So my lovely readers, I'm thinking that after this chapter there's gonna be one more but it's a big one and it'll be pretty fluffy. I'm planning on happily ever aftering the living crap out of happily ever after and I think you guys will like it. Also, big thanks to everyone who's reviewed/favorited/followed! You make this completely worth it. Oh and beware, big stuff happening in this chapter too and I'm super excited about it!
Ducks in a row
48 weeks old
After pestering Sherlock for almost the entire week Molly is able to convince him to go shopping with her for Annabelle's birthday.
He complains that it's almost an entire month away, begs her not to drag him along and tries his hardest not to break when she fixes him with sad eyes and a whispered please. In the end, he ends up going shopping.
It's a weekday so both John and Mary are at work and Mrs. Hudson is out for the day visiting a friend, which leaves the couple with one option when it comes to a last minute babysitter. Mycroft. Molly sees no problem in leaving him to care for his niece; he adored her as much as anyone else and his house was probably one of the safest places in the whole country. Sherlock on the other hand is not so thrilled.
The only difference is that his mind is still entwined in the childhood feud they started decades ago and shows no signs of changing anytime soon. But of course he loses this battle too which is why he's standing in his brothers living room watching him play with the baby while Sherlock frowns.
He taps his foot on the hardwood floor that's so shiny he can practically see his reflection and huffs out a breath that catches Mycroft's attention. He looks up and gives the smug smile that Sherlock hates more than anything in the world.
"if you stand there much longer I'll assume you're never going to leave." He chuckles at his own words and Sherlock grounds his teeth. He crosses his arms, glancing longingly in Annabelle's direction before his shoulders slump. He really hates this part.
"We'll be back by five. Don't forget to call if something goes wrong, more than likely it's something simple." He chews his lip, trying to remember if he's forgotten anything. Mycroft just rolls his eyes and waves him away.
"You worry for nothing brother. I sometimes think you forget that I practically raised you."
Sherlock scrunches his nose and scoffs. "And that is exactly why I'm worried." He retorts. Mycroft glares but doesn't want to fuel another endless fire so he keeps his mouth shut, he's learned the hard way that it's the best thing to do.
When Sherlock is as satisfied as he can be he leans down and kisses his daughters chubby cheek and locks eyes with Mycroft. He knows his brother is going to take care of her but with so many past events trying to plant doubt in his mind he can't help but worry. He's so deathly afraid of losing her the way he's lost others; it clouds his judgment and for once he knows what it's like for other people. He sympathizes a little more now.
He leaves the house through the extravagant and unnecessary lobby, the bright lights and expensive art pieces around him enough to make him roll his eyes. He pushes through the front door walks down the curved driveway to the car where Molly was waiting, offering him a warm smile when he gets in.
He can tell she's excited to be going out, but he wonders if she has the same melancholy feeling he gets when he realizes that his little girl is going to be one when it feels like he was holding her for the first time just the other day. He remembers the pure fear that accompanied becoming a father and the moments when he questioned himself alongside others. Now though he sees that everyone, not just him, has grown since Annabelle came into the world and it seems that life shouldn't be any other way.
Molly seems to sense that something is on his mind because he finds one of her hands on top of his as it rests on his lap, the other on the steering wheel. He looks at her out of the corner of his eye, offers a smile and squeezes her fingers.
"Something on your mind?" he ventures. She shakes her head but her eyes are on the city outside the window, watching the people and the cars. Sherlock opens his mouth to ask again but she interrupts before he has the chance.
"l think we should have a party. A birthday party." At the word party Sherlock's eyebrows raise, skepticism shining in his green orbs.
"A party? For a one year old who won't even remember it?" he lets out a little laugh but Molly's serious expression makes him stop.
"I know she won't remember it but it doesn't mean it shouldn't happen. It will only be with family and friends, just something nice at the park or at the flat."
The more he thinks about the idea and hears the excitement in Molly's voice he begins to think that it isn't a bad idea and after a silent moment to contemplate he finds himself agreeing.
"But just something small, I think it's best if we all meet at the park. No use trying to squeeze everyone into the flat." She leans over and kisses his cheek then glances out the window at their first stop. She hides a smirk when she sees Sherlock all but drag himself out of the car and slip his hand into hers as they head inside.
…
After they leave the third store Molly finally decides she's had enough shopping for the day, much to Sherlock's delight.
Now they walk down the crowded sidewalk, steaming Styrofoam cups of coffee in their hands. Molly sips hers and admires the clothes and things she sees in the windows as they pass while Sherlock keeps his eyes ahead of him.
The hand that isn't holding his cup sits in the pocket of his coat, clutching something tightly while he tries to fight the waves of nausea rolling around in his stomach. He watches Molly as the shopping bags swing in her hand and she looks so young and beautiful that it nearly takes his breath away.
As casually as he can clears his throat, catches her attention. She looks at him, her eyes bright and happy. "Something else on your mind this time?" she chirps. He gives a small chuckle this time.
"I guess you could say that. I was just wondering what you thought about getting married." He throws the words around as casually as he can, knows it's a touchy subject between the two and doesn't want to risk anything. But his question is greeted with silence and he dares look over at Molly.
She's slowed down almost completely, stopped in front of a tiny shop that looks like a cottage out of a story book and her mouth hangs slightly open. "I thought we talked about this?"
Sherlock pushes back a sigh. "We have, but that was different and I wasn't thinking about the bigger picture. I wanted to then because I thought it was right, not because I wanted to or you wanted to." he reaches out takes the bags from her hand and sets them down by his feet.
"I'm asking you now because I want this and I want you. I want all of us to be happy and together as a family and I want to be able to call you my wife like John does with Mary." He finally pulls his hand out of his pocket, twirling a ring between his fingers as Molly lets out a barely audible gasp.
"I bought this after that last fight. I wanted to give it to you then but I knew it would take more than an expensive piece of jewelry and a rubbish apology to make things better so I decided to wait. And after John's wedding and seeing how happy he was I knew it's what I wanted. So I'm asking you Molly Hooper, if you would do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"
The question hangs in the air, he lets it sink in and watches Molly try to blink back tears but he knows it's no use. She's an emotional person but for once he's relieved because this time he's only made her cry tears of what he hopes are joy. He's done hurting her; he just wants her in his life. So when she looks up and smiles, a breathy laugh escaping between her teeth he's already slipping the ring on her finger as she gasps out a, "yes."
And then he kisses her in the middle of the street, wipes her tears away and sends up a silent thank you to every god he's ever questioned because his life is continuing to fall into place.