A/N: Yes! Finally, another chapter ready. Phew, this took me so long.

So, this is an era ending, indeed. The chapter in which we say goodbye to our beloved landlady, Mrs. Hudson. I hope I did it justice. By the way, I decided to not go back and change Sherlock's parents. So in my story, his father was a cold-hearted man who didn't love his wife and left her, eventually. Just to clear up any confusion which might arise reading this.

Oh yes, also a big warning for quite a lot of sex at the end. I just can't stop myself. I like them being naughty. Also thought it would be interesting to deal with some boundaries. A relationsip can be as good as it wants, but each of us is different and has it's own turn on's and off's and sometimes, the turn off for one is a turn on for the other and you have to deal with it with your partner. Ha, look at me, giving sex advice now? Hardly qualified. *snorts*

Friday, 25th of July came faster than anyone had expected. Sherlock was dressing up in his finest suit and tie when the weight of losing his former landlady and mother-figure finally settled on his chest. He had pushed this fact in the furthest corner of his mind ever since he had learned almost a year ago that she was leaving. But now it was time to face it, analyse the feelings it stirred in him, deal with them and finally, accept them.

It would definitely be more quiet from Sunday on, he contemplated as he tied his tie. And there would be a lack in convenience. Even though Molly was taking care of the household and tended to his needs, she would never be as perfect doing it as Mrs. Hudson. She had the motherly instinct he required to feel absolutely comfortable in his home. It always had been the little things, like making him tea in the morning, filling up the cookie jar so he would always have a snack, making his bed in the morning and washing all his clothes. As he put on the silver cufflinks his mother had given him several years ago, Sherlock compared Molly to Mrs. Hudson. Not an easy comparison, for each woman filled a very different role in his life and he wanted to do things with Molly he most definitely did not want to do with Mrs. Hudson!

Molly was his lover, his partner. Mrs. Hudson had been a landlady and a mother when he had needed one. No, Molly could not replace Mrs. Hudson, nor could she fill her role…and he didn't want her to.

Sherlock couldn't help the feeling of loss when he thought about the nights he had spent with Mrs. Hudson in her little cozy kitchen, cooking or baking smells hanging in the air, mixing with the cigarettes they had used to smoke. Before John had come along, they had smoked together more often, him nibbling her cookies or the food she always had ready when he had come, and she chatting away about everything and nothing…mostly nothing. It had annoyed him back then and he had tuned out most of it. Funny that he thought back at those times with a certain fondness now.


Sherlock looked into the mirror, seeing Molly step up behind him with a smile. She was wearing a strapless black dress with a big white sash draped over one of her shoulders, which was elegantly slung around her upper body, uniting at her waist in a bow. Her hair was tied in an elegant bun in the nape of her neck and she was wearing very natural make-up which complemented her natural features. Molly stood on her toes as she reached around him to straighten his tie.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly and their eyes met.

"Of course I am. Why shouldn't I be?"

She tilted her head and smiled way too comfortingly.

"Because it's only two more days you have with her."

Sherlock sighed in annoyance and reached for his black suit jacket. Mary had insisted on a black and white dress code for this evening.

"She's not going to die, Molly. She is just moving to Australia. You are all acting like it's the end of the world."

"It is the end of an era."

"If you say so."

"Are you going to be this grumpy all night?"

Molly's voice was still soft and understanding and it made Sherlock's eye twitch. He didn't appreciate being treated like an emotional little boy. He was a man of logic, for heaven's sake.

"If you lot keep staring like you're waiting for me to burst into tears, then yes, I will."

To his surprise, she chuckled.

"I probably shouldn't tell you that we have a little bet going on when exactly you are going to erupt. I have 10.45 pm in the pot."

He looked at her, shocked and hurt that she would ever do something like this.

"I'm kidding" Molly laughed and grabbed his lapels to pull him to her. She pressed a kiss on his reluctant lips and straightened the jacket with a brush of her hands.

"Sorry, sometimes we indeed worry too much about you. Of course you will be fine. And it's not like we're never going to see her again. There is Skype, for instance. She told me you showed her how to use it a couple of weeks ago."

He cleared his throat and his eyes looked around desperately for something to focus on.

"Also, we can always go visit her. I'm rich, you know?"

Sherlock's eyes settled on her brown ones again.

"Yes, I remember."

Finally, he answered her smile with his own and pulled her close to give her another kiss.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing", he murmured against her lips before he kissed her again, deeper this time.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Sherlock Holmes."

For a minute they lost themselves in their embrace.

"Well", she sighed dreamily and let her eyes wander down his body and up again, taking a step back. "You certainly look gorgeous."

Sherlock straightened.

"I know."

Molly laughed, shaking her head.

"What about me? I've never spent this much money on a dress before. I like how it sways", she said and turned for him, her knee-long skirt swirling around her frame. The beaming smile she gave him made his heart flip. Her brown eyes were sparkling and her cheeks glowing with her blush. The long silver earrings caught his attention and he snaked a hand around her wrist to pull her close again, pleased as he noticed her shiver.

"Are these new?" he asked casually while his fingers grazed her ear, then the earring and finally the warm, soft skin of her neck.

"Y-yes." Molly cleared her throat, her lips parted and her eyes fixed on his mouth.

Sherlock couldn't pretend he didn't love seeing her like this, the desire for him so very visible in her big eyes. With a superior smirk he let his thumb graze the bottom lip.

"I like the taste of your lipgloss. Peach?"

Molly nodded, the earring sparkling in the artificial light. She let out a little puff of air as he let the tip of his fingers run along her collar bone, his hand curling around her shoulder. She always felt so fragile in his big hands.


"Yes, Molly?"

He smirked down at her, her face just inches apart from his. Then her fully blown eyes looked into his and her voice sounded completely normal as she spoke:

"If you think that seducing me is getting you out of this last minute, then you're quite mistaken."

It felt like a punch to his gut. Her triumphant smile was definitely a blow to his ego.

With a giggle she walked away.

Oh no, Sherlock said to himself, he wouldn't let her win this time.

"I don't need a reason to want to seduce you, Molly Hooper. Just you being in the same room is enough."

Molly halted in the doorway. When she looked over her shoulder, her eyes were shining even brighter and her cheeks were glowing bright red.

"I know."

She had the nerve to wink at him.

"Come on, then. The others are waiting downstairs."

Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. This woman never failed to surprise him.


"Ugh, finally! Let's go, man!"

As soon as Sherlock had reached the bottom of the stairs, Mary yanked at his arm and literally pushed him out of the door and into the waiting cab. Lestrade nodded at him in greeting.

"Everyone in? Great. Driver, let's go."

