Disclaimer – I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.

AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :)

Almost every Friday Mary and John would meet for lunch at 'Joe's Cafe', the local coffee shop.

It had all started when John walked into 'Joe's Cafe' for the first time and noticed the beautiful woman sitting alone in the corner having lunch. He had instantly wanted to go over and talk to her, ask for number or even her name, but every time he thought about what to say his mind would go blank.

Far from the spotty teen he used to be, it was highly unusual for John to feel so nervous about talking to woman. Nevertheless he left the coffee shop with a stomach full of terrible soup and no number or name from the woman.

Refusing to be discouraged from the first encounter he returned the following Friday in hope she would still be there. He thanked whatever higher power was on his side as lo and behold she was sitting in the same seat, eating the same sandwich she had the week previously.

Feeling as though it were a sign, he became determined to go and have a conversation with the woman, and yet ended up leaving the coffee shop once again with a stomach full of bad soup, but still no number.

The very same thing happened the following Friday, and the even Friday after that.

It wasn't until the fifth Friday that this maddening routine changed, when Mary took matters into her own hands and introduced herself.

She had spotted him, five weeks ago and knew he wanted to go and talk to her and returned to 'Joe's Cafe' each Friday since, hoping that he would finally come and say something. It was unusual for her to introduce herself to random men, not being far enough from the sweaty teen she used to be, but she felt like it needed to be done. After all she hadn't spent the past four Fridays sitting in a dangerously unstable chair, eating the one of the worst sandwiches humanly possible for nothing.

Despite their initial introduction taking five weeks, it wasn't long before the two of them became a couple and thus the tradition of Friday lunches at Joe's was born. 'Joe's Cafe' was known for serving burnt coffee, watery soup, and sandwiches that were not exactly fresh, but this didn't matter to John and Mary as neither of them came for the food.

They were currently seated in the far left corner, tucked away from most other customers, as they started to debate over one of their recent favourite topics. To be more precise, they were debating over Mary's specific wording in connection to one of their favourite topics.

"I'm telling you perfect!" Mary almost sang as she took another bite of her lunch.

What had started as a simple comment had turned into a light-hearted disagreement between the pair.

Over the past week or so, Mary had decided that Sherlock and Molly were in fact perfect for each other. It seemed that more she got to know Molly, and the more she saw how the pair interacted, the more she thought they were made for each other. She knew that them getting together was inevitable and even had a bet going with Mrs. Hudson, but recently she began to convince herself that they were soul mates.

"Perfect? No. Well suited? Yes, but honestly I don't think Sherlock could ever be perfect for someone." John reasoned.

"And a few months ago I would have agreed completely, but ... She's perfect." Mary breathed the final word of her sentence and she looked at John imploringly.

John shrugged halfheartedly as he went back to his lunch, clearly failing to see how Molly was 'perfect'. He truly did think they were well suited, surprisingly so, but he didn't consider them to be as much of a match made in heaven as Mary did.

Feeling as though she was in a losing battle, Mary groaned.

"You honestly don't see it?" She inwardly cursed how her fiancé could be so oblivious sometimes and decided to spell it out for him.

"She's nice, and kind and a good person-"

"I completely agree" John interrupted

"and!" She fought back.

John gently laughed at how seriously she was taking this debate.

"And, she's kind of-" Mary hesitated on how to explain the other side of Molly Hooper. The side that she had only seen bits of, but was sure existed.

"dark." She finished unsure of her choice.

"Dark?" He was completely unconvinced.

On a list of words that John might use to describe Molly, dark would be near the very bottom, beaten only by evil and morning person.

"Not, 'I'm going to go and kill a bunch of people dark'!" Mary brushed off John's obvious disagreement.

"Although she does cut open dead people every day, and she clearly enjoys it." She muttered to herself as an afterthought.

Seeing Mary get lost in her thoughts John thought it would be best to inject some logic into this conversation.

"She also wears cherry patterned cardigans, and almost cries every time there is an RSPCA advert on TV. I don't think she quite qualifies of dark." He laughed.

"Fine, she's not dark." She conceded.

"But she's not the cute and cuddly pushover everybody thinks she is. She has an edge." Mary nodded, significantly happier with her phrasing this time, whilst John stayed quiet for a few moments.

Sometimes it was easy to assume from the abundance of cardigans and smiles that Molly was innocent and almost weak.

