It's me again, back at it with a Sherlock fic for the lot of you! This will end up being a three-parter just like Sherlock so it kind of works out well. I mean…that was totally planned of course! I meant to do this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Anyway, I don't own Sherlock, any related themes or characters or any of that jazz.

Description: When Sherlock finds a baby abandoned in an alleyway after a case, he enlists Molly's help in figuring out what to do next, especially since he can't find it in him to say goodbye to the baby.

A Different Corner

Sherlock watches as a uniformed officer pushes the criminal he had just chased for nearly two miles into the car, panting heavily as Lestrade passes him a bottle of water. "Thanks, Gerald."

Lestrade shoots him a look of what can only be described as irritation at his words. "I'll let you off for that one as you just ran two miles, seriously! Two miles is excessive, even for you."

"I was bored." He states simply, drawing out his words to emphasise how truly bored he has been. "John and Mary are away on a holiday, honestly must they be so dull." The consulting detective muses, uncapping the bottle he was given and drinking nearly all of it in one before putting the cap back on.

"Well done anyway, I wouldn't have chased him for that long on foot, especially when he was climbing up stairwells and jumping out of windows. You're certainly something else, Sherlock Holmes." Lestrade chuckles, patting him on the back and making Sherlock shoot him a look until he stops. "Get yourself home, you must be shattered."

"I'll be at New Scotland Yard tomorrow morning to check on how the rest of the investigation is going," Sherlock states, before giving him a nod of his head and hailing down a cab with his hand.

The cab takes him a street away from Baker Street before the cabbie announces loudly through the speaker that there's some kind of roadblock so it's the closest he can get to the door. It's not a huge problem, as it's only a minutes walk but it's quite cold out so he'd rather not after his long run this evening, but he just sighs and hands over the money before getting out of the cab and beginning the short walk to Baker Street.

It's only when he's seconds away from Speedy's that he hears it, making him pause and turn to the alleyway he's just passed. "Hello?" He calls out, swearing he had heard someone crying or some kind of yelling. "Is everyone okay?"

Thinking it might just be his brain playing a trick on him after being so overworked with the case, he tries to ignore it, but the second he goes to walk past again, the noise happens again only this time he's certain about what it is. It's the sound of a baby wailing, and through his knowledge of Rosamund, he knows that baby is in pain of some kind, and therefore can't ignore it.

Quickly, he turns and heads to the alleyway again, but stops short a few steps in when he sees it.

In front of him, on the frost-covered concrete ground, a baby covered only by a pink blanket, with a note attached to it. The baby is screaming bloody murder, red in the face and very pale somehow at the same time, eyes scrunched up and fists wriggling around in the blanket.

Immediately, without thinking, he picks up the child with the note still attached, but he shoves that in his pocket for a moment in favour of giving the baby some warmth, using his coat to wrap it up again. It seems to help, some attention and warmth, as the baby calms for a split second before crying again, but it doesn't seem quite as distressed so he takes it as a good sign.

Deciding it's probably best to read the note, he rips it out of his pocket and unfolds it so quickly he gives himself a paper cut, but he ignores that so he can read and still bounce slightly on his knees with the baby in the crook of his right elbow.

Dear whoever finds her,

I'm sorry. I can't do this. I haven't got a name for her and I hope she finds a family that will love her and cares for her far better than I ever could have.

Thank you.

His blood boils as he reads it, knowing exactly how long this baby could have been her, and he can see the telltale signs of a baby being very, very, new. The baby's head has a few splotches of blood and something he's pretending is water, and he knows for a fact this child was probably abandoned minutes after it's birth.

Without a second thought, he heads into Baker Street and knocks on Mrs. Hudson's door. "Mrs. Hudson! If you have any milk, can you heat it up to a lukewarm temperature, and maybe Rosamund's baby bath and a cloth, and some blankets and bring them up to mine. It's urgent! Oh, and some of her newborn clothes if you have any too!"