Mary squeezed in next to Sherlock and slammed the door shut. She was wearing a white satin dress with a black belt around her waist. Lestrade distinguished himself from the other two men by wearing a black shirt and a white tie. Molly was sitting in between him and John and by the smirk she gave Sherlock, enjoying every second of it. He had already opened his mouth for a snarky remark when Mrs. Hudson hooked her arm under his.

"It is so lovely of you to join us, Sherlock."

His building jealousy evaporated as he saw the happy expression on Mrs. Hudson's face.

"I am only going because there is dancing. I am expecting you to dance with me, Mrs. Hudson."

The angry looks he had been given by Molly and Mary melted away at the last part.

The elderly lady chuckled and patted his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder, careful not to mess up her perfectly styled hair, and Sherlock looked down at her smiling, putting a hand over hers. He looked out of the window, trying to ignore the stares of everyone, although he was quite annoyed by it. He couldn't get rid of the thought that the bet Molly had joked about was real, after all.


Dinner at Angelo's was superb, as always. Excellent food, good wine and anecdotes about Mrs. Hudson put the group of friends in a joyful mood. There was a lot of laughter and at one point, when Mrs. Hudson told the others about the first few months Sherlock had lived in 221B, Sherlock paused to look at his landlady, her smiling face glowing in the candle light. Before he knew it, a warm smile spread on his face as well as in his chest.

"Who had 7.30?" he suddenly heard someone whisper and the smile instantly fell.

Sherlock's eyes darted to Molly and Mary, who were giggling and rummaging in Mary's white handbag until they noticed his glare. The girls instantly hid the bag under the table.

"Seriously?" was Sherlock's only comment.

"What?" Molly and Mary asked in unison, only to giggle again.

"Don't let them tease you, Sherlock", Mrs. Hudson patted his hand comfortingly and shot the women an angry look. "Girls!" was the only thing she needed to say to stop the giggling.

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson", came the obedient reply.

Molly looked at Sherlock and wrinkled her nose at him. A gesture she had never done before, but he liked it.

Angelo saved the evening by bringing the dessert, a creamy Tiramisu everyone hummed about. Somewhere in the middle of this, Sherlock suddenly felt something at his ankle. Something warm and round pressed against his skin, slowly moving upwards, snaking under his trousers and into his sock to pull it down. Now he could feel the warm scratch of Nylon on his skin and understood that this was Molly's foot rubbing up and down his ankle. But not for long. Just after a few seconds the toes snaked their way up and before he knew it, Molly's little foot was massaging his calf…rather nicely.

Sherlock shot her a glance, but Molly innocently ate her dessert while she chatted up Lestrade, not stopping pressing her toes and her toe mounds against his gastrocnemius muscle. It was definitely a new experience and Sherlock was still contemplating if he liked it or not, while his leg moved forward on its own account, offering the curious foot easier access; which it gladly took.

This went on for a while and Sherlock felt pleasantly warm inside and out. He couldn't say it didn't distract him and Greg had to ask him twice if he was finishing his dessert, but it was a lovely distraction and he was almost sorry when they stood up to leave the restaurant.

Angelo showed them their way out, shaking the men's hands and kissing the ones of the ladies. After he had kissed Molly's hand, he cupped it and placed it over his heart.

"Miss Molly, I have heard a lot about you. I am so glad that you ended Sherlock's torture and let him win your heart."

Sherlock closed his eyes and dreamed of punching the traitor on the nose.

"Torture?" Molly asked, side-glancing at Sherlock.

"Oh, yes, yes. He was in deep distress for months! He was here, sitting at this table over there, pouring out his aching heart to me."

"That's quite enough", Sherlock said, fighting down the blush that wanted to creep up his pale cheeks, trying to pull Molly away from Angelo. But the man hadn't finished embarrassing him yet.

"And I said to him: 'Listen Mr. Sherlock, if your heart wants this lady, there is no way of fighting it. You must go and pull her into your arms and then you will be free and will feel the bliss of true love! Wasn't it like this, Sherlock?"

"Not in the slightest, Angelo! We have to go now. Goodbye."

"No! I must know, Miss Molly, did he pull you in your arms like I advised him to?"

Molly giggled.

"Well, not exactly. It was more of a his-mouth-accidently-pressed-onto-mine kind of thing. It's a long story."

"For which we have no time! Let's go!"

Ignoring Angelo's protests, he pushed Molly and the others out of the restaurant and into the cab. For a moment he contemplated to call another one just for himself, but he didn't want the others to think he was embarrassed. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. So, with as much grace as he could master, he got into the cab next to Molly.

While it slid into traffic, he looked out of the window, feeling all eyes on him. He would be damned if he would say anything.

Yet, the silence lasted only a minute.

"So, how exactly did you guys get together?" Greg finally asked.

"Yeah, I just realized you never told us", John joined in and Sherlock groaned inwardly.

"Well, we were at a swinger club…"

"WHAT?" John and Greg asked in shock.

"It was for a case!" Sherlock snapped and instantly cursed himself.

Molly chuckled.

"Sherlock was looking for Irene and he couldn't get into the club without a female companion, so I went along with him."

"Of course", Greg commented sarcastically, earning a glare from Sherlock before his eyes hurried back to the window.

"Well, long story short, we went inside, he abandoned me…,"

"You were supposed to investigate", Sherlock hissed.

"…Irene wasn't there and we left. Outside the club something blew into my eye, Sherlock leaned in to check it and Irene pushed him against me and our lips accidentally made contact and…", Sherlock felt Molly shifting in her seat, "…things kind of got out of hand from there."

Molly cleared her throat.

"Oooh, Sherlock! Good job! Didn't think you had it in you!" Greg teased with one of these white-teethed smiles Sherlock hated.

Mrs. Hudson and John laughed and Mary grinned smugly.

"Yes, fine, you had a good laugh now. Could we please move on? This night is supposed to be about Mrs. Hudson and not about my love life, for heaven's sake."

"Oh, I don't mind, Sherlock", Mrs. Hudson teased and Sherlock felt deeply betrayed.

"Now I finally understand why you like the Woman so much", John added with a grin to Molly.

"That's not why I like her! Well, at least not the only reason."

"Wait a minute. The Woman?! This is the Irene you've talked about? Irene Adler? But…that means she's still…"

"…Alive. Congratulations, George, you've been the last to understand, as always."

Lestrade took a deep breath.

"My name is Greg, for God's sake! And you know that perfectly well, you bloody git!"

"Gentlemen," Mary finally jumped in, "calm down. We're having such a lovely evening with good food and Sherlock-teasing. Let's not ruin it, shall we?"

