Sherlock sat up with a jolt. He was soaking in his sweat. Abigail switched on the lamp on the bedside table. "Are you okay?" She asked, cupping his face with her hands.
Sherlock wrapped his arms around her tightly, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I had a nightmare."
Abigail wiped away his tears. "It was only a dream, Sherlock. Don't worry, I'm here."
Sherlock smiled and placed his lips on hers. "Never leave me, okay?"
"I won't."
The next morning, Sherlock woke up with Abigail cradled in his arms. He kissed the top of her head and her eyes fluttered open. "Good morning." She whispered, burying herself in his chest.
"Good morning." Sherlock replied with a smile. "Fancy some breakfast at Speedy's downstairs?"
"Maybe later, I feel tired. Let's stay like this a while longer." Abigail told him as she pulled him closer by the waist.
Sherlock lifted her chin up and pressed his lips against hers. Their lips moved in unison, forming a kiss that was intimate, yet sweet.
"They were wrong about you, Sherlock." Abigail explained. "You are unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and an obnoxious asshole. But you have a heart. Yes, it might be cold, but there's nothing true love cannot melt."
Sherlock grinned at her. "Can I marry you?"
"Not yet, darling." Abigail replied, sitting up. "And you might want to work on your proposal technique."
Suddenly, the doorbell rang. "I'll go get it." Abigail added before getting off the bed and putting on one of Sherlock's silk robes.
When she answered the door, she found Molly Hooper standing at their doorstep. "Good morning." She said. "I'm looking for Sherlock."
"He's upstairs." Abigail told her. "Come on in."
"You must be Abigail." Molly said as they made their way up the stairs. "Sherlock's told me all about you."
"Oh did he?" Abigail replied.
"Yeah, wouldn't shut up about you at St. Barts." Molly explained. "Made me kind of jealous, really, the way he talked about you. Lucky I found a man of my own or I would've had to spend my whole life trying to catch Sherlock's eye. You're very lucky, he really loves you, I can tell."
"Yeah, Sherlock's a tough egg to crack." Abigail added, smiling.
"Hello Molly." Sherlock said when he saw her. "What brings you here?"
"I just came by to ask if you guys were going to the wedding tomorrow." Molly explained. "You never sent back an RSVP."
"I don't want to--"
"Sherlock and I would be glad to attend your wedding, Molly." Abigail cut in.
"Great!" Molly replied. "I'll make the reservations then."
When Molly left, Sherlock confronted Abigail in the living room. "Why did you say we were going to attend?!" Sherlock exclaimed as he sat down in his chair. "You know I don't want to go."
Abigail sat down on his lap. "Come on, Sherlock. I know you and Molly had history, but it's her wedding, and she wants you to come. And besides, if you want it so bad, this'll give us a chance to see what marriage will be like."
"Fine, but I still think weddings are just nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world." Sherlock exhaled. "But promise me after the wedding, you'll make up your mind about my marriage proposal."
