Sherlock sighed, adjusting his arm around Molly. It was awkward holding someone. He had never done it before. His previous encounters with Molly (and the few with Irene) had been brief and lacking in true intimacy. He wouldn't allow the sweat on his body to even cool before he was out of bed and dressing.

They hadn't had sex that night. They had been so emotionally drained it felt wrong to bring sex into it.

It was a ridiculous notion. The last time they'd made love, it had only been hours after Mary's funeral. Sherlock had shown up at her door, stinging from John's refusal to speak to him, mourning his friend. Molly's eyes had been rimmed red from crying.

But this was different. Being together now wasn't about comfort or uncertain emotions or just needing the feel of another person. It was now so much more than that.

Instead, they just held each other. They had changed into their pajamas and gone to the master bedroom. Sherlock laid on his back while Molly curled around him, head resting on his chest, leg draped over his hip. He felt her warmth and took solace in just knowing she was there.

He told her about Eurus, about Victor. There was so much to say. Occasionally his voice would hitch, the tears threatening.

Always the emotional one.

She was so very patient, just stroking his curls. She didn't speak, the only noises she made were small whimpers of distress when he reached a particularly unpleasant part of the tale.

When he finally reached the part about the coffin made for her, he gripped her tighter, as if to assure himself she were really there.

Molly just tilted her head up, whispering in his ear, "I love you."

Those words were all she said the entire time. It was all he needed. He relaxed and smoothed his hand over her back. Molly was safe with him. He hadn't failed her. He hadn't lost.

For everything Eurus had taken from him, for all she had put him through, without her intervention he would not have been laying with Molly in his arms. There was something horribly off-putting about having one's murderous sibling as their matchmaker. Then so many things in Sherlock's life were horribly off-putting it was par for the course.

When he got to the end of the story, Molly peered up at him, doe-like eyes sleepy. "So what happens now?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't know. Of course, Eurus will be taken back to Sherrinford. She'll be in her cell by now. Tomorrow I'll have to speak to Mycroft. The police. Hopefully I'll be able to speak to the Trevors. There's a lot of work to be done on Baker Street. There's quite a bit that happens now."

"I'm surprised you came to see me so quickly." Molly nestled herself back into Sherlock's chest. She let out a yawn. "So many important things to do."

"You're important." Sherlock reached down and grasped Molly's chin, lifting it to look at him. "I couldn't leave you. After all of that. I knew you were hurt. I was hurt. And I-" He paused, going through all of the information he knew about relationships. He had read things when he tried to present himself as an appropriate boyfriend for Janine. Unfortunately, things had been so intense he had deleted much of it. "You know the closest thing I have had to a relationship is tricking a woman into engagement so I could break into her boss's office?"

Molly arched an eyebrow. "And sleeping with a dominatrix whose life you saved?"

Sherlock frowned in confusion. "I never told you that."

"Eurus," Molly explained. Sherlock felt a pang in his heart. Eurus had used Irene to shake Molly's self-worth.

Sherlock curled a lock of Molly's hair around his finger, letting the silky strands slid off the digit. "What I mean to say is I've never had a real romantic relationship before and as you well know social skills are appalling. I would like to apologize in perpetuity for all of the mistakes I'm going to make."

Molly crinkled her nose. "So this is a romantic relationship?"

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, tweaking Molly's nose. "I'd like to think it is." He paused, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. "We can take it slowly. I need to figure things out myself. But..."

"But?"

Running a finger over Molly's cheek, Sherlock sighed deeply. "I want to kiss you. I want to touch you. But I don't know if it's all right."

"All right?" Molly blinked. "Sherlock, I am in bed with you and I'm not wearing knickers."

Sherlock glanced down at Molly's pert little arse. "You're not wearing any knickers?"

Her cheeks turned red. "Well... Um." She sat up. "I don't really know how to do this. Because each relationship is different. And we're both... Different." She reached out and squeezed his hand. "Slow is good. We can figure things out as we go along. It doesn't have to be tonight. You're frayed right now."

