"She's great." John decided, giving one last wave to Mrs. Hudson before closing the door and leaning against it, taking a deep breath and smiling to himself.
"Do you love him daddy?" Hamish wondered with a curious little face. John just looked down at the ground, nodding the smallest of nods.
"Ya Hamish, I think I do." John agreed. "I think I do." He muttered again, mostly to himself, as confirmation.
"Did you kiss him?" Hamish wondered. John just laughed, straightening up and shaking his head.
"It was just the first date Hamish; I don't want to rush things." John assured, walking into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea to settle down after such an exciting night.
"Did you want to?" Hamish wondered, skipping after him.
"Hamish there are some things that people want to keep to themselves, as much as I'd love you going around screaming about my relationship status sometimes I want a little bit of privacy." John insisted.
"So that's a yes then?" Hamish guessed.
"Since when did you become intelligent?" John sighed, pouring water into the kettle to heat up on the stove. Hamish just laughed evilly and sat on one of the stools next to the counter, his little feet swinging. John was just turning on the stove when the doorbell rang, and he couldn't help but sigh. The last thing he needed was another visitor. Oh well, it was probably just Mrs. Hudson here to collect something she had forgotten, or Sherlock come to give him an official goodbye kiss. Preferably the latter. But when John opened the door he was ambushed for the second time that night, this time by a brown blob that smelled like lavender shampoo.
"OH MY GOSH HOW'D IT GO?" Molly's voice screamed frantically in his ear, releasing John from that captive embrace and holding him at arm's length, as if trying to find noticeable differences in his appearance after he had gone on a date.
"It was amazing, absolutely amazing." John admitted in a breath. Molly smiled excitedly, kicking the door open and walking into the house without an invitation. Well, I guess this will be tea for two.
"I always imagined a date with Sherlock to be amazing, but I never actually imagined I'd know how one would turn out. I always thought that I'd either be the one on the date or hate the other person with a burning passion." Molly decided.
"So you hate me then?" John guessed, his eyes narrowing in confusion.
"No, no of course not, you're awesome!" Molly assured.
"Hi Molly!" Hamish said happily, munching on some goldfish that he had found tucked away in the cabinets.
"Hi Hamish." Molly said with a smile.
"Hamish go up and get ready for bed, it's almost ten." John insisted, shooing his son out of the room. Hamish groaned, but slid of his chair and lumbered up the stairs, obviously upset he wasn't going to hear their grown up conversation.
"Alright, alright, so tell me everything that happened, start to finish." Molly insisted, pulling up a stool and leaning on her elbows.
"Start to finish?" John clarified, leaning on the counter next to the stove.
"Everything." Molly agreed, and John just laughed, shaking his head and trying to think back to the beginning of the date. It felt like ages ago when in reality it hadn't even been five hours. Funny how time flies when you're falling in love. So John went through the whole story, everything from getting lost to the wine bottle to holding hands in the park. Ever little detail John said Molly got excited, squealing when something cute happened (and in her mind, everything was cute) and sighing in happiness when John described how Sherlock looked in the candle light or the love in his eyes that was evident even when he was looking down at his feet. When John was finally finished the kettle screamed, and at first John had thought it was Molly's reaction to the whole thing, but then he realized that the water was boiling and poured two cups of tea, adding bags and sugar as recommended.
"So it was amazing then?" Molly asked, dipping her tea bag in her tea numerous times to get the flavor mixed in.
"Yes, of course it was amazing, I'm pretty sure I happened to stumble across the most perfect man on earth." John agreed. Molly sighed in agreement, a dreamily little smile on her face as she thought about the gardener.
"Honestly John, you've made my life." She decided.
"Your life? Really? That's pretty good considering I stole your crush right from under your nose." John pointed out.
"Oh who cares about that, he's flaming gay, I had no chance. But this is great, it's just...you're so great, and he's so perfect, and we're all friends and you're together and..." Molly sighed, obviously not knowing what to say, but there was the biggest smile on her face. "I just love it." she decided.
"Well that's good, I'm happy I have your approval." John nodded. Molly just laughed evilly, as if remembering something that could be rather game changing.
"Oh just you wait John, wait until you meet his family. If you think he's weird wait until you meet his brother." Molly pointed out with a laugh.
"What's wrong with his brother?" John wondered, rather nervous to hear the truth.
