he was able to know you so well before his death. I wish he were still here, but I am glad for what little time we all had together. And I would like to believe you're right. Perhaps he did know that you would eventually come to your senses." She elbowed him lightly.

"On occasion it takes me some time. But I always get there eventually."

"Thank goodness it didn't take you any longer than this!" she said with a giggle as she leaned over.

Molly pressed a kiss to his cheek. Once she'd placed her lips there, she couldn't help but let them linger against his skin. She pulled back very slowly, but didn't move away completely. Instead she rested her chin on his shoulder. Sherlock turned to face her, causing their noses to touch softly.

"Do you remember, at the start of the summer, when you told me that each person around us is a sort of mystery to be solved?" Sherlock murmured.

"Mm, I do. You were such a mystery to me then."

Almost as if he couldn't resist a magnetic pull, he closed the distance for just a moment and gave her a warm kiss before speaking again.

"I think you will always be my mystery. It almost frightens me to think that I may never know everything there is to know about you." he said softly before moving in again. The next words he spoke were against her lips. "What if I can't truly...solve you?"

Molly's hand came up to rest on the side of his face. "You will. You'll solve some things. But then there will be other ways that we'll never stop learning about each other. And isn't that beautiful? That's one of the most beautiful things about spending your life with one person. There's never a dull moment. I know I shall never be bored," she said before giving his nose a little kiss.

She was right. How ironic? he thought. The one thing that always seemed so dull to him in years past, marrying a woman and sharing a life together, was actually one of the most thrilling things he'd ever encountered. It truly was like a lifelong mystery. And as long as he kept working at it, there was no losing, even if he never found out all there was to know. The searching, learning, and growing would never end.

"I shall never be bored either," he whispered, and then he kissed her again, harder this time.

Molly smiled against his mouth. "Is there anything in particular that you would like to solve...right now?"

Although Sherlock had no desire to think about John Watson at this particular moment, he couldn't help but recall the words of wisdom that his friend had spoken the day before. As much as he hated to admit it, it was probably something he had needed to hear.

"Not exactly." He turned his body a bit more toward her as he answered, and he ran his fingers along the lace covered neckline till they reached the top of her shoulder. His fingers stopped there, poised for what might happen next. "I love you so much, so deeply that it almost hurts. I have, of course, been able to tell you that over this past week. But now that you are my wife, and I am your husband...I would very much like to show you that love."

Molly stared back at him, her gaze moving up and down from his eyes to his lips. At that moment, she was very sure she had never heard a better idea in all her life. She slid her fingers into the hair around the back of his head. The words she spoke were barely audible, but he heard them, mostly because he was already so riveted to her lips.

"Show me."

That was all that was needed.

There was an urgency and impatience in that first kiss following Molly's soft spoken words. Soon after though, the urgency was done away with. The world around them dissolved and time no longer existed. And that was because Sherlock did exactly what he set out to do. His only care was telling his wife how much he loved her...in a expression that went beyond words. He didn't care how long that took, because nothing else mattered. He just wanted her to know.

And she did.

"Hurry up, Sherlock! I'm freezing all by myself!" Molly said with a laugh as she huddled further under the covers.

He was crouched down in front of the fireplace, wrapped in his dressing gown, working at building the flame again. It had gone down considerably since he'd come in the room earlier, and the night was certainly a chilly one.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" He replaced the fire screen after the flame began to grow again, and then rushed back over to jump under the covers.

Sherlock threw off his dressing gown again and quickly gathered Molly against him. He noticed her wince slightly as she shifted over in the bed.

"Are you all right?" he asked, eyes wide with concern.

Molly let out a short laugh. "I would venture to say I'm far better than all right, Sherlock."

"You know what I mean." He continued to look seriously at her.

She snuggled closer, kissing his cheek quickly. "Yes I do. You're lovely to be concerned, but I'll be fine, I promise." Molly lifted her head looking at him in mock concern and said sarcastically, "What about you? Are you going to be all right?!"

Sherlock played along and shook his head with eyes wide. "Oh, I cannot say, Molly. It is certainly possible I will not survive this. At the very least, I will never be the same!"

