This is a post-Reichenbach AU. Sherlock was gone for three years, not two. Lots of things happened in his absence - lots of canon things, but I played with the timing a bit. The plot (and there will be plot) takes some events and characters from seasons three and four but uses them in different ways, the rest I made up (ya know, 'cause it's fiction ;)

The title of the fic is the name of a Marc Cohn song. Having been burned before, I'm not putting the lyrics on the story, but I encourage you to look them up or listen to the song. It's wonderful! The chapter titles are songs as well and give little a clue as to what's happening in the accompanying chapter.

I have a lot of people to thank for this one, but I'll try to keep the rest of my A/Ns shorter as I update (like not thanking them every bloody time… I'm overly grateful). First and foremost, thanks go to MrsMCrieff who read over the first several thousand words actual years ago and kept encouraging me to finish it. She also helped with Brit issues throughout. Next, I'd like to thank darnedchild for checking the continuity and timeline for me. Huge thanks to allthebellsvenice for lots of technical d/s advice. And, of course, I have to MizJoely for betaing. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her… I mean that. Bless all these wonderful women! Lastly, I have to thank my amazing husband (who will not be reading this, but I must mention him nevertheless) for helping me with the medical, scientific and firearms business. I don't deserve him! Any and all mistakes are all mine.

Important: At times, you might find both Molly and Sherlock a bit OOC; this is deliberate. Later we will find out some of what happened during the mission and its effects on him. As for Molly, I'm writing this without the influence of 'season three Molly Hooper'. In my opinion, Molly wasn't necessarily completely 'in love' with Sherlock until his return (or possibly she figured out that it was more than a crush whilst he was gone), either way, try to keep that in mind. Warning: The story is about a Dom/sub dynamic. There's a lot of sex but nothing that I'd consider terribly hardcore and everything is completely consensual. It will also contain canon-typical violence in later chapters.

God help me but that's a lot of notes! I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Chapter -1- Should I Stay or Should I Go (The Clash)

Molly sat in her office, trying to concentrate on the report in front of her, unsuccessfully so. Her mind was, as had been the trend in the last three weeks, wandering.

Sherlock was back; his mission a success. He was once again living at Baker Street, just as he should be. However, nothing else was back to normal.

John Watson had not forgiven his best friend for faking his death, right in front of him no less, then disappearing for three years. John was now married to a lovely woman and dear friend of Molly's, Mary Morstan. However, since Sherlock's return, Molly had not spoken to John - or rather John had not spoken to her. Mary said he just needed time. Molly wasn't convinced. Frankly, the guilt was killing her. Mary was spending most of her time 'dealing' with her husband and his hurt feelings, so in a way, Molly had lost them both.

She had not heard from Sherlock since his return. Well, that wasn't completely true. He had sent her a text from a new number, of course, saying that he was back. That's it. No 'thank you'. No 'sorry about asking you to lie, risking your job and possibly your life'. Just 'I'm back'.

What did she really expect, though? Effusive gratitude? Praise for being the best death-faking pathologist in St. Barts? Maybe a tee shirt that said, "I helped an arsehat fool the whole world and all I got was this stupid shirt!"?

As for her job, she was constantly waiting for that shoe to fall. She had no idea what was going to happen to her, though there had been rumors (and gossip, so much gossip). She had signed his death certificate, for God's sake. She was a pathologist who apparently had a hard time discerning between a dead body and a live one. Would she be fired? Arrested? Deported?

Laughing quietly, she thought about just how hysterical she was being as she tried once again to get back to the mounds of paperwork that awaited her. That's when she realised that she wasn't alone.

"Something funny about that autopsy report, Molly?" Sherlock asked from the doorway of her office.

She was acutely aware of the blush that was blooming on her cheeks, though she was helpless to stop it. "No, just... ah, how are you, Sh-Sherlock?" she asked as she put down her pen and looked up at the man for the first time three years.

"Alive," he said with a soft, almost sincere looking smile. "Thanks to you."

She nodded. There's my thanks. "Did you- did you need something?" Sherlock seemed to have brought her stammer back with him. Wondered where that got off to. Maybe it was in Eastern Europe all this time. Wish he'd just left it there.

He stepped out of the doorway and walked further into her office, removing his gloves and scarf as he sat down across from her. It wasn't even that cold outside, but he was dressed like it was the middle of winter. "Yes, actually." He stowed his gloves in his pocket and tossed his scarf onto her desk. "John's gone."

"Married, Sherlock, he's married. He wasn't abducted by aliens." She was rather proud of herself for that one.

He rolled his eyes. "Be that as it may, he's not speaking to me."

"Give him time." She tried to look anywhere other than the detective's eyes, but his laser focus kept drawing her back.

