A/N: You're probably going 'you're shitting me', but this isn't your regular fic. This is an endless - 'drabble fic', which will probably live as long as I want. I'll update as I want, and whenever. Right now I'm just going to write it being out of 100.

Short and long chapters.

You can even prompt things and if it fits with the plan, then I might slip it in somewhere.

Ps: 'thenworld' it's totally your fault that the title refers to Sunday, though I'm not certain if I'll update every 'Sunday' though, especially since it's Monday today.

Slow down you crazy child

You're so ambitious for a juvenile

But then if you're so smart tell me why -

Are you still so afraid?

- Vienna by Billy Joel

"Quite honestly - everyone knows I'm not big on words really, as Sherlock reminds me daily when reading my blog…" John paused, raising briefly his brows at his friend.

"It's difficult not to say anything when it's about me John,"Sherlock said to the laughter of everyone in the room. "Do you really need to advertise about the blog at my wedding?"

The best man turned his head to the laughing guests; glass still in hand and his gaze set on them with a light shrug of his shoulders. "Anyway…some days ago we had a rehearsal dinner and someone told me that Sherlock and Molly didn't actually meet in 2010 like I thought, like – anyone - really thought, except maybe Mike Stamford apparently." One man with glasses perched on the edge of his nose laughed, and the others sat round the man's table eyed him knowingly.

"So I thought I'd share a bit, since the press is always keen on knowing what really made me and Sherlock break up in the end." The laughter was larger than ever in the room, even the groom was chuckling, his curls drifting down his forehead as he clung to the slimmer hand at his side. "Joking aside…we all know it took them a long way round to get where they are today, and I think, it's just the way it should be…especially since Sherlock's so thick sometimes."

- The Rehearsal –

I would not leave you in times of trouble

We never could have come this far

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times

I take you just the way you are

Just the way you are by Billy Joel

Some people are slow dancing, except John Watson who's of course already been lured enough onto the impromptu dance floor in the empty posh restaurant (courtesy Mycroft Holmes who apparently wasn't going to be involved, yet had somehow planned half of the wedding) by his wife Mary. The pair of them soon settling down by the long table as they watched in amusement their daughter Rosy chasing Lycan who was crawling underneath tables causing cutlery to jump.

"Rosy! Be careful-," Mary cried out, and was rewarded with her daughter moving cat-like and slow towards the table. "Oh – they'll be alright-," though her bright smile dropped at the music. "Whose fault is it that we're just listening to Billy Joel?"

Suddenly Greg Lestrade appeared by the table, silver hair unkempt, and tie loose. "What's wrong with Billy Joel?" he said, a whine in his voice and the glass of scotch wobbling in his hand.

"I think you found the culprit," said John in a low voice.

"You can't go to a wedding and not expect to hear Billy Joel," continued Greg pointedly, contents sloshing out of his glass.

"It's making Molly cry," said Mary with a jerk of her head to the bride-to-be who was looking rather weepy-eyed, John had to agree, though Sherlock stood besides her seemed rather amused by her show of emotion.

"He'd make anyone cry – honestly-," and then the detective inspector wandered off, and Billy Joel kept on playing.

John was halfway out of his seat (during Piano Man) when he said, "I'll sort of him out, shall I? I think he's only emotional because it's Sherlock – nobody expected him to ever want to get married."

"Really?" said Mary, causing him to blink in return. "I thought it was obvious, especially with the baby already there and all."

"You know how they were acting about that – 'oh we're just going to have this platonic baby together'. Nobody has a platonic baby together," he said finally on his feet.

"John – they didn't phrase it like that," said Mary crinkling her nose.

"Sherlock did!"

"Well – obviously – he had a thing for her first. Nobody says platonic, especially if they mean it."

"What? No – he didn't. Molly fancied Sherlock first-,"

"Are you sure?" she said slowly, soon picking up a forgotten drink from the table and looking at him with that face of hers.

"I hate it when you do that," he said shaking his head with a laugh.

"Do what?" she said innocently.

"Make that face…like you know something."

"I do – know something."

John groaned.

A table had been overturned causing quite a disturbance, though none of the things had been broken, but John had to leave his wife to sort it out, not managing to keep the bemusement off his face when Sherlock had a turn with his own son, looking effortlessly like a dad. However, when John finally did return to his wife, he found their daughter preoccupied with touching her own curls and dainty little gloves (she'd begged to be allowed to wear her gown because she wanted to rehearse the moment – "It's a rehearsal dinner, isn't it daddy?") He couldn't help himself though; especially when Mary kept sending him annoying looks over the top of their daughter's head.

"So what do you know?" he finally said, leaning his elbow against the table casually, trying to give the air that he really didn't care.

"Know what daddy?" said Rosy immediately, now bouncing up and down her mother's lap. "What's mummy supposed to know?"

"Sweetie, can't you go and play with Lycan for a minute?" said Mary in a very bright and sweet voice, which caused their daughter to look up at her suspiciously. "Carefully… that is though."

"You don't really mean a minute, do you?" she said looking slightly putout, though she quickly slipped off Mary's lap and sprang off to slowly chase after Lycan again. The second it was only John and his wife, he cleared his throat and waited hopefully for her to begin.

"I'm honestly surprised if you of all people don't know-," drawled Mary, her lips tilting upwards.