"He's a complete sociopath, the driest, most boring person you'll ever meet and he seems to have this gigantic ego, he thinks he's just the greatest. He's awful, his name is Mycroft." Molly muttered with a bitter frown.
"Mycroft? That's an odd name." John decided.
"What, and Sherlock isn't?" Molly wondered with a laugh.
"Sherlock isn't actually his real name. His name is William, which is so normal it's almost laughable." John pointed out, and Molly's mouth dropped, as if this was the biggest scandal she's heard all night.
"No way?" she muttered.
"Yes way, he told me himself." John agreed. Molly sipped her tea thoughtfully, as if everything she knew in the world had been changed.
"Interesting." She muttered, making a mental note to black mail Sherlock later. They spent the rest of their night chatting about nothing in particular, and eventually Sherlock's name would come up and they would both get all dreamy, talking about how beautiful he was and how perfect he was like two star struck teenaged girls. In the end their tea was drained and John was really starting to get tired, his eye lids were drooping and he wished for nothing except some peace and quiet. He's had basically all of the neighborhood over at his house, and it was time for some solitude, some time to really process what had happened on that date and accept it as the truth. Eventually Molly got the message, and she made some excuse about going to feed her cats or something. So with a rather sleepy goodbye Molly left the house, letting John hike up the stairs and get ready for bed, brushing his teeth and staring at himself in the mirror. Had that all really just happened? Was he actually on a date with Sherlock Holmes? John just smiled to himself, telling himself that it was real. He had been on a date with Sherlock Holmes, and he was in love all over again.                                                                                                                                                  

                    When John awoke he almost felt like a new man, there was this sort of happiness bubbling in his chest that didn't want to go away. It felt like there was a balloon pressing on his heart, expanding so much that it made him want to explode. He knew that this balloon had to be love, and it kept getting filled with thoughts about Sherlock, beautiful thoughts about that beautiful man. John had woken from a sleep that had been plagued with dreams about that man, all of these things that had preciously seemed impossible, but now John realized were actually rather probable. Their first kiss, their proposal, their marriage, all of it just flipping like a slideshow in John's brain, behind his eyelids he saw his hopeful future. It was Sunday, thankfully, and John just lay in his bed under his fluffy blankets, staring up at the ceiling and smiling to himself. He really did feel like he had a new purpose in life, staring at a new ceiling and thinking about a new person in a new town with new friends and a new job. Who he was now and who he had been a year ago seemed to be two completely different people, one was miserable, under constant surveillance from a dictator wife who's only goal was to make John's life as miserable as possible. Now he felt renewed, like a flower blooming in the spring after the harshest of winters, he was able to show his true colors, able to be a completely different person with no expectations at all. And this time he might have actually found his ideal partner, his soul mate with the purest definition of the word. John eventually decided he should crawl out of bed, pulling on his bathrobe and stumbling down the stairs to the kitchen. He saw that Hamish's door was closed so he tiptoed through the house, as to not wake the sleeping beauty. The last thing John needed on a peaceful Sunday morning was a screaming child. The first thing John did when he got down stairs was check Mrs. Hudsons' driveway for any possible white trucks. Since it was only seven thirty in the morning it wasn't a surprise when the driveway was empty, but John couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed. But what would John even say to Sherlock the morning after their date? Good morning, I'm hopelessly in love with you. See that just doesn't work. John just shook his head, letting the curtain fall back in place and going to pour himself a bowl of cereal in the kitchen. He sat on the couch and watched the news, watching the bland weekend news crew mumble on about things and crunching on Coco Puffs, hoping Hamish didn't wake up and catch him eating his cereal. He knew that even though his morning was going to be peaceful his afternoon was not. He had to fill out that application for the grocery store as fast as he could so that he could get an interview and get a job. John needed money, and he needed money now. He still hadn't checked what damage had been done to his account after that fancy sushi, but he was sure there would be an even bigger hole he had to start filling up. This job, however, puny it might end up being, was his only option at employment, until he could find some better offer someplace else. Even though John really didn't want to be a cashier he knew that if it was going to help him feed his son then he would have to take it, besides he was about done sitting around at home all day anyway.
"Good morning daddy." Hamish muttered about an hour later, groggily rubbing his eyes and walking over to the cabinets to pour himself some cereal. Thankfully John had replaced the box of Coco Puffs to its usual spot on the shelf, and had long since washed his bowl and cleared all evidence.
