A/N: Hey everyone, thank you again for supporting this story! This is the final instalment, which should hopefully bring everything to a satisfying/acceptable conclusion. It is slightly different from how I was going to end it, but after reading your reviews I was inspired to change the ending slightly, which will hopefully be okay. Also, thank you for all of your reviews, they have meant a great deal to me, and I hope that I have taken your comments on board, and that my writing will improve. I have another story planned, which will be much shorter (promise!) and I will upload the first chapter either today or tomorrow.

Anyway, thank you again, and I hope you enjoy the epilogue!
-HQ21

Sherlock and Joan remained in the safe house for a short while, which was time they spent in the company of their child. The baby was quiet but alert, staring around the rooms at her surroundings. When Joan had fallen asleep the first night, Sherlock carried his wide-eyed daughter across the rooms, showing her the various books and art pieces the modest abode had to offer. He whispered to her in the darkness, holding her close to his chest, as he continued to stare at her features. As he had done with the first scan picture he saw of her, he memorised each of her features, movements and even her heartbeat, which he could feel against his palm. As he held her, Sherlock, like Joan, also marvelled at how heavy their tiny daughter felt. He knew she was not heavy, of course. Instead, it was his mind considering how this tiny person who had been protected inside her mother was now a fully-formed, beautiful, healthy and perfect human being, who seemed to fit perfectly into his arms. As he looked down upon her, he continued to consider the affect she was having on his, despite having only officially met her a few hours before. When he saw her, he felt as though the breath had left his body, and his heart pushed itself harshly upon his chest. Whilst wrapping his arms around her and carrying her, he felt an innate and almost primal sense of protection and duty towards her, a feeling which he compared to how he felt about Joan Watson. It was the same, and yet it was different. But whatever it was, it was powerful. And it was the most powerful emotion he had ever experienced.

When Joan woke the next morning, she instantly felt that the baby was gone from her arms. She turned sharply to the side, pushing herself up on the bed, before finding herself completely consoled and relaxed by the image before her. Beside her bed was a slightly-worn red armchair, and in that chair was sat the sleeping figure of Sherlock Holmes, who was holding the baby close to his chest. Joan smiled as she took the scene in, watching as his hands moved as he adjusted his grip on the baby, who was beginning to stir. Sherlock's head was slightly bowed and has breathing was slow and deep, but she knew that he was being slowly drawn out of his peaceful slumber. Joan watched this scene with intense happiness for several minutes, before her eyes darkened and her smile fell. She wished every moment could be like that. That instead of waking up to an ancient text, frantic text or a turtle boasting some innovative form of knitwear, she would be able to wake up with her partner and her child. She continued to watch the scene before her with sad eyes for several minutes, before the baby's gentle gurgling turned into a hungry crying, rousing Sherlock instantly.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he wrapped his arm tighter around the baby, holding her securely against his chest as he stared down at her with a confused and slightly panicked expression. Joan's sad features lightened slightly, as she pushed herself slowly towards the edge of the bed, as Sherlock looked up to her with wide and uncertain eyes.

"She's hungry" Joan murmured, her voice weak with tiredness. "May I?" she asked, holding her arms out. Sherlock nodded instantly, his attention falling once more to the crying infant in his arms, who he gently eased into her mother's arms. Joan's body quickly adjusted to the familiar feeling of her child in her arms. Upon being reunited with her mother, the baby's hungry cries slowly began to subside, becoming less piercing and desperate and more subdued. As Joan began to feed their baby, Sherlock shifted on his spot by her side, drumming his fingers on his thigh as he stared at a space at the foot of the bed. Although he was fascinated by the physical process of Joan feeding their baby, he did not wish to intrude upon her privacy.

"Watson would you like me to-" he began nervously, his eyes turning to her face, before immediately returning to the end of the bed.

"No, of course not" she replied gently, confusion present in her voice. "Unless you want to-"

"No" Sherlock returned, turning on the spot and facing her directly. His eyes met hers and held her gaze, as he continued to drum his fingers upon his thigh. "I... forgive me, I... did not wish to intrude."

