It's here!

WOO HOO!

I came up with the idea for this back in June and have been working on it ever since and I am so happy that it is ready to be shared with you all!

I'm quite proud of this fic, and have thrown a lot of real life bits and pieces into it, but the majority is fiction ahaha ...

Ok ok ... enough of my waffling, onto the story!

ENJOY!

Chapter One – You're Invited!

Molly was very nearly dead on her feet, and yes, that pun did not manage to pass through her mind without her giggling. It had been a very long day, longer than her usual due to the fact that the pathologist taking over for her did not come in until three hours after their shift was originally was supposed to start. The claim had been a family emergency but Molly had her doubts. Her back ached slightly and her feet were sore. She was very much so looking forward to taking a nice hot shower, ordering a rather unhealthy amount of takeaway and afterwards snuggling down into her bed with Toby. Sadly all was not going to go exactly to plan.

Toby did not greet her at the door as he commonly did. Instead it was minutes after she walked into the flat, as if he had at first not noticed her arrival due to some distraction. This distraction was one Consulting Detective, the very Consulting Detective that had hung his coat and scarf on the hook beside hers. She muttered a few choice curse words beneath her breath before making her way towards her bedroom.

"You're home late," Sherlock stated from his sprawled out position upon her bed, typing away on his mobile. "Stamford needs to fire Dickinson; one can only have so many family emergencies."

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood to rehash an old argument. "Why are you here and not in your own flat?"

He scowled. "Mrs. Hudson is hosting her Bridge Game, the noise was abominable."

Toby jumped onto the bed, walked over to Sherlock and plopped himself down upon his chest, purring contentedly. Molly looked at them for a moment, taking in the domestic scene. Her heart gave a tiny stutter when she realized that this scene had become a rather common one as of late. Swallowing thickly she moved to her wardrobe to gather up her clothes.

"I'm going to have a shower then I'll order some takeaway, ok?" she said to him, and his answer was only a grunt.

She took her time beneath the hot water, soaking away the aches and annoyances of the day. It felt wonderful, the heat upon her skin. For a brief moment she considered slipping her hand between her legs, suddenly feeling rather desperate for another kind of heat, but then remembered who was just outside the door and would know exactly what she was doing. With a sigh she moved her hand away and finished with her shower. After drying off and plaiting her hair she dressed in her pyjamas and made her way out into the kitchen. Sherlock had as of yet to move from her bed, still typing away on his phone.

"Do you want your usual?" she called out, as she took the bottle of red wine from her fridge.

"Yes!" he replied.

She poured herself a large glass before calling up the order, making sure to get a double of the dumplings. After taking a sip of her wine she moved into her sitting room and sank down onto her sofa with a contented sigh.

"Here's your post."

She let out a faint squeak, her eyes popping open; she hadn't even realized they had been closed. Sherlock was now sat beside her and had deposited a small pile of envelopes upon her lap.

"Oh, thanks," she mumbled. "I hadn't even thought to check it."

"Mmmmm." He leaned back into the cushion, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

Molly shifted through her post, scowling at a few bills before tossing them onto the coffee table. But when she came to a thick, cream coloured envelope, with her name written in fancy script across the front, she stopped and stared at it.

"It's a wedding invitation," Sherlock stated.

"Yeah, figured that out, thanks." She continued to stare at it.

"Is it Tom's?"

She swallowed. "No. God no. He was upset about the break up, but he's not so much of a tit as to do something like that."

"Then why aren't you opening it?"

She shrugged and slipped her fingernail beneath the flap, pulling out the elegant invitation. "Ahh ... thought so. It's from my old university pal. She was an exchange student, American, Hallie West. She studied here, and went back to the states during the summer. I went with her twice, my only two times across the pond. God, those were fantastic summers! She lived in New York and we spent hours in the city, it was so much fun. I honestly should have continued my studies during the summer, I would have graduated sooner, but I really don't regret taking that time off." She stopped when she realized she was rambling.

Sherlock had taken the invitation from her during her reminiscing. "It says you're allowed to bring a guest."

"Does it? Oh damn. She thinks I'm still with Tom, I never told her we broke up. Well ... that could be an awkward conversation."

He handed back the invitation. "Are you going to go?"

"I don't know. It's not like I am all that close with her, we just email every now and then, exchange a card at Christmas. It would be nice to see her though, get out of London for a bit. I'd definitely make a full holiday out of it; see the sights, since it's been years that I've been there."

"I'll go with you."

Her eyes snapped up to meet his. "What?"

"I'll go with you," he repeated.

"Why?"

He shrugged. "London has been very boring, no good murders. And besides, the invitation does say for you to bring a guest ... it would be rude to turn up alone, wouldn't it?"

Her eyes narrowed. "No, it wouldn't. The 'bring a guest' is just a suggestion, an option."