"Hmmm, I suppose. But I find myself in need of a..." He paused and cleared his throat. The gesture seemed oddly self-conscious. "You were engaged while I was away."

His sudden change of direction threw her for a moment, but she quickly recovered. "Yes."

"How was that?"

"How was… what?" she asked.

"Being engaged. Did you enjoy it?"

Molly studied the man for a moment, desperately trying to figure how where he was going. "Um, fine, I-I guess."

"You broke it off."

"It wasn't meant to be," she explained hoping he'd let the subject go.

"Why?"

Of course not! Nothing's ever simple with this man. She closed her eyes and took a breath. When she opened them he was still focused on her. "I'd really rather not discuss this with you, if you don't mind."

Sherlock continued to stare at her for a long moment. "Why? I've already deduced it."

Molly felt tears sting in her eyes. "Didn't you say that you needed something from me?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.

"Yes, but this is relevant. I deduce that you ended things with your-" He paused, tilting his head, he seemed to think for a moment. "Tom, was it? Because of unresolved feelings for me. Is that true?"

Molly swallowed, praying that the threatening tears would hold off, just this once. "I haven't seen you in almost three years." Her voice was shaky with barely controlled anger. "And your first order of business upon returning, that is after avoiding me for three weeks, is to bring up my old crush. And how the hell do you even know Tom's name?"

Then the git smirked. "That was impressive." His eyes traveled over her. "Just about all the false bravado you could muster at once, huh?"

"Arse." He was teasing her.

"I know the real reason, Molly, no need to get defensive. It was a poor attempt at a joke, nothing more," he said with a shrug.

She seriously doubted that he knew or understood the real reason she and Tom had broken up, but she was in no mood to argue. Besides, the reason was personal and a 'not to be discussed with Sherlock Holmes' topic. "What do you want, Sherlock?"

"I propose an arrangement. You're right about John, he will forgive me, eventually. But there's still the problem with his marriage. I simply do better when I don't live alone."

"I'm sorry?"

He rolled his eyes. "Giving up your flat will be no great sacrifice. Baker Street is much closer to Barts and it will save you money."

"You're asking me to be your flatmate?" That explained the questions about her feelings toward him.

He stood up. "An arrangement, as I said." He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a small velvet box. "I don't expect an answer right away. You're a pragmatic woman, after all. Let me know when you've decided."

And with that, he walked out of her office leaving Molly Hooper with an engagement ring and a shit load of questions.

o0o0o0o

Molly went through the rest of her day and tried- tried to keep her mind off of Sherlock's proposal and the box. Not an easy task. The word 'arrangement' kept bouncing around in her mind. Arrangement? What the hell does that even mean? But it couldn't be avoided. She was not Sherlock Holmes. She would not wait three weeks before pulling off the plaster.

The ring itself was actually stunning, she found out once she allowed herself to look at it. She was fairly certain it was an antique; it had clearly been worn before. The large center stone was a striking yellow sapphire and was flanked by smaller (yet still big, by Molly's standards) diamonds. All of the stones were emerald cut and practically glowed with perfection. The piece made Tom's ring look cheap and thoughtless. It wasn't gaudy, though. Molly had taken the time to look up something similar on the internet and found that the style was considered Art Deco.

It did make her wonder, of course. Where the hell did it come from? And why in the name of all things holy did he leave her with it?

Seven thirty that evening she found herself standing in front of a familiar black door, a nervousness that she hadn't felt in years burning in her stomach. Mrs. Hudson let her in with a hug and a warm smile, directing her to go on up, saying that Sherlock was expecting her.

I'm sure he is, Molly thought as she climbed the stairs.

Sherlock was standing by the windows, his back to her as she entered. "So, um, I've thought about your-" She couldn't bring herself to actually say the word proposal, no. "Suggestion. The, ah, arrangement that you suggested."

He turned around and took a step towards her, his camel coloured dressing gown flowing gracefully as he moved. "I assume you have an answer for me, Molly," he said without a hint of what he might hope her answer might be.

"Why?"

He tilted his head. "Why...?"

"Why the engagement ring, Sherlock? You want - need a flatmate, why did you leave me with an engagement ring?"

"You've been engaged before, I assume you understand what the acceptance of such a trinket suggests." He still spoke with no real emotion, but at least he didn't seem annoyed at having to answer her questions. Molly counted that as a point in her favour.

"You weren't married to John, why would you need..."

"Did you question Tom's motives when he proposed?" he interrupted.

She was nervous enough without his domineering ways. "Is this to get back at John?"

He furrowed his brow. "What?"

"Are you angry that he got married? Is that it? Are you trying to make him... jealous?"