"It's no intrusion, Sherlock" she returned instantly. "Unless you feel uncomfortable or if-"

"No, Watson" he returned in a low and gentle voice, despite the incredulity in his tone. He exhaled a short breath, before walking slowly towards her and perching himself on the edge of the bed, as he watched Joan feed their daughter. "Discomfort is the last thing I feel" he mumbled, his wide and shining eyes focused on the baby as she fed. Sherlock rose his hand and placed it tentatively on the back of the baby's head, watching her with fascination. Joan smiled slightly once more, partly at the fact that she was feeding her daughter, and partly at Sherlock's reaction to it. But again, before happiness had a chance to fully integrate itself into her current state, she found herself mourning the temporary loss of their child even as she lay in her arms. When the baby finished, Joan readjusted her dress and wrapped the blanket across her daughter, who had already begun to fall back to sleep.

"We have to talk about what happens next" Joan murmured in a single breath, so quickly and so reluctantly that it took Sherlock a few moments to remember the words she had used. He rose his eyes from the baby and met Joan's, nodding once before preparing himself for the conversation they were about to have.

"Of course" he began, the previous signs of tiredness leaving his voice. He was now completely alert and awake, and determined to discuss the matter fully with Joan. "We should take a few days, possibly a week, to remain here until you have fully recovered, and the baby is strong enough for travel" he said gently, watching her as he spoke. Joan nodded slightly, before adjusting her hold on the baby, and turning to face Sherlock. "What is it?" he asked kindly. Joan closed her eyes for a moment, before taking in a slow breath and preparing herself. She felt tired and sore, and was struggling to stay focused as they spoke. But this was a conversation she knew that they had to have.

"The only thing I am concerned about is that Maria knew where we were. That means that Greta could know too" she began, turning to Sherlock with a concerned expression.

"I understand" Sherlock returned. "I have spoken to Captain Gregson, who assures me that Ms Mathers is currently the highest person of interest to the NYPD, who are searching for her as we speak. In the meantime, the security here has been improved by Alfredo, who is continuing his previous task of protecting you both." Sherlock was speaking simply and gently, in a kind and reassuring manner. "You are quite safe here, Watson. Both of you."

"We don't know what Maria's endgame was, and we don't know what Greta's is either" Joan began, as Sherlock waited patiently for her to continue. "Sherlock, if Greta finds out about the baby-"

"She won't" Sherlock responded with certainty, his hand finding hers and squeezing it tightly. "Alfredo and I are not going to leave this building until we are absolutely certain of that. And Gregson sounded confident that she has not left the state, so her apprehension should not be difficult. All the ports and airports have her information. She will not be able to enter any such facility without the authorities being immediately alerted to her presence." Joan nodded in understanding. She wanted to believe him, and the rational part of her brain was screaming at her to. But the feeling of their child in her arms somehow compromised the flawlessly logical side of her brain, perhaps even her brain altogether. Joan Watson was almost certainly thinking with her heart. "Are you" Sherlock began hesitantly, the change in his tone causing Joan to look up to him with a questioning expression. "Are you still certain that you wish to entrust the baby into your mother's custody, for the time-being?" he asked tentatively. Joan turned from Sherlock and looked down at the baby, whose gentle and rhythmic breathing revealed that she was in a deep sleep.

"Do we have a choice?" she asked. Her words were somewhere between a declaration and a question, but Sherlock knew that she was posing it as a question, and praying he had an answer. Before he could respond, the sound of heavy footsteps and a raised voice could be heard from the corridor outside the room, causing Sherlock to spring up from the bed and turn towards the door, as Joan held the baby protectively to her chest.

"Hey, hey wait a minute, man-" came the familiar voice of Alfredo, in a voice which was mildly annoyed, but not angered or afraid. It was certainly not the tone that one would use if confronted with an individual who posed a danger to the safety of Joan and the baby. Sherlock's eyes narrowed in confusion, as he pulled a knife from one of the slats beneath the bed, and walked briskly towards the sound of the approaching footsteps and voices. Joan, arriving at the same conclusion as Sherlock, simply remained still beneath the blankets, lightly rocking the baby in her arms, who was beginning to stir due to the increase in sound and pitch. As she was soothing her daughter, her thoughts were temporarily distracted by the sound of a second familiar voice in the corridor, whose footsteps had also reached the door. Joan's head rose and her eyes widened as she stared towards the door with an uncertain expression. It was Captain Gregson.

"I am not gonna do anythin' until I'm convinced that everyone is-" the Captain began, marching through the doorway and into the rooms, until he found himself face to face with Sherlock Holmes, who flung the knife onto the table as the older man entered. Alfredo entered shortly afterwards, and stood tall in the doorway, offering Sherlock an apologetic expression. "Holmes, what is-" Before he could continue, the piercing cry of the baby filled the air, causing Gregson's eyes to widen as he fixed his sights on the room behind Sherlock. Without a word, Gregson began taking a few slow steps forward, before walking briskly through the room and towards the bedroom.

