Chapter X A new status quo

The next morning, Molly awoke in the arms of the man she loved. It was too good to be true. Despite the week's events, she hadn't believed until now that it was all really happening. Today would see it all change – he'd move back in with John – it was too soon for them to live together, and of course, everyone would know they were a couple – everyone that counted, that is.

Sherlock had been awake for some time. He'd watched Molly while she slept with a smile on her face. She dreamt about him, if the occasional muttering of his name was anything to go by. Relaxed by sleep, she seemed more beautiful than ever – her hair loose around her face, no frowns or nerves to bother her. The tiny amount of wrinkles in her face were smoothed by sleep and she looked younger than her 30 years. She was beginning to stir and he gently brushed some hair from her forehead. His mind tripped from one topic to another. Is this what falling in love is like? My observational skills don't seem stunted by it. Sharing a bed was easier than I imagined but then she is quite little. I'll be glad to have my own bed back in a few days: I'm stiff all over. Of course, that's not all due to the bed.

Even he had to admit he was feeling daunted by what was to come. When he'd made the plan to fake his death, it actually hadn't gone as far as returning to the world. Moriarty's unplanned suicide had changed it anyway.

"Good morning."

"Morning, are you ready for your resurrection?" Molly was one of those irritating people who woke up bright and breezy.

"Of course – raring to go," he said.

Molly leaned up on one arm so she could see him properly.

"Rubbish. You're terrified of how John will react. He might hit you. Do you know what you'll say?"

"I'll just be myself."

"Oh cos that works so well for you normally?"

"It worked on you."

"Yes, it did."

He sat up.

"I'm quite bashed up this morning."

"I told you it was too soon." Molly's tone was bemused.

"It was worth it though," he said walking gingerly towards the bathroom.

At 2:30pm, Sherlock and Molly were dressed and waiting their guests. He was back in one of his usual suits, with a red shirt underneath. Molly had spent a long time trying to decide what to wear, until finally Sherlock told her to put on whatever she felt most comfortable in and get on with it. She dressed in a loose flowing purple top and jeans. She looked at him nervously.

"Are you nervous? I'm nervous and I don't have as much to do. What will I say to them when they arrive? What if they don't want to stay?"

Sherlock pulled her close and said "Relax. They're not likely to arrive all together."

For once, the great detective was wrong. At 2.57pm, the door buzzed: it was all of them.

"Oh hide, hide now. Before they get here." Molly suddenly went into a total flap. Sherlock dropped a kiss on her forehead.

"It'll be fine. Just make chit chat. I'll come in when it seems like a good moment."

He disappeared off to the bedroom, taking his phone with him – the only evidence of his presence.

Molly ushered John, Mrs Hudson and Lestrade in, and fussed over taking coats.

"I must say, Molly, you're looking remarkably well," said Greg in a surprised voice.

"Oh, am I? I, eh, had my hair cut yesterday, trying to give myself a little perk-up" she said.

Lestrade nodded and made his way to the couch. John just stood there, hands in pockets looking at the ground. He had only half his shirt tucked in to his trousers.

Trying to make conversation, Mrs Hudson said brightly "this is a nice place, Molly. Have you had it long? Seems quite big for one. You must give me a tour."

"Oh yes: later. Who's for tea?" Molly didn't want anyone meandering around right now.

Everyone nodded their interest. She went into the kitchen and busied herself with making tea. Returning a few minutes later, she found all three sitting down, not really talking much. She put the tray down on the table, realising a little too late that she'd put out five cups and cursing herself. Perhaps they won't notice. They all seem pretty distracted.

"So how is everyone?" she asked brightly.

3 blank faces looked back at her. Oh crap! What a thing to ask?

Listening from the hallway, Sherlock winced. He was going to have to get in there soon. It was all sounding very awkward. Perhaps it would have been better to do this at Baker St.

Molly tried again. "Well, thanks for coming today. I know it seemed a bit weird but I just thought we're all in the same position and we could help each other out."

John said "it is weird. I keep expecting him to rush in with some ridiculous request. You've put 5 cups out, Molly, did you notice?"

"Oh no!" She paused, shook herself and sighed. "Nope, can't do it. Get out here," she added in a louder voice.

The three blank faces suddenly were intrigued. Mrs Hudson, whose back was to the hallway said "Molly, are you quite alright? What? What is it?" She just seen Lestrade and John's face go white. "You look like you've seen a ghost." She turned around, saw Sherlock, and promptly fainted. Molly rushed over to her.

"Well, if that's not thunder-stealing, I don't know what is!" said Sherlock.

"Bloody hell! I saw you dead!" said Lestrade, shaking his head.

"Good trick, wasn't it?" grinned Sherlock, before looked anxiously at John, who had said nothing.

"You fucking bastard! You've put us all through hell! And you", he turned around and stabbed a finger in Molly's direction. "You were in on it! I just can't believe it. You complete arse. You've betrayed all our trust and do you know what? His voice had gone up at least two octaves, tears sparkling in his eyes. "I don't care at all." He closed the distance between himself and Sherlock and threw his arms around him.

The hug seemed to break the tension in the room. Mrs Hudson came around and scolded Sherlock soundly for his "bad behaviour – upsetting everybody like that." Molly found herself being hugged in turn by everyone and finally by Sherlock. The others bombarded them with questions. How had they done it? Who else knew? What about the whole Rich Brook/Moriarty situation? Did Mycroft know?

Sherlock succinctly explained it all, with interruptions from Molly. They sat beside each other on the couch. It was Greg who noticed.

"Course, mate, that's not the only news, is it?" he enquired.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock, his dominant position in this little group reasserted, glared at Lestrade.

"Something happened between you and Molly here."

John looked from one to the other and then back to Sherlock.

"Oh My God. You're bloody well, right. Well, this is perhaps more interesting than the faked-death! Wait til your fans hear about this, Sherlock. Let's hear the full story – and leave nothing out this time."

Mrs Hudson continued to look astonished. It was like Christmas and her birthday all at once. Sherlock was back from the dead and finally had a girlfriend! Sherlock and Molly looked at each other but it was she that spoke.

"You all knew of my interest but he didn't notice he was reciprocating it until a few days ago."

"It was a gradual thing," he admitted. "And that is the whole story. Let's move on to a new topic."

"No way, mate, you've put us through a lot this week, the least you can do is divulge a little gossip. Your fans will want to know and I am prepared to get to the bottom of the story." John wasn't giving up easily.

"Perhaps you should wait til you get him home, John. Once you're settled back into Baker St, he'll probably relax more."

"I will not! My personal life is not up for discussion."

"Yes, dear," said Molly. She winked at John and mouthed "call me later". She started to tidy up the tea things, and found a typed sheet of paper underneath the tray. It was headed "Questions for Molly".

"What's this?" She looked at Sherlock who looked completely horrified.

"Oh nothing. I'll look after it." He whipped it out of her hands and it disappeared inside his jacket pocket. A quick diversion was required. Pulling her down onto his knee, Sherlock kissed Molly. The others cheered.

Just then, Sherlock got a text. It was from Mycroft and after pressing his lips together for a minute, he looked up.

"What is it, Sherlock?"

He cleared his throat and read aloud:

"S. Slight problem. Need to delay your return for another week. Tell no one. Will call later to explain M."

There was a general chorus of "bugger" "damn" and groans of irritation. Only Molly seemed pleased.

The End.

End note: So that's it. Hope everyone enjoyed reading it. I loved writing it – it did rather consume me. Special thanks to Thinkswithpen for all her great advice and proofreading.