"I refuse me being a point on tonight's agenda!" Sherlock hissed angrily.

"Oh, come on. They were just asking how it started with you two. They're your friends, you can't blame them for being interested in your life."

Sherlock huffed. Then he noticed that Molly was looking down at her hands, her fingers fumbling with the fabric of her black dress. Yes, should she feel guilty, he thought and turned back to the window, it wasn't appropriate to kiss and tell. Even he knew this much.

They drove in dead silence now. Sherlock felt a cold sensation in his chest. He tried to ignore it. His eyes darted to the side again and again. He tried to fight it, but there was no use.

Damn this woman and her power over him!

He just couldn't stay mad at her, especially when deep down he realized that he might have been over-reacting a bit.

With an inward sigh, he moved his foot until it was between hers and nudged her ankle. They're eyes met and he gave her a little smile. He could see the relief in her eyes and she smiled back at him.

There was no room for talking, so Molly waited until they had reached the club and exited the cab to pull him to the side.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I shouldn't have shared this story without your consent."

He sighed again and pulled her close, his forehead resting against hers.

"No, I overreacted. Mary's right. These are our friends. It's understandable you want to share with them."

But Molly shook her head.

"I should have known you wouldn't be okay with this. I promise I won't talk about our relationship with the others."

Her warmth against his body and the light scent of strawberries on her skin chased away any anger he had felt a minute ago.

"You can talk to Mary or Mrs. Hudson. I know women need to talk about their relationships."

Molly couldn't help but giggle, grazing her nose along his, her lips so very close.

"So you're an expert on women's nature now?" she teased him in a whisper and he felt her hot breasts against his chest.

"My knowledge has certainly expanded in the last few months."

He smiled at her, his hand wandering up her arm and cupping her shoulder.

"Sherlock, are you going to kiss me in front of all the others, still standing outside?"

Her tone was teasing again and he decided he was up to counter attack.

"Right now, with you pressing your wonderful breasts so desperately against my body, I would like to do a lot more than just kiss you, darling."

He felt her shiver in his arms. She really loved it when he used this term of endearment.

"I'm not desperate", she protested weakly, only coming closer, her lips brushing against his.

"Oh, yes you are."

"Oi! Can we go in now or are you going to get it on right here?" Mary shouted and destroyed the field of erotic electricity buzzing around the couple.

Molly chuckled and pressed a light kiss to Sherlock's lips before she leaned back and stuck out her tongue to Mary. But she hurried past her into the club, anyway, leaving Mary and Sherlock alone.

The consulting detective straightened and slid one hand into his pocket, looking at her confidently.

Mary tilted her head.

"You know, I begin to see what Molly sees in you. You're quite handsome right now."

A compliment out of Mary Watson's mouth! Sherlock had to mark the day in his calendar.

"I especially like the blush on your cheeks. It's cute on you."

His eyes narrowed at her. Of course. Hell would freeze over the day she would say something nice to him without spoiling it.

With a little 'hehe', Mary nodded her head, gesturing him to follow her inside.

Sherlock let out a sigh and stepped through the door.

Toe-tapping Latin music greeted him as he entered the dance club, several couples swaying on the dance floor. Colourful spotlights where playing with the colours of the women's dresses and the men's shirts. Most of the men had shrug off their suit jackets and Sherlock felt the reason prickle on his skin: It was definitely too warm in this room, as big as it might have been. The ceiling was high and not one but two sparkling chandeliers hung from it (plastic prisms, Sherlock noticed right away), shedding a warm golden light to the dancers below. He spotted John sitting down on one of the long tables near the bar at the end of the room, his suit jacket already hung on the back of his chair. Greg was pulling back Mrs. Hudson's chair for her to sit down and Molly and Mary were standing at the bar, ordering drinks, apparently. As Sherlock moved through the room, his eyes stayed on his lover (he would never say or think girlfriend, for this title would never be close to describing what she was for him), watching her hips sway and her knees bend to the rhythm of the Spanish guitar and the drums. From John's wedding he already knew that Molly had rhythm, but he was interested to learn how she dealt with Latin dances. The song changed into a Mambo and Sherlock felt the need to dance. He surely had missed dancing, his work so rarely allowing him to indulge in this secret passion. And he had never danced with someone he had been intimate with, let alone loved. Yes, this promised to be an interesting evening.

When he reached the table, he had already taken off his suit jacket and tie and threw both items on the chair next to Mrs. Hudson. He bent down to his landlady, but the elderly woman spoke before he could say anything.

"Just go and have fun, dear", she said and cupped his cheek.

Sherlock smirked boyishly, pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and turned to walk over to his Molly.

She had just put three colourful cocktails onto the tray the barkeeper had provided when Sherlock slung his hands around her waist and pressed his body against hers.

"Dance floor. Now", he purred into her ear and before she could protest, he had taken her hands and was guiding her to the dance floor in the centre of the room. He heard Mary shout a protest and Molly an excuse, but he didn't stop. Instead, he opened the first two buttons of his crisp white shirt, concentrating on the beat of the percussions and the small warm hand in his.

As soon as he stepped on the polished wood, he turned around and lifted his hand, forcing Molly to turn. She let out a surprised yelp and rotated awkwardly around herself, bumping into him.

Sherlock chuckled.

"This is a Mambo", he explained, convinced that she had no experience in these kind of dances, and removed her hand from his chest to stretch out her arm. Quickly, he brought her in position and started to explain the steps to her, gently guiding her in the right direction.

"See, this is the basic step."

Oh, it did feel good, he couldn't lie. He loved knowing and he loved showing off. It felt good to hold her small frame in his big strong arms, pushing and pulling her into the direction he desired.

But, oh, this curious woman never let him have the upper hand for long!

"Sherlock?" she said and when he pulled her, she suddenly straightened and Sherlock could feel her muscles tense under his fingers on her bare back. And then, heaven help him, her expression changed into pure confidence, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief, and she stepped forward, swaying her hip oh so enticingly.

"I know Mambo."

Gone was the clumsiness and his blown-up ego shrunk back to its normal, still overblown size.

Hell yes, Molly Hooper did know Mambo. Her movements were precise and her hips swayed and it left the proud consulting detective baffled.

She grinned at his awe filled expression and invaded his space until their bodies melted together.

"Molly Hooper", Sherlock purred, feeling her hot body against his, and let the hand on her back wander down to the small of her back to pull her even closer so he could make three quick turns, "will you never fail to surprise me?"

"I try my best not to", she replied confidently and let Sherlock push her away to make her turn on her own, only to pull her flush against his body again.

"You must tell me where you've learned to dance but before that, I just have to tell you I've never loved you more than right this moment. You being able to dance…ah, the possibilities! This is one big plus to being in a relationship."