Sherlock raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. "Tomorrow night. I'll be done sorting out family issues. Maybe we could go to dinner." He leaned in close. "So this is all right?"

Molly nodded. "Yes."

He kissed her softly, sighed against her mouth. He was still unsure about going further than that, despite his curiosity in her lack of knickers. He then kissed her forehead. "You should sleep, Molly. You look tired."

Molly cuddled in close to Sherlock and let out a content, sleepy sigh.

Holding someone might be something he needed to get used to, but he was sure he would enjoy every minute of it.

Sherlock could go for days without properly sleeping or eating. When he was on a case he got by on adrenaline and it suited him fine. However, once his cases were over he crashed hard, sometimes sleeping an entire day away.

The case with Eurus had drained him so much, emotionally and physically. That was what made him so reluctant to wake when he felt a gentle nudge and a warm breath on his ear.

"Sherlock..." The voice calling to him was sweet. Sherlock opened his eyes a crack.

Oh. That had happened, hadn't it? He'd slept with Molly Hooper in his arms. But she wasn't currently in his arms. That had to be remedied. He looped his arm around her waist, pulling her back into the bed. She gave a shriek as she was pinned to the mattress and Sherlock rolled to loom over her. He gave her a feral smile. "I'm afraid you've awoken the beast, Miss Hooper."

Molly's cheeks turned red and she gave a delightful little squirm. "Sherlock, I've got to go to work. There's breakfast in the dining room."

"You were nearly blown up yesterday. That's a good excuse to take off from work." Sherlock pressed kisses to her throat. "As for breakfast I think I'd prefer it in bed."

Molly moaned softly. "I wish I could, but you said you had a lot of things to do. And your brother-"

Sherlock set to work unbuttoning her blouse. "Please don't bring up my brother while we're having a snog."

"Ahem."

Molly brushed Sherlock's hand away. "Your brother is here ."

Sherlock jerked up, turning his head to the door. Mycroft leaned against his umbrella in the doorway. "You two seem to have worked out your issues."

Molly scrambled out from beneath Sherlock, still blushing madly. She buttoned her blouse back up. "Well, I'll just leave you two to... Well... Whatever you need to do. Sherlock, I want to stop by and see John and Rosie after my shift. I'll see you there?"

Sherlock nodded, not really knowing exactly how he was supposed to say goodbye to Molly now that they were in a relationship. "Um, yes. Have a good day at work."

Molly rushed to the door. Mycroft stepped out of the way, sweeping his arm to gesture her out. Molly gave him a quick nod. "Mister Holmes."

"Miss Hooper."

With that, Molly scampered off, leaving Sherlock and Mycroft alone.

"You have the absolute worst timing," Sherlock grumbled.

Mycroft sighed, rolling his eyes. "Believe me, the last thing I want to see is you rutting around with your goldfish."

Sherlock scowled, climbing out of bed and grabbing his dressing gown. "So this is it? After everything we went through we're back to the status quo?"

Mycroft lowered his head, tapping his umbrella against the floor. "I..." He paused. "Am happy for you, Sherlock. Your feelings for Miss Hooper have been obvious for a while. While the circumstances weren't ideal, it was time they were revealed."

Sherlock blinked. "Obvious? What do you mean my feelings were obvious?"

"I deduced how you felt when Miss Hooper showed us Irene Adler's faked body."

Sherlock strode past Mycroft, scowling. "And you didn't see fit to tell me?"

"Would you have listened? You would've scoffed at my conclusion and said something unkind to the poor girl just to prove me wrong." Mycroft followed after Sherlock towards the dining room. "I was tempted. When you were struggling to admit your feelings yesterday. I thought if I said anything Eurus might..."

"How is she?" Sherlock interrupted Mycroft as he began to pour two cups of tea from the fine china pot provided to them. "I'm sure you have her back in her cell already."

