"I am sorry Lady Holmes but I seem to have misheard what you just said."

"No Molly. You heard perfectly well. I know this sounds foolhardy and like I have lost my marbles. But I would like for you to marry my son Sherlock."

Molly shook her head slightly, not believing the words the woman in front of her was saying. She turned to her guardian, , with a frown on her face.

"It's correct, my dear. Lady Holmes wants you to marry the younger Lord Holmes. It seems to be the only way to ensure he wouldn't get up to any more mischief."

Molly turned her confused gaze back to the lady of the manor who looked terribly worried.

"He was about to marry Irene Adler, just to spite his brother and to stop us from broaching the subject of his marriage. Now Irene is a lovely and clever girl but I cannot ignore the scandal that seems to follow her everywhere…I will not have my family's name sullied." Lady Holmes paused before approaching Molly, her steps hesitant.

"He seems to tolerate you, and you seem to put up with his behaviour…you are the only help I know who has not left his room in tears. Of course it comforts me that Mrs Hudson here has the highest regard for you. Sherlock is to leave for London soon and I fear what further mischief that boy will make just to irk us. Knowing you are taking care of him will ease a huge burden off my shoulders."

Lady Holmes held Molly's hands, desperation clearly written on her face. "Please agree to this Molly, I know I ask for a lot but you are my only hope."

And that's how it happened. Miss Molly Hooper, an unemployed governess making ends meet by helping her guardian Mrs Hudson in taking care of the Holmes Manor, became Mrs Sherlock Holmes.

The wedding was short and quick, attended by a quiet and stoic bride, a very reluctant groom, his mother, older brother and Mrs Hudson. The newly-weds left immediately for London to minimise gossip and scandal that was sure to follow.

Molly had always had realistic dreams about her future, aiming to have a decent companion and a solid roof over her head. Life hadn't been too kind to the poor orphan. Not all her employees had been considerate, not all the words falling on her ears had been kind and not all her experiences had been painless. So she had toughened up.

Time spent feeling sad or lonely might interfere with completing her chores on time. A helpless feeling might cause distraction. Getting involved in any way would only make things hard when the time rose to move to the next job.

She had learnt to separate her emotions from the reality around her and though sometimes it led to her colleagues calling her 'stone-hearted' or 'cold', she knew it was the best approach. It was wise not to get too comfortable.

So Molly approached her marriage the same way she did any new task, with dedication, devotion and utter concentration on the final expected result. She knew her real purpose; to keep the younger Lord Holmes at peace and out of trouble.

And the best way to do this was to leave him alone.

Having moved from the country to her new dwellings in London, Molly immediately fell into her new role of managing her husband's house. She got the place in top shape, employing new people to help setting up 221B Baker Street as the place her husband wanted. If there was gossip about the relatively young housekeeper Mr Holmes employed, it was quickly brushed away when the new employees dealt with her cool and distant demeanour. And Sherlock never introduced her or even remotely behaved with her as his wife, so Molly didn't bother correcting them.

She treated her husband as an employer, ensuring all his needs were anticipated and taken care of. After all, her training as a governess had exposed her to science of the world as well as dealing with tantrums.

Sherlock found himself pretty satisfied with his new situation. His mother and brother were off his back about getting married and he was now free to do what he always wanted: solve mysteries. He met and befriended an army doctor, Dr Watson, and things started moving smoothly. He did not interfere with his wife's routine and she ensured that there was minimum need for interaction with him. The world thought he was lucky to get a housekeeper with a strong stomach for his experiments and calm mind to deal with his mostly socially unacceptable behaviour.

And thus it would have continued but for a small case. Where the criminal they were chasing tracked Sherlock home and attacked him. Taken by surprise, he suffered some injury before getting into a tussle with the well-built thug and eventually overcoming him. Molly played no small role in it, causing acute damage with the frying pan, but not before sustaining a deep cut on her arm from the thug's knife. It was Sherlock who realised she was bleeding profusely.

"It was brave but foolish of you to get involved…" he berated her as he bandaged the cut.

"It wouldn't have been the first time Mr Holmes."

It was later that night, when the thug was in jail and his parlour rearranged that Sherlock gave thought to his wife's partying words. A few things about the evening disturbed him. He had experienced an instant of panic when the criminal had approached Molly with the raised knife and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the blood on her arm. The rage with which he had attacked and subdued the man seemed to stem from the fact that his wife had been hurt.

His wife!

Since when had he started to refer to Molly like that? It had been more than two years of their arrangement and it was working perfectly in all ways. Yet Sherlock felt rattled by the events of that evening. That and the stoic way Molly seem to take the incident in her stride, working the next day as if the previous night's excitement was imaginary.

He had always admired her quiet ways, her tolerant approach to his experiments, her improvement as she helped him in his small laboratory, her estimation of his needs…Having always looked upon her as someone who made his life easier, who took care of him, he now started to see her as the person she was.

And she surprised him.

She was intelligent, her mind sharp and grasping of most of the things he threw at her. She was a task master but kind. She ran a strict household but was generous. And she was selfless. He realised that she thought of herself last, putting everyone else ahead. And she did this unconsciously.

Looking at her, observing her, Sherlock realised that he had indeed been lucky and wise to have agreed to the arrangement his mother had suggested. He now found her qualities attractive…he found her attractive. This realisation made him more aware of her, her presence bringing him a warmth that he had not earlier noticed. 221B Baker Street, his house, now felt like his home. And she was responsible.

He had nonchalantly mentioned this fact to Dr Watson, without taking a name.

"You are talking about Miss Hooper I assume?" The good doctor asked hesitantly.

"I mean my wife."

"Who?" came the confused query.

"Molly, of course."

"You mean Miss Hooper?"

"I mean Mrs Holmes."

"Mrs Holmes? Who is Mrs Holmes?"

"You have met her, she lives with me."

"I have met your housekeeper, Holmes."

"What? What housekeeper?"

"Have you taken something? Because God help me you are making no sense."

"Why have you turned so daft? Molly, who you refer to as Miss Hooper, happens to be my legally wedded wife and not my housekeeper. Where the devil did you get that impression?"

Dr Watson stared unbelievably at his friend, wondering what new medication or solution he had tried, when the said woman herself turned up to announce dinner.

"Molly, the good doctor here has the impression that you are my housekeeper. Pray tell him the truth…no wonder you are not the detective here, my dear man." Sherlock said with a smirk.

Molly blinked, her face losing some colour. Dr Watson immediately got up and approached her, apologising for his friends behaviour which he believed was caused by some narcotics.

She gave him a small smile and corrected him, "We were wed in front of the Holy Lord and Mr Holmes' family. I believe that makes me his wife, but that doesn't mean I am not his housekeeper...Dinner is hot and served", saying which she turned and left.