"Well thank you very much!" She giggled and gave him another kiss before sighing and settling against his chest again.

"Remember what I said about wishing we were leaving for London immediately?" he murmured into her now slightly wild hair.

"Mmhm."

"I changed my mind. I think I would prefer to stay right here in this bed for the next week or two."

"Mm, that does sound wonderful." Molly did enjoy the warm little nest she was in and the light that came only from the fireplace across the room. "But just think! We can hide away like this at Baker Street as well!"

Sherlock sighed dramatically. "Yes, but that involves leaving this bed and making the actual journey to get there!"

Molly laughed again. "I'm sure you won't always have the benefit of my being amused at you acting like this. But for now, you're incredibly adorable when you're acting like a big child!"

Sherlock turned so he lay facing her. "If I'm so very adorable, perhaps you should kiss me," he said with a sneaky smile.

"Just because you're adorable, doesn't mean I'm not also quite tired. I would actually very much like to get some sleep." She smiled back at him sweetly as she ran her fingers through the curls at the side of his face.

He made a little pouty face. "Molly, you cannot possible look at me like that and then refuse to kiss me. Please, just one kiss and I swear I will leave you be...please, Molly?" He took the puppy eyes to the next level with that last word.

Molly smiled happily to herself. "Well, since you asked so nicely. One little kiss." She scooted a little closer to take his face in her hands and press a warm kiss to his lips.

As she expected, his arms instinctively snaked around her waist to hold her tighter and the one little kiss became much longer than she'd planned. But he did finally pull away and let go of her as he'd promised. By that time, Molly was the one considering grabbing him and pulling him back in. But she was genuinely tired, and felt it would be wise to get some rest.

"Right," he said, taking some breaths and swallowing hard. "There, you see? One kiss. Now we can sleep."

He lay back against his pillow again and Molly put her head on his chest with a contented sigh. "I think I can sleep very happily now. I even accomplished something I didn't think I would be able to."

"What's that?"

Sherlock felt her lips rise in a smile against his chest as she answered.

"It seems I can make you beg."

Two days, a long carriage ride, and one night at an inn later, and they had finally arrived at Baker Street. It didn't matter that the flat was much smaller than even Molly's home, or that there was nothing grand about it. She still felt like she was walking into a dream world. She was walking into his world, and now she was a part of it. This was her world too.

The happy husband and wife did indeed keep themselves hidden away for some days in the little flat, and mostly in the bed. Although Molly was almost deliriously happy, she did occasionally question if Sherlock was missing his work, because she knew that was one reason why he wanted to be back in the city as soon as possible.

But the truth was that Sherlock was enjoying the break much more than he had anticipated. There was something incredibly freeing about being with his wife, in more ways than one. He always thought that gathering data, cataloguing it, and using it later when it served him best was one of the things that made him happiest. He thought that was what kept him sane. And of course it was still integral to who he was and what he did on a day to day basis. But there was something to be said for shutting that part of his mind off once in a while. When he was with Molly, it wasn't to study her, or figure her out...it was just to be with her. That was more than enough. It became clear that his marriage was a physical, emotion, and mental respite that he hadn't even known he needed till then.

But when the day came, as they knew it eventually would, that Inspector Lestrade dropped by to request Sherlock's presence on a murder investigation, he was ready and willing to get back in the game.

And there was something thrilling about not only being sent off with a less than chaste kiss from his wife, but also the prospect of returning home when it was solved. In the past, returning home after a case was a bit of a letdown. Clearly, that would not be the way things worked anymore. Coming home to his wife, recounting the events of a thrilling or frustrating case, sitting with her by the fire, watching her eyes sparkle as she silently enjoyed his playing the violin, falling into bed to give and receive the physical solace that belonged only to each other, waking up to see her still sleeping peacefully beside him or resting on his chest...

It would never be boring. None of it.

In the weeks and months that passed, Sherlock not only enjoyed coming home to his wife, but he also enjoyed involving her in a lot of his work. Inspector Lestrade quickly became accustomed to seeing Mrs. Holmes accompanying her husband on some of the less perilous cases. It was quite a topic of conversation at Scotland Yard. Nobody could quite believe the way the serious, harsh, and often rude detective would gaze lovingly at the small woman by his side. To be honest, they all fell in love with the new Sherlock Holmes. No longer just the brilliant detective, but now also the loving husband.