She laughed and shook her head while he reached for her leg, pulled it over his thigh and bent her backwards until he could press a hot kiss on her collarbone.

"I really should be mad at you for being a thoughtless idiot again, but..."

He straightened her and she lazily let her leg wander down his thigh before she put her foot on the ground again.

"...it's so hard to be mad at you when you rub your beautiful, devilish body against mine so nicely."

Sherlock kissed her right then and there, nibbling at her bottom lip, never stopping to sway them. And she faulted in her steps not once.

"Oh, you are really good", he breathed against her lips and she nipped at his bottom lip.

"Yes, I am, baby."

He chuckled and turned her again, her black skirt billowing around her small frame.


"Jesus Christ, look at that!"

Mary had just brought the second tray to the table and looked into the direction John was pointing at. There were three people sitting at the table, their mouths hanging open.

"Did you know Molly could dance?" John asked his wife.

"Not like this!" she exclaimed. They watched the couple whirl over the dance floor in awe.

Mary was the first one to snap out of it.

"Well, we won't see them any time soon", she commented dryly and sat down, pushing Molly's cocktail to Mrs. Hudson and opened the bottle of water she had ordered for herself and the dancing detective.

For almost fifteen minutes the group watched their friends' 'mating-dance', as Mary referred to it, until John had enough.

"To hell with them! We're just as good as they are! Come on!"

And he shot up from his seat, grabbed his wife and dragged her onto the dance floor.

Greg rose, as well.

"I guess that just leaves us. We can't let these young folks win. Would you do me the honour?"

Mrs. Hudson laughed and took his hand to let him guide her to the dance floor, as well.


As promised, Sherlock danced with Mrs. Hudson when Molly felt the need for water or a break. Not to the hot, sensual Latin dances, but the occasional Foxtrot, Waltz or Cha-cha-cha. With the hours passing, the room felt like an oven, and more and more guests stepped outside to catch a breath of fresh air, even though it wasn't much less warmer than inside. Sherlock joined Mrs. Hudson for one of these trips and they walked a few steps until the older lady offered him a cigarette.

"Molly would not appreciate the taste", he said, his curls heavy with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

"Oh, come on. It will be our last cigarette together."
After a second of contemplation, he took the fag.

"I'll tell her you begged me with tears in your eyes."

Mrs. Hudson laughed, lighted his cigarette as well as her own.

Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep draw, enjoying the feeling of the nicotine filling his lungs. He heard his former landlady chuckle and smiled at her as he let out the smoke through the corner of his mouth.

"Are you happy, Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson asked after a minute of silence.

"Happiness is a sentimental construct of the daft who can't accept that life is a never ending struggle of postponing death."

Mrs. Hudson only looked at him with that motherly scold in her eyes. Sherlock smirked.

"Yes, I am", he finally said and he and Mrs. Hudson shared a warm smile.

"Then I am very happy, dear", Mrs. Hudson added and took his hand in hers. He squeezed it.

They took a few more draws on their cigarettes, still holding hands. Sherlock pretended he didn't notice. Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"Do you have a plan yet?"

"For what?" he asked, blowing the smoke into the air.

"For the proposal."

Sherlock coughed.

"Excuse me?"

His voice sounded hoarse.

"Oh, you! How long do you want to drag her along? You've known each other for years and you agree she is the best thing that ever happened to you, so what are you waiting for?"

"Marriage is the death to every relationship."

"Bollocks. You're not your father – and don't give me that look like you don't know what I'm talking about – and you will not hurt her like he hurt your mother."

"I knew it has been a mistake to introduce you to my mother", he murmured and took another draw of the cigarette. It didn't taste as good anymore.

"Marriage is a wonderful thing, Sherlock."

"Like yours was?" he commented dryly.

"Hector and I married for the wrong reasons. We were young and hot for each other", Sherlock made a face, "and we never had this connection you and Molly share. This is special, Sherlock, and rare. You won't find a woman like her again, you know that. She's the one, dear, and you know that, too. She's waited so long for you. Don't make her wait much longer."

Sherlock stomped out his cigarette and took a deep breath. Then he looked at the woman who was so much like his mother at times it scared him.

"Actually, I saw the perfect ring in a shop on Oxford Street a month ago. I keep it in a safe-deposit box."

The happy squeal from Mrs. Hudson was painful in his ears, yet he hugged her back when she jumped into his arms.

"Oh, my dear boy! My dear boy! Growing up!"

He protested weakly as she showered his face in kisses. She cupped his face with both hands, laughing. A warm feeling spread in his chest and Sherlock couldn't help but grin.

"I'm so proud of you, Sherlock. So very, very proud."

"Do you think she will say yes, then?"

Mrs. Hudson only laughed and slapped his shoulder. "Oh, I hate that I'm going to miss all of it. You must promise me to Skype with me. Or call me. Or at least sent me a bloody text once in a while. I don't want to find out about you becoming a father through John's blog. I swear to you, Sherlock, I will fly back here just to hit you over the head with my pan!"

"You'll never get it through customs."

"Promise me!" she demanded and Sherlock sighed.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaded her back to the club.

"I promise you will be kept up-to-date with our life, Mrs. Hudson. I'm sure Molly will be more than happy to call."

Mrs. Hudson nudged her elbow into his side and Sherlock smiled boyishly.

Once back inside, of course Mrs. Hudson couldn't stop herself from hugging Molly as soon as she came back to the table after dancing with Greg. She looked over Mrs. Hudson's shoulder questioningly, but Sherlock only shrugged.

Luckily, Martha had enough sense not to say anything…or burst into tears, for that matter. She just grabbed Lestrade's hand and pulled him to the dance floor.

"What was that about?" Molly shouted over the music.

"Who knows?" he shrugged again and took her hand to lead her to the dance floor.

"You do", Molly insisted, but Sherlock remained silent and pulled her into his arms.

"Ugh, you smoked", she instantly complained and tried to struggle free.

"Mrs. Hudson insisted!"

"Yeah, I bet she shoved the cigarette in your throat."

Molly stepped away from him, blowing the stink of nicotine out of her nose and stalked back to the table and sat down on her chair.

Sherlock sighed. What a fuss about one stupid cigarette.


Molly watched with her arms crossed in front of her chest as Sherlock danced with another woman. He looked damn fine flying over the dance floor, his shirt unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and the tight dark trousers hugging his strong thighs.

"I have to admit", Mary suddenly shouted into her ear, "your boyfriend has a lovely arse."

The women looked at each other – Mary's eyes glazed over with intoxication – and then tilted their heads while looking at Sherlock. His full, firm cheeks indeed looked delicious bouncing to the fast Salsa he was dancing.

