A/N: Theladydetective on tumblr is grieving the loss of a loved one and asked for sherlolly or destiel fanfics. This K+ rated ficlet was inspired by that ask and offered in sympathy.

"I ship them," Molly said, apropos of nothing.

Or rather, apropos of nothing Sherlock could figure out. Not that her sentence made sense in any context, but he dutifully looked up to see what he could deduce before responding to her (ridiculously puzzling) statement.

She was watching telly, that frankly ridiculous American series about angels and demons and urban legends that seemed to have been on for roughly the length of the Middle Ages if not longer.

Other than that, there didn't seem to be anything about which she could be speaking, so… "You do what to whom?" he asked, knowing he wouldn't care about the answer, that it might lead to even more confusion, but willing to brave the nonsensical world of American telly if only to make his girlfriend happy.

One thing Sherlock Holmes never shirked at, was making sure his girlfriend was happy. Having been forced to admit - to realize - that he loved her once, he would never be caught flat-footed again. Not when it came to Molly Hooper.

"Them," she replied, eyes still glued (figuratively speaking of course) to the screen across which a pair of men were currently running, being chased by - he squinted doubtfully - some sort of monster. "Destiel. I ship them."

"And by that you mean…?"

"I think they make a cute couple. Romantically."

"Which one is Destiel?" he asked, resigned to this being one of their longer, more convoluted - ant ultimately pointless except for the fact that he loved learning new things about Molly - conversations.

She giggled and finally looked at him, tugging on his hand so that he (very willingly) budged over to sit closer to her. Close enough to put his arm around her and feel her snuggle up against his side. Mmm, bliss, that feeling. A shame he'd taken so long to discover that fact.

"Destiel is the ship name. It's a combination of Catstiel and Dean." She nodded at the screen. "Those two." She let out a happy sigh, which he flattered himself was at least partly due to how comfortably she fit under his arm. "If we were a ship, I wonder what people would call us."

'Ship' he'd ascertained from the context to be a shortening of the term 'relationship' and thus he answered her (probably rhetorical but he was Sherlock Holmes, after all, and thus a complete show off) promptly. "Mollock."

She screwed up her face in an expression of distaste. "Eww," she said, completely unnecessarily since he got the point that she didn't like his choice. "Makes us sound like a couple of clams."

"Well, we are happy as clams, aren't we?" he asked, keeping his voice light to cover up the fact that he would always carry a low level of anxiety deep within his gut, worry that he wasn't good enough for her, that she'd realize what a mistake she'd made in falling in love with him and finally fall out, leaving him bereft and lonely for the rest of his life…

"Of course we are, silly," Molly replied, her gaze softening as she pulled him down for a gentle, loving kiss. "But why Mollock?"

"Well, it stands to reason that the most important person in the relationship be named first," he replied, after kissing her again. "Otherwise I'd have said Sherlolly."

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes," Molly said indignantly, sitting up and giving him her sternest look. "That is ridiculous. It's a relationship, not a contest. You're just as important to me as I am to you!"

"Then I suppose we'll just have to live without a ship name - unless," he added uncertainly, "you'd like something along the lines of…Holmes and Holmes?"

"Don't you mean Hooper and Ho–oh!" she exclaimed as the penny dropped. "Sherlock, did you just propose?"

He tilted his head to one side, replaying the conversation in his mind before answering. "Yes," he finally said, looking back down at her with a smile. "I am."

"There's just one problem with that," Molly said, her small grin telling him he had no reason to be worried in spite of her words.

"That being?" he asked as she once again moved into the circle of his embrace.

Her response was delayed by another tender kiss. When she finally spoke, he could do nothing but chuckle in agreement as she whispered in his ear, "I'm keeping my name."

End note: If you're on tumblr, I'm sure theladydetective would love to hear from you. Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.