John knew he was guilty of this assumption, having initially panicked over the fate of the girl he had met months ago, the girl who was devastated at the thought of breaking up the relationship between her one night stand and his homosexual partner.

It wasn't until one month later that his perception of Molly Hooper completely changed. He watched as she not only tricked him, and her boss, but she managed to trick of the so knowledgeable Sherlock Holmes, and then managed to threaten him after the fact.

The memory caused a faint smile to cross his face. It was impressive, she was impressive, and he realised that it was then when he knew that everything might not be as disastrous as he had first thought.

He suddenly became aware that Mary had started talking again, and managed to catch the end of her speech.

"-and she's super smart, really patient, and not squeamish at all!" She bounced her sandwich in his direction to further emphasize her point.

"And that makes them perfect?"

"They're just a few of very many reasons." She smiled as John managed to smudge soup all over the left side of his mouth.

"I think he needs a strong-willed, patient, and mostly good partner. While she needs excitement, intelligence, but mostly she needs loyalty." She spoke softly as she wiped her fiancé's face clean.

Just as she was about to return to her food, a thought suddenly popped into her head.

"And their names rhyme."

John looked at her in utter confusion.

"Not Sherlock and Molly, they obviously don't rhyme. But their real names, William and Miriam. Rhyming names John, rhyming." She said as though it was the most important factor she had just listed.

It was her seriousness that caused him to laugh and it wasn't long before the conversation moved onto other issues, such as his sister's new business idea and the possibility of adopting a dog.

John left the lunch a short while later still believing himself to be unconvinced that Sherlock and Molly were perfect for each other. He couldn't deny however, that he was starting to consider that Mary might have a point.

Whilst John and Mary were reliving old memories, Sherlock and Molly were creating new ones.

Molly had organised her anomaly scan to take place a few days before her 20th week mark. Although she had months to organise she still felt entirely unprepared for the appointment, making the days before become a blur of pregnancy books and questions to Google.

On the whole she felt nervous, with a quiet excitement simmering just under the surface. She found herself looking at pictures of scans on the internet and talking to the bump more often as the date drew nearer.

Judging by the way Sherlock seemed to buzz around her the days leading up to the appointment, she suspected he was feeling similar.

Once they arrived at the hospital they were informed that their doctor, Dr Trisham, had suffered a heart attack and was currently resting at home. They had been told that his replacement would be along shortly, and so they waited.

Similarly to Molly, Sherlock had also tried to organise himself for the appointment. Instead of reading books or asking questions to a computer, he had hoped if he completed all cases by two hours before the meeting he should be free of all distractions and able to focus entirely on the scan. Unfortunately the murderers of London had other ideas.

Sherlock had been informed ten minutes before arriving at the hospital that a rather gruesome murder had occurred in central London, the victim being a Mr Collingwood, one of the most popular, and well-known current members of parliament.

With the doctor running late Sherlock saw no harm in briefly looking at his phone where he was receiving pictures of the body, and updates from Lestrade. He didn't intend to neglect the scan, but could barely tear himself away from the images on his phone of Mr Collingwood body.

Mr Collingwood had been brutally hacked to seemingly random pieces, and Sherlock hadn't seen something quite so bloody in a while.

With Sherlock next to her clearly attempting to be in two places at once, Molly was growing more and more irritated at waiting for the doctor to arrive.

It wasn't the boredom that was bugging her, she was happy being bored as it certainly beat being worried.

She found it hard to pinpoint what was causing her bad mood, but watching Sherlock tap away at his phone was steadily making its way to the top of the list of possibilities.

Logically she knew she was being unfair and misplacing all of her frustrations, but it didn't stop her from being angry with him. It didn't help that she was desperate to know what had his attention.

"What are you looking at?" She asked with a touch more annoyance then necessary.

"Hmm, it's nothing." He looked up and smiled.

She was struck with how much he looked like a child caught with a hand in the cookie jar and raised an eyebrow in amusement.

Knowing he had been caught, he decided to answer her question.

"There's been a gruesome murder." He gave a sly smile.

There was nothing new about the statement, there was always a murder, and murders were well gruesome, but the way his eyes jumped in excitement showed her it was a bad one.

Before Molly could ask more, they were finally greeted by Dr Gibson, an elderly man who smelt like peppermint and enjoyed biscuits assuming from the crumbs he was wiping off of his jacket.