He huffed. "I want to go with you ..."

"You hate weddings."

"I have never said that."

She stared at him. "You honestly want to do this? It's not like you can agree now and then suddenly back out if a good case comes up."

He dismissed her comment with a wave of his hand.

"What are you going to do the whole time?" she questioned. "I'll probably go a few days ahead of the wedding, and you hate being a tourist. You nearly had a strop when I wanted to go sightseeing when you brought me along with you to Glasgow."

He smiled. "Ahh yes, Glasgow, that was a very good case."

There was a knock on the door; their food had arrived. She tossed the invitation onto the coffee table and made her way towards the door. After carrying the bags of food into the kitchen she plated it up and carried it out into the sitting room. Sherlock was still sat upon the sofa, but was now leaning forward with a pen in his hand and the invitation in front of him.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"RSVPing."

"SHERLOCK! I haven't even completely decided if I am going or not!" she exclaimed in dismay.

He smirked. "Yes you have."

She handed him his plate with a scowl and put her own on the coffee table, before returning to the kitchen to retrieve the bottle of wine. "You are such an annoying git sometimes," she grumbled as she sat down next to him.

He continued to smirk.

"Why are you so determined to come with me to this wedding?" she asked as she speared a dumpling with her fork. She continued before he could reply, "The wedding is three months away. Who is to say that you won't have some big case going on at that time? You're bound to bow out on me at the last second."

Sherlock gave a determined shake of his head. "No I wouldn't."

Molly stared at him for a moment, before reaching out and cupping his chin in her hand so that she could turn his head towards her so she could look him directly in the eye. "Are you on something? Because if you are, so help me God I will-"

"NO! I am not high." He tugged his chin out of her hold. "I just don't want you to go to this wedding alone."

"Oh ..." She stared down at her plate of food. "You'd do that for me?"

He stopped eating and looked at her. "Of course I would. It's the least I could do, after all that you've done for me."

The next three months flew by at a whirlwind speed, filled with busy days, and long shifts. She didn't see much of Sherlock except for at Bart's where he often showed up announced, and with a great flourish of Belstaff and scarf. Either that or when he decided to pop in at her flat, at all hours of the day or night.

One of the days that he came to Bart's she missed out on being graced with a viewing of his arrival, for she was down the hall getting a coffee. John had been sent on the same mission, much to his disgruntlement.

"Hi Molly!" he called out to her as he approached.

She turned from the coffee machine and gave him a sunny smile. "Oh, hi John! I didn't know you were here."

"Just arrived actually, Sherlock is in a right state, grumbling beneath his breath about Lord knows what. He sent me out for coffee."

She giggled. "I'd offer to make him his usual but I'm a bit busy, I fell behind in some paperwork. Quite a nuisance how it piles up so quickly!" She stepped away from the machine so he could fill up a cup.

John took her place. "So I heard that you and Sherlock are going to New York together?"

Molly was annoyed with herself when she felt a blush come to her cheeks. "Yeah. I'm going for a friend's wedding and he offered to come with me. Not exactly sure why really...the wedding is taking place at this resort called Mohonk up in the mountains, not somewhere you'd think would be Sherlock's ideal."

John shrugged. "I tried to get it out of him but he seemed quite adamant in keeping mum. Good luck with him! I hope he doesn't make you miserable."

She laughed. "Don't worry; I know how to keep him in line."

John side-eyed her for a moment, remembering the slaps she had given Sherlock when he had arrived at the lab high as kite. "Yeah, I believe you!"

They returned to the lab together, and when they entered Sherlock looked up from his microscope. He was scowling, but quickly dropped his annoyed expression, instead replacing it with a small smile.

"Hello Molly," he said to her.

She returned his smile. "Hi Sherlock."

John handed him his coffee. "Here you are your highness."

Sherlock ignored the comment, silently taking the coffee. "Molly would you be able to-"

"Sorry Sherlock," she cut in, "I can't. I have a copious amount of paper work sat on my desk that I need to take care of; otherwise I would be happy to help you!"

He pouted, following her with his eyes as she left the lab.

Later that evening he came to her flat, which wasn't entirely odd. Usually she would go to bed alone, only to wake up the next morning with him beside her. This had become a common occurrence after had had solved case. He had solved this one, and wanted to go over every detail of it with her. This was another common occurrence, one that usually took place with them either continuing to lie side by side in bed, or in her kitchen while she cooked them breakfast, with Toby rubbing against their heels.

During these 'discussions' she would let him ramble on, sometimes throwing in a comment or two. She had even once managed to reveal something to him that he had passed by, which, much to his slight annoyance, would have given him the ability to solve the case a lot more quickly. He didn't allow his annoyance to get the better of him though, instead wishing that she could occupy him and John whenever they went out on a case. He was all too well aware that this wasn't possible though, but he made a mental note to see if it could happen when he knew she wasn't working.