"Captain-" began Sherlock, turning on the spot and following Gregson to Joan's room. The Captain reached the room without acknowledging Sherlock's call to him, and he froze on the spot as he reached the foot of the bed, and found himself staring at the image of Joan Watson cradling a newborn. Joan was rocking the baby gently in her arms, rubbing its back lightly with her palm, which had succeeded in calming the crying infant. She looked up from the now placated baby, and found herself facing an astonished looking Captain Gregson, whose eyes were wide and lips were slightly parted. Sherlock was standing a few feet behind him, staring from Gregson to Joan and the baby, waiting for his reaction. After a few moments of silence, Gregson slowly rose his right hand and indicated towards Joan and the baby, his lips moving wordlessly as he turned from Joan to Sherlock.

"What's going on?" he asked in a low, breathless manner. But before either of them could answer, Gregson lowered his hand and began to walk around the bed, his sights moving from the baby to Joan. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice heavy with concern.

"I'm fine, we both are" Joan replied immediately, watching as Gregson paused on the spot and nodded towards her in acknowledgement. "Captain-"

"You're sure you're alright?"

"Yes."

"And-" he began, looking down and nodding towards the baby. "And the-"

"She's fine" Joan assured him. "She's a few weeks early, but she's very healthy. I've checked her over and she is absolutely fine." Gregson nodded, his body relaxing slightly as he stood beside Joan. Gregson watched the baby gurgling contently in her mother's arms. The sound of Sherlock's approaching footsteps drew him from his thoughts, and he turned to look at the approaching consulting detective.

"Did you know about-" he began, stopping mid-sentence as his eyes widened, and he turned back towards Joan. "Is Holmes-"

"Yes" she responded confidently. "Sherlock is her father." Gregson looked shocked, but he recovered quickly and nodded in response, before turning from Sherlock to Joan.

"Why didn't you tell me about this?" he asked gently, his voice low yet betraying his confusion and his hurt. "I would've backed you both up, you know that" he continued, looking back towards Joan as he spoke.

"It wasn't that simple" she replied, holding the baby close to her chest. "It still isn't." Gregson's eyes narrowed in confusion at her statement, as Sherlock walked up beside him and began to speak.

"Please, Captain, take a seat" he began, indicating towards the chair by Joan's side. "Watson and I will explain." Gregson nodded absent-mindedly, before ambling towards the chair and lowering himself into it. Sherlock moved towards Joan, perching himself on the end of her bed, as he and his partner spent the next thirty minutes explaining the situation and answering the Captain's questions. Gregson remained calm and patient throughout, and kept casting concerned glances towards Joan and the baby as he spoke. Sherlock noticed that, every time the child stirred, Gregson's features would change, and he would look instantly towards the baby. It appeared that his paternal care for Joan Watson also extended to her child. And he was not surprised.

"And this... this arrangement you have with your mother" Gregson began, turning towards Joan as he spoke. "Is it what you want?" Joan stared at him for a moment, as the words he used echoed the ones Sherlock had asked her just a few months earlier. And then, as now, the answer was the same.

"No" she returned sadly. "But it won't be forever, just-"

"How long?" Gregson asked.

"What?"

"How long until you both get you little girl back?" Joan swallowed hard, glancing down at the baby then back towards Gregson, who she faced with wide eyes and a look of resolution.

"Until it's safe for her to be with us."

"And when will that be?" he asked gently. "When Greta Mathers is in custody?" Joan turned towards Sherlock, whose head was low and his expression was solemn. After a moment's pause, Sherlock rose his head and turned to face Gregson.

"As Miss Watson has explained, the baby's safety is our primary and, in this case, only concern" he returned. Gregson nodded, shifting slightly in his seat. He leaned forward, unclasping his hands and gesturing with them as he began to speak.

"I get that, alright?" he began, looking from Joan to Sherlock as he spoke. "I really do. I got kids of my own, and I understand what it is like to be in a job that shows you all the terrible things people are capable of doing to each other. And I get that doing what you do, what we do, puts you in a certain amount of danger. And, by extension, the baby" he continued, watching as Joan's breathing seemed to change as he considered her words. He could tell from the expressions on both of their faces that they were forcing themselves to suppress their own desires, what it was that they really wanted, in order to protect the baby. He felt certain that this had been Joan's idea, it was the kind of selflessness that he typically associated with her character. But the fact that Sherlock was so willing to go along with it surprised him. And, despite the fact that he understood their intentions and respected them, he found himself, as they had done on several occasions, attempting to figure out another solution. "But did it ever occur to you guys that there is no place this baby would be safer" he began, pointing towards the baby as he spoke. "Than with you guys?"

