Sherlock sat on the sofa and allowed the anger in him to continue to build. How DARE his brother insult his wife! Sitting was not enough; he got up and started walking around the flat, storming really. Not his equal? She was worth at least ten of him. Hold his interest? She did that by just being! Sherlock had been a fool to ignore his feelings for so long. He know he would be a really bad husband, at least at first, although he seemed to be brilliant at least one aspect of married life if Molly's reactions were any evidence. This was one mystery he was determined to solve: How to Make His Wife Happy. He sat again and settled into his mind palace.
Wife. So much better than "girlfriend", more intimate than "partner". He never expected to be in a relationship, never mind marriage. He only dated rarely and then only for a case. By the time they got to know him, how much of an arse he really was, the case was usually over and they went their separate ways. There was no woman that he had ever met that would attach themselves to such a difficult man anyway. His adult "love" life was one of drug fueled sex and straight out denial of sexual desires. He tried but never succeeded fully denying what he felt, and wanted, with Molly.
He had been in love with Molly for some time. Sherlock wasn't able to pinpoint when he fell in love but he knew it was before his "fall" off St. Bart's roof. As he thought his life was coming to its end, it became important to express it. Asking her to visit him in prison and to marry him on the spur of the moment was a calculated gamble that he had won. He now had the one that he loved and an heir. Sherlock felt the sofa sink down next to him as Molly, his wife, sat beside him. She slipped her fingers into his tentatively as she asked him, "Sherlock, are you all right?"
Suddenly his eyes brightened. He turned to face her and said, "Yes." He then stood up and strode over to the desk. Due to Molly's actions earlier he was quickly able to find the notepad and pen kept there. As he sat back down next to his beloved he said, "I'm fine, you?" as he wrote I suspect the flat is bugged.
Molly replied, "Good. Me, too." She wrote Who? The notes went back and forth while making small talk about how they would spend their day.
I'm not sure.
Is it safe here?
I think so, for now. Depends on whom.
Suddenly, Molly's stomach grumbled. She hadn't eaten since last night's supper and it was now early afternoon. She said, "Food?" She was hoping he had something, she hadn't looked.
"I'll have to call Mrs. Hudson, I haven't got anything in. I wasn't expecting my wife." he said with a self-satisfied smile. "MRS. HUDSON!"
Molly looked at him and giggled. "She's not our housekeeper, love."
"Say that again?"
"She's not our housekeeper."
"No, the last part."
"Love?"
"I like the sound of that."
"Me, too"
He bent towards his wife intent on kissing her breathless but instead heard, "Ahem!" as Mrs. Martha Hudson cleared her throat. Her eyes held nothing but amusement, however.
"Do you want something?" She said.
"Food." Sherlock replied.
"Anything in particular?" She said as Sherlock wrote Bugs in flat. Not safe for Molly and me to go out right now.
"Oh, dear. I'll just fix something." Mrs. Hudson went back to her flat to fix them something to eat and, hopefully, some tea.
A short time later, Mrs. Hudson walked into a breathless couple as a blush washed over Molly. "Don't worry, dear. I've seen worse." She said. Mrs. Hudson set the tray down that was laden with sandwiches and tea.
"No doubt," Sherlock commented. "OK, you have questions." His stare boring into the older woman.
"I always thought you and John… But then he got married and… You're not gay." She stammered. Molly was content to silently watch the interaction between her husband and her, now, she supposed, landlady.
"Obviously."
"When did this happen?"
Sherlock carefully began to tell the tale of murder, exile, love, and marriage. He was careful and spoke only of the things that could be found through public records if not now, soon. When Molly took over, telling her side of the tale he sent a text to his dear brother: My, our, flat is bugged. Yours? Clear them. I want some privacy. Newlywed, you know. SH . He was tempted to make a smiley face from the keystrokes but he needed his brother and it wouldn't do to antagonize him too much.
It was only a few minutes later that a reply was received: Not the government, we monitor from outside. I will send a crew over as soon as possible. MH
Good. Make sure they are not annoying. SH
As Mycroft's men removed the listening devices from 221B Baker Street Molly sat on the sofa just thinking how she wanted all these agents to leave. Mycroft and Sherlock spoke in the kitchen. "How many?" Sherlock said.
"At least three. The living room, kitchen and bedroom. We are trying to ascertain if there are any more and where they are. None of them standard issue for the government. You have an enemy, Sherlock." Mycroft replied.
"Right now I have many. Sixteen come to mind with three being the most likely."
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"Not right now."
One of Mycroft's agents came up to them and stated, "Sirs, we found four devices. They have been neutralized."
"You missed one, brother." Sherlock said to Mycroft. "Where were they?"
"Kitchen, living room, bedroom and the upstairs bedroom."
Mycroft told the man, "It is time to leave. Take the devices back to the office. The lab can analyze them and see if their signature matches any on file. Sherlock." He turned to leave.
Sherlock stopped him, "Thank you, Molly's safety is paramount to me now."
A snide look from Mycroft was part of the reply, "You really do love her. I'm sorry. Mummy will be happy, though. The offer of the annulment still stands." He trailed the rest of the agents out of the flat and closed the door behind him. Sherlock and Molly were blessedly alone again.
Sherlock locked the door; at least they could hear someone coming in now. He sat down on the sofa next to his wife and began to tenderly kiss his way down her neck. She shivered at his ministrations. "Oh, Molly, you have awakened something in me that frightens me."
Molly was overwhelmed. He was never afraid. He continued, "This, you, calms my mind better than any drug, any meditation that I have ever done. If I had only understood sooner. I am so sorry, Molly, and I intend on trying to atone for my actions, or lack thereof, for the rest of our lives together."
Molly simply said, "There is nothing to atone for, nothing to forgive. I love you, Sherlock Holmes."
"And I love you, too, Doctor Holmes. Would you like to take this somewhere more comfortable?" His pupils were blown, his breathing more rapid and, if she had checked, his pulse had increased.
"Bedroom?" Molly replied, a little out of breath herself.
He smiled, picked up his bride and together they composed their own waltz.