Sherlock also made sure to introduce Molly to those he worked closely with at Bart's Hospital. She became a favorite very quickly. Dr. Stamford recognized her talent for medicine and science and was always happy to have her accompany Sherlock when he would stop by. Molly became just as much of a fixture at the hospital as her husband was.

They did indeed continue to visit Sherlock's mother in the country on a regular basis. And it was with a lot of excitement that Sherlock and Molly returned to Seaborne that following summer. Even though that visit was planned to be a longer one, stretching into the fall, Sherlock was not expecting it to be tedious. How could he? It could be nothing less than thrilling.

From the first moment, a couple of months after their marriage, when Molly pressed his hand to her still small abdomen and told him how sure she was that their child grew inside her, he knew that nothing would ever be the same. She instantly became more precious to him than she had been before. He hadn't imagined that could be possible. And the first time she grabbed his hand in order to let him feel their child move inside her, he was shocked to feel goose bumps cover his skin and a lump form in his throat. It was one of the most beautiful things he had ever experienced. And he knew that was only the beginning.

In the months that followed, Sherlock and Molly set about studying every possible piece of the latest information about pregnancy and child birth that they could get their hands on. It was like the most exciting and beautiful experiment that they had ever worked on together, and regardless of the exact results, they knew they would be happy. This was a creation made purely from love, and as such, there could be no such thing as a failed experiment.

It was a comical scene when they informed the country midwives, who Molly already knew well, that Sherlock insisted on being present through the entire process of labor and birth. The two women's faces turned a bit red and they hardly knew what to say.

"I happen to be the reason he or she is in there," Sherlock said gesturing to his wife's stomach. "I think it only right that I experience the process of them coming out. If you refuse to accommodate, I suppose we will have to make do on our own. I have done the research and I feel confident that I could do your jobs if needed."

Molly couldn't help but smile in amusement the whole time. She couldn't be more pleased that Sherlock wanted to experience every little bit of this with her. And being a woman of science and medicine herself, and knowing what she was about to endure, she agreed it was only right. Why should he miss out on the worst bits? Better that he live it right alongside her, seeing as he was ultimately the cause.

And when the big day came, one crisp September morning, they were more than ready. Of course, that didn't mean it wasn't a bumpy ride as the morning became afternoon, and the afternoon turned to evening.

"Heaven help me, Sherlock, if I ever make it out of this alive, I will never let you touch me again!" she said with her lip quivering at the end of another contraction. She was currently bracing herself on the bed post and groaning softly.

Sherlock glanced briefly over at the two midwives as he patiently ran a cool cloth over Molly's sweaty brow. The two women pursed their lips and made covert little shakes of their head, not only to indicate the fact that his wife's words held little or no weight in the heat of the moment, but also to discourage his making an issue of it.

"We're almost there, Molly. Just a bit longer," he said as calmly as possible, making an effort to ignore her comment as he knew he should.

It wasn't long after that she did indeed get there. When Molly had to push, Sherlock was right there holding her hand till she squeezed so hard it hurt. He was there to watch as the head with a mass of dark curls came through. And when their first baby...a son...was fully born, and laid on his mother's chest, Sherlock knew for sure that he had never done anything better than this. Whatever he accomplished from this day forward, nothing would compare to creating life with Molly.

Molly sobbed as she huddled the little crying boy close to her. She had never been filled with so much love, happiness, and relief.

"You did wonderful, Mrs. Holmes," one of the midwives said as she smiled down at mother and baby. "What a beautiful boy you have. And well done to you, Mr. Holmes. What shall you name him?"

Sherlock and Molly looked at each other and smiled. Molly's tears fell anew as she kissed her son's forehead and said. "Nicholas, after his grandfather. His name is Nicholas Scott Holmes."

