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Molly had been counting down the days since he left. It had been four months, two weeks and six days since she had gotten married and spent any time with her husband. She woke up that morning slightly dejected, as she did most mornings. She absolutely hated being in bed alone. The first two weeks she hadn't been able to sleep very well. John's wife had taken pity on her and told her a secret: take one of her pillows, put one of his shirts on it and spritz it with his cologne and then sleep holding that. It helped, but it wasn't the same, and now she owed Sherlock an entire bottle of his cologne.
There had been a few changes since he had been gone, and one of them swatted her face as she valiantly tried to go back to sleep. After a few more minutes of feeling tiny kitten paws batting at her nose she woke up and glared at the tiny ball of fluff. “Why can't you let me sleep?” she asked with a yawn. She glanced to her side and saw it was nearly eight in the morning. She had gone to bed five hours earlier. That was just about as much sleep as she had managed to get in the last few months, she realized as she pulled her kitten closer and scratched her behind the ears. The kitten had only been in the home for two weeks and she still hadn't settled on a name for it yet. She'd have to eventually, she thought to herself. “Let's get you fed, shall we? And me too, while we're at it.”
She set the kitten down and pushed back the covers, padding out to the kitchen. She stilled for a moment as a wave of nausea swept over her. That was the other major change. She had told Sherlock she didn't mind getting pregnant, and she had gotten her wish. She hadn't even gotten to tell him herself; whatever it was he was doing they couldn't contact each other. Mycroft passed messages back and forth between them when he could, so she knew he knew. She had gotten the feeling from his response he was quite pleased by the news. But she was nearly halfway through her second trimester and she really wanted him home. She didn't want to do this alone.
She made it out to the sitting room and got startled when she realized she wasn't there alone. “Mycroft! There's such a thing as a phone,” she said, shutting her eyes. She was quite thankful that she had gone to bed wearing yoga pants and a camisole top the night before as opposed to just sleeping in one of Sherlock's shirts.
“He's coming home today,” he said quietly.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at her brother-in-law. “When? How?” Then she paused, and her gaze narrowed. “And what happened to him that you couldn't call and tell me that bit of news?”
Mycroft looked just a tiny bit guilty. “He got shot, and his arm is broken in two places. But other than that he's fine. He's walking on his own and he is most eager to come home.”
“Where did he get shot?” she asked, her hands over her mouth and her eyes wide.
“In the torso. It was a through and through shot, and all the vital organs were missed. The business isn't quite finished but I suppose the local authorities can take care of the rest, with some assistance from our government. I thought it best if he came home as soon as possible.”
“You're damn right that's the best thing to think,” she said, glaring at him. “How long ago did it happen?”
“Three days ago.” He looked over at Molly. “As soon as he comes back to Britain I need to talk to him briefly, but I do not anticipate that will take long. I'll send him home as soon as I can.”
She nodded, still slightly shell-shocked. Sherlock was injured, but he was coming home. After four and a half months apart they were going to be together again. “Does he have his phone?” she asked.
“I will give it to him when I see him,” he said. He paused for a moment. “I do not think he has changed much, but you should be prepared. He had to make hard choices while he was gone.”
“Will he be able to talk to me about what happened?” she asked quietly..
“Only to you,” Mycroft said. “He can't tell Lestrade or Mrs. Hudson or even John. I did not think it would be right to have him keep the secrets from you as well. I appreciate the changes you have wrought in him, Molly. I don't want to see your marriage crumble because there isn't absolute truth between you.”
“All right,” she said with a nod. “When should I expect him?”
“Around eleven. His plane lands in less than an hour, and then I need to talk to him. I'll send him home again as soon as I can.” He made his way to the door and then stopped. “He seemed most eager to get home when I talked to him three days ago, but he was worried that you might not need him as much as he needs you. I hope that is not the case.”
“No, that's not the case,” she said. “When you see him tell him I'm ecstatic and the sooner I see him the better.”
Mycroft gave her a small smile. “I will pass along that message. I think that will allay his fear greatly.” He made his way to the stairs and then he left.
