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Molly and Sherlock and the Oxford Comma

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Sherlock has never been so glad that Molly wrote the baby announcement. The lack of Oxford comma––her utter disregard of which is usually a point of contention between them––makes them sound like a couple, a unit, in The Telegraph. He smiles, albeit inwardly, just like he did when he first saw it. Molly and Sherlock, he keeps repeating in his head. It sounds lovely, if he’s being honest.

Looking up from his phone, he turns to Molly and watches her take photos of the baby. The bright smile on her face makes him wonder how much more beautiful her smile would be when it’s directed at their baby. I’m not thrilled about children in general, but I’d happily give her as many babies as she wants.

Two or three, a voice in his head reminds him.

Yes. And she’d be a magnificent mother.

He catches Mary’s arch look, and he winks at her. She has figured out his feelings for his pathologist and has been encouraging him to tell her how he feels about her.

Mary glances at Molly and waggles her eyebrows at him. She whispers something to her husband.

“Hey, Uncle Sherlock,” John says with a smirk. “What are you doing on your phone over there? Don’t you want to hold your goddaughter?”

He scowls at John, who only shrugs in return. Some friend you are, he thinks. He sighs in annoyance. “I will once Molly and Mrs Hudson stop crowding the cot.” He takes a furtive look at the women, who exchange a glance and gently shake her heads.

“Plenty of room round the cot, Sherlock,” his landlady calmly replies.

Molly tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to ditch us by looking at possible cases. Come on, Sherlock. You promised!”

“I am not, if you must know, Dr Hooper. I’m only trying to get the paper’s editors to fix the baby announcement, which you wrote but didn’t bother to proofread, on the website at least. How dare you not use the Oxford comma?”

She groans as she rolls her eyes. “Dear Lord, not this again.”

“It’s almost always necessary. It should be a global standard, for God’s sake! And your hatred of the Oxford comma baffles me. You’d grudgingly use it when you’re writing journal articles, but you w––”

“Because I have little choice,” she interrupts in a bored tone. “I have to follow the style guide. I mean, it’s unnecessary most of the time, so I’m not gonna bother with it for an informal baby announcement.”

“Not unnecessary with this one.”

“You know, it’s your fault for not helping me with the announcement,” she replies with a shrug. “You could have proofread it instead of being on your phone all the time.”

“If I proofread it, then I would have deleted your little dig at the end, wouldn’t I?”

She laughs. “Fair enough.” She picks up Rosie and walks over to him. Giggling, she lifts the sleeping baby’s tiny fist and pats his forearm with it. “Please put your phone down, Uncle Sherlock,” she pleads in a high-pitched, childlike voice.

He raises his eyebrow at his pathologist. “Stop it, Molly.” He tears his eyes off her and starts replying to Lestrade’s text about being excluded from the announcement. God, how can she be this adorable and attractive even when she’s doing… whatever the hell she’s doing?! She needs to stop being so adorable, or I will snog the hell out of her.

“But I’m not Auntie Molly. I’m your goddaughter Rosie Watson!” Molly giggles again, whilst their friends laugh their arses off. “Please put your phone down and hold me, Uncle Sherlock. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease?”

“You really need to stop doing that.”

“Stop what?”

“Saying things that make me want to kiss you.”

Oh, God. Of course I just blurted it out. Sherlock looks up at Molly, whose soft gasp is drowned out by Mrs Hudson and Mary’s louder one. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees John’s jaw drop.

“You want to kiss me?!”

“Yes,” he replies as he kisses her on the cheek and gently takes Rosie from her arms. “Even if you hate the Oxford comma.” He gazes at the baby and tenderly rubs her tiny hand. “You’ll use the Oxford comma when you grow up, Rosamund Mary Watson, won’t you?”

“Oh, Sherlock.” Laughing, Mary swoops in and takes her daughter from him. She winks at Molly, who is blushing and trying not to laugh, on her way back to the sofa.

Molly folds her arms across her chest. “You’re such a nerd.”

He takes one step closer and copies her stance. “So are you, with your fascination with astronomy, cats, and musicals.”

“Just kiss her already, mate!”

Uncrossing her arms, Molly giggles as she grabs the lapels of his suit jacket and pulls him down.

Placing his hands on her waist, Sherlock meets her halfway and crashes his mouth on hers.

"Finally!” Mrs Hudson, Mary, and John exclaim at the same time just as Rosie begins crying.

Finally, Sherlock thinks as he wraps his arms round her and deepens the kiss.