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Sherlock Holmes sat quietly on the sofa in Molly's small sitting room. He was waiting for her to get home from her shift at the morgue. He found himself in his mind palace looking for the answer to a recent mystery. It wasn't exactly a case, but an mystery nonetheless.
Images began to flood his mind like the scenes from a play. The first image took him to a grassy hillside, the sky a bright blue with fluffy marshmallow clouds floating by. He looked down at his hands, they were tiny, the hands of his four year old self. Looking up and ahead he saw his mother and father sitting on a blanket amongst the grass. His father reached over to his mother, brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face and behind her ear. He held her face and smiled warmly at her.
Sherlock blinked and the image had changed. Now he was about eight years old and in his hands was a blueberry scone, half eaten. He could even feel a few crumbs sticking to the corners of his mouth. His parents walked a few paces ahead of him. Again, he observed as his father's hand easily found his mother's. She clasped the offered hand and their fingers entwined. They looked at each other conspiratorially. A warm, soothing feeling began to invade Sherlock's stomach. The same familiar feeling that took over his body whenever he found himself in Molly's presence.
The next few images flew by, but they all had a recurring theme. Every image was of his father, throughout the years, kissing his mother. Chaste, happy, simple kisses. Every time his father exited a room, even if he came back two or three minutes later, he would kiss Sherlock's mother on the cheek or on her forehead, whispering in her ear, "I love you."
The last image that popped in to his mind was more recent. It was Christmas, last Christmas, when he'd brought John and Mary home to meet his parents. He'd known that their happy interactions would show them what kind of future awaited them if they reconciled. He never would have imagined that their example would benefit him as well.
His mind then replayed more recent events, which brought everything full circle for him. The equation finally complete.
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When Sherlock Holmes realized he was in love with Molly Hooper and proposed to her, he thought that he'd find it a task, a chore, showing her affection. That it was something he would find tedious and uncomfortable. He had explained this to Molly and she had smiled and told him that she did not expect him to turn into another person. That she knew and understood that there would days in which she wouldn't see him, but made him promise to at least text her. She didn't want fancy dinners or movie dates. That that was not the Sherlock she fell in love with. She knew their time together would involve mystery, murders to solve and science. And she was okay with that.
Sherlock was one of the most surprised by his own actions towards Molly. It had been a few days since they'd become engaged and they found themselves walking down the street. It was Molly's lunch break and Sherlock had invited her out for coffee at a nearby cafe. It was like his heart and brain had gone into auto-pilot and he found himself reaching for Molly's hand. It had been a completely unconscious action for the both of them and they'd walked about two blocks before either one of them noticed. Molly noticed, looked down at their clasped hands, smiled, and looked up at Sherlock expecting him to release her hand as soon as he took stock of what had happened. But, it was quite the opposite. Sherlock looked down at their joined hands, looked at Molly, smiled and gave her hand a slight squeeze and continued walking.
The same had happened with kissing. Everyone, including himself, was shocked when he began initiating the "goodbye kissing" ritual with Molly. Every time he left the room, whichever room they found themselves in together, be it alone or not, Sherlock would walk to Molly, cup one hand on her cheek and kiss her forehead.
The first time he did it, they had been at the morgue. Molly had just provided Sherlock, John, and Greg with information on the body of a Jane Doe. Sherlock announced that he had all the information he needed and was ready to go. John and Greg walked towards the door, voicing their goodbyes to Molly. Sherlock walked to Molly, whose hands were still busy with the body, cupped her cheek, kissed her forehead and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes bulge out slightly, smile and blush. John and Greg had looked at each other with wide eyes and stood there, frozen. Sherlock made his way to between them and exited the morgue.
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Sherlock's eyes popped open at the sound of jingling keys in the door knob. He turned his head and watched Molly walk in. Molly strode to the sofa and plopped herself down next to Sherlock.
"Molly. I have made an important decision today." His eyes twinkling with excitement.
"Oh! And what decision would that be?" Molly turned to look him in the eyes, a smile building on her face.
"It is time you met my parents."
"Sherlock. I've met your parents before. Remember?"
"Yes, Molly. I remember. But, you've met them as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, not as Mum and Dad."
"Oh! Sherlock."
"No. Really, Molly. I mean it. I have informed them of our engagement. I did so the day I asked you to marry me. It was a bit shocking to me that they were not surprised at all. Happy, but not surprised."
"Really?"
"Yes! All they said was that it was about time."
"They weren't the only ones." Molly laughed, recalling what all of their friends had said when they'd found out about their engagement.
Sherlock's smile told her he also recalled the reactions of their friends at their lack of dating and having skipped right into an engagement.
"I figured it was time we went to see them. Together." Sherlock sighed and continued. "Molly, for as long as I have renounced sentiment and love, labeling it a chemical defect, I thought I'd never be capable of demonstrating any type of affection to an actual significant other. But, as soon as you agreed to marry me, my thought process was somehow rearranged and I was able to show you that I care with and ease and level of comfort that I did not know existed in my being."
"Oh, Sherlock!" Molly slowly wiped a tear from her eye.
Sherlock reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers. With the other hand he lifted her chin and kissed her lips.
"So, we are going to see my parents. Not only to let them congratulate us, but also so that I may thank them. For it is because of them and their lifelong devotion to one another that has provided me with the methods by which I am finally able to show you how much I love you."
Molly wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist and rested her head on his chest listening to his heart. Sherlock enveloped Molly's shoulders in his arms and placed his chin on her head. Their quiet breaths the only sounds in the room.