A/N: I couldn't resist. Here's my contribution to the 14th of February 2017. Happy Valentine's, darlings. x

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CONTAINS

SERIES

FOUR

SPOILERS

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Today

The quiet of midnight never ceased to provide the perfect calm after a bad work day. Today had been particularly hectic for Molly; a colleague had come down with measles and their whole morgue roster had to be reshuffled, causing everyone's daily workload to nearly triple.

"Ah, my neck," she whispered to herself as she gratefully turned the keys to the door of her flat.

A few streaks of streetlight stole in through the window, illuminating Molly's sitting room just enough for her not to have to turn the lights on. She sank into her sofa and sighed quietly in relief. From her pocket, she took out her mobile phone and began mindlessly going through it, swiping aimlessly from application to application. She smirked at a few specific reminders she saw in her calendar, smiling to herself in the dark.

Give SH correct thumbs for Case #03-0916

Babysitting at 221B (Rosie, not SH)

Review report from Mycroft's lab (rem. to attach error report)

The perusing of her calendar was stopped when the lights in the sitting room suddenly came on, startling her.

"Why didn't you tell me to get you from Bart's?" came the voice of Sherlock Holmes, as he emerged from her bedroom in his robe.
"Because you don't have to. And also because Mycroft already sent a car," said Molly, "His way of thanking me for looking through that report of hi—"
"It's high time he fired his team and had you run it," Sherlock interrupted, his tone a mix of annoyance at his brother and pride at Molly's competence.

Sherlock strolled over to where Molly was seated and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. When he sat down beside her on the sofa, Molly turned to lean against his chest, relishing the warm comfort of his body.

"A parcel came for you today," he said, kissing the top of her head.
"Oh?" she replied, "Where is it?"
"Here," said Sherlock as he handed it to her.

It was a rectangular box, no bigger than a tissue box and was wrapped in ordinary, brown parcel paper.

"When I received it, I gave it a little shake, seeing as it wasn't fragile. And it looks to me that it's either a—"
"Sherlock."
"Ah. Sorry."
"Stop deducing my parcels, or my letters, or my anything unless you've been asked," chuckled Molly.
"No, sorry," he said, kissing her once more in apology.

Molly sat up and began tearing the corners of the parcel, pulling out a plain, black-coloured box from underneath the paper. She lifted the lid of the box and in it was a single rose, intricately carved from ebony. The dark wood had a most beautiful sheen to it, lending a softness to the otherwise hard and unmoving petals.

"Well, this is rather beautiful," Molly said in awe, admiring the rose in her fingers. "But who would give this to me?"

Sherlock peered carefully into the box that had contained the rose and spied a piece of paper folded and tucked neatly inside it. He pulled it out carefully and handed it to Molly. Curiously, she unfolded it and began to read its contents.

My dearest Molly,

This is in case my brother forgets —
Happy Valentine's Day.

x
E

"It's from your sister," Molly said, somewhat perplexed. She took her phone out and glanced at the date on the screen.

"But we don't do Valentine's," remarked Molly, amused. "And besides, it's not even February. Why would she send me a valentine?"

Sherlock took the rose and the note from Molly's hands and examined them, contemplating all the evidence around him. It took a moment, but Sherlock soon found the answer to Molly's question.

"Because it was today," said Sherlock, ever so quietly.

His tone startled Molly, causing her to turn to face him. He seemed crestfallen almost, and it puzzled her.

"Sherlock?"

He did not answer, but merely took Molly's hand in his and looked at it, smiling pensively. Gently, he took her index finger and ran it over a row of jagged scars along the side of his palm. When she felt the familiar bumps against her own flesh, Molly gasped quietly, finding the answer to her own question too.

"It was today," she echoed softly, now taking his hand in hers.

Sherlock merely nodded and smiled, his eyes awash with emotion. It had been so long ago that he had smashed a coffin - Molly's coffin - with his bare hands and yet, that same heartache struck his chest as though it had been just yesterday.

"Well, I suppose she's redefined it for us then," said Molly, smiling as her eyes glistened.

She leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on the side of his face as she drew him in to kiss him softly.

"Happy Valentine's," she whispered, smiling against his lips.

Sherlock smiled in return and ran his thumb gently over her cheekbone.

"I guess I should say it like I mean it, eh?" he whispered back.
"Happy Valentine's?" asked Molly, amused.

Soft laughter escaped the both of them as they remained where they were, foreheads touching and hands intertwined.

"I love you," said Sherlock, grateful that all those years ago today, he had uttered those very same words to the only one who ever mattered.

END