Molly hopped out of the cab and ran for the door of 221 Baker St. She was supposed to have been there over an hour ago, but one of the interns had screwed up and as always it had been up to her to fix the mess. Said mess meant that she had to shower before even leaving the hospital, something she had not been prepared for as it had been a paperwork day… or had been before Allan gotten sick all over Mr Brin's body.

She flung open the door, sending a quick greeting towards Mrs Hudson before vaulting upstairs. John had gone to visit his sister that morning, opting to leave little Rosie behind. She had promised to help look after the little girl, and now here she was late. Not that she didn't trust Sherlock with his goddaughter, Lord knew he loved her. But this would be the first time Rosie stayed the night with him, and Molly thought it might help if she was there. Of course getting to spend time with Sherlock was a bonus too.

Molly stopped at the top of the stairs and just looked at the door. From inside she could hear music. Which wasn't all that strange, she had walked in many times on Sherlock playing his violin. This though, this was… cinematic pirate music?

Slowly she opened the door and she couldn't help smiling at the sight. Sherlock had pulled the cushions off every chair and couch, and somehow constructed a ship using them and books. In the middle of the "ship" sat little Rosie with an itty-bitty tricorn on her head. She looked to be playing with a plushy sword batting it out at the man looming over her.

As for the man, Sherlock stood in a fighting stance with an equally plush sword, battling it out with the toddler. What really made the scene was his attire. He stood in the middle of the room wearing a pair of his black suit pants tucked into knee-high boots, and an honest to god poet's shirt. The shirt had ruffles down the front, actual ruffles, and it gapped open with the undone ties. His curly hair was tied under a purple scarf, and he even wore an eye-patch.

"You'll never get me booty while I still live." Sherlock spun where he stood, stopping in his tracks at the sight of the woman at the door. His breath still caught whenever he saw her, even when she looked as worn as she did at that moment.

"Don't stop on my account, far be it from me to interrupt a fight." Molly laughed when Sherlock rolled his eyes, or eye as she could only see one. Moments like this were her favorite, seeing the man she loved so at home with his goddaughter.

Sherlock looked down at the "ship" and sighed. "Looks like my treasure is safe for the moment."

Molly followed his line of sight and her heart melted. Rosie had laid down and curled up with her plushy sword, looking very much as though she were about to fall asleep.

"Sleep waits for no pirate." Molly walked into the room, quietly closing the door behind her. She looped her arms around Sherlock's neck when she stood before him. "May I ask where you got this getup?"

"I had this case several years ago, amateur traveling theater kept having their 'Hamlet' murdered. Had to go undercover. Turns out 'Ophelia' had a few unresolved problems." Sherlock leaned down and pressed a quick kiss on Molly's lips. He was smiling when he pulled away.

"And I'm guessing the eye patch is from a case too?" Molly reached up and slowly removed the patch. It was a sin to cover those beautiful eyes.

"Had to go undercover as a one-eyed gravedigger." Sherlock shook his hair when Molly removed the scarf along with the eye-patch.

"I'm not even going to ask." She had learned that sometimes it was best to just let things be with Sherlock. "Though, too bad I hadn't known about this before now. I think I could be up to being ravaged a bit."

Sherlock growled and pulled her tightly to him. A little whine from the sleeping toddler brought his attention away from the woman in his arms and he sighed.

"Perhaps later my dear."

Molly shook her head and rested it against his chest. She could wait. She had already waited many years, she could wait a few days.

Author's Note: Prompt from Tumblr. Always up to doing pirate Sherlock. Of course now I'm imagining Sherlock in that ruffled poet's shirt, untied halfway down his chest…. This is not a bad thing I think.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.