He gave her a sideways grin. "You think I'm in love with John Watson?" He laughed as he walked closer to her. "No, Molly, I'm not jealous. Nor trying to make him jealous. This... is not about John."

She had used up just about all of her bluster.; the John thing was her ace in the hole. "What is it then? Because I've been trying, all day, to figure out why you'd... why on Earth..."

He stepped slightly closer to her, then gave her 'a look'. Oh, damn you, Sherlock Holmes!

"Fine. You're under suspicion, Molly."

"You think I don't know that?"

"You signed my death certificate, faked an autopsy and committed criminal offenses."

"I'm aware, I was there, after all."

"My brother is working on fixing things, but I need to be able to protect you. What better way than to make you my wife? If we are asked questions they can't make us testify against one another. It will keep you out of custody for the meantime, at least. Mycroft thinks simply having the Holmes name will offer you a measure of protection as well."

Wait, did he say…? "Custody, Sherlock?"

"Yes, there has been talk, apparently, of bringing you in for questioning. But I won't let…"

"Oh my God," she whispered as she felt herself getting light-headed. All the things she'd been afraid of since his return were actually happening. She'd lose her job. She'd go to jail. Before it had just been speculation; a feeling that something was about to happen. I'll never make it in prison… I'll be… God! "Oh my God..." Suddenly she realised that she was seated on Sherlock's sofa and that he was speaking to her but she couldn't make out what he was saying.

"Molly... Molly... Margaret Louise Hooper!" he said in a slightly raised voice.

"I'm fine. So-sorry Sh-Sherlock. Ah... yes. My answer is yes," she said as her breathing started to even out. She hardly noticed Sherlock's hand rubbing small circles on her back.

o0o0o0o

Three days later Molly Hooper became Molly Holmes in a very small ceremony at the closest registrar's office. Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft Holmes were there to witness the strange event that ended with Sherlock placing a small chaste kiss on the corner of Molly's mouth. When he pulled away he whispered, "Smile, Molly, this is supposed to be a happy day." One side of his mouth curled up before he turned to his brother and started talking.

Evidently, Sherlock had been planning it for some time since Molly was well aware that there was a waiting period and it was indeed more than three days. A group of black-suited men had moved some of her belongings into 221B the day before. Her furniture, including her bed, went into storage.

Sherlock had, it seemed, purchased a new bed, mattress, vanity and chair, chest of drawers and wardrobe for the upstairs room that used to belong to John Watson. When she asked why she couldn't just bring her own furnishings, he waved her off, saying something about needing to 'fill the space'. At the time she chalked it up to one of his oddities.

The morning of the ceremony Molly had phoned Mary, assuming she would have to leave a message.

"Oh, thank God you answered!" she said when she heard her friend's voice.

"What's wrong, Molly?" Mary asked.

"It's just… well…"

"Molly, I miss you so much. But John…"

"I know, I know. Um, today is... "

"You and Sherlock?"

"How'd you know?"

"I have to know what's going on, it's my job." Mary took a deep breath. "He's not gonna be happy about this."

"John?" Molly was confused by both statements. "Why would he care?"

"Because he's in a permanent state of disapproval lately." She started to speak, but her friend continued, "Oh, Molly… I'm sorry I can't be there for you today. I wish I could, you know that right?"

"Yeah, Mare, I know."

"And I can't tell you that you're doing the right thing, either. But Sherlock's a good man, Molly. And if you trust him, then… trust yourself."

There was a pause while Molly tried to digest her friend's words.

"I have to go," Mary said. "Try to enjoy today, love. I'm still working on John."

It wasn't until later that night whilst she lay in her new bed that it dawned on Molly that Mary didn't know Sherlock. How would she know what kind of man he was?

o0o0o0o

Nothing much changed about her relationship with the detective after becoming his wife. There were a few moments though, when he was home, that she'd catch him just looking at her. Their eyes would lock and then a game of sorts would commence. Molly always lost and looked away first. It did make her wonder, what on earth is he looking at?

They did speak, of course. They talked about cases, about Barts, about the investigation; Sherlock telling her how to handle any and all questions that might come her way. They talked about milk - or the lack thereof - quite a bit and whether or not he might be around for meals. But nothing remotely personal, and Molly liked it that way.

The closest thing to a 'personal conversation' they had occurred about a week after she moved in…

"There was a… cat, if I remember correctly," Sherlock said, standing in the doorway of the flat, looking around curiously.

Clearly he had only just noticed Toby's absence. Shocking! She rolled her eyes. "He ran away. Hated Tom's dog," she said, returning her attention to her book. God, I loved that cat.

"You loved that cat!" he said, sitting down next to her.

Molly had to make herself not smile. "I did, Sherlock, but he's gone."