"You should see it without the pants", Molly grinned smugly and wiggled her eyebrows. Mary chuckled and with a wink in her direction, Molly walked to the dance floor to put a claim on this fine specimen of a man.

She loved him more than ever when he instantly let go of the stunning Brazilian in his arms as soon as he saw her approaching, and reached out for her, his long fingers curling around her small hand and pulling her flush against him.

Despite the fast rhythm, Sherlock swayed her slowly from side to side, one hand on the small of her back, the other one placing her hand over his heart. Molly felt his fast, strong heartbeat underneath her fingers. Her own heartbeat had quickened just by him looking at her like this, his pale glasz eyes sparkling and his lush lips parted. A drop of sweat ran down his cheek and if they had been alone, Molly would have licked it off.

Damn, why did he have to be so beautiful?!

All of a sudden, he let out a groan and buried his sweaty face in her neck.

"Stop torturing me, Molly", he growled into her neck, smelling of sweat and cigarettes.

"What are you talking about?" she replied cluelessly.

Then her cheeks flushed. His hands were now cupping her butt and pressing her middle against his.


"Looking at me like you're about to pounce me", he replied and his lips brushed her ear and her jaw.

"I did do no such thing."

"Yes, you did, you naughty, naughty woman."

She shivered when she felt his semi-hard length brush over her abdomen. Her eyes fell close and her hand wandered into his hair as his clever tongue began licking her neck, tasting her sweat.


He growled.

"You merciless temptress. Stop making these noises."

Instead of stopping licking her, he mixed it up with sucking at her neck.

Desire rushed through Molly's veins and if they hadn't been in public, Sherlock would already have been lying on the floor with her on top of him. After a second of contemplation, her tipsy mind decided to tell him exactly this.

She couldn't help but grin when he moaned into her ear.

"Tonight. As soon as we get home. Promise", he breathed into her ear and his long fingers cradled her neck.



He kissed her then, his tongue teasing her in the most sensual way, and her toes curled in her shoes.

She opened her eyes after he let her go and they smiled at each other. Then her eyes darted to the end of the dance floor and she discovered Mary standing there, watching them. Their eyes met.

Mary raised her hands and made squeezing motions.

Molly laughed out loud and let her hands slide to Sherlock's backside to squeeze his cheeks.

He jumped in surprise.

Mary gave her a grinning thumbs up.

Molly returned the gesture, giggling.


The evening went on joyfully, involving a lot of dancing, drinks and kisses. When they finally stood in front of 221B Baker Street, Molly was sticky with sweat, tipsy and worn out. Yet she smiled when Lestrade hugged Mrs. Hudson and kissed her on the cheek to say farewell. The elder lady, quite a bit tipsy herself, cupped his face with both her hands and pulled him in roughly for a big fat smooch right on the lips.

Mary cheered and Molly laughed, Sherlock and John gentlemanly averted their gazes, both a bit swaying, holding on to their women.

"Wanted to kiss that mouth ever since I first saw you. Nice to cross this of the list. Now, home with you, you hot silver fox."

Greg blinked, his cheeks flaming red, looked confused from one face to another and stumbled back to the cab, which he more or less fell into. Mary and John said goodnight to their friends and climbed into the cab as well, shoving the obviously passed out Greg out of the way as good as possible. After a minute or two they managed to close the door.

And with Detective Inspector's feet sticking out the open window, the cab took off into the night.

Molly giggled.

"Martha, I think he fainted."

"It wouldn't be the first man who fainted after a kiss from these lips!" Martha snickered, pointing at her mouth.

They went inside and climbed the stairs holding onto each other, parting with a goodnight directed at Mrs. Hudson, who ascended the stairs to her temporary room with ease. It took more than a few drinks to knock this old girl out.

"God, we stink!" Molly said as soon as the door closed, smelling her own and Sherlock's sweat as they reached the flat.

"Shower sex, great. We haven't done this yet!"


But Sherlock was already shrugging off his clothes and hopping into the bathroom.

"You promised!" he shouted.

"But I'm tired. You've completely worn me out!"

She walked to the bathroom where she found him waiting, naked as God had made him and…more than ready.

Oh dear.

"Still, you promised. Don't worry, after all you did tonight I won't need long."

"Well, isn't that the most romantic thing? Be still my beating heart."

Instead of apologizing, he grabbed her and pulled her into the bathroom, smashing his lips down on hers, his fingers hastily fumbling with her zipper.

"I want you naked in this shower, Molly Hooper. You will bend over and push out your pretty little arse for me."

"Sherlock!" Molly giggled, her tiredness instantly blown away by his fierce kiss and his naughty words.

Apparently, Sherlock Holmes fancied dirty talk when he was drunk. Well, she wasn't going to ruin the fun.

She wrapped her arms around his sticky shoulders while he peeled her out of her dress, and brushed her lips over his ear.

"Are you going to fuck me doggy style, Mr. Holmes?"

A palpable shiver ran through his body and he groaned, biting her shoulder.

"Oh yes!"

Molly giggled at his desperate tone. Her dress fell to the floor and Sherlock made quick work peeling her out of her underwear.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard you'll scream my name over and over again, Molly mine."

A wave of tingling lust washed through her body and pooled between her legs. This deep, seductive voice was all it took to put her to pieces.

"Yes, please, Mr. Holmes."

He growled again and lifted her off her feet, surely to lift her into the tub. But Molly had other plans. She wrapped her thighs around his lean waist, pressing her sopping wet pussy against his cock. Sherlock almost lost his balance at her attack, catching himself last minute on the sink.

"Oh, you naughty little minx", he breathed into her mouth, kissing her next, while his hands reached underneath her bum to grab his cock and guide it to her hot, wet entrance. He moaned at how ready she already was for him and pushed inside.

Molly gasped as he filled her completely, widening her channel so wonderfully.

"Fuck me, Mr. Holmes. Fuck me!"

"God, Molly!" Sherlock moaned helplessly, trying to get a stance so he could thrust into her, which he so desperately wanted to do. He turned her around, stumbled over their clothes and more or less slammed her back into the wall.



Grasping her lovely arse, he tried to get a solid stance. Molly never stopped attacking his lips, throat, ears and shoulder, which made it so bloody hard to focus. His naked feet shifted, searching for a good spot to root down, but finding only the crumbled knickers of Molly and the wadded bathroom rug.

"Molly…stop for a mo…I'm losing…fuck!"

It was too late. The rug underneath his foot slipped to the side, the foot in question following against its will, and Molly let out a yelp as they fell, trying to grasp something to hold on to.

