Sherlock removed his black leather gloves and put them into the pocket of his woolen coat when they stepped into the café. It was something that John had seen Sherlock do many times over the long association and friendship he had with the detective. However, there was something new on this cool, late fall morning; a ring of silver coloured metal around the third finger of the consulting detective's left hand. John couldn't contain the question after they sat at a seat by the window with fresh coffees.

"Sherlock, what's that?" John said as he pointed to the ring.

"Surely, you know a wedding ring when you see one. You do wear one yourself." Sherlock said smugly. "Please close your mouth, John; you are starting to resemble Anderson."

"Who did you marry? I didn't even know you were seeing anyone."

"Molly and I got married this weekend. It was for a case but we've decided to make it real. My brother was able to get the paperwork done without fuss."

"OK… OK… Wow... I don't know what to say. Congratulations, I guess, is right."

"Thank you, John. "

"Nice ring. Silver or white gold?"

"Neither. Tungsten carbide. Strong, durable but can be brittle. It most likely won't scratch, won't wear down but strike it just right, it will shatter. I chose it to remind me that I hold something beautiful that can break under the right circumstances. Molly has a matching band in platinum, a very precious metal for a precious woman."

"Sentiment?"

"Sentiment."

"Why? I mean, when have you have never shown any affection to Molly?"

"Last night, this morning…"

"That's not what I mean! You're rude and condescending to her and you'd rather pull your own toenails out than fall in love. You told me that once yourself!" John was beginning to grow angry at the detective. Was Sherlock just using the gentle (with the living, anyway) pathologist?

"John, I've been contemplating beginning a relationship with Molly for some time. Did you know that I stayed with her for a time after my fall? I had seen her in almost all stages of dress and undress. I know that she is a fair cook and a fantastic baker. I know she craves sardines before her menses and isn't overly affected by mood swings or PMT. Molly is organized and neat but not at the expense of relaxation or her health. She doesn't steal the bedcovers and we both sleep on our own sides of the bed. We are compatible in professional and most personal interests. For example, we both watch crap television. The only area we aren't compatible is music. Who is this "Pink Floyd" she likes? Atrocious!"

John countered, "All those are good, Sherlock, and you should really give Floyd a go but you still haven't told me why you and Molly got married."

Sherlock Holmes let out a long suffering sigh, "Very well. I was offered a case by Mycroft that was at least an eight. The problem was that to investigate I needed to infiltrate. I could only do that as a married man. Mycroft set up the legalities, Molly agreed to act as my wife, and off we went."

John prompted his friend to continue. "The case was solved by the second day and the criminals arrested. Molly smiled on the way home and I asked her why. She said that for a brief time she was Mrs. Holmes. And that she had fun. I smiled and thanked her and said, I suppose you want a divorce now."

"The minute I said it, I regretted it. Her face fell and I knew I had disappointed her. She said, 'If you think that's best.' I'd broken her heart, again."

"Poor Molly. She really loves you, you know and I, her."

"Yes, she does. We sat in silence until we got to Baker Street. I asked her if she wanted to come up for coffee and to talk, she said yes, we had some coffee and talked. I will not bore you with the details but suffice to say that we now are a happily married couple." Sherlock smiled then sat in silence and looked out the window. John thought he liked peaceful and relaxed.

"Well, it looks good on you, mate. Are you going to do a reception of any kind? I know your friends will want to congratulate you."

"Thank you. I'm good without a gathering. Molly just wants to do a drinks thing. Maybe Angelo's. I'll let you know."

They then spotted the suspect and the rest of the afternoon and into the evening was spent gathering evidence and presenting it to Lestrade for an arrest. It was almost 10:00 at night before Sherlock and John went to their respective homes to their respective wives.

Molly Hooper-Holmes was asleep. Between needing to work in the morning, Sherlock out on a case and him keeping her awake most of the previous night she was exhausted. Deciding a little sleep was in order for himself; he quietly changed and slid into bed alongside his wife. A slight smile betrayed his happiness and contentment. Sleep was easily entered as he contemplated the latest changes in his life.

In the Watson's flat a very tired doctor looked in on his children. Their daughter was now two years of age and had her daddy wrapped around her little finger. Their son fully planned this time, at just one week old slept soundly in the Moses basket in their room.

Mary stirred when John slid into the bed. She murmured, "Have a good night?"

"Yes, we did. Suspect caught and all evidence turned in. Oh, and do I have something to tell you…"