Work Text:
Molly stood in front of the window, looking down onto London. She tightened her grip on her tea mug, a shiver wracking her frame as the furnace kicked on underneath her. Stepping over the grate below her, she sighed softly as heat flew up her heavy sweater dress. She watched the snow fall onto the street below, and smiled quietly as a familiar figure stalked across the street and into 221B.
She didn’t move from the window, but watched the flakes fall in fascination, her reflection in the window marred by the soft glow of the solitary table lamp behind her. She leaned back in contentment as two strong arms slid around her waist and drew her close.
“How are my girls?” a deep voice rumbled into her ear. Heat that she desperately needed in the frigid flat warmed Molly’s body at the sound.
“We’re just fine,” she murmured, moving Sherlock’s hand from top of her belly to the rounded curve of it. She felt him start as the baby kicked against his hand, his hand flinching against her before flattening and pressing tight. His breath tickled her neck, and a heat of a very different sort flooded her body when his lips pressed against her neck.
“Ooo, you’re a bad man,” she whispered gleefully, arching her neck to give him better access.
He chuckled against her skin, the sound sending shivers down her spine. “Indeed.” She turned into his body, snuggling against his heavy woolen coat and raised her mug to his lips.
“Tea?”
He smiled against the rim of the mug and took what she offered, closing his eyes in contentment as the warmth from the liquid spread through his frame. He moaned softly as her lips grazed his jaw. Plucking the mug from her hand, he reached behind him to place it on the desk. Turning back to Molly, he encircled her waist and kissed her gently, tasting tea and strawberries and Molly. She hummed against his mouth as she deepened the kiss, her free hands sliding up to caress the nape of his neck and slide into his curls.
His grip on her tightened, and she giggled when she felt him start again and break their embrace, looking down at her belly with a pout. “She kicked me!”
“She probably doesn’t want her parents to engage in any romantics at the moment,” Molly said, smiling. Sherlock grinned and leaned his forehead against hers, enjoying this moment, just the two of them.
“Welcome home, Mr. Holmes,” Molly whispered.
“Mrs. Holmes,” Sherlock whispered in reply, his arm reaching behind his neck to take Molly’s hand and kiss the rings on her finger. He reached behind him, grabbing the tea off the desk and handing it back to her, kissing her as her hand enveloped his around the mug. He pressed a kiss to her forehead and rested his chin on her crown, wrapping his arms around her.
They simply stood there, watching the snow fall.