Where Dr Trisham had oozed calmness, Dr Gibson oozed disinterest.

"Right scan!" The doctor exclaimed as though he was reminding himself.

"If you'd just like to lie back please." He directed Molly, despite the fact she was already lying back.

Disappointed with the doctor, Molly looked towards Sherlock for support who seemed to be too engrossed in his phone to realise.

"Would you like to know the sex?" Gibson asked no one in particular.

Sherlock looked to Molly, wordlessly telling her to decide. She cursed the fact that she had forgotten to ask Sherlock prior to the scan if he wanted to find out, even though she had a feeling he already knew.

"No." She finally answered, liking the idea of a surprise.

Sherlock nodded before briefly glancing back to his phone.

"Ok, well as you can see baby appears to be doing well." The doctor yawned.

Neither parent to be cared about the terrible manners of the doctor as the noise of the heartbeat filled the room.

The doctor began moving across Molly's abdomen and started to freeze images across the computer screen.

The parents looked at the first real picture of their child in complete silence. After a couple minuets Sherlock felt content, and began looking back at his phone, while Molly couldn't tear away from the image even if she wanted to.

It was difficult to see detail of any specific features, but she saw arms, legs and the basic profile. Overall it looked like the rough profile of a baby, any baby, but she swore it was the cutest baby profile she had ever seen.

As she began debating if the baby had her nose or Sherlock's, the baby moved making it easier to see the vague shape of fingers. If she squinted it looked as though the baby was trying to wave which caused her to smile wider.

Molly sighed as she felt entirely at ease.

At least until the doctor lightly cursed under his breath, and stood to leave abruptly.

"If you will excuse me." The brief phrase was the only explanation he gave before he quickly rushed out the room.

Worry shot through Molly like a bullet as she turned to Sherlock. She had half expected him to be watching his phone, but found he was staring back at her looking every bit as frightened as she felt.

"He left?! That's a bad sign right? Oh god that's a bad sign." She was panting out her words as fear took over her. She was a doctor she knew all the drills, and leaving was a very bad sign.

Sherlock decided instead of answering Molly he needed to see what had happened. He stood on unsteady legs and reached over her. With his hands out in front of him, he grasped the computer screen slightly tilting it towards him as he started assessing the frozen image splayed across the screen.

He began calculating each and every millimetre with a speed he wasn't aware his mind could achieve. He was desperately trying to remember telltale signs of disorders, birth defects anything that could go wrong. The cogs in his mind running through endless possibilities, trying and trying to process or understand what was happening.

"Can you see anything? Sherlock?" Molly had already been panicking, and the sight of a worryingly still Sherlock towering over her wasn't helping. Due to his large frame she was now unable to see the screen and chose to stare at Sherlock instead.

He remained still and silent so long that Molly became unsure that he had heard her.

"I don't know." He answered softly.

He couldn't bring himself to look at Molly and instead stayed looking at the screen.

They were like this for what seemed like a lifetime, but in reality was barely three minutes. It was only when someone cleared their throat they found themselves able to move.

The doctor had returned, looking entirely baffled by what he was seeing.

"Urm sir? Could you sit back please?" Dr Gibson feebly ordered.

He had been doing this job for more years than he could be bothered to count, and in that time he had met excited parents, disinterested parents and every kind of parent in between, but he had never seen something quite like this. The man he presumed to be the father looked as though he was about to rip the computer in half with his bare hands, whilst the woman looked as though she had seen a ghost.

"Why did you leave?" Sherlock frantically asked.

"Oh that, I urm-"

Unwilling to wait for the doctor to eventually stumble out an excuse, Sherlock repeated his question with far more force.

"Why did you leave?"

"I left my panini in the panini press." The doctor mumbled. He vaguely remembered that the last time he felt so intimidated he was being scolded by his head teacher for stealing school supplies.

Sherlock felt a slight satisfaction at watching the doctor squirm as he inwardly debated if killing this man was worth the prison sentence. Molly was, however, imagining the most efficient way to remove his heart from his body.

"So everything is fine?" Sherlock hissed.

"Yes. Everything's fine." The doctor answered eyes wide in fear. Feeling as though his life was in critical danger, he thought a change of topic was needed.

"We sell pictures of the scan if you're interested." His throat was uncomfortably dry as he looked between the pair.