He rushes up the stairs as carefully as he can, shucking off his coat as quickly as safely possible with the child in his arms still crying. "Sh, it's okay, it'll all be fine, we'll find you something to eat and get you cleaned up, I promise." He coos down at the child in a tone he only reserves for babies and dogs (and possibly cats too), which soothes the baby ever so slightly.

What he doesn't expect a few minutes later is to see a very confused Molly Hooper in his doorway, holding a large cooler in one hand and in the other she's holding a pack of newborn size pampers, while Mrs. Hudson is behind her with all the other things he just asked for. "Thank you, Molly." Mrs. Hudson puts down a couple of things by Sherlock and takes the pack of nappies from her.

"What…is happening?" Molly asks, putting the cooler down quickly and rushing to his side to take the baby from him when he holds it out to her. "Who is this? What is this? How? Why? Where did you find it? Is it a boy or a girl?" She peers into the blanket for a moment before covering her again and cooing an apology to her. "Girl, it's a girl. Don't answer my last question."

"I found the baby…girl in the alley right by Baker Street with this." He hands her the note from his pocket before taking the baby bath and rushing to the bathroom to fill it with lukewarm water before coming back in with a couple of towels and baby bath in tow. "She's just been born, was in the freezing cold and probably needs a bath."

Mrs. Hudson double-checks the water temperature to make sure it won't be too hot or cold. "I'll go and grab the travel cot I have for Rosie downstairs, will you two be okay for a few minutes?"

"Absolutely. Thank you." He offers her a genuine smile, really meaning what he says. He was terrified for a few minutes when he found her, he may not be the most feeling man but he can't think of anything worse than to have a child die when he could have done something to help it.

Mrs. Hudson goes, shutting the door so no heat will be lost as Sherlock lights the fire, while Molly kneels by the small baby bath and undoes her blanket, making the baby wail. "I'm so sorry, it's okay, we'll get you nice and warm now." She coos to her, placing her into the bath properly, supporting her back and making sure she wouldn't slip or isn't too cold. The baby calms in the water until she only makes small whimpers and sniffles, missing the warm comfort of someone's body.

"Sherlock," Molly grabs his attention from where he had grabbed a softer towel for the baby once she's done, biting her bottom lip softly. "I'll need your first aid kit, if you have a gentle sterilizer then I need that to clean where the umbilical cord has been cut and then exposed. It shouldn't need hospital care as it doesn't look infected or anything like that, but it's better to be safe so I'll clean the area."

"Good idea, what would I do without you?" He leans down, pressing a kiss to her forehead in thanks for her assistance before grabbing exactly what she'll need.

In the next half an hour, the baby has been tended to, cleaned up, clothed and wrapped up in a brand new pale yellow blanket that Molly had brought Rosie when she was a newborn and had been left at Sherlock's.

"You are beautiful," Molly whispers to the baby girl in her arms, patting her back after her feed until she burps and spits up a small amount on Molly's cloth-covered shoulder. "There, all done." She removes the cloth that Sherlock takes and throws onto the table next to the sofa, shifting the baby so she's in a cradle in her arms, her head on Molly's chest. "How could anyone leave her?"

"I know." Mrs. Hudson sighs from next to her, glancing at Sherlock. "You're a very good man for taking care of her so quickly, and you're a good woman." She looks back at Molly. "I've had a cuddle, and it's the middle of the night so I'm going to get to bed, will you two be okay? Molly, I didn't have time to make up the old bed upstairs-"

"She can sleep with me, it'll be fine." Sherlock stops her, leaning forward to brush the baby's blanket back away from her face a little, worried it would constrict her neck, making Molly smile softer and nod at Mrs. Hudson.

"Thank you, have a good sleep, but I'll be fine with Sherlock," Molly tells her quietly as the baby starts to drift off to sleep in her arms. Won't be the first time, Molly thinks.

After a few goodbyes, the pair is alone with Molly in Sherlock's chair and him on the floor by them, sipping at his tea as they talk. After a minute of being alone, Molly places the now sleeping child into the travel cot, covering her over with a blanket. "She'll be okay now," Molly whispers to him, taking his hand as they watch the rise and fall of the baby's chest.