End of story was that Sherlock landed on his knees, Molly on her bum, and the slim bathroom cabinet Molly had grabbed would have fallen onto them if Sherlock's hand hadn't shot up last second, stopping it. The door however, fell open and spilled the contents of the cabinet on both of them like very heavy confetti.

Luckily, Molly's hair-dryer missed them.

After the last pink cotton ball had bounced off of Sherlock's black hair, the lovers looked at each other; and burst into laughter.

Carefully, Sherlock put down the bathroom cabinet, leaning it against the toilet. Molly wanted to get off of him then, but Sherlock pulled her close.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Hooper?"

"Off you so I can have a look at your knees. I heard them crack as they landed on the tiles."

"I'm fine. Actually…", realising the practical position their where in now – Sherlock kneeling between Molly's spread legs and she leaning backwards, balancing her weight on her toes and her hands – he moved his hips, pushing his cock back into her pussy. Molly let out a surprised moan and a shiver rushed over her body when Sherlock began thrusting into her teasingly slow.

"I-I think we really should have a look at your knees, Sherlock."

She ended her sentence with a moan, grabbing his shoulder when he pushed into her oh so deep.

"You wanted me on the floor, Miss Hooper. Now's your chance."

He leaned down, flicking his tongue over her left, pebbled nipple before sucking it between his lips.

"Sherlock!" Molly moaned and rolled her hips, her walls clenching around his shaft. He chuckled and pulled out of her to the head, only to push his cock back in, as slowly as he could.

"Oh, you bloody sod!" Molly exclaimed in frustration and straightened – less gracefully as she would have liked – and pushed the teasing detective down. He moved around until he had shoved the rug under his bum and back, Molly enjoying every time he had to lift his hips.

"Proceed", Sherlock said when he was more or less comfortable.

"Always so cocky, Mr. Holmes", Molly scolded him, running her fingers through his light chest hair, gently pulling it. She knew Sherlock liked it. Then she scratched his skin with her short nails, circling twice around each nipple, until they were hardening.

"You're so filthy, your body sticky with sweat. Bad, bad boy."

His eyes were glistening as he looked up at her, his fingers digging into her waist, his lips slightly parted.

"What shall I do with you?" Molly continued and pinched one of his little nipples.

Sherlock sucked in some air and Molly giggled.

"Naughty one, you like that, don't you?" she grinned and did it again. Sherlock's hips buckled and Molly hummed, pressing her groin down on him to fill herself with him and to keep his hips still.

"Answer me!" she demanded, twisting his nipple.

Sherlock hissed and his eyes squeezed shut.
"Yes, Miss Hooper!"

"It's Doctor Hooper for you!"

She twisted his other nipple, her reward being a high-pitched gasp from her consulting detective.

"God, Molly, I'm so aroused. If you keep this up, I'll come right away. Please stop!"

Molly giggled. Maybe it was the alcohol swirling in her head, but she absolutely loved this. Sherlock underneath her, begging for mercy. She must explore this some more when they were both sober and not so aroused, having more built-up. Oh, all the possibilities! Sherlock was full of surprises.

She lifted herself off him, his cock slipping out of her, and Sherlock's head snapped up.

"NO! I didn't mean get off me. Put him back in. I want to be inside you!"

Another giggle left her throat as he looked at her in desperation.

"Please don't refer to your penis as a person", Molly teased him with words he had used on her not so long ago.

"You haven't deserved to be inside me yet, naughty one", she said hovering about his erect cock, smiling down at him.

Sherlock marvelled at the sight, Molly looking so confident and strong.

"God, you're so sexy, Molly mine. Like a nymph."

She grinned and his hands wandered over her thighs and up, roaming over her belly and her sides, touching as much of her as he could from his position.

"Nymph of the bathtub pond, and you are a peasant who's stolen all my water. I threatened to kill you, ripped off your clothes and wrestled you to the ground. And you've begged me to spare you, promising me to do anything I want. Wasn't it so, peasant?"

Sherlock's eyes widened as he understood.

"Yes, yes, oh fair nymph. I'll do anything."

Molly bit her lip. She would never have thought roleplaying would be Sherlock's thing. But he was totally into it, judging from his pleading look and his sparkling blue eyes.

"Well then," Molly continued and reached up to loosen her bun, her long hazelnut hair cascading around her shoulders, "if you want to live, you will have to show me you are of use, unworthy mortal."

She bent over him then and her heart beat faster as she said the following words.

"Please me."

Never had she been this demanding with any of her former lovers and at first she was embarrassed, but as Sherlock's eager hands wrapped around her to pull her down and he lifted his head to suckle at one of her breasts hungrily, the embarrassment was replaced with a feeling of power and sweetest lust.

"Oh, Sherlock", she breathed and closed her eyes, feeling his lips, tongue and teeth teasing her nipple in the most delicious way. His big hands wandered down her back to squeeze her bum before one hand moved between her legs. They were shaking when Sherlock's index and middle finger dipped into her wet folds, rubbing her swollen clit between them. It felt fantastic! But she also felt an emptiness that was torturing. She needed something inside her.

"Push your fingers into my cunt", she dared to whisper into his hair, her cheeks feeling hot, but Sherlock let out a grunt and obeyed her instantly.

Two fingers pushed deep inside her, then three, and Molly felt them bend, moving around a bit until they pushed down on one spot and started to rub it. Before Molly could fully grasp what he was doing, she was overwhelmed by an orgasm so sudden and violent she let out a squeal of delight. Her arms gave in and she broke down on Sherlock gracelessly, quivering from the aftershock, Sherlock prolonging it with repeatedly pushing his fingers against this sweet spot.

"Lesson 42: Finding the infamous G-spot" he mumbled against her shoulder and she could feel his smile.

Giggling, Molly turned her head so she could kiss her wonderful lover.

"Bless you for reading those books", she grinned and kissed him again.

"Can I please have my way with you now, little nymph?" Sherlock grumbled into her ear and Molly's skin tingled all over. Oh, this wonderful baritone.

"Oh, no", Molly began and straightened up, teasing his pulsating cock by rubbing her gushing pussy on it, "I will have my way with you, peasant!"

Sherlock moaned and his hips buckled longingly as she took him in her hand, stroking him a few times before she lowered herself onto him. Her lover moaned and closed his eyes as she began riding him slowly, his hands wrapping around her thighs.

Molly couldn't stop watching him as she rolled her hips. He was so beautiful like this, his lips parted, his cheeks slightly flushed and his curls sticking to his forehead. His long neck and chest were pale as the finest marble in this light, his muscles flexing underneath his skin. Molly reached out, the desire to touch him too strong to resist, and roamed over his arms and chest, stroking, massaging and scratching the warm, sweaty skin. She bit her lip as she left angry red lines on his chest. Marking her possession, she thought naughtily.

