It’s 1:36am and Chapter 11 of ‘Domestic Bliss Must Suit You’ is already up!
It’s Loo’s birthday, y’all! (and Molly’s!)
Fun Fact: I had no idea how old Loo was turning so the fact that I wrote it as Molly’s 38th birthday was total guesswork…or am I becoming super duper observant? lol! Let me know your thoughts! *hands everyone a slice of birthday cake*
Wake up, make coffee, go to work. That was Molly Hooper’s Monday. Today was also her 38th birthday. Before heading out the door, coffee and bag in hand, she snuck back into the bedroom to leave a still sleeping Sherlock a kiss on his cheek.
“Mm, Molly,” Sherlock mumbled sleepily. She paused in the doorway. “Happy birthday.” A small smile graced his lips as he promptly fell back into his dreams. Molly smiled back and walked out of 221B to hail a cab.
Sherlock yawned as he exited his bedroom, still in pajamas, when he noticed Mrs. Hudson set the tea tray down.
“Good morning, Mrs. Hudson,” he announced.
“Morning, Sherlock,” she returned.
“Mrs. Hudson, could you—”
“Not your housekeeper, dear,” Mrs. Hudson interrupted.
“—help me with a surprise for Molly,” Sherlock finished after her interjection.
“Oh, how lovely!” Mrs. Hudson exclaimed, her hands clamped together. “What’s the occasion?”
“Her birthday,” Sherlock replied simply. “She doesn’t usually celebrate it but I feel it should be.”
“Doesn’t usually celebrate it? Hmm, sounds like someone else I know,” Mrs. Hudson smiled slyly.
“Yes, now come on, we have no time to waste,” Sherlock urged.
“ I know you’re an ARMY DOCTOR and you’ve been invalided home from AFGHANISTAN. I know you’ve got a brother (sister) who’s worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him—possibly because he’s an ALCOHOLIC, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic, quite correctly I’m afraid. That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?
When they’re discussing plans for rebuilding 221B, Mrs Hudson asks them if they’ll be needing two rooms. ‘Of course we’ll be needing two rooms’, says John. He glances at Sherlock’s downcast face before continuing, ‘Rosie’s going to need her own room, after all’ and Sherlock whips his head up just in time to see John smirk and wink at him.