He looked thoughtful for several moments, then hummed to himself as he stood with a confused look on his face and walked away. "Unacceptable," he mumbled as he left the room.

Molly stared after him, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean.

Strange little endearing moments like that threatened to pull her back into the depths of unrequited ... well, not love, but intense like. She had no intention of subjecting her heart to that ever again. It had taken killing him (or pretending to) and falling in love with another man for her to finally get over him and she did not want to walk back down that dark and dangerous road, especially now.

For the most part, however, he seemed intent on taking any and all cases that came his way. Greg was more than happy to have him back. Molly hadn't seen much of the DI in the three years that Sherlock was 'dead'. He occasionally stopped into the morgue, that is after he was reinstated to DI nearly a year after the events of Reichenbach. He had been knocked down to Sergeant for some time. But after a thorough investigation into all of Sherlock's cases had proved that neither he nor Greg had done anything wrong, Lestrade had finally gotten his job back.

Every time Molly did see him whilst Sherlock was away, she felt it: The Tension. The pain.The guilt. Now that Sherlock was back, Greg was pleased to have his assistance once again. He must have known something about her and Sherlock's 'arrangement' because he didn't ask a single question the first time he came to the flat to find Molly lounging on the settee with a book and a mug of tea. He simply smiled pleasantly and asked her about work. He seemed to have forgiven her, or perhaps he never held any animosity toward her to begin with.

If only John could do the same.

Molly knew that being without his best friend was taking a toll on Sherlock (even if he wouldn't admit it), she just had no idea what to do about it. She had spoken with Mary a couple of times right after Sherlock's return and she knew how John felt about her and about Sherlock, at least to some extent. Knowing didn't do anything but worsen the oppressive guilt she felt. She'd hurt people: good, kind people and it was killing her. She'd grown so close to John and Mary while Sherlock was away and their absence was deeply painful.

She had no one to blame but herself. Oh, she could have put the blame on Sherlock, but she knew exactly what she was doing when he asked for her help. At any point in the three years that he'd been gone all she had to do was tell John. Just tell him. But she had let her feelings for a man who didn't return those feelings, keep her lips tightly sealed. She tried telling herself that it was for John's protection, for Sherlock's, but she knew better. Deep down she knew that she had held onto Sherlock's secret, coveting it, the way she'd never be able to hold his heart. She continued to hold it like some precious piece of him, even after she fell in love with Tom and the sting of loneliness had left her. That's why she felt so guilty. Not that she hadn't told him - because she couldn't have, she knew that - but because she selfishly relished her secret knowledge.

Other than the guilt, Sherlock's strange looks and constantly worrying about her future, life at Baker Street really wasn't all that bad. They got along better than she and Tom ever had. Certainly less fighting. Of course that could have been because Sherlock spent so little time at home and since she had no expectations of him, she didn't feel the least bit slighted when he was out on a case.

That was probably why being 'married' seemed to be working. Okay, so it had only been a couple of weeks and could potentially go tits up at any moment, but Molly was confident that it wouldn't. Their relationship was symbiotic. She was no fool. Even though she believed that he was acting in her best interest by marrying her, she also knew that he didn't like being alone and had admitted as much. He wasn't lying about that; it wasn't in his nature to just say something to spare someone's feelings. He would first have to notice a person had feelings.

Mutually beneficial cohabitation seemed to be exactly what Molly needed at this point in her life. And even though she was comfortable at Sherlock's flat, it was far from perfect. Just being around him was doing a number on her digestive system. She had forgotten that he sometimes gave her a, um… nervous stomach, so she was being very selective about what she ate. Not to be indelicate, but she had yet to be able to have a poo whilst he was in the flat!

Her sleep had suffered quite a bit as well. She couldn't quite figure this out since it could be many things causing her insomnia. It had been the same when she was in uni; her sleep was always screwed up around finals time. So, perhaps it was the stress. But that bloody bed wasn't helping one bit! Not a complainer, Molly didn't want to say anything, but that was the most uncomfortable mattress she'd ever slept on!

Utter politeness kept her from doing anything about the 'extra firm' bed, but she could try to assuage her guilt and bringing two best friends back together. So she focused on that problem instead.

Lots of set up and... wow, married!? What has Molly gotten herself into?

This story is almost three years in the making (mostly because I kept putting it away and coming back until I knew exactly what I wanted to do with it). It is very close to my heart and I put sooo much work into it. Please drop me a line and let me know how I'm doing. It is about 90% finished, just need to fill in a few blanks here and there.

If you'd like to see an image of Molly's ring, check the fic out on AO3 (I'll probably add the ring to my tumblr as well). My name is the same on each site. Want to thank mellovesall for helping me with the image because I'm inept.

Thanks so much for reading ~Lil~