Sherlock lifted himself up to peer at the digital alarm clock on Molly's side. His eyes widened. Eleven o'clock? Surely not!

Molly stirred and opened her eyes. "Hi, sexy. That sure was some passionate loving you gave me a couple hours ago. Totally wore me out."

The detective blinked in surprise. They'd made love since she got home? He forced himself to think about the events of the past several hours. The dream had been so vivid, it felt as if he'd experienced it himself. Then he remembered the horrible part, the kidnapping. It had been so traumatic he had woken, and Molly had been home. Then he recalled the desperation with which he'd made love to her, feeling so thankful that it had only been a dream.

The kidnapping had brought back to mind the time when she had actually been kidnapped, during their engagement period. It had been a terrifying time, but he had figured out her location and saved her.

It was funny though. He distinctly remembered what happened in the dream after the kidnapping, and the end of the dream, when he and Molly, as the Marquis and Marchioness had welcomed twins into the world.

"Molly, I had the most extraordinary dream. I read one of those Barbara Cartland books of yours, just for fun, seeing as you are so much into romance novels. Then I had this dream. I was a Marquis and I was being forced to marry you for money."

"That certainly fits the pattern of a lot of Barbara Cartland novels," grinned his wife. "What got you so...well, desperate for me?"

"I dreamed our characters were kidnapped by Moriarty. It was quite traumatic. Perhaps it was as a result of lingering fears I have from when you were kidnapped three months ago."

"I'm sorry you had such a terrible nightmare, but not sorry about what happened as a result," said his pathologist with a sultry note in her voice.

"Mmmm," he murmured, nuzzling her neck and kissing it. Her body was tempting him, distracting him. "Are you saying you want a repeat performance?" He skimmed her body lightly, from shoulder to hip, and she trembled slightly.

"I'm not sure I could go another round of desperate lovemaking, but..."

Her voice trailed away as Sherlock started to press kisses alongher jawline, then her ear, sucking her earlobe gently. Then his lips were on hers, not fierce as they had been earlier, but ever so gentle, coaxing a response.

Molly's hands gripped his shoulders as she pressed her body into his in invitation.

He groaned in response. "Molly, don't tease me with your body that way. Lord, you are so wanton sometimes. I'm trying to take things slowly for your benefit."

"I can't help it," confessed his wife. "You make me want to go to the main event."

The detective looked deeply into her eyes. "Patience, my love. There's no hurry. I have no urgent cases requiring my attention, and you don't have to be at work again for over twelve hours."

Molly acquiesced to his demands, becoming pliant in his arms. He resumed kissing her, pressing a little more firmly against her lips until she opened her mouth for him and he explored it delicately, tracing the edge of her teeth with his tongue, before engaging in a brief war of tongue dominance, then he returned to feeling her sweet lips against his as he trailed his hand down her body, exploring her breasts, caressing their hardened peaks and eliciting a gasp of pleasure from her.

He pulled his mouth away, sucking gently on her lower lip as he did so. Then the detective placed his mouth where his hand had just been, and was satisfied to receive more gasps of pleasure, as his roving hand continued to explore the more intimate areas of her body.

The combination of his ministrations was serving to cause his wife to start moving around restlessly, and he felt his own body's need as she cried out in pleasure.

He lifted his head to look at his wife. Her expression was glazed and she was gasping for breath. "Do you want me, Molly?" he asked silkily, feeling a rush of pride that he could ignite her passionate response.

She clutched at his curls and whimpered, "Yes, Sherlock. No more playing. I need you. Love me, darling."

Their bodies joined as one in an urgency that Sherlock was no longer able to control. It was wild, and it was wonderful. Making love was so sweet, so perfect with his Molly.

When they were finally spent from the intensity of their coupling, it took Sherlock several minutes to regain control over his breathing, as it did Molly.

Eventually though, their breathing normalized, and the sleuth began to tell his wife about his dream.

He told her of the parallels between himself and Lord Sherlock, how Lady Molly's influence and sweetness brought him to love.

"And it's funny how your mind can create characters from your real life," the detective said. "I was the Marquis of Sherrinford."

"Oh, that actually sounds quite noble," remarked Molly.

"Your parents, get this, were from 'The Big Bang Theory' - Sheldon and Amy Hooper."

"Oh, that's too funny," giggled his wife. "I guess making you watch it with me is rubbing off on you."

"It is rather curious how alike Sheldon is to the man I used to be. But even he has grown, and acknowledged his love for Amy."