Sherlock encircled both his wife and son with his arms and kissed Molly's wet cheek before leaning down to kiss Nicholas' cheek as well. The boy's crying had stopped by then and he was laying there, quiet and contentedly. He was carefully studying what was close enough for him to see, learning the particulars of his mother and father's faces and reacting to the voices that he already knew so well. Soon, he had instinctively made his way to Molly's breast and was happily sucking away, his eyelids drooping a bit.

"Look at him, Sherlock. He's so beautiful," Molly said with more sniffles. She grabbed her husband's hand suddenly and said. "Oh God, this is so amazing, I want to have ten more!"

Sherlock chuckled as he kissed her. "In that case, I do hope you're willing to take back your declaration about me never touching you ever again."

Molly could only laugh and smile through her remnants of tears. She couldn't take her eyes off her son and her husband, and she could only imagine the adventure that their life would now become. It would be an adventure of the very best kind.

Sherlock became a father the instant he had laid eyes on his son Nicholas. If he thought that simply being with Molly brought unlimited joy, spending time with his own child was a completely life changing experience. As the weeks and months went by and he watched as Nicholas' face lit up at the sight of those he loved entering a room, or hear the little peals of laughter when Redbeard would lick his face, Sherlock wondered if it was possible for his heart to literally burst. He wondered how these very things had always seemed so trivial to him, so mundane.

And in hindsight, he was grateful for the supposed boredom that he had dreaded in that fateful summer. That summer had ended up being the very start of his life. He had been so deathly afraid of having an ordinary life. But he learned very quickly that there is no such thing. Life is never ordinary. Life is never boring.

There was nothing boring about the first time he watched Nicholas taking steps across the living room floor in their Baker Street flat. There was nothing boring about his half confused, half wondrous two year old reaction to his little brother, William John Holmes. A few years later, when Sherlock watched his boys playing at Seaborne with Mycroft and Anthea's son Freddy, and John and Mary's daughter Lizzie, and listened to their arguing over who would get to be detective this time, he had to contain the ridiculous grin of joy. Watching these little lives come into their own was far more fascinating than all the experiments he could ever come up with. And there were plenty of little lives to watch.

Mycroft and Anthea had two children, Freddy and later Beatrice. John and Mary had two as well, Lizzie and later Edmund. Sherlock and Molly ended up with three children. There was Nicholas, then two years later came William, and then after a surprisingly uneventful four years, Emma Violet Holmes was born. She immediately became the apple of her brother's eyes and they leapt into the role of proud protectors, right along with Sherlock himself. Sherlock was very sure he would have to keep a close eye on that daughter of his, as she had her mother's intoxicating big brown eyes, her father's thick dark curly hair, and her Aunt Mary's quick wit.

And as he knew would be the case, there wasn't a day that went by when he wasn't absolutely crazy about his beloved wife Molly. With each year that passed, with each child they created, and with every smile she gave him, his contentment grew. He never grew tired of the simple joys of being with her. In the late hours of the night, when the Baker Street flat or their country home was quiet, and the children were asleep, the couple would often enjoy a nostalgic waltz in the dark before retiring. Nothing ever grew stale. Every time he held her in his arms and they looked at each other just as they had many years before, a flame burned. It was the same flame that had always been there, burning for her since that very first summer. And as more and more time went by, it was obvious to Sherlock that this was a flame that would never die.

Many years later, as the five of them stood together visiting Dr. Nicholas Hooper's grave on the anniversary of his death, Sherlock was once again flooded with memories that seemed like only yesterday. He couldn't help being a bit sentimental anyway. It was the last summer they would all spend together before Nicholas Holmes would be off to school. He had spent enough years excitedly wanting to hear everything about his Uncle John's medical practice, and the medical side of his father's work. He wanted to be a doctor more than anything, ever since childhood.

"Can we walk Blackbeard down the road now?" Emma asked as she bent down to pick up the puppy.

He had been a gift for the children, since they had sadly laid Redbeard to rest the previous year. Sherlock had an almost worse time dealing with it that than the children. So much so that it took a lot of convincing for him to agree on getting a new puppy that summer. Eventually Molly talked him into it, explaining that the children were used to having a dog now, and it would be a shame if they never had that again. He did agree, though their beautiful pet Redbeard would forever hold a place in their hearts. He had been like their first child, and had brought them together in a way that no person would have been able to.

