The second the door's closed behind them, the timer in Sherlock's brain goes off, the last of his patience and his filter burning out at the same time.

He doesn't even take off his coat.

Instead he puts his hands on Molly's shoulders, turns her to face him, and kisses her hard. A strangled little moan of relief escapes him as his mouth meets hers--finally, finally they're back here and she's his again.