"Good morning Hamish, sleep good?" John wondered. Hamish shrugged, clumsily pouring milk into his cereal and drowning all of the little brown puffs in lactose.
"Ya, I guess so. I had a dream that you married Mr. Sherlock and adopted another kid, a baby girl." Hamish said with a little smile. John just laughed, but couldn't help but hope that might be the case.
"Really? What was her name?" John wondered.
"I don't know, but at night she turned into a demon and crawled around the kitchen floor with knives, it was a really weird dream." Hamish admitted. Oh, so maybe this wasn't the ideal future for them.
"Alright then, if I ever consider adoption I'll make sure I don't accidentally adopt Lucifer." John decided with a laugh. Hamish nodded in agreement, coming over to sit on the couch and switching out some news special on a 5k to cartoons. On Sunday mornings they played the old cartoons, Roadrunner and Bugs Bunny, all the good cartoons that had been otherwise overlooked by youth these days.
"Are you going to see Mr. Sherlock today?" Hamish wondered between bites.
"I hope so." John admitted. He would love to see Sherlock but he honestly didn't know if that was going to be possible, he didn't even know if Sherlock was going to show up today, did he work on Sundays? That or he was going to show up just to bait John to coming over and saying hi; maybe he was going to fill Mrs. Hudson in on what happened the night before. John didn't really mind Sherlock telling Mrs. Hudson, just as he'd hope that Sherlock didn't mind his telling Molly, but it kind of made him a bit curious to hear just what Sherlock was going to say. Would he tell her every single little detail, no matter how private it probably should be? As much as John liked Mrs. Hudson and respected her as a person, he didn't really want her knowing every little detail about his love life, especially if it wasn't him giving away all the details. John checked his window five times before he finally saw that truck parked in the driveway, it's peeling white paint gleaming in the sunlight like a beacon of hope. Good, now John could at least do another innocent walk by to try to bait someone to come out and talk to him. He waited until after lunch, deciding to ask Hamish to throw a football or something in the front yard. Of course he wasn't using his son as bait, of course not; he was just taking time out of his day to spend time with Hamish. Yes, and try to make as much noise as possible so he could possibly see Sherlock again. So they went out on the front yard and played the most pathetic game of football ever, just tossing the ball back and forth. It might have been fun if Hamish could actually throw the ball, but it would either spin out of control as soon as it left his hand or just twirl awkwardly through the air and land five feet away. Hamish was getting better at catching though, he was able to catch most of the balls John threw at him. One time, however, John threw a particularly good spiral, perhaps too good, right at Hamish's face. The poor boy tried to catch it but it slipped through his hands and ending up hitting him right in the nose. Hamish screamed dramatically and fell to the grass, clutching his face and bursting into tears. Well if that wasn't a summoning for old ladies John didn't know what was, because as soon asa single tear fell from his eye Mrs. Hudson came running out of her house, Sherlock and Redbeard not far behind.

  "Hamish are you alright?" John asked, running up to where his son lay crying on the ground. 

"Daddy that hurt!" he exclaimed through sobs. John kneeled beside him, not knowing how bad the injury might be since Hamish's hands were still clutched over his face in agony. John couldn't see any blood, so that was a good sign. At the moment though, he was less concerned with Hamish's future modeling career and more concerned with the real life male model running across the street towards him, the beautiful man John was pleased to call his boyfriend.
"Is everyone alright?" Mrs. Hudson asked, running over to the scene.
"I don't know, he won't show me." John admitted, stepping back to let Mrs. Hudson take over. Obviously she was more qualified than he was. Sherlock stood next to Mrs. Hudson as she eased Hamish's hands away from his face, where they saw a small little cut right below his lip, dripping blood down his chin. John sighed in relief, well at least he wasn't totally injured.
"Oh that's not that bad." John said automatically, and he received two equally sour glares from his companions.
"Here honey, let's go inside, get this cleaned up." Mrs. Hudson decided, helping Hamish to his feet and leading him across the street to her house, still blubbering and wiping tears from his eyes. This left just Sherlock, John, and Redbeard, who obviously wasn't going to be an adequate awkwardness shield. No, this dog wasn't going to censor their conversation at all, which might be a good thing or a bad thing, John hasn't decided yet.