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Molly held Sherlock’s hand as he woke. He blinked a few times, looked around the room, and grinned broadly at the IV drip slowly putting more of the pain medication from his surgery into his blood stream to ease the pain of recovery. “Is that - Morphine? Not good… Nurse!”
He tried to reach with his hand for the buzzer, only to find it holding another. He looked down, frowning at the hand, then followed said hand up to Molly’s smiling face. “Hi. How are you feeling?”
He gave her another child-like grin. “Oh, are you my nurse? You’re pretty. Too bad you’re married.”
Molly giggled. “I’m not a nurse. Go on, try again, you know you want to.”
Sherlock frowned, his eyes narrowing almost comically. “Oh, dead people. You work with dead people. Path- patho..”
"Pathologist, Sherlock."
The great consulting detective actually giggled at the word. “That’s right. You’re pretty. I bet you’re good with - pfft - bodies.”
Molly arched her brow. An innuendo, really? God, he really was a five year old.
"I’ve been told as much," She replied, rolling her eyes. "Do you remember what happened?"
Another frown, and he looked down at himself. “Appendix.” He began grinning madly again. “This is fun, tell me more things to find.” More giggles.
She looked over her shoulder at John, who unabashedly held his phone up, making sure to capture all of what had and would be going on during Sherlock’s drugged up and overly happy waking time.
"Why don’t you tell John where he’s been?" she invited.
Again, Sherlock made the strangest face, almost a blanch and shook his head. “No, he’s boring,” he said, turning his attention back to Molly. “You’re not - why are you married? It’s not fair. He’s probably an arse.”
John snorted.
Molly just gave him a patient look. “He can be, sometimes, but I still love him.”
Sherlock frowned, looking down at his hand that she still held. He zoned in on the ring on his finger. “Oh, am I married too?”
"Yes, Sherlock."
"Where’s my wife? Must be special - I don’t wanna get married. Senti- sente- sent- feelings are bad."
Molly blushed. “You used to say that. Not anymore.”
Something in his mind must of clicked, because again, Sherlock gave the biggest dopey grin. “Oh, I’m married to you!” He sounded so pleased with his deduction.
Molly nodded, smiling back. “Yup.”
"Ah. Excellent. You’re pretty - have I told you that?"
"Three times in the last two minutes, Sherlock."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, who’d spoken. “Good!”
A slight squeeze of his hand, and he was looking back to Molly. “Why is he here?”
"He’s your friend."
"I don’t have -"
"Now you do." She cut him off with a kiss to the back of his hand. He was entirely engrossed in the movement for several moments.
"Ah. One last question."
"Yes?"
"Who are you?"
Molly giggled. “Molly Holmes.”
There was a bit more conversation, Sherlock made a few more deductions of information he should have known - including the existence of a goddaughter and soon-to-be arrival of his own child (“It’s gonna be a girl, just as pretty as you” “Sherlock, it’s a son, I’ll show you the sonograms later.”)
When Sherlock finally recovered, he was none too pleased with the video’s existence, or the fact that thanks to John’s blog, it had over 1,000,000 views.