Somehow, Molly had known he would be curled up in his chair, lost somewhere in the halls of his mind, searching and stitching things together.
She'd stop minding it after a certain incident that had thoroughly changed her thoughts on the matter. Sherlock had made the arrangement immensely worth her while.
The memory of that day from a month ago resurfaced every time she saw him curled up on his chair, a partial smile always on his mouth.
Molly would only ever have to glance down at the simple silver coloured band on the third finger of her left hand to induce a smile of her own and alleviate any frustration of having to wait
a few moments for his company.
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