Mycroft nodded. "Indeed. She's catatonic. Unfortunately with our sister, you never know when she will..."

"She won't," Sherlock insisted. He held out one of the cups and saucers to Mycroft. "Help yourself to some pastries and tell me when I can see Eurus."

Mycroft took a croissant and sat down at the dining table. "Not yet." He held up a hand to silence Sherlock. "It will be at least two weeks before Sherrinford is secure enough. I will keep you informed of the situation."

Sherlock sipped his tea before digging into his breakfast of eggs, bacon and grilled tomato. "And the Trevors?"

"Still trying to locate them. They moved to the continent when Victor disappeared." He arched a brow. "And how is Doctor Watson?"

"I haven't seen him since last night." Sherlock shoveled the food into his mouth eagerly. He was ravenous after his adventures the previous day. "But he was all right at the time."

"Yes, I suspected you were eager to find Miss Hooper and reassure her." Mycroft took another pastry. "I foresee you becoming quite an unbearable romantic. Mummy will be so pl..."

"I need a favor," Sherlock interrupted Mycroft.

Mycroft tilted his head. "I rather thought I was doing you a favor footing the bill for your stay here in the Royal Suite."

"I need your list."

Mycroft blinked. "Pardon?"

Sherlock held out his hand. "Your list. You always ask me for mine, I need yours now. I know you keep a list of drug counsellors you hope I won't savage within two seconds of meeting them."

Mycroft reached into his jacket and pulled out his small book. He fished a paper out of it, holding it out to Sherlock. "You've never willingly received help with your addiction. The last time we dragged you to rehab, you smashed a microscope on my foot. If I recall correctly, you were only there for a day and a half."

"Yes, well..."

Mycroft sat up straighter. "Sherlock, you're not feeling tempted due to the stress, are you?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No. It's just..."

"Ah." Mycroft nodded his head knowingly. "Miss Hooper refuses to enter a relationship with you unless you deal with your addiction."

"There was no ultimatum." Sherlock raised his tea cup to take a sip, wanting to hide himself somewhat. "But she made it clear it was an issue. It is hardly surprising." He crinkled his nose, remembering the feel of her small hand cracking across his cheek.

"After the events of yesterday it hardly seems prudent to tell you that caring is not an advantage..." Mycroft sighed. "But with your notorious position, a romantic partner will be at risk. Doctor Watson has been nearly killed numerous times to get to you and he is a highly trained soldier. Your Goldfish is a nine stone waif who spends all of her time with dead bodies."

"And has already been used against me by the two most dangerous minds I've ever met." Sherlock scowled. "At least this way, we're happy. And are you really going to stick with calling her a goldfish ?"

"I meant no disrespect. I rather thought it whimsical of me." Mycroft smiled and stood. "I should be heading into the office."

Sherlock swallowed the last of his meal. "Just give me a few minutes to change. It will be easier if I come in with you."

"Why would you do that?" Mycroft asked.

"Oh, did I forget to tell you? I contacted our parents last night. They'll be in your office by ten. We need to have a family meeting." Sherlock jumped up and headed towards the bedroom.

"Perhaps you could cushion the blow of my betrayal by distracting Mummy with the promise of grandchildren."

Sherlock turned back to face his brother. "Oh, do shut up or I'll tell Lady Smallwood you spent the night with Greg."

Mycroft paled. "You wouldn't."

Sherlock frowned. "It's really not a very good threat. Lady Smallwood would probably be quite pleased by it. She's too much woman for both of you combined."

He turned to continue into the bedroom.

"Sherlock."

He stopped, keeping his back to his brother.

"What you did yesterday... Was extraordinary. I have worried about you every day for the last thirty-five years. I see now what you are capable of."

Sherlock smiled, peering over his shoulder. "Are we going to hug now?"

"Small steps, Brother mine. Small steps."