Author's Note: Just a short little interlude before the wedding next chapter. A small look into their domesticity.

"Molly," Sherlock called out, "I seem to be having trouble." He stepped into the kitchen, still fiddling with the black tie hanging around his neck. He wore his usual suit but with a white button up.

"You don't have to wear a tie," Molly giggled. They were attending a potluck for the hospital staff and Molly had prepared her own dish to bring.

"I know, but I thought I'd give it a try," he smiled.

"You want my opinion?" she asked. Sherlock nodded. "No tie, although," she continued, sliding the knot in place, "there is an advantage."

"Mm, like what?" he questioned. Molly took the tie in her hands and gently used it to pull him down towards her and brought their lips together. "I should wear these more often," he murmured. The oven timer went off and Molly stepped away from him to take out the dish.

"Not bad; could be better," she muttered.

"Is that a brain?" Sherlock asked.

"Meatloaf that looks like a brain, yes," Molly answered. "Too morbid?"

"Not for me, but it might be for them," he chuckled.

"Ah, well," she shrugged. "I just need to get ready and we'll go."

When Molly reappeared, Sherlock couldn't help but make a double take. She was dressed more casually with a black and white polka dot belted peplum top paired with mint green skinny jeans and black flats. Her hair was braided in a crown on her head with some loose short tendrils of hair framing her face.

"Is it alright?" Molly asked, giving herself a look over. Sherlock was chuckling. "Something funny, mister?"

"Molly, you look beautiful," he told her. "You always do."

"You're biased," she smirked.

"Perhaps, but I've never lied to you," Sherlock pointed out.

"True," Molly replied, grabbing the container with her brain meatloaf.

"Ready?" he asked. She nodded and they left for the hospital.

Stamford had been happy to see Sherlock come along with Molly. Others were quite surprised to see him at a social event, let alone in complete domestic bliss. He was still a bit offstandish, but conversed more than usual; mostly with Molly or Mike. Several colleagues had congratulated Molly on her and Sherlock's upcoming nuptials. All in all, it wasn't a bad evening, but they were glad to be back home in 221B. Molly had fallen asleep almost instantly once she was in her pajamas and turned in for the night, kissing Sherlock's cheek before heading to the bedroom.

Sherlock had other plans, however. He had been working on a new composition; one that he hoped Molly would love and possibly agree to dance to for their first dance as husband and wife. The story within the music was theirs, from the moment they met to the moment she had agreed to marry him. He was pouring his heart and soul into it and became frustrated when he couldn't quite get his emotions across. Hours of rewrites later, it was nearly four in the morning when Molly woke to get a glass of water.

"Sherlock?" she asked with concern, approaching him as he was slumped in his chair in frustration. She noticed the music sheets strewn across the room and took his hand in hers. He looked up at her, clearly exhausted and stressed. "Why don't you come to bed? It may help to get some sleep."

"You're probably right," he agreed. "I'm just trying to perfect it and it's always so close but not quite there."

"I'm sure it will be beautiful either way, my love," Molly smiled. Sherlock took her lead and followed her to bed, sleep coming to him easily.