"So, who else was in your dream? Was Mrs. Hudson in it?"

"You're going to laugh at this," Sherlock told her. "She was the housekeeper!."

"Oh that's too funny," laughed Molly. "You had better not tell her anything about your dream. She would be most offended! Who else?"

"John, of course, raising Rosie alone. It's a little sad I didn't dream a very much alive Mary," he said with a note of regret. "You should have seen the way you - as the Marchioness, were with Rosie, such a mother."

"Well," said Molly softly, snuggling a little closer into his embrace, "I guess we'll find out how motherly I really am in about eight months or so."

The detective smiled. "I still can't believe we actually conceived on our honeymoon."

"if you recall, I did tell you during our engagement, that by my calculations, I would be fertile during that period."

"Even so," he murmured. I'm sure it's not the most common of occurrences."

"True, most people get pregnant before the honeymoon these days," his wife quipped. "But we waited till our wedding night to make love, and we've been making up for it ever since."

"That we have," agreed Sherlock. "You were worth waiting forty years for, my love."

"And you were worth the thirty seven in my case. Of course it might not have been so long if you hadn't taken seven years to figure it out."

"I know. I was an arrogant, insufferable prat. But I'm not that man anymore."

"You were never truly that man, Sherlock. That was just the façade you presented to the world. I always knew the real man beneath. I just had to peel away the layers to find him."

Sherlock's arms tightened about her. "I will always thank God for you, and for the fact that you actually consented to marry me, even before I had changed to the man I am today."

"Sherlock, when you came to me that night, three days after Sherrinford, when you proposed, you had already begun to change. You had opened yourself up to experiencing love in its fullness. You made a leap of faith, as it were, right into my arms."

Sherlock kissed her hair. "You caught me, and you've been holding me ever since."

"You've been holding me too, sweetheart. I feel so safe with you..." she stopped, put a hand to her mouth and struggled out of her husband's embrace.

Sherlock looked at her in surprise as she dashed to the bathroom.

He heard the unmistakable sounds of dry-heaving, and slid out of bed himself.

He found Molly in the bathroom, on her knees and leaning over the bowl of the toilet. Her face had suddenly drained of colour.

She looked up as he entered,then flushed the toilet, smiling at him wanly. "I guess the morning sickness has started."

"I'm so sorry, love. I was hoping you'd be one of those women who sails through pregnancy without any symptoms."

She gave him a wry smile. "Apparently not. But that's alright. I've read that having morning sickness is a good sign, that it means your baby is doing okay."

"Can I get you something? Water? Ritz crackers? Flat lemonade?" He had spent some time on his laptop, as soon as Molly had told him she was pregnant, researching signs and symptoms of pregnancy.

The smile his wife gave him this time was much bigger. "You've been reading up on pregnancy."

"A little," he admitted, not willing to share that he had spent hours on it. "So, how about that water? Anything to eat? Toast?"

"I'll take some water. I don't think we have any Ritz crackers though."

"Yes we do," Sherlock said, flushing slightly. "I went to the supermarket the other day when you were at work, and I was in between cases. I bought them, just in case you should need them."

She looked at him gratefully. "I couldn't ask for a better husband. I'll take a few crackers as well as the water."

"Coming right up." He assisted his wife to stand and helped her back to bed. Damn, she looked beautiful naked, even sick as she was. Not bothering to clothe himself, Sherlock went to the kitchen and got the water and a plate with some crackers, then gave them to Molly.

"Thanks, honey. Tell me more about your dream while I eat."

He told her about Lord Sherlock's head injury, the restrictions John had set regarding excessive physical activity and the rather sensual bath he had had with his wife.

"Ooooo," Molly said, playfully. The colour had returned to her face and she was looking decidedly better after her snack. "You're having erotic dreams now."

Sherlock could feel himself blush. "I may have had one or two of those while we were engaged," he admitted.

Molly grinned at him. "Yeah, I distinctly remember. Actually, that bath scene brings to mind the bath we had together on our wedding night after the second time we made love."

"Mhmm, as I recall, it led to the third time." Dammit, desire was flowing through his veins again. His libido was out of control. He forced himself away from the unwanted thoughts, and tried to concentrate on his wife's wellbeing. "Are you feeling better, darling?" he asked, trying to keep his eyes from wandering to her exposed chest, as she sat in bed.

"Yes, thank you. You still have to finish your story. I want to know if they were good and waited to make love like we did, until Lord Sherlock's head had healed."

