Greg and Lori gave each other a high five as the Eagles made a touchdown just before halftime, bringing the score to 22-12 in favour of the Eagles.

The Super Bowl was finally half over. Sherlock smothered a yawn and checked his watch. It was already quarter past one in the morning. No wonder he was yawning. He had his right arm around Molly who had shortly before slipped her arms around him and rested her head against his chest, saying she was feeling very sleepy. She could be forgiven her tiredness. He knew the baby she was carrying, their baby, caused her to get tired more easily, especially now that she was entering the third trimester. He kissed the top of her head and looked over at Greg and Lori. They were chatting animatedly about the goings-on of the game thus far.

The half-time show began, some guy named Justin Timberlake. Hadn't he been in some boy band? Sherlock closed his eyes and searched his mind palace. He was actually surprised when he was able to retrieve the information. He had half thought he might have deleted the information, but apparently not. Timberlake had been a part of the boy band "NSYNC."

The noise in the pub was almost deafening, and Sherlock was amazed that Molly was able to sleep at all. Greg and his girlfriend suddenly stopped talking and started kissing. Sherlock noted idly that they had both finished their second drink, and apparently Greg had purchased them a third round at some point. He himself was still nursing his second beer, only too aware of his own limitations when it cane to drinking alcohol.

Sherlock's eyes caught a sudden hand motion from Greg, the pre-arranged thumbs up signal they had discussed earlier. Surreptitiously, while his inspector friend was keeping the former American woman distracted, Sherlock pulled an object out of his shirt pocket and dropped it into her glass. The fireworks, hopefully happy ones were about to begin.

"Molly," he whispered, squeezing her shoulder gently, "wake up. You've got to see this."

She yawned and stretched. "How long was I sleeping? What time is it?"

"You were only sleeping for about fifteen minutes. The half-time show is on. It's about one-thirty. There's something you will want to see."

Molly looked over at Greg and Lori, then back at Sherlock questioningly. "They're kissing. What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is about to happen. Just watch, sweetheart."

Greg had stopped kissing his girlfriend and Lori was giggling.

"Phew," said Greg, rather loudly. "All that snogging is making me thirsty." He took a big swig of his beer, then said, "Aren't you thirsty, Lori? Have some more to drink."

"I really shouldn't," she demurred. "I'm already tipsy after two drinks."

Lestrade laughed. "Go on Lori, remember, it's the Super Bowl. We're here to have a little fun."

Sherlock squeezed Molly's shoulder again, "This is it," he whispered in her ear.

Lori lifted her daiquiri to her lips to take a sip. Suddenly she said sharply, "Something's in the glass! It must not have been cleaned properly."

"Let me see," ordered Lestrade. He unceremoniously dipped his hand into the glass and fished out the object. "Is this what was in there?"

Lori took one look at it and gasped. "Greg, is that what I think it is?"

"It is," said Greg, looking a little shy now. He had enlisted Sherlock's help when the ladies had gone to the toilets earlier. Sherlock rather suspected this had been Greg's intention all along, when the unexpected invitation had been sent inviting Molly and himself to watch the Super Bowl with the other couple.

Now Greg held a palladium double clover ring towards Lori. "My Lori, my sweet southern Scarlett. I know we've only been seeing each other for a few months, but in that time I've realized I don't want to be without you. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy, if you'll let me. Will you marry me?"

Sherlock noticed that Molly was fully awake now, staring at the couple in front of them. Her mouth was parted and she looked so beautiful he wanted to kiss her, but this was Lestrade's moment, so he forced himself to return his attention to Greg and Lori.

Tears were falling down Lori's face as she said, "Yes Greg, yes, of course I'll marry you."

Lestrade lifted Lori's hand and put the ring on her engagement finger. Sherlock observed that the ring looked a little loose and reflected that Greg should have asked for his help when it came to getting the right size. He, Sherlock had known Molly's ring size perfectly just from looking at her hand, and her ring had been a perfect fit.

Lori, however, didn't seem to mind. She proceeded to kiss her new fiancé thoroughly.

Sherlock felt Molly slip her hand into his. Her eyes were shining and full of tears. "Oh, Sherlock, I'm so thrilled for them! Both of them deserve to be happy."

He smiled smugly. "I helped the path of true love. Greg gave me the ring earlier, when you ladies went to the toilets. He wanted me to put it in her glass at half-time."

"Well, I think you deserve a reward too then, for playing cupid," Molly said in a rather breathy voice. She drew his head down and kissed him, and he luxuriated in the touch of her sweet lips.

When the kiss ended, Greg's voice said a little peevishly, "Geez you two, one would think you were the ones who just got engaged, not me."

"Sorry Greg," Molly said with a laugh. "I was just rewarding Sherlock for helping you. Congratulations to both of you. I'm so happy for you!"

"Yes, of course, congratulations," Sherlock echoed his wife's sentiment.

The newly engaged pair smiled at them and then each other.

The half-time show had almost ended and Molly excused herself to use the loo again. "Sorry, pregnancy you know. Really messes with my bladder."

Greg and Lori settled in to watch the second half of the game. Greg had his arm around his new fiancée, and Sherlock felt a little piqued when his wife seemed to take an extremely long time to come back.

Finally Molly returned, stowing her handbag under the seat. "Sorry I took so long," she apologized. "There was a line of women waiting for the loo."

"That's alright," said Sherlock gruffly. "I missed you, though."

Molly slid her arms around his waist. "You missed me? Why don't you show me how much?" She gave him a seductive look that almost made him groan out loud. She lifted her lips to his, inviting his kiss. If he hadn't known better he would have assumed she had had too much to drink. He supposed her pregnancy heightened libido was kicking in again.

