AN: Why, yes, I am a sucker for peer pressure. ;) Enjoy, my loves!

Sherlock groaned and grimaced against the morning sunlight shining across his face, pulling him from the best sleep he'd had in... well, ever. He started to turn over, but found himself hindered by a soft weight on his chest.

Blinking his eyes open, he looked down his body and smiled.

Curled against him, Molly had one arm draped over his bare torso and the other flung above her head, Sherlock's arm wrapped under her and keeping her close to his side. Her brown hair was tangled and splayed around her face like a halo.

How had he been so blessed? Arranged marriages were a burden, if not a curse, promising a lifetime of disinterest and unhappiness. And yet he, Sherlock Holmes, a self-proclaimed heartless and unlovable man, had somehow found himself in a union with the one woman whose beautiful heart was big enough to love him despite, or perhaps because of, his flaws and thaw him from his cold loneliness.

When he'd caught her fleeing their wedding yesterday, fear like nothing he'd known struck him paralyzed. She was halfway across the lawn, her hair coming loose from its bridal do, before he managed to unstick his feet and race after her. He thanked every god ever known that he'd caught her before he lost her for good.

But her sadness had cut him deep. He had done that. He had let his fear hold him back and had broken her heart in the process.

And yet she'd forgiven him. She let him lead her back to the estate and to the festivities, ignoring the curious looks the dirtied hem of her ivory gown elicited. Her mother had tsked about her ruined hair and quickly set it to rights while Sherlock strode to the front of the church and the ceremony began just as the guests beginning to get restless.

But he cared naught for any of them because his focus was entirely on the woman walking toward him on her father's arm. The evidence of her tears were wiped away and the spark in her eyes had returned.

Her soft I will as she slipped the wedding band onto his finger promising him that he was hers as much as she was his would forever be etched into his heart.

He grinned up at the ceiling, his cheeks aching and his heart bursting.

Absentmindedly, his fingers brushed along Molly's bare arm, slowly drawing her from her sleep. She smiled and snuggled deeper into his chest as she woke up. Her eyes opened, blinking away the lingering sleep, and she frowned in confusion.

'Good morning,' Sherlock rumbled, his voice raspy from sleep.

Her eyes snapped to his and immediately her confusion faded and a becoming blush stained her cheeks.

'Hi,' she whispered, suddenly shy.

Sherlock tightened his hold when she tried to move away and mock frowned. 'Where do you think you're going... wife?'

Molly's eyes widened and she looked up at him, trying to hide her pleased smile, but failing miserably.

'Absolutely nowhere,' she replied, lifting her chin in invitation. 'Husband.'

He grinned unabashedly and caught her lips, slowly rolling them over until she was under him, her arms wrapped around his neck.

'I love you,' he murmured against her lips.

She pulled away and dropped her head back against the pillow, an adoring smile on her face. Her hands trailed along his shoulders and when she cupped his cheek he turned his face into her touch, pressing a tender kiss to her palm.

'I love you, too.'