"Oh yeah. Well, they held another ball. I forgot to tell you. My brother Mycroft was in it. He had been disinherited after running away with Irene Adler."

Molly's expression darkened. "I'd prefer you not dream about that woman."

Sherlock stroked her cheek affectionately. "It was just a dream, silly. But get this. She was pregnant by him, and they were actually in love."

"Wow, your mind really twisted that one. That woman wouldn't know love if it hit her in the face. All she is about is lust, and her own pleasures."

"True enough," agreed the sleuth. "By the way, your friends Kaitlyn and Kayla were in it."

"Our friends," Molly said firmly.

"Our friends, then. Kaitlyn was your best friend and bridesmaid, and Kayla was your lady's maid."

"Poor Kayla, relegated to a servant role," laughed Molly.

"Oh, and my chef was Gordon Ramsay. He wasn't seen though, just mentioned. Billy Wiggins was a footman."

"You'll have to tell him about that. I bet he'll get a kick out of it."

"At the ball, Greg was with Lori too."

"I am definitely telling Lori about that, she'll like that."

"The most ridiculous thing was my butler's name...Jeeves."

Molly laughed out loud. "Jeeves? That's so Barbara Cartland! Was he played by anyone you know?"

"Strangely enough, nobody I can recall, although supposedly our dreams are always shaped by people we've met at some point. You'll like this one too, seeing as you are a 'Downton Abbey' fan. Bates was my valet."

The pathologist clapped her hands, and Sherlock watched her breasts rise and fall with the movement. He closed his eyes, telling himself to stop it already.

Molly's voice caused him to open them again. "What's wrong, Sherlock? Are you okay? Maybe we are both coming down with something and me getting sick was not because of the baby."

"Uh, no. I'm fine." Except my body is telling me I want you again, he thought.

"So tell me, did Lord Sherlock and Lady Molly finally make love?"

Sherlock gulped. Talking about it was not going to make his own renewed desire disappear. "Er, yes. And then there was like, an epilogue showing them nine months later with twins, a boy and girl." Perhaps that would distract her so she didn't ask him to describe the love scene.

"Twins! I sure hope that is not an omen for our future," Molly chuckled. "So tell me about the big love scene. Describe it to me. I wanna know," she demanded.

"Don't make me, Molly," he groaned.

"Why?"

"Because...because dammit, I already want you again, and if I tell you about it, I'm going to have to go and take a cold shower."

"How well do you remember the scene?"

Sherlock shuddered. "Every bloody detail. I mean they undressed each other and...I can't tell you. I really can't."

"Then why don't you show me?" she purred, sliding her arms about him.

"No, Molly. You're sick."

"I'm feeling completely fine right now, but I won't be if you deny me. I am pregnant, you know. You need to indulge me."

"You're playing the pregnancy card already? Bloody hell, I'm in for it, aren't I?"

"You are in for it, most definitely, my beloved husband. Now show me what happened in your dream. Re-create it for me."

Who was he to argue with his pregnant wife? Before he began his demonstration, he said, "There are two things you need to know."

Molly nuzzled his neck, then kissed it. "I'm listening."

"Lady Molly said afterwards that I...well Lord Sherlock, was...magnificent."

"And so you are," murmured his wife, reaching to caress his curls. "And the other thing?"

"They made love twice."

"Molly's fingers danced along the planes of his chest and Sherlock felt the raging fire within, as his body responded fully to her sensual touch, and his breath caught.

"I'm up for it, if you are," his naughty wife said, emphasizing the second word.

And he demonstrated very ably that he was, indeed, up to the task at hand.

Author's note: It is with a heavy heart that I must say goodbye to this story. I have had an immense amount of fun writing it. So much so, that 'I am planning a sequel, with Molly as the dreamer.

I apologize if you were confused by some of the character names in this chapter. I write all my stories within the one universe, which means there are characters from my original, ongoing multi-chapter story, "A Journey to Love and Faith." If you are interested in learning who Kaitlyn and Kayla are, I refer you to that story. However, I think this story still works as a stand-alone. You just get to see some spoilers from time to time, and references to my Journey one.

Greg and Lori are featured in my Super Bowl story if you wish to check that one out.

I hope you have enjoyed this story enough to follow my work, favourite it and/or review with your feedback. Special thanks again to those of you who have been on this journey from the beginning, and faithfully reviewed it. I really appreciate it, and you!

GoodShipSherlollipop