There were people yelling at the screen again about the Patriots scoring another goal...no that wasn't right - a touchdown. Sherlock knew nobody was paying attention to them as he touched Molly's lips with his. An immediate fire erupted within him. Perhaps it was the combination of her sweetness,and the fact that they were kissing in a public place. It was quite intoxicating.

His lips moved over Molly's, and she parted hers more, allowing him to access her mouth with his tongue briefly, then he sucked gently on her lower lip before pulling away.

He could see her eyes were half closed with desire, the same desire he was feeling.

"Sherlock," she said, pulling him close so she could whisper in his ear. "I took off my knickers in the bathroom and stuffed them in my handbag."

Sherlock felt his head swim. Abruptly he stood, pulling Molly up with him.

"Sorry to do this to you," he told the other couple. "We have to go. Uh, Molly's really tired. Pregnancy exhaustion you know."

He flung on his coat, buttoning it securely, then grabbed the other Belstaff and helped Molly put it on, not buttoning hers. He grabbed her handbag and thrust it at her. His fingers were trembling with need. Oh Lord, but she was a naughty little angel, he thought. And she looked so damned smug too, knowing what she was doing to him.

"Uh yeah, so text us with the final score, Greg. Congratulations to both of you again."

"Yes, congratulations," piped up Molly, who no longer seemed the least bit sleepy, putting the lie to his words of a few moments before.

They headed out of the pub. Fortunately there were taxis already waiting for people. Sherlock hastily helped Molly into one, gave the cabbie instructions for Baker Street, then got in himself.

With it being the dead of night, he was not worried about the cabbie seeing what was going on, so Sherlock lost no time in taking his wife's face between his hands and giving her a hard, urgent kiss. He rand his hands along her body, stopping to cup her breasts and knead them until she squirmed. "Say you're sorry, Molly," he ordered in a low voice.

"Why?" She gasped in a breathy voice.

"You know why, you little vixen. Telling me you took your knickers off in a public venue. Making me want you so badly we had to leave right away before I embarrassed myself."

He began to kiss her neck, taking special care to lick, then kiss the frantic pulse at the base of her throat.

She whimpered again, further inflaming his desire, and said weakly, "I didn't think I'd get such an...immediate reaction from you."

"Liar," he purred, sliding his hands beneath her off-the-shoulder neckline to caress her bare flesh. "You know exactly what drives me wild for you. Perhaps I should just punish you, and make love to you right in this cab." He knew he probably could have. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. But he wasn't really that idiotic. He just wanted to make sure Molly was thoroughly ready for him to take her to bed the moment they got home.

"N..no, Sherlock, we mustn't."

"I seem to remember you singing a different tune on the limo ride back home from my parents' house the day after Christmas."

"That was different. The driver was a long way away from us."

"Oh my love, if I said no then, do you really think I'd do that to you now?" He kissed her fevered brow. "But I am going to take you straight to the bedroom the minute we get home, and don't you dare say you need the loo!"

"No, Sherlock," she whispered.

He thought she actually sounded a little fearful, and held her close. "I love you, sweetheart. If you really don't want me to take you to bed as soon as we get home, I'm not going to ravish you."

"Of course I want you to, Sherlock. Can we just cuddle now till we get home though?"

"Of course, darling," he assured her. He deliberately concentrated on slowing his breathing. Before they knew it, the cab had arrived at Baker street.

Sherlock threw some money at the cabbie, saying, "Keep the change." Then he and Molly hurried upstairs to their flat.

Sherlock locked the door, not that he expected any unwelcome visitors in the middle of the night. But one never knew with Mrs. Hudson. She had a tendency to turn up at the most inconvenient times.

"Now, where were we?" he asked, after hanging up his Belstaff and the one he had loaned to Molly.

"I think you were getting all hot and bothered about the fact that I'm not wearing any knickers," supplied Molly helpfully.

And that was all it took for the flame within him to surge upwards and start consuming him from the inside out. True to his word, he picked Molly up in his arms and carried her to their bedroom.

Once there, he lost no time in divesting himself of his clothes. It was a very simple process to remove Molly's, seeing as she wore the dress and nothing else. Then he laid her gently onto the bed and kissed her again, even as his hand explored her body, touching her, tantalizing her until she was whimpering with need and begging him to be with her, to make love to her. He joined with her at last, and they made love. It was swift, and it was urgent, as they climbed the heights of ecstasy together, as he continued to caress her, until they crested the peak of their love and passion almost simultaneously. Nothing else in the world at that moment existed but themselves and their limitless love for one another.

As they lay entwined in each other's arms afterwards, Molly said, in a voice that was still a little unsteady after their passionate union, "I wonder who won the Super Bowl?"

"You know how Greg called Lori his Scarlett? I believe that nickname was a reference to Lori's southern roots, like Scarlett O'Hara in ' the Wind.'"

"And what does this have to do with me wondering who won the Super Bowl?"

Sherlock kissed her forehead. "Darling, I'm merely giving you context for my next words, which were spoken by Clark Gable, as Rhett Butler to Scarlett O'Hara. 'Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.'"

Molly dissolved into giggles. "You know what? Come to think of it, neither do I!"

Author's note: What did you think of Greg's proposal? Doesn't the ring sound lovely? That was also suggested by ellemichelleP.

If you enjoyed reading this, please let me know. If you didn't, let me know what I could have done to make it better.

FYI, the limo ride referred to in this chapter comes from my "Christmas in Sussex" story.

Incidentally, Eagles won 41-33. Yes!

Edited for corrections and improved flow 6/25/18