It was Molly who replied with a slow nod.

"How many?" he walked round towards the computer, finding that looking at the screen was much more favourable then looking at his patients.

"Three." Sherlock practically growled.

"I'll just get right to that then." He trailed off as he scuttled out of the room.

Once they were alone again Molly let out the breath she had been holding in as Sherlock realised he was shaking slightly.

"Everything's fine." Molly spoke softly as her heart returned to a normal rate.

Sherlock wasn't sure if she was telling him or herself, but he felt like he needed to say it as well.

"Everything's fine." He repeated.

Sherlock had been shot at potentially hundreds of times, he had met and fought some of the most evil criminals in Britain and yet he cannot remember a time that he had felt so terrified.

Less than two minutes after he had left Dr Gibson returned once again and bid the terrifying couple goodbye.

Molly and Sherlock finished the meeting significantly less mad, and more relieved with three pictures of their unborn baby kindly paid for by the doctor.

Once free of the doctors room they became desperate to leave the hospital and the negative part of the appointment behind. Unfortunately, their luck had run out as barely three steps before the exit they were stopped by an out of breath nurse.

She informed them that they had left a phone behind and held it out for them to collect.

It wasn't until Molly looked at him that Sherlock realised it was his phone the nurse was holding.

He quickly concluded that amongst the madness he must have dropped his phone and had yet to realise, which he found extremely odd. It wasn't the act of dropping it that he found odd, but the fact he hadn't noticed.

He was well known to constantly be with his phone, especially whilst there was a case. His phone was his connection to the case, and sometimes more than that. He had always considered his phone an extension of his right hand.

Without his phone he would usually feel incomplete, but in all honesty he felt fine.

It took the action of reaching for the phone from the nurse with his left hand for him to realise that his right hand was holding something.

Confused about what he could be holding that made him feel as complete as his phone did, Sherlock glanced over to his right hand.

He saw that his phone was indeed not in its usual position, and comfortably in its place was Molly's hand.

Later that same evening, a now peaceful Molly was watching TV as she absentmindedly tapped her stomach.

It had been a few days since Molly found out she was staying in Sherlock's room.

With everything out in the open, in terms of bedrooms, they had wordlessly agreed that sharing a room was the best course of action. Both had accepted this surprisingly without any question or hesitance.

As Sherlock rarely slept, Molly hadn't found there to be much of change other then waking up next to someone every few days. Whilst Sherlock took to having a sleeping buddy with far more ease than he had expected.

While Molly relaxed with trashy TV, Sherlock lay in the other room running through the case over and over again, desperate to find what he was missing.

Mr Collingwood's case was completely consuming Sherlock making him unable to perform some of the more trivial duties for the case such as collecting Mr Collingwood's belongings. Therefore, he sent John instead.

It far from the worst job John had been given by Sherlock, but that didn't mean he was very happy about it either. Thankfully it didn't take as long as John had estimated as the not-so grieving wife had been more than happy to part way with her husband's treasured possessions. This made her the prime suspect in John's mind, although he highly doubted that the case would be a simple as a murderous wife.

With his hands full of suitcases and shoe boxes, he made his way into Baker Street with time to spare.

The sound of the door opening made Molly turn to witness John's entrance.

"I'm sure it's important to the case, but it just kind of seems like recycling?" She chuckled as a greeting

"To be honest I have absolutely no idea what it's got to do with anything, but apparently 'it's absolutely crucial to the case.'" His apt impression made Molly laugh again.

John groaned in relief as he placed the rubbish down and turned to Molly. He had intended to complain about being Sherlock's lackey further, but once he looked at Molly he was reminded of the importance of today.

"How'd your scan go?" He asked unable to dial down his 'doctor' tone. He had asked Sherlock earlier, but the detective was far too distracted by partially removed limbs to answer fully.

"Oh yeah, everything's fine." She smiled as she began to reach over for the scan picture she had in her bag.

"Terrible doctor though!" She muttered as she reached down to grab her bag.

"Really?" John was surprised as he knew Dr Trisham and thought he was a fine doctor.

"Dr Trisham is off ill, so we had Dr Gibson who was just an idiot." She said dismissively.

At the time she had seriously considered ending the doctor's life, at the very least ending his career, but once she knew that everyone was healthy she found she no longer cared.