"Yes, you can go ahead with the puppy. We'll be along in a few minutes," Sherlock said to the children. He looked at his eldest son, so grown up now that is scared him. "Nicholas, make sure they don't let him run off."

"Alright, dad." The young man ran off after his siblings and Sherlock was left standing alone with Molly.

He put his arm around her shoulder and she smiled up at him.

"I never stop missing him," Molly said with a sigh. She looked in the direction of their children who were disappearing down the path from the church yard. "He would have loved them."

"Just as much as he loved you. And I finally understand it. Back then it was almost unbelievable to me that a father could love his child that much. But now, it all makes sense. I would give anything and everything for them, and for you. I know exactly how he felt."

Molly nestled her head against his chest and wrapped her arm around his waist. "And I never thought I would know another man who was a father like him. But I was fortunate enough to marry one. I couldn't ask for a better father for my children."

"You mean when I'm not inadvertently ignoring them while thinking in my mind palace or nearly destroying their possessions during experiments?" he asked with a smirk.

"We wouldn't have it any other way. I told you I'd never be bored, and I never have been."

Sherlock looked down at the ground again and after a pause, he said, "Did I ever tell you that I made a promise to your father, right here, the day he was buried."

Molly looked up at him. "Did you? What was that?"

"I swore to him...that you would be happy," he answered softly.

Molly smiled up at him, as some tears clouded her vision. But she could still see him. His adorable half smile he often gave her, and the endearing extra little lines that now lived beside his eyes and lips. She would never stop loving this strange and amazing man.

"Well then...thank you, Mr. Holmes," she said as she snuggled back against his chest. "I do believe you kept your word."

Sherlock leaned down to give her a little kiss. Then he took her hand, they left the cemetery, and they began walking the path together to catch up with their children.

There were certain areas of life that, as a younger man, the brilliant detective never imagined he would grow to appreciate. Crime, science, medicine...those were the sorts of things he believed would keep him company and sustain him through all his days. And although Sherlock Holmes never lost the thrill that could be gained from a challenging case, a particularly clever criminal, or a fascinating experiment, he also realized that the very things he once considered to be boring, the things that he thought didn't matter at all to him...

Were the things that mattered the most.

THE END

*sniff sniff* Oh sorry! I can't help myself. :) No, for real, I did actually make myself tear up when writing certain parts of this chapter. I'm a sucker for baby stuff, so that hit me pretty hard. And I can't help but be a little proud of that last line too. I didn't plan it like that, but the wording just jumped out at me as I was writing it. I know it's not the same context, but I just felt like it was such a fun and meaningful way to get a canon line in there. I think most writers will agree with me that when you're able to find a closing line you're really happy with, that can be one of the most satisfying things in a fic. :)

Now for a couple of notes of thanks! First of all QueenCumberbitch was a massive supporter of this fic from the start. I had mentioned my idea to her and she immediately bought stock in the whole thing haha! She not only encouraged me to take it all the way, but helped a lot with some historical details, and general plot suggestions as well. In fact, I believe it was her idea for Molly and Sherlock to have a son and name him Nicholas, which I LOVED right away! So I'm very grateful she helped make me take this project on. Also, a big thanks to my bestie Pillowslave, who patiently puts up with my writing consultations and requests for read throughs. She's the best, you guys have no idea. You wish you knew us LOL! ;D Also thanks to MizJoely for her beta reading which was super helpful! Her experience is obvious and she's very kind to use it in helping others. :) And thanks to SarahlovesA, who also beta read for me in a pinch once. Much appreciated! A big thanks to some of my lovely followers on Tumblr who have been making art for this fic along the way. If you haven't already, I encourage you to go search the fic title and check out some of the beautiful stuff that's been done. Talented folks! ;)

So that's it, and I'll be available to hear your thoughts on here or on Tumblr. I would very much like to hear what you think about the conclusion. Thanks to all the readers, reviewers, follows, and favorites. You guys make writing even more fun than it already is. Bye Bye everyone! ;D