"Mary-," he said with a sigh. "Just tell me."

"You should be asking them, but okay – so…you know when they first met then?" she said with a wide grin, eyeing Sherlock and Molly in the distance, the latter was joining in on the chase with the kids.

"Yeah, 2010?"

"No, 1994?"

"What?"

"Uni…? Really? Sherlock didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"Molly and him used to be flatmates?"

"WHAT?"

She feels like cringing at the slow dawning realization in her husband's face. The wrinkles in his forehead contracting and separating, his eyes widening and half-bulging out, while he stares at her silently gaping. Maybe she shouldn't have told him, but she didn't peg it as a secret, especially since Molly had brought it up after she'd slapped the hell out of Sherlock years back. It just seemed like common knowledge really, and she hadn't really seen the point of bringing it up to John, especially since he and Sherlock were spending their time panicking about Moriarty (she was however, panicking about labour during that time – "WHERE THE HELL IS MY HUSBAND?" "Saving the world I'm afraid." "PISS OFF MYCROFT.").

"No – no – no – he's never – they've – what? What do you mean they've lived together?" said John, finger jabbed up in the air, eyebrows high, and that 'clearly this is a joke grin' on his face to her chagrin. "He didn't – how could they – are you serious? Mike!" She does cringe when Mike Stamford suddenly appears by help of Greg, looking like a deer in headlights, hands in his pockets and the other wrapped around a drink.

"What's going on then?" he says in his usual cheerful way.

"Did you know that Sherlock and Molly lived together?" said John, grin of disbelief still in place, face turning from Mike to her rapidly.

"Yeah?" said Mike without missing a beat.

"Oh my God-," the gape is in place.

"Sorry about him Mike – Sherlock's going on a honeymoon – and John's not coping well on the idea-," said Mary hardly managing to keep herself from laughing, as her husband looked partly deranged.

"Why the hell has nobody told me?"

"It wasn't something either of them wanted to talk about," said Mike with a shrug that made John glare at him, though he looked unaffected by it. "Took them years before they even managed to talk about it casually really."

"And they just happened to tell you?" snapped John clearly upset to not know this very telling detail about his best friend.

"I used to come in at their school as a substitute teacher, just when I started out that is-,"

"Jesus!" said John leaping of his chair. "Sherlock! Sherlock!"

Another voice drawled as John stormed off, "I think its separation anxiety obviously," said Mycroft smirking.

Both Mary and Mike laughed.

1994, September

"Okay…you'll be alright – you'll just kip in at Meena's or live in the hallways or maybe even… the street," she said under her breath, pulling at her hoodies sleeves to cover her rather cold hands. Another round at the school hadn't helped. "Sorry there are zero vacancies at the moment, though you should check the bulletin." She'd been through the lot - houses, flats and even a dodgy sort of man who had no door on the bathroom, which did cause her to more or less run out of the flat, Meena in tow, as she'd found the listing - "Fucking suspicious – can't be taller than 5 feet and five inches? What the hell?"

Anyway she'd tried her best, but there wasn't anything in her price range. Neither did she feel compelled to ask her mum who really couldn't afford it either. Sighing she was about to just take up Meena on her rather promising settee offer when she bumped into someone hard, all hard edges –

"Excuse me-," said a deep voice and a shock of dark curls when she regained herself a bit, staring up at some pale tall bloke. He gave her a brief look of disinterest while she mumbled her apology to the air, and she was about to walk off when she noticed he was hanging up another listing.

Molly stopped in her step, running a hand through her hair, as she looked hopefully at his sign – 'Flat share. Male Only', there was a name, number and address at the bottom, but not much else on the paper. Male only? It was 1994. Men and women could share just fine. Not according to her mum, but that was another story.

"Umm, male only?" she said with a wry grin. "Don't like girls?" It came to desperate measures…. She wasn't keen on flirting with a complete stranger, but she was utterly desperate on having her own place.

"They're distracting," he said with his eyes narrowed at her suspiciously, as if she were about to hit him.

"They're? Umm – I'm a girl?" she said blinking up at him.

Suddenly his blue green eyes drifted from top to bottom and she felt rather exposed by the way his eyes darted over her.

"You'd do fine," he said after a minute.

"Sorry?" she said blanching.

"I don't find you attractive-," he said with furrowed brows. "And since you obviously haven't got student accommodations and are in desperate need of a flat – I'd be willing to share it with you – of course – if you don't fall in love with me that is. Would make it very boring if you did."

A moment of silence hung over them, and she didn't know what to say about that, completely thrown off by this utterly strange bloke.

"Oh – wow," she said with wide eyes. "I've got to…go."

"And that's how we met," said Molly giggling slightly; as John stared at the soon-to-be married couple in confusion. He shouldn't really be surprised, since Molly always seemed to manage to lure out secrets from Sherlock, besides make the man apologise, so, obviously it took some practise.

"She was also wearing an unflattering hoodie at the time," said Sherlock with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"You actually remember that?"

"Of course I remember that. And then four days later when you begged to move in with me – I was proven wrong."

"I didn't beg! You needed me remember? Nobody wanted to live with you," said Molly looking annoyed.

"I had several offers, thank you very much."

"You mean your mum was willing to pay for the other half?"