"Captain-" Joan began, her voice low and nervous.

"Look at what you've been through, look at what you've overcome. Your job, like mine, by definition, is to protect the people of this city and beyond" he began. "And your child is here, right now. And she is part of this city, she is a person you are working to protect" he continued, watching as Joan's eyes widened slightly as she considered his words. "I know this is different. I know the stakes are high. Higher than they've ever been now, now that she's here" Gregson stated, looking from Sherlock to Joan as he spoke. "But being with you will not put her in danger, it will protect her from it" he continued, staring at Joan with resolution as he spoke. "She is protected. She will always be protected" Gregson spoke with conviction. "As will both of you." Joan nodded, and Sherlock turned towards him with a look on his face that she could not define. "Look, I... I'm gonna give you guys some space, alright? I'm sure you've got a lot to think about, but just... just think about what I've said okay?" he began, rising from his seat as he spoke. "She needs you" he continued, walking across the room and pausing by the foot of the bed. "She needs you more than anyone else in the whole world." With that, Captain Gregson walked from the room, and Sherlock and Joan sat in silence as the sounds of his footsteps left the building. They remained quiet for some time afterwards, until Sherlock turned towards her, taking her hand in his, and breaking the silence.

"Watson" he began, looking from her to the baby, then back to her. "We should talk" he added gently, squeezing her hand as he spoke. She returned the gesture, nodding in return as he continued to speak.

Sherlock, Joan and the baby remained in the safe house for a further five days, until Joan and their child were recovered and well enough to travel. Sherlock and Alfredo packed up all of their belongings and packed them into the car, as Joan got dressed in a comfortable dress and black coat. She dressed the baby and wrapped her securely in a blanket, holding her tightly to her chest as Sherlock guided her towards the car, at seven o'clock on a cold winter's eve.

After a brief drive they arrived at their destination, a familiar looking building which they had both missed incredibly. It felt off to be back, staring up at the orange and red brickwork from the confines of the car. Joan held the baby tight to her and slowly undid her seatbelt. It felt odd, surreal even, getting out of the car. But the moment she stepped onto the pavement and made her way towards the steps, the sound of the opening door drew her attention upwards. Joan held the baby close to her as she looked up towards the brownstone, as the door flew open to reveal Gregson, Bell and her mother, who were smiling down at her from the stoop. Sherlock picked up two of the bags they had taken with them, carrying them in one hand as he placed his free hand on Joan's lower back, and proceeded to guide her up the steps, their sleeping child gurgling contently as they did so. As they reached the top, Gregson and Bell smiled upon them, as Mrs Watson rushed through the doorway and towards her daughter. Mrs Watson placed one hand on her daughter's shoulder and used the other to move her coat aside, so she could look down upon her sleeping grandchild. As if conscious of the attention, the baby opened her eyes and stared intently up at the woman who was looking over her, before gurgling and wriggling in her mother's arms.

"Hello, Alexandra" cooed Mrs Watson, stroking the cheek of her granddaughter as she smiled down upon her. "The nasty ladies are both in prison now, so it is alright, my darling" she continued, as Sherlock took a step closed to Joan and rubbed her back reassuringly. He knew that she had been nervous about returning home to the brownstone, especially considering the particularly hectic last few days, in which Greta Mathers had been captured when trying to board a private plane to Mexico. She was caught just a day and a half after Gregson had left them at the safe house, during which time they spoke endlessly about their daughter, who they were determined to protect at all costs. And after prompting by Gregson and a long conversation afterwards, as well as the previous feelings of uncertainty regarding their decision that they experienced directly after their daughter's birth, they came to the agreement that the safest place for their daughter was with them. Alfredo had spent a few days at the brownstone updating the security measures, which meant that the building itself was now a haven for their new baby girl. Joan held her close as she looked towards the open door of the brownstone, as light from within shone upon the steps. "Joanie" began Mrs Watson, causing the former to look directly at her mother as she spoke. "I'm still teaching the child fluent mandarin" the older woman declared. Joan smiled, laughing lightly as Sherlock wrapped her arm around her waist and guided her up the final few steps.

As Joan and Sherlock reached the doorway, she turned back briefly, casting a wary glance towards the city, before smiling as she followed him up the stone steps.