Molly heard the door close behind him and inside she began to panic. He was coming home today and he was hurt and she looked an absolute mess and nothing fit anymore as she was starting to show. She paced for a moment, nearly tripping over the kitten, before she shut her eyes and took a deep breath to calm down. He wasn't going to care what she looked like, she realized. He was simply going to be thrilled to see her again, to be able to be in the same room with her and kiss her and hold her close. But that didn't mean she couldn't try and look her best.
She went to the washroom and fed the kitten, then stripped out of her clothes and took a long hot shower. While she was cleaning up she began to make a few plans in her head, occasionally speaking to herself as she tried to sort things out. In the end it would come down to what Sherlock wanted to do more than anything else, but at least if she had suggestions that would be good. She finished her shower and then wrapped a towel around herself before heading into their bedroom. She looked at all the clothes she had left that fit decently and came up with something that looked nice enough. She changed into it and debated getting something to eat, but the idea of making food and attempting to keep it down made her jittery so she decided not to.
She was nervous, more nervous than she had been when she had been getting ready for their wedding. He was going to be a different man, she knew, though how different depended on what had happened to him. He was going to come home to her and a kitten and a baby on the way, and it was all going to be so different. She was just worried it wouldn't be how it had been before, that there might be a gulf between them that she couldn't cross. She loved Sherlock more than she had ever loved anyone else in her life and she didn't want their relationship to be drastically changed now. Finally she sat down and decided to watch the telly. Not much kept her attention, but the noises and images helped slow the whirring thoughts in her head. She kept glancing at the clock, and at ten o'clock her phone rang. She nearly dropped it as she fumbled in picking it up, but she saw it was Sherlock and she grinned. She took a deep breath and answered it. “Welcome back,” she said.
“I'm not home yet,” he said with a slight chuckle. She relaxed. “I decided not to take a cab home. I've had enough of cabs for a while. I'm at the station near where I spoke to Mycroft right now and I'll be near the flat in roughly twenty-five minutes. Can you meet me at the station?”
“Of course I can,” she said, nodding even though he couldn't see her. “I'll be there, I promise.”
“Good. I have missed you very much,” he said.
“I missed you too,” she said softly. “I'm quite happy you're home.”
“You're no longer ecstatic?” he asked, and she could tell he was teasing her by the tone of voice he used.
She chuckled. “Well, now that I'm talking to you I'm beyond ecstatic. I'm elated.”
“I like elated.” He paused for a moment. “Is there anything I should know before I come home?”
“We have a kitten now,” she said. “Sally's cat had a litter and she was trying to get them to good homes. I felt lonely so I took one. It's a Siamese cat, I think.”
“Does our kitten have a name?” he asked.
“Not at the moment. I had hoped you would help me pick one out. We have another name to pick out later, so I felt we should get some practice.”
“How is the pregnancy going?” he asked.
“Well enough. I get hit with bouts of nausea sometimes, but I haven't actually been vomiting up much food. Only sometimes. I'm definitely showing, though. Soon enough I'm going to have to start buying bigger maternity clothes. I mean, I'm nearly five months pregnant now.”
“I am sorry I missed so much,” he said with a sigh.
“It's all right, Sherlock. You're going to be here for the important bits. I mean, I haven't even had the sonogram yet. I still have at least a month until that happens. But I bought a fetal monitor and you can hear the heartbeat now. Her heart beats so fast.”
“I take it you have your heart set on a girl,” he said.
“I do, but I'll be happy with either as long as they're healthy. But if we are having a son I'd love to name him after you. I quite like your name.”
“I don't foresee having a problem with that.” He was quiet for a moment. “I'm getting on the train now. Do you want to stay on the phone with me until we are reunited?”
“I would love that,” she said with a grin, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hair was shorter again and she couldn't pull it back into a ponytail at the moment. That was going to come as a surprise, she bet. “Are you going to want to talk about what happened?”
“Yes. Mycroft said I can tell you everything, and I think that will be a good thing. I can imagine he presented the news in a way that made you think the most dire thoughts.”
“That was the impression I got,” she said. “Was he wrong?”