As the final week before their departure to New York approached, Molly realized that she had as of yet to buy a dress. After a brief moment of panic she texted her friend Meena, asking her if she was interested in popping out to the shops with her. It had been too long since they had last seen each other, and they managed for two days later to set a time to meet up after work.

"Soooo ... let me get this straight," Meena said as she and Molly entered a shop, "you're going to a wedding in New York, and Sherlock is going with you?"

"Yeah, that's about it," Molly replied.

Meena's eyes narrowed. "Did he give any reason as to why he wants to go?"

Molly shrugged. "He just told me that he didn't want me to go alone."

"Huh ..."

"He also," Molly continued, "offered to take care of making the hotel and flight arrangements. Which of course both of us know that means Mycroft will actually be taking care of it, which we also both know that means that his PA Anthea will actually take care of it!"

The pair of them burst into laughter as they made their way through the shop towards the back.

"Well, that certainly is very nice of him," Meena noted, once their laughter had abated.

Molly looked at her, noting that a wicked gleam was in friend's eyes. "What, what is it?"

Meena shook her head. "It's nothing. Let's just try and focus on finding you a dress, eh?"

Twenty dresses later a very tired Molly returned to her flat, bedecked with purchases. She had never been much of a shopper, usually finding the experience more or less exhausting. She hated trying on clothes and seeing herself in the mirror beneath God-awful, unflattering lighting. How Meena had managed to convince her to buy two matching sets of lingerie she still hadn't quite figured out. All in all though, she was thankful for her friend's help and was glad that she had found a dress. It was different from her usual though, nothing at all like the one she had worn to John and Mary's wedding. It was a bit more form fitting, but nothing like the dress she had worn to that disaster of a Christmas party. No, this was both chic and elegant, as well as comfortable.

"Was your shopping a success?"

Molly let out a shriek then sent a glare of daggers towards the sofa. "What the hell Sherlock? Is it really necessary to scare me like that?"

He sniffed. "I thought you knew I was here."

She rolled her eyes and made her way towards her bedroom, a bit disgruntled when she realized that he had followed her.

"May I see the dress?" he asked.

"No."

"Why not?" he demanded.

"Because I don't need your scathing deductions about it, that's why."

"I don't do that anymore, Molly. Not to you at least."

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Be that as it may, you're not seeing my dress until the day of the wedding."

He rolled his eyes. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this? It's not like we're the ones getting married!" He stopped when he realized what he had said, his eyes widening slightly, and the faintest tinge of pink coming to his cheeks.

Molly chose to ignore his comment, tucking the dress into her wardrobe. "Don't you dare go snooping in here either; I'll know if you did!"

He pouted, his embarrassment short-lived, as she walked passed him and made her way back out into the sitting room.

"Are you staying the night? I was about to make some tea, do you want any?" she asked as she entered the kitchen.

"No. And no. I only stopped by to give you this." He scooped up a small leather packet from her coffee table, before following her into the kitchen.

She put the kettle on to boil before taking the packet from him. "What is it?" she asked.

"Our travel arrangements," he replied.

"Oh!" She unzipped it and pulled out the papers, her eyes growing nearly as wide as saucers when she saw where they would be staying during their time in the city. "Sherlock ... what ... are you sure about this? That hotel is really expensive."

"What of it? You're not paying for it, and neither am I, my brother is footing the bill."

Her cheeks burned bright red, as she placed the papers back inside. "I don't know why you think you need to do this."

"I'm not going to fly all that way and stay in a cheap hotel," he offered as explanation.

She sighed. "Well, I feel like I should give your brother something ..."

"Bake him a cake that will suffice."

She had to force herself to keep back a smile.

"The flight leaves at seven, I'll pick you up at five," he said to her.

She smiled. "All right. I suppose flying first class will have its perks, I'll be able to sleep on the plane a bit more comfortably than usual."

He smiled then pressed a kiss to her cheek before leaving.

It was the night before their departure and Molly was in a deep sleep. Usually she was far too excited to sleep well when she was about to go on holiday, but her last shift had been a rather long one, thus the moment her head hit the pillow she quickly entered dream land. It wasn't until there was a slight movement on her bed that she woke up, for the movement was far too great to have been made by Toby.

"Sher'ock?" she mumbled.

"Mmm. Go back to sleep."

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "It can't possibly be time to go already."

She felt him shift beside her.

"It isn't," he replied. "You've got a few more hours."

She hummed happily and burrowed back down into her pillow.

"You didn't answer my question," she said after a few minutes had passed.

He let out a breath. "Your flat is closer to the airport, which makes for less time in traffic ..."

"That's a horrible explanation."

He sniffed. "Fine. I sleep better when I'm with you."

He could practically hear her smile.

"Good answer."

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