The first time it had happened was following Sherlock's shocking discovery. He'd slumped into her flat, visibly upset in the middle of the night. She'd moved him to the sofa and sat him down, pouring him tea, not even caring that he was seeing her in her nightshirt, until he'd finally opened up to what had got him in such a mood.

"He's getting married.." he'd said, and she'd raised an eyebrow. "To.. Mary whatshername"
"Morstan"
"Yes.. The teacher." he'd grumbled bitterly, sipping at his tea. The relationship between John and Sherlock had been strained for the past few months, since he'd revealed that he'd faked his death, but slowly it was getting back to normal, how they'd always been, John and Sherlock solving crimes together. Until, that was, they'd been hired by a school teacher who's father had mysteriously vanished. John had become smitten instantly but unlike all the other women he'd been with, Mary was different. In Sherlock's opinion, John was putting his relationship with Mary before his friendship with Sherlock, and Sherlock was struggling to come to terms with the fact that he was now second best in the eyes of his best friend.
"He's not abandoning you.." Molly said softly after a few moments. "Besides, you'll always have me.." she giggled slightly in that way that she did when she was nervous, and something in Sherlock's head seemed to click. She was right, of course. He always had her. He leaned forward and placed his mug down on the coffee table, before taking her hands in his. His thumbs lightly stroked the skin on the back of her hands and she looked at him curiously.
"You're right... I always have you.." he leaned towards her, keeping hold of her hands, and pressed his lips to hers. She hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding heavily until she eventually relaxed and kissed him back.

His fingers brushed over the hem of her nightshirt as hers ran down his shirt, slowly popping open the buttons one by one until it was completely unbuttoned. She pulled back from the kiss to look at him, feasting her eyes just in case this never happened again. Once she was satisfied, she kissed over his chest, her fingers pushing his shirt from his shoulders. He chuckled softly, pressing his lips to the top of her head before slowly working her nightshirt off. She pulled back and pulled it over her head, throwing it to the floor without a care, before immediately pressing her lips back to his. Her fingers worked at his belt, tugging it open.

They were soon naked, their lips pressed together as they kissed hotly. She could feel his erection pressed against her thigh and his fingers brushed over her nipples, his hands cupping her breasts, feeling her, memorising every inch. She shifted herself slightly so that the tip of his cock was at her entrance, and paused, waiting for him to make the move.

Sherlock took a deep breath. He'd never gotten this far with anyone and it was, he decided, perfect that it was Molly who was about to take his virginity. He felt the slight shiver of nerves run up his spine, but he wanted this. He wanted her. His fingers moved to her hips and he lightly pulled her down as he raised his hips, pushing himself deeply into her; an action that caused a soft gasp to escape her lips. He loved that noise and couldn't help but smile as she made it. She pressed her lips to his, her tongue parting his lips and slipping into the warmth of his mouth, tasting him. He tasted like tea and nicotine gum, and something else. Something she rather enjoyed. Her hips moved against his as she rode him slowly, their tongues dancing together.

She knew he was approaching his climax when his fingers gripped her hips, moving her faster. Her clit brushed against his length sending spark after spark of pleasure coursing through her body. He groaned and arched his back as he came deep within her, the very feeling pushing her over the edge and triggering her own. As they came down from their high, they cuddled, his strong arms holding her tight, his lips moving against her temple. As she drifted off to sleep, a sofa throw tossed over the pair as she snuggled against his chest, he watched her, quietly deciding that he did, in fact, love Molly Hooper.

It happened fairly frequently after the first time. At least once a week he would grace her flat, and occasionally she would grace his. They would sit talking until the early hours of the morning, make love, spend hours exploring one another's bodies. Sherlock found he actually enjoyed the physical stimulation in a way that he had never thought possible.
"What are we?" he asked her one day, taking her by surprise. She looked up from the book she'd been studying, and tilted her head
"I.. don't know.."
"Are we dating?"
"I.. well we're enjoying one another's company"
"I think I want to marry you." he said, looking down at her. She blinked, opening her mouth to speak but there were no words. She frowned.
"What?"
He smiled, shifting to pull a small box out of his pocket, opening it. "Will you marry me, Molly Hooper?"
She looked down at the ring. Diamonds. Perfect. Everything she'd dreamed of as a child, but of course it would be. It was Sherlock Holmes after all.
"Yes.. Of course I will." she smiled, kissing him deeply as he slipped the ring onto her finger.

The morning of John's wedding, Molly was distracted. Sherlock noticed immediately, but she wouldn't tell him what was wrong.
"Today is John's day" she told him every time he asked. They stood together as John said his vows, Sherlock playing the dutiful best man, though Molly could tell he was hating every minute. They danced together for the first time that evening, and as their bodies pressed together, Sherlock dipped his head.
"Will you tell me?" he asked softly, his lips pressed to her ear. She could hardly deny him the news much longer and nodded, taking his hand and leading him from the reception room and out into the gardens. The diamond on her ring finger sparkled under the fairy lights in the trees.
"Molly, what is it?" he asked, taking her hands in his.
"I'm pregnant.."

Sherlock's face dropped as a million thoughts filled his head and then quickly vanished, leaving him with nothing. He had no words, there was nothing he could say. Instead, he cupped her cheeks, kissing her deeply, passionately.
"This is becoming very.. normal.." he chuckled as he pulled back, stroking her cheek gently.
"Well you know what they say, Sherlock.." he frowned, shaking his head. "If we don't change, we don't grow. If we don't grow, we aren't really living... Embrace it. You might actually find that you like a bit of normality.."

Sherlock barely left her side from that day on, worried that something would happen to her. They'd married not long after she'd told him the news, in a quiet ceremony at the Register office, attended only by John, Mary, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. Mycroft had sent gifts, but they remained unopened on Sherlock's desk. When he needed to go on a case, he made Mrs Hudson stay with her, making sure nothing happened. John laughed about it often, how Sherlock had gone from not caring to caring too much. Sherlock didn't find it amusing in the slightest.
"He has a point.." Molly had said when he'd told her the whole story. Sherlock looked over her, sitting on the sofa and looking as though she was ready to burst. He smiled, so very full of love for his forensic pathologist. He shrugged.
"I just don't want anything to happen to you."

She woke in the middle of the night in pain, calling out for Sherlock. The bedroom door was immediately thrown open, and the consulting detective was soon by her side, helping her from the bed.
"Is it that time?" he asked, feeling her nails digging into his shoulder. He took that as a yes.

He'd not been prepared for the screaming, despite the amount of research he'd done on the subject of childbirth. He was also surprised by the strength Molly had as she gripped hold of his hand, he could swear it was about to break. Eventually, 16 hours after it had all started, the midwife was handing a tiny baby girl to Sherlock.

He looked down at the child, who looked so much like her mother but with Sherlock's eyes and hair, and found himself filled with more love than he ever thought was capable of a human being. He smiled as she gripped his finger, and softly planted a kiss upon the child's head.
"She's beautiful.." he whispered softly, before his thoughts were distracted by chaos behind him. He frowned as he turned, looking to the scene with pure horror as doctors moved towards his wife. The defibrillator was out. Why was the defibrillator out? He couldn't work it out. He placed the baby into the clear plastic cots that hospitals used and moved towards Molly.

"Time of death, 5:34pm" he heard, though it sounded weird, echoey, like it was happening hundreds of miles away and yet, Molly, his Molly. Her hand had fallen to the side of the bed, limp. Her eyes were closed, her body wasn't moving. Sherlock dropped to her side, taking her hand in his. She was growing colder.
"No.." he whispered softly, pressing her hand to his lips. "Molly, wake up.."