“Mostly. There are a few things I did that I regret, but it was no worse than what I had done to take down Moriarty's network of informants and criminals. I didn't do anything that would do long term damage to my psyche. But as I haven't gotten to go over the details with anyone except Mycroft it will be nice to hash it out with someone who can help me decompress. It might take some time for me to get back to living a normal life again, though.”
“I'll help you as much as I can,” she said quietly. “Just remember that you aren't coming back to an empty flat this time, like you did after the fall. You're coming back home to a wife who loves you.”
“And a kitten,” he said in an amused tone.
She chuckled. “Yes, and a kitten. Be happy there isn't a dog in the mix as well. I seriously considered it.”
“I don't think I could have handled a dog. But seeing as we have a kitten I suppose the kitten and I can learn to tolerate each other.”
“She has a habit of waking me up in the morning by treating my nose like her own personal punching bag,” she said. “I imagine you'll get much the same treatment if she takes to you.”
“I'm not looking forward to that,” he said. “But I suppose I can live with it as long as I'm sharing the bed with the both of you and not just the kitten.”
“Trust me, I'm staying nice and close to you every night until I get too uncomfortable to get a good night's rest,” she said. “But hopefully that will be a few months down the line. I'm already dreading the part where she kicks and punches in the middle of the night.”
“Well, if you can't sleep I won't mind if you keep me up as well,” he said. “And after the baby is born I'll try my best to let you sleep as much as you can to make up for it.”
“I should be the one making it up to you,” she pointed out.
“I missed the entire first trimester of your pregnancy. If nothing else I will be making that up to you.”
“You don't have to, Sherlock,” she said gently. “Like I said, all the really important stuff is still coming up. I mean, there's the sonogram and picking names and decorating the room and all sorts of other stuff. You just missed the times I nearly lost my food because of the morning sickness. And even that seems to be tapering off. I think you're arriving just in time for the strange food cravings.”
“I see many trips to the market in store for me,” he said with a chuckle.
“Most likely, yes,” she said. “And tearing London apart to find things that are out of season or not British. That's probably going to happen a lot too.”
“I have to admit, I'm actually looking forward to that. At least I will be contributing to your pregnancy in a worthwhile way.”
“Well, the entire thing wouldn't have happened if you hadn't already contributed in a worthwhile way,” she said in a teasing voice.
“I know,” he said with another chuckle. “But you do get my meaning, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“You might want to head down to the station now,” he said. “It won't be long.”
“The one I go to the right for, right?” she asked
“Yes. I'll be there in fifteen minutes. I think that will give you enough time to walk there.”
She stood up and looked for her shoes, slipping them on when she found them. “Was it cold outside?”
“A bit chilly, yes,” he said.
“Then I need to set down my phone to put my jacket on,” she said. “Give me a moment, all right?”
“All right.” She set down her phone and went to the coat rack, grabbing her jacket. She slipped it on and then picked up her phone again. “Molly?” she could hear him ask.
“I'm back,” she said. “On my way out now.” She moved to grab her keys and made her way to the door, opening it up since Mycroft had locked it behind him. One day she was going to ask him how on earth he had a key. She stepped outside and was immediately glad she had put on the jacket. Spring was near but it was still cold right now. She put the phone between her ear and shoulder and locked up behind her before heading towards the nearest Underground station. “Still there, Sherlock?”
“Yes,” he said. “I find I'm a bit nervous.”
“I am too. But in a good way,” she said.
“I feel the same. Do you look drastically different, other than being pregnant?”
“My hair is short again. Chin length now, because I just got tired of having it longer. How about you?”
“My hair is shorter as well,” he said. “And I'm a ginger.”
“Oh, that's going to take some getting used to. I'm surprised you went that route as opposed to blonde or brown.”
“Actually I've had all three at some point. I fear it's going to be a while before my hair gets back to normal.” He was quiet for a few moments. “Mycroft told you I got injured, I assume.”
“Yes. You got shot in the side and your arm is broken in two places,” she said softly.
