Chapter Text
Molly inserted the key in the lock of the outer door of 221B Baker Street. She looked at the numbers, thinking, not for the first time, how odd it was that the B was on the outer door, when there were three flats leading from that entrance. Perhaps it was to alert Sherlock's clients that they had the right place.
It was a few minutes before six, but she was not surprised that Sherlock opened the door for her, as he always did.
He seemed a little surprised that she was more dressed up than usual. She saw him swallow before he spoke. "You look…very nice this evening," he managed, and she flashed him a smile.
She looked around as he stood aside for her to enter the flat into the flat. One thing immediately caught her attention. The doors to the kitchen were closed. That was rather odd.
Sherlock closed the door behind her and motioned for her to sit on the sofa, almost in the exact way he had done a month earlier when she had arrived with her suitcase to take care of him. She perched nervously on the edge of the sofa. The fact that he had not greeted her with a kiss as he had done on every other occasion since they had entered this rather odd relationship, was not a good sign.
Sherlock too, seemed rather nervous. He didn't take the seat beside her, instead choosing to pace in front of her.
She waited patiently for him, unwilling to start the conversation.
Finally he stopped pacing and stood in front of her, looking down at her. She felt at a complete disadvantage. "Molly, I asked you here tonight to discuss our future." He had shifted his posture to clasp his hands behind his back, as he always did when he needed fortitude.
Her heart sank. He was going to tell her that while he had enjoyed this attempt at a relationship, it was not working for him. She was certain of it. She swallowed and felt traitorous tears coming to her eyes. Be strong, Molly, she told herself silently. At least you'll have some memories now. Her heart ached for him, yet she did not want him to feel bad about breaking things off with her. She had been the one who had kissed him first in the hospital, after all.
Taking a deep breath, she said, "It's okay, Sherlock. You don't need to tell me. I understand that this was something new for you, something unfamiliar and that it was a risk. We can just go back to being friends."
He furrowed his brow in confusion. "What the hell are you saying, Molly? Are you telling me that you want to end this?"
"No," she said, looking down into her lap, unable to keep the misery out of her voice. "I'm saving you the trouble of doing it."
He dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hands. "I don't know what has got into your head, Molly Hooper, and why you would think I want to end things with you, but that is not why I wanted to talk to you." He spoke forcefully, as if willing her to understand.
She looked from where his hands were holding hers and up to his face, searchingly, feeling a sudden surge of hope within her. "It's not?"
"Of course it's not," he told her, looking into her eyes. "I wanted to tell you that I've been thinking about this; trying to process these emotions over the past month, what I am feeling for you. I kept thinking at some point these feelings would become easier to understand. All these complicated little emotions - for years I've pushed them aside, denied their existence, especially in regard to you. I need you to know, Molly, that I understand now at last. I understand it and can face the truth." He stopped then and she gazed at him, seeing a sparkle of tears in his eyes that matched those in her own.
"And what is the truth?" she ventured, hardly daring to hope that he might feel the same way for her as she felt for him.
He took a deep breath and exhaled, before breathing in again. "The truth is, I love you. I'm in love with you. I have been for a long time. Every day I spend with you, these emotions get stronger, deeper. It terrifies me that there seems to be no end to this, no bottom, as it were."
Molly drew in her breath, as tears of relief trickled down her face. Then she listened in astonishment as he continued.
"You left your Bible here, did you know that?"
She shook her head numbly. She hadn't even thought about it. It had been sitting on the nightstand on the side of the bed where she had been sleeping. She had been too miserable over the past two days to even think about it, more shame to her.
He continued. "Seeing as this seems to be something that is important to you, I thought I'd look at it a little. I found it very interesting that there are a lot of words at the back of your Bible, references to where you can find them within it. I was flipping through that, and came upon the word love. So I looked at the references and I found something that convicted me of my feelings for you, once and for all."
And then he recited some of the words from 1 Corinthians 13.
"'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.'"
He paused, and took a deep breath. "It was then that I truly realised what love really is, because that is how you have shown your love for me and it is how I feel about you. I love you, Molly. I always will."
Tears spilled from his own lashes, as he pulled her to her feet.
Then he was kissing her, with long, lingering kisses of devotion and sweetness. Kisses of promise that he truly loved her as much as she loved him. Molly flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back with all the longing in her heart, allowing herself to finally release the depth of emotion she felt for him, that she had been holding in check for so long. His lips moved along her face, kissing her tear-stained cheeks, blazing a trail downwards, for the first time tracing a path that led below her face to her throat, placing a kiss onto the pulse that beat frantically there. Between each kiss he murmured the words he had denied her for so long., "I love you, I love you."
When their lips parted finally, and their chests were heaving with their emotions, Sherlock took her hand. "I have something to show you."
"Wait." Molly lifted her free hand to wipe away the tears that still glistened on his own cheeks and lashes. Then she allowed him to lead her towards the closed door of the kitchen.
She opened her mouth with astonishment when he slid open the doors and she saw what lay within. The kitchen table was completely devoid of scientific instruments. Instead, there were two place settings with two foil-covered cardboard containers beside them and a third towards the middle of the table for some odd reason. There were two long white candles in holders and a vase with a rosebud inside it. "It's only chips, I'm afraid," he told her with a lopsided grin. "Give me a minute, I need to do something."
She smiled, as he went to his miscellaneous drawer and pulled out a lighter, which he used to light the candles.
"Please sit," he invited, and she did so. "You can eat now," he said with a smile, watching as she removed the foil from the cardboard container. Then she gasped in astonishment. Inside the container was a black velvet box.
She turned to look at Sherlock and found that he had dropped to his knees beside her chair. "Don't bother looking inside the box, because its contents are in my hand," he told her. He sounded a little nervous and she felt her heart pounding with anticipation.
