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Slowly, once they were certain Lydia was quite healthy despite being premature, Sherlock began to take on cases again. Not too many, and never many that ranked above a five in his own personal system, but enough that they weren’t reliant on his brother as much to make ends meet anymore. Molly was able to focus on her university post knowing that Lydia was in the very competent care of Mrs. Hudson, who had volunteered to watch her when Sherlock could not, and life began to settle into more of a routine, which made things much easier for all of them.
This morning, however, the morning routine had gone slightly amiss. It hadn’t been noticeable at first, when she was snuggling next to the warmth her husband provided and he was pressing kisses on her shoulder. That had been quite the pleasant way to wake up, actually, and she’d been more than tempted to take advantage of his overtures before her brain wondered what time it was because she had a department meeting that meant she had to be at the university earlier than usual and had set her alarm to go off earlier.
Or so she had thought.
It was with a slight panic that she realized she had overslept by at least forty minutes, which rather negated being able to take a shower and style her hair. Her husband looked rather amused by that so she’d taken the pillow out from under her head and hit him across the face with it, only to hear him laugh and say “Don’t worry, we’ll manage.”
“How?” she asked.
“Go take one of the ten-minute showers you’re so good at and then pull your hair into a sleek bun. Then you’ll look professional, which is what you want, isn’t it?” he asked, sitting up and tossing the pillow back on her side of the bed.
She considered it. “I suppose.”
“You get ready and I’ll check on Lydia and make you breakfast. I should probably start getting ready myself. If I can’t fool around with you I can get an early start on my case.”
“Is Mrs. Hudson awake?” she asked, pulling back the covers and getting out of bed.
“It’s just a trip to the Yard. Lydia loves it there.
Molly looked at him with wide eyes. “You take our daughter to Scotland Yard?”
“Lestrade and Donovan insist.”
“I might murder them,” she said.
“No, you won’t.” He got out of bed and came around to her, kissing the top of her head. “You still care for them too much and Donovan is one of your best friends. You’d miss her too much.”
“I still don’t like it. What if you take her out to a crime scene?”
“I leave her at the creche if there’s a scene I have to go to,” he said. “I swear, our daughter has never once been to a crime scene.”
She eyed him speculatively. “And the morgue?” He looked a little evasive at that. “Sherlock!”
“Only twice, but there was no other choice,” he said defensively. “Your replacement is a pushy arse.”
“I’ll have to have words with him about that,” she said darkly.
“Go take your shower,” he said, pushing her towards the door. “You’re running out of time.”
She pointed between him and her, moving her finger back and forth multiple times. “We’re going to finish this conversation later, don’t think we won’t.” With that, she left the bedroom and then went to go take her shower. She did so quickly and did as Sherlock suggested and coiled her hair up in a neat, tidy bun, applying some product to it to keep it looking tidy when it dried. She could worry about her make-up when she was done getting dressed, or simply do the bare minimum in the cab after she ate.
She went to the bedroom and picked out an outfit to wear: black trousers, a turquoise button down blouse and a fitted black jacket. She picked out a pair of jet earrings to go with the ensemble and put them on, then got a pair of comfortable black pumps to give herself a few extra inches and gave herself a look in the full-length mirror, all in all, she felt she looked good. She checked her handbag and her briefcase and then went out to the kitchen to see how Sherlock was faring.
Sherlock was already dressed in a dark blue shirt and dark grey trousers, and he had brought Lydia out to settle her in her playpen in the sitting room. Molly went out to say hello to her daughter for a moment before going into the kitchen to move around Sherlock to make her coffee while he made breakfast for them. “Do I have time for a sit-down breakfast?” she asked. “My meeting is at eight.”
“And it’s only seven oh six, and for you I have some muffins that were left over from the batch Mrs. Hudson made that I’ve warmed that you liked and a banger you can eat here while you wait for your cab,” he said, pointing to a plate by the microwave. He looked over at her and turned away from the stove to unbutton her jacket. “It looks better open.”
“You called me a cab?” she asked with a smile.
“One who owes me favours,” he said. “He’ll get you to your university with time to spare.”
She looked over at him for a moment and then reached forward, unbuttoning his shirt. He gave her a quizzical look but she stopped three buttons down and then began re-buttoning it. “You missed one,” she said, her smile widening. When she was done she smoothed it down. “Was Lydia crying while you were getting dressed?”
He gave her an almost sheepish look. “Yes. She must have guessed we’d woken up.”
She laughed slightly. “It happens.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and then nicked the banger that was meant for her and put it on the plate with the muffins and began to eat. It seemed like she had just started when there was a car honking outside. “Oh, he is quick. Should I hang on for dear life?”
“I might, to be safe. But I told him if anything happens to you he’ll pay dearly.” He leaned over and gave her a quick but still lingering kiss. “Have a good day, Molly.”
“You too, Sherlock. Good luck with the case. Love you!” she said as she balanced her plate and her coffee and went to pick up her handbag and briefcase.
“I love you too,” he called out as she walked out the door, saying goodbye to her daughter before she left. She made her way out to the cab and got in. All in all, it was a very hectic morning, but it was still quite a good one, and she hoped that was a sign for the type of day it would be.