“It's more my wrist and my arm in one place,” he said. “But it wasn't my dominant arm. I'm in a cast up to my elbow, for which I'm thankful. If it had been up to my shoulder I would have been very put out. And I should try my best not to pull the stitches in my torso.”
“Well, I'll treat you gently if you want,” she said. “Maybe not quite with kid gloves, but I won't be pushing for you to do a whole lot.”
“What I really want to do is take you to bed and then not leave for a week,” he said.
She turned red slightly. “I can't believe you just said that in a public place.”
“Well, it's the truth, and I honestly don't care who hears. It's been nearly five months since I've gotten to see my wife and I want to spend as much time with her as I can. And if spending time with her means never leaving the bedroom then that's my plan.”
She laughed. “Oh, you're incorrigible,” she said. “As it stands, I approve of this plan.”
“Good. Maybe not the minute we get home, but soon afterward we're going to go there and only leave to get food.”
“I don't think I've ever heard you quite that eager,” she said in an amused tone.
“Five months,” he said insistently.
“Trust me, I've been keeping track myself. I'm just as eager, even if I'm not letting the public at large hear just how much.” She was quiet for a few minutes as she looked around at her surroundings. She thought she was close, but not sure. “Before we go home, can we get a bite to eat? I skipped breakfast this morning. Too nervous and all.”
“That sounds fine. I haven't eaten since last night. Though I will admit I had hoped to have a home-cooked meal.”
“I can do that for supper if we pick up something on the way home. I've gotten quite good at a few new recipes while you've been gone. We can talk it over and you can tell me what sounds appealing and what doesn't.”
“Very well.” He was quiet for a moment. “Are you almost there?”
“I think I am? I don't normally use the Underground so I'm not quite sure where the entrance to the station is.”
“If you're near the bakery it's one block over. It should take you about five minutes to get there.”
“Got it,” she said, looking around and seeing the bakery. “God, I'm really nervous. More nervous than I expected.”
“I am too,” he admitted. “But I also find I can't wait.”
“I know. I can't either.” She saw the station entrance and made her way to it. “Promise me you'll never do this again if you can help it.”
“Mycroft will have to pry me away from home with a crowbar, and even then I don't think he'll be successful.”
She laughed heartily this time. “Good.” She went down the stairs and stood there. “I'm here now. How far away are you?”
“Five minutes, give or take. I'm going to put my phone away now and I'll see you soon. I love you.”
She smiled widely. “I love you too, Sherlock.” She heard him hang up and she put her phone in her pocket, looking around. After a few minutes she could hear the train approaching. The train pulled up and stopped, and people spilled out. She scanned the crowd for him, remembering he was a ginger right now, and after a minute she spotted him. She waved, trying to get her attention as she ran towards him. Finally he saw her and the smile on his face was one of the widest she had ever seen. She got to him just after he dropped his bag on the floor and threw her arms around his neck. He embraced her back and lifted her up, twirling her slightly. “You're going to hurt yourself!” she said with a laugh. “You have stitches, remember?”
“I find I don't care,” he said as he set her back down. He took his good hand and touched her face gently. “I am very glad to see you again.”
“I'm so happy to see you too,” she said, getting a little teary-eyed.
He moved his hand slightly and leaned in to kiss her, and she pressed herself up against him, trying to keep him as close as she could as she kissed him back. They kissed for quite a while, ignoring all the other people at the station, until they finally pulled apart to breathe. “I missed that greatly,” he said quietly, running his thumb along her cheekbone.
“I missed it too,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. She beamed at him. Her husband was home and with the way he had just kissed her she could tell it would be a very long time until they spent that much time apart again, if they ever did. “Welcome back, Sherlock.”
“I'm glad to be back, even if I'm not home yet.” He reluctantly pulled away to pick up his bag, and then he offered her his arm with the cast. “I can forgo food for a while. Let's go home, all right?”
She linked her arm through his. “Okay. Let's go home.” She looked up at him, a wide smile on her face, and she saw she was getting one in return. After a few moments they looked away and began to make their way back home. Everything was perfect, she thought to herself. It honestly couldn't get any better than this.