Then he produced a ring that sparkled in the candlelight, a heart-shaped solitaire, extending it towards her.
"Molly, my heart, I'm sorry it took me three days before I contacted you. I was kind of under a bit of a time constraint to get this done. After you left on Friday night and I read those words in your Bible, I knew this was what I wanted. I want to marry you, to spend my life with you. These past two nights without you I've been lonely. It seems I've become accustomed to your presence at night." His lips tilted upwards. "Would you come back here and move in with me properly? Will you marry me?" He looked at her hopefully and Molly found herself blinking back tears again.
"Of course I'll marry you," she answered, watching in some bemusement as Sherlock placed the ring on the third finger of her left hand. Of course, she wasn't surprised that it fit perfectly.
Then she threw her arms around him and kissed him passionately, until he let out a little sound of discomfort and pulled away.
"Much as I enjoy these wonderful kisses, my knees aren't quite as willing to remain on the floor for an extended period of time. Why don't we eat now? Your real chips are in the other cardboard container."
Molly giggled, and he stood, dusted off the dirt from his knees and sat at his place at the table. Well, at least the table is clean, she thought in some amusement.
As they ate, she asked curiously, "Where is your microscope and your other scientific instruments?"
He looked at her, a chip halfway to his mouth. "I asked Mrs. Hudson if I could use 221C as my lab. I decided that if I am going to do what normal people do, like get married and have a family, it might be prudent to keep my experiments elsewhere." He popped the chip into his mouth and chewed, oblivious to the fact that Molly was looking over at him in astonishment.
Molly's breath had caught at the casual mention of the word family. She herself desperately wanted children of her own, although she hadn't been sure if Sherlock would feel the same way.
"You...you do want children then?"
He gave her an uncertain look. "I'm sorry. Was that presumptuous of me? I had thought to follow the natural order of things, but if that's something you don't want..."
"No, no," she assured him hastily. "I've always wanted children, but I wasn't sure that you would want them, and I wouldn't want you to feel pressured into having a family of your own."
He smiled with relief. "Well, that's settled then. I suppose we should discuss how many children we would like?"
"I think two."
He looked disappointed. "I was thinking more along the lines of seven, you know, like the von Trapp children in The Sound of Music."
Molly snorted then, spitting out the chip she had been chewing. "You had better get that thought of yours out of your head immediately, Sherlock Holmes. My body is not equipped to carry seven children."
He pouted. "Make me a counter-offer then."
Molly laughed. "Three."
"Five."
She rolled her eyes. "No more than four."
"It's a deal." He stood up and threw his empty cardboard container into the rubbish bin, returning for hers, which was also finished, tossing it also into the bin. Then he took Molly's hand and led her back into the sitting room.
For the first time he settled himself on his chair and pulled her onto his lap. "I feel the need to kiss you some more. And then I think we need to discuss the wedding."
Molly enjoyed the sensation of being on his lap, being closer to him. They kissed for several minutes, Sherlock's one hand rubbing circles on her back as they continued their embrace.
This time when they ended their embrace, there was a definite note of passion and desire in Sherlock's voice as he said, "I think we should look at getting married sooner rather than later. I am having certain…urges to move things further along with you."
Molly blushed. "I feel that too. I long to be closer with you as well. So, when did you have in mind?"
"How about Christmas?"
"But…but didn't you want to finish that case with Magnussen first? Christmas is less than two months away," she expostulated.
Sherlock shrugged. "Change of plans. I had an idea to confront him on Christmas Day, but I've decided it is too risky and it might be better to employ different methods with which to bring him to justice. My thought for Christmas was instead of going down to Sussex to be with my parents, I would simply tell them to come here."
"Is this really what you want? To be married so soon, I mean."
He sighed. "If you want me to wait till the wedding night to be intimate with you, yes."
"Then my answer is yes." She smiled at him and they sealed it with another sweet kiss.
In the end it was decided that it would be easier to marry ten days before Christmas so they would have time for a honeymoon, rather than on the day itself. Some discussion was made about waiting until after Christmas, but Sherlock and Molly mutually decided that sooner was better than later. It had been getting progressively more difficult for them to wait for their wedding night, but they stuck to it.
It had been quite funny too, because Mrs. Hudson had been quite convinced that they were being rather old-fashioned. Molly had to laugh at this, because she would have expected someone from the older generation to understand those values a little better.
Nevertheless, as they basked in the afterglow of exploring each other's bodies intimately for the first time, the newlyweds were content with their decision.
Molly giggled as Sherlock reverently traced the curve of her breast. "What wondrous things these are," he murmured.
"I remember you saying at the Christmas party a few years ago that they were too small."
"I didn't use those words exactly," he protested, kissing her hair. "Besides, I know now that I was feeling jealousy and wished to lash out at you for being dressed up for another man. You know how embarrassed I was when I realised that man was me."
She traced her own line across his well-defined chest, then down around the indented scar of the bullet wound. "It's all water under the bridge now. I'm so thankful that you survived, and that you have healed."
"Yes, my body has healed, but so also has my soul been made whole as well, thanks to you."
"I didn't make the decision to become a Christian, that was all your own doing," she told him, placing a kiss on his chest.
"But your assistance was invaluable in that regard. You planted the seeds, with your selflessness and your love. I am so blessed, and I am looking forward to a wonderful future with you, my love, my wife." He reached his hand up to turn her face into his, pressing his lips against hers sweetly.
It was going to be a wonderful Christmas, now that Sherlock understood the true meaning of it, mused Molly happily as she lay contentedly in her husband's arms. Of course, they had a wonderful honeymoon to experience first!