"Why what happened?" He asked.

"Well," She turned to face him picture in hand. "about halfway through-"

Before Molly could continue her story John's phone chimed sharply, causing both of them to look in its direction. John's hands hovered over his phone in his pocket about to grab it, when Sherlock burst from his door, and virtually sprinted into the living room.

"There's been another murder." He smiled wide.

Molly noticed that Sherlock looked slightly deranged, with his creased shirt, and hair sticking in all directions.

"There's been another murder." He repeated in an inappropriately cheerful voice.

He bounced further into the room, towards them.

John had assumed was he walking towards him and was mildly surprised when Sherlock walked over to Molly instead.

"This time they weren't interrupted. Eyes, limbs, organs in every direction." Sherlock began waving his hands around as though he was throwing confetti.

"That's disgusting." She breathed excitedly. It was going to be her job to put the victim, whoever they were, back together again, and she had always loved puzzles.

John watched as she started to smile wide almost matching Sherlock's grin. John felt as though they had forgotten he was in the room truly understood how it felt to be a third wheel.

"Meet you at Barts in an hour?" Sherlock asked already expecting her nod.

Sherlock had always considered himself an observer in life. As human interactions weren't always the most natural instincts for him, he sometimes felt more understanding after watching others and would occasionally replicate his findings if he thought they were favourable to him.

Lately his favourite interactions to witness were often between John and Mary. They had so many traditions and small rituals that they would repeat on a daily basis, and they were constantly multiplying.

Their most recent addition was their form of goodbye. Whenever the future Watsons would part ways they would find a way to innocently touch one another. It might be a touch on the shoulder, a brief hug, or a peck on the cheek, but without fail they would follow this new rule.

Sherlock saw the appeal of this rule and had decided to apply this to his own life.

Therefore, instead of running off as he usually did, Sherlock decided to grab Molly's shoulders and lightly kiss her on the forehead much to the surprise of everyone except himself.

Once Sherlock felt satisfied with his farewell he moved to leave. It took John a couple seconds to process what he just witnessed before he followed Sherlock.

Barely a foot from the door a lightbulb went off in Sherlock's mind causing him to turn back to Molly unexpectedly.

"My mother is having a dinner party on Tuesday, you're invited."

She was fairly sure he was asking her, but couldn't say for certain.

"Ok." She was taken back, but overall seemed far more comfortable with the past few minutes than John was. For some unexplainable reason it was Molly's calmness that finally forced John to start agreeing with Mary.

"God you are perfect for each other." He hadn't realised it had actually come out of his mouth until the deafening silence took over the room.

The room froze as John wished he could take the words back whilst simultaneously cursing his fiancé for putting the idea in his head.

Desperate to leave the situation he had created behind, tried to think of a plan to diffuse the awkwardness. The best idea he could think of was to distract everyone in the room.

"There's been another murder." He repeated Sherlock's exclaim with half as much excitement than Sherlock had managed, as he began to shoo the detective and himself out the door.

Once she was alone Molly returned to her spot on the sofa as she placed the scan photo back in her bag.

She managed to convince herself that Sherlock hadn't intentionally kissed and it was more likely that he was overexcited about the case, and she saw no good of discussing John's statement. With that in mind she quickly decided that it was best to forget most of the last five minutes and sincerely hoped Sherlock and John would do the same.

As for the part about Sherlock's mother's dinner party, she didn't think she could forget that. This was probably for the best, as she had some major preparation to do.

So caught up in thoughts of meeting her child's relatives, she failed to notice the fact that her bag was emitting a loud buzzing sound.

It took John asking for the time two hours later for Molly to finally look at her phone. By this point in the evening she was too exhausted to think any of the fact that she had one missed call from an unknown number.

AN/ I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I loved the image of Sherlock kissing Molly on the forehead which fingers crossed made some of you smile! I pretty certain I have decided the sex, but I'm really curious as to what you guys are feeling. Let me know if you are leaning towards boy or girl and if you have a preference :)

The biggest of thank you's to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. All of you were so kind I couldn't stop smiling every time I read your reviews!

Bucky5 / Icecat62 / MizJoely / TheHeadphoneGirl / Katanafleet / Jime221 / DebyBorden / Arcoiris / Guest / and Rocking the Redhead :D

As always all reviews are loved and cherished.

I'll be back with chapter 12 soon. x