But Sherlock, oh, he loved it. Loved the mix of pleasure and pain and he gasped and panted underneath her, opened his eyes and begged her to go faster.

And so she did, digging his nails into his chest and riding him like the devil himself was possessing her.

As he'd already warned, Sherlock didn't last long, jolting upright when he came, pressing his head between Molly's breasts, shouting. She held him tight, her hands grasping his hair as she pushed her hips down on his a few more times until she found release, too.

"Jesus Christ", Sherlock panted, lying down again and taking Molly with him to rest on top of him. She could hear his racing heartbeat and grinned. "That was…"

"…amazing", she finished for him.

"Yes, yes it was."

They lay on the bathroom rug for quite some time, their breathing normalizing slowly, until they felt utterly and completely boneless.

"We still have to shower", Molly mentioned, tiredness weighing heavy on her eyelids.

Sherlock let out a protesting grunt which rumbled nicely in his chest.

"Come on, the sooner we do it the sooner we can go to bed."

"I'm quite comfortable here, thank you."

"You want to sleep on the rug?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"I don't dare to ask why. Come on, get up."

Molly climbed off of him. She was covered in sweat and felt really uncomfortable now that the sex-part was over.

When he didn't follow her, she looked down.


"I've never seen you from this angle. Interesting."

His hand stroke up her calf as he let his eyes glide over her body, in the end settling on her dark pubic hair. Molly shivered. His eyes had gone all dark and soft again and he pulled the bottom one of his lush lips into his mouth with his teeth. She wanted to say something, wanted to stop him, for she was really exhausted from all the dancing and wild love making, but nothing came out.

Sherlock pulled himself up and as he began leaving trailing kissed up her thigh, her hand automatically wandered into his air.

"I'm dirty, Sherlock. And sweaty."

"I don't care. I want to taste us on you."

At first, she kept her thighs closed, but he kept nibbling and licking at her groin and in the end, she gave in. Slowly, she spread her legs for her lover, closing her eyes in shame, thinking she must smell and taste horrible. Her cheeks were flushed from the embarrassment, feeling his wet tongue glide over her inner thigh, lapping up the trail of semen which was dripping out of her pussy. And then, oh Lord, this wonderful tongue licked through her slit, from bottom to top, and Molly pulled away in a reflex.

"I'm sorry Sherlock, but…I can't. I feel filthy and smelly and I just don't want you do to do this right now. When I'm clean you're more than welcome to-"

With a noise that sounded a lot like frustration, Sherlock pressed his face against her thigh. Without looking at her he rose to his feet and stepped into the bathtub. He reached out to turn on the water, but didn't. Instead, he turned to her.

"I love you. And I love your body. I desire you. When you're clean or when you're not. I wouldn't have done it if I hadn't wanted to. You taste delicious and I love how our fluids taste when they're mixed. And I feel aroused by the way you smell now."

Molly tilted her head. Sometimes, this man found exactly the right words. Sometimes.

She held her hand out to him and he took it, steadying as she stepped into the tub.

"I love you, too. And you saying and feeling like this is the most wonderful thing. But this has nothing to do with you. I don't feel comfortable like this and I can't enjoy your affections in this state."

"But this is just in your head, Molly", he insisted as he turned on the water.

"Nevertheless, it's there and it won't go away. At least not from one moment to another. Please just accept it, okay?"


He turned his back to her and reached for the shampoo bottle.

"Is it really fine or are you mad with me now?"

Sherlock sighed.

"I'm not sure. Maybe more frustrated. I might have developed some kind of...kink for your scent."

Molly couldn't help but smile as she blushed. Closing the distance between them, she wrapped her arms around him as he shampooed his hair and placed a loving kiss on his back. And then another one. While Sherlock was still busy, her eyes fell on the shower gel and a naughty idea popped into her head. Without him noticing she grabbed the blue bottle and poured some of the gel into her hands. Then her hands wandered down.

Sherlock froze, his hands in his foamed up hair.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice sounding hoarse.

"Washing you", she replied casually and heard him let out a gasp as one of her hands began massaging his testicles while the other stroke his stiffening cock.

Sherlock tried to continue washing his hair, but in the end he let out a moan and bent forward, putting his head into the stream of warm water, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. Molly never stopped stroking him, his shaft now fully erect.

Without warning Sherlock threw his head back and Molly let out a surprised squeal when she got splashed with water from his curls.

"Hmm, you like that, Mr. Holmes? Like me stroking your cock?", she whispered into his ear, his temple resting against her forehead.

Sherlock only let out a high-pitched moan and Molly giggled.

"I love having you at my mercy, Mr. Holmes", she whispered as he melted against her front, pushing his cock into her hand.

"God, yes. Just like that", Sherlock gasped hoarsely. Molly grinned as she pleased her boyfriend, gently pulling at his testicles and twisting her hand around his hard, lubed cock.

He was panting now and gripped the fittings, his hips continuing to thrust forward. She could feel his orgasm building up, his cock pulsating in her hand.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, getting desperate, aren't we?"

He grunted , bending his head forward again and Molly kissed and licked the sensitive skin on his back while she worked him hard and fast.

Sherlock let out a desperate groan and came. Gently now, Molly stroke him as he rode the waves of his climax until his cock began to soften in her hand. He let out a long sigh, grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it before he placed it over his chest.

"Feel what you do to me, Molly Hooper", he said in this low, sexy voice she loved so much and she snuggled up to him as she felt his fast and strong heartbeat beneath her fingers.


Finally, they were lying in their bed, facing each other, Sherlock's arms holding her.

"What a night", Molly whispered as she looked into his face which was hardly visible in the dark.

"Yes", Sherlock confirmed, sounding tired, and Molly guessed he had already closed his eyes.

"You're quite the little minx when you're intoxicated, Miss Hooper."

Molly couldn't see but hear the smile on his lips. Due to the darkness, she didn't blush.

"So are you."

He pulled her closer.

"I'm not drunk."

"No, but tipsy. You get eager when you're tipsy. I must say," now Molly did blush, in spite of the darkness, "I like it."

Sherlock chuckled.

"I'm always eager for you, darling. I just restrain myself."

His lips were ghosting over her cheek and Molly lifted her head to brush them with her own.

"I don't want you to."

She kissed him then, and he hummed against her lips, opening her mouth by licking her bottom lip. They kissed slow and deep and even though they were both totally exhausted, they felt heat pooling in their lower bellies again.

"Jesus, what was in those cocktails?", Molly mumbled and let her hand wander under his shirt to caress his warm chest.

"It's the dancing, not the drinks. Highly enticing. You still have to tell me where you learned to move like that."

Sherlock didn't wait for an answer. He kissed her again and lifted his lips so Molly could pull his sweatpants down. She inwardly jubilated as his erection bumped against her fingers. With a skilled move, Sherlock shimmied down her panties and as soon as she spread her legs, Sherlock rolled on top of her, entering her in the same, elegant movement. Molly arched her back, pressing herself against him. Burying her hands in his hair, she pulled him down for another deep kiss. The way his tongue teased hers made her toes curl and she let out a moan as he hooked one arm into the hollow of her knee to pull her leg, opening her more for him.

"I love you", it burst out of her in a pant and he rewarded her with a hard, deep thrust that made her gasp.

"And I love you, my darling. I hope after tonight, I will see the enchanting little nymph again."

Molly giggled.

"You really liked that?"

"Absofuckinglutely", he grunted against her lips, giving her hard but slow thrusts now, which he knew drove his nymph wild.

This special roleplay would make lots of appearances in the years to come, Sherlock always looking back to this night in which he had found out Molly Hooper had yet another, unexpected side that fascinated him.


"Ladies and gentlemen, flight NW395 to Sidney is now ready for boarding. Please move to Gate 5 and have your passport and ticket ready."

Amongst the number of people who were rising from their seats to hurry to the announced gate was a strange little family. At least they seemed to be a family through a strangers eyes. Two couples saying goodbye to their mother. It was a rather beautiful scene, the two men – one tall with messy curls and a familiar face, the other a head shorter with sandy hair and a warm smile – hugging the small, thin lady with short, spikey hair and an obvious obsession with the colour purple, in turns. Judging from the tears in everyone's eyes – even in the admittedly fascinating pale blue eyes of the tall one with the stoic expression – and everyone passing them by and not too occupied with themselves instantly knew that this group of people was loving each other dearly; and one could also tell that this was a farewell, not a goodbye.

"Have a save trip, Mrs. Hudson, and all the best", John said as he hugged her and kissed her cheek.

"You must promise to send me pictures of the baby as soon as he or she is born."

"Of course. Oh, I will miss our movie nights, Martha!" Mary said and pulled the elder lady into a squeezing hug.

Mrs. Hudson laughed and patted her back.

"I will miss them, too, dear. Take good care of yourself."

Martha smiled at her before she reached down and affectionately stroke Mary's growing baby belly.

She turned to Sherlock then and they looked at each other in silence for a moment, Mrs. Hudson smiling while Sherlock frowned. When he didn't move, Martha cupped his face with both her hands and pulled him down to her, kissing him on either cheek. His arms snaked around her then and he returned her kisses. They stayed in their embrace for longer than Sherlock normally felt comfortable with, but he was reluctant to let go of her now. He felt like a little boy again, feeling the loss when a parent leaves him behind. He had always dreaded this feeling when he had been a child and it still was very unpleasant.

One last time, he breathed in Mrs. Hudson unique scent of tobacco, lavender and baking smells. The origin of the baking smell was a mystery, for Mrs. Hudson had slept in 221B for the past two days – her bed had been shipped as well as most of her furniture - and Sherlock knew for sure she hadn't baked. This woman was a curiosity, one of the many reasons he loved her. His heart was aching when he finally let go and she cupped his cheeks yet again, making it all worse with her tender smile and the love in her blue eyes.

"Be good to her. And to yourself", she whispered and Sherlock nodded, swallowing hard. One final kiss he pressed on her cheek before he straightened and readjusted his mask of indifference and control.

"Oh, my love!" Mrs. Hudson said and stretched out her arms and Molly hurried into them. The women hugged and laughed as they swayed from side to side.

"I will miss you so much," Molly said, sniffling.

"I will miss you, too."

A tear escaped Mrs. Hudson's eye.

"Oh, silly old me", she laughed and wiped the tear away, "I will speak to you, soon. Bless the internet and mobile phones."

"Yes, you have to text us as soon as you arrive and tell us everything about Australia."

"I will."

Mrs. Hudson held hands with Mary and Molly before she squeezed John's hand lovingly. Then she turned to Sherlock and once again they shared a knowing smile.

Yes, there was a special bond between them. And it would last forever.

Sherlock bent down to take Mrs. Hudson's little trolley and just the two of them walked to the gate.

Mrs. Hudson turned around and waved at the rest of the people she loved dearly before they rounded a corner and were out of sight.

Mary laid an arm around Molly, who was crying now.

"I'm sorry", she laughed and took out the handkerchief she had brought, well aware that this would happen.

"It's okay. An era is ending."

"Indeed it is", John said and looked at the spot he had last seen his former landlady. Then he turned to look at Molly.

"When I suggested you to move in with Sherlock, I wouldn't have dreamed we would one day stand here, you and Sherlock being an item."

Molly smiled up to him. Then Mary snorted.


"Excuse me?" John asked in confusion.

"Oh, don't even start", Mary said, rolling her eyes, "I know you better than you know yourself, John Watson. Don't you dare pretend that this hasn't been your plan, all along."

"I don't know what you're talking about", John insisted, the blush spreading on his cheeks telling a different story.

"You wanted Sherlock and Molly together ever since that Christmas."

Molly's eyes widened.

"We didn't even know each other back then!" John exclaimed desperately, clearly in shock that his wife had once again seen through him. "How could you possibly know this?!"

"Woman's instinct", Mary said proudly.

"...And you've told me the story at least a dozen times", she added a second later to not freak out John completely.

"Well," John cleared his throat again, "it did work, didn't it?"

"No need to look so pleased with yourself. Even a blind man could see Sherlock fancied her."

"What?!" Molly exclaimed and the Watsons looked at her like they had forgotten she was there.

"You knew he fancied me?"

"Sure", Mary simply said.

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"Because I thought he wasn't good enough for you. I believe I've mentioned this once or twice."

Molly opened her mouth to speak, but closed it then. Her head was spinning. Mary had known. John had known. And instead of telling her they had stuck her in a flat with Sherlock, running some kind of experiment on how long it would take for Sherlock to burst? What the hell?

Unfortunately, Molly didn't get a chance to call them out on this. The moment she glared at John she noticed Sherlock in the background, walking back to them. She instantly shut her mouth, waiting for him to reach them.

His eyes were red rimmed and his lips tightly pressed together. Molly loved him even more in this moment. Not commenting on his state, she just slid her hand into his and squeezed it comfortingly.

In silence, the four of them walked out of the airport, each of them silently saying goodbye to their beloved friend and mother-figure, Mrs. Hudson.