"I know." He sighs, standing up and walking to the sofa, bringing her with him so he can speak to her properly. "That's the first time I've been truly terrified since Sherrinford."

"I could tell." His friend replies.

The pair are sort of friends, of course, they are friends but yet sometimes they have these moments where they teeter between being that and being something more. When he's having a particularly difficult case, he always finds that sleeping next to her helps him think, helps him actually sleep instead of starving his brain from what it needs. And there seems to be a new dynamic in how they work and speak to each other. But most of all, when they're in emotional situations or they come to a conversation about their feelings, they always find themselves to kiss, nothing long or particularly deep or animalistic like you would expect.

Just a few short, meaningful kisses that express how the other feels. But neither of them are ready yet to discuss it or make a name for it, and they'll take it at their own pace, except there's this unspoken rule that they both won't date (not that he would anyway) and somehow it's exclusive without having a title.

"Sherlock," She sighs, pulling him to her to rest his forehead against his. "You did a good thing and she will be okay, that's all we need to think about. But I for one am shattered after it all and from what I know about babies, we need to sleep when she's asleep so let's go to bed."

He chuckles, not in the mood for talking either, before nodding. "I'll carry the cot thing into my room, you go get changed."

Some of her things are in his flat, as his are in her flat. But most of the time she ends up wearing a pair of his old jogging pants he never knew he had and one of his shirts he doesn't wear anymore. Once or twice on hot nights she's worn the shirt and a pair of knickers and that's it, but he won't think about those. It's hardly appropriate for a child in the room.

True to his word, he brings the baby girl in her cot, placing it by the bed on her side so they can keep an eye on her, but Molly is more likely to wake up if he's being honest, and somehow the baby doesn't wake up from the movement so he counts it as a win.

Molly is changed when she comes back into the room as well as him, so there aren't any words needed or necessary and they climb under the sheets together, with his head rested on her chest as they both just watch the baby sleeping.

It's somehow everything she had ever dreamed of and the worst thing she could imagine at the same time. Sleeping next to Sherlock Holmes, wrapped up in an embrace with him, watching a newborn baby they have just cared for. It feels too much like being a mother, being parents to this little baby who only has them now, and she finds herself fiercely protective already.

She knows it won't last, that in the morning they'll have to discuss what's next for the poor child and what they'll do.

For now though, with him in her arms and the sleeping newborn, Molly Hooper dreams about it being true.

Babies cry, a lot. It's something Molly always forgets when she dreams of dark curly-haired children with beautiful blue eyes and a pale complexion. The baby girl woke them up nearly six times in the night, and by eight am they're up again, sat in the sitting room while she refuses to take her bottle.

"Come on, baby girl, we've changed you and burped you and given you a new blanket, what do you want?" Molly whines as she puts the bottle between her legs so she can switch arms in case that's why the baby is unhappy, but she still cries.

However, the second she isn't looking to glance at Sherlock, the baby has her mouth attached to her through her thin tank top and Molly thinks she's managed to figure it out. "Oh!" She removes her gently before passing her to Sherlock so she won't try again and get mad. "How could we not notice? She wants her mother."

"It's only natural, babies automatically go for their mother's scent and warmth when in distress, and she might have fed once before abandoned and therefore wants you," Sherlock tells her factually, rocking her slowly before offering her the bottle again, which she takes with a grumble.

His hair is ruffled and looking more like an Afro from the amount of time he's run his fingers through it, but he's still the most handsome man she's laid her eyes on, especially with a baby in his arms.

"Maybe, poor thing." Molly whispers, reveling in the silence and moving closer to him on the sofa as they both watch the baby eat. "I read an article once that claimed babies tend to rub their mouths back and forth on people's chests and attempt to get milk from the closest thing they have to a mother, which is me because obviously..." Molly points at her breasts, tilting her head up to smile softly at him.

"Can't blame her." He teases, his eyes searching her own for a moment, taking in her own messy bun hair and dark eyes, but she's still beautiful just because she's Molly. "Thank you for helping me, I know you text Mike saying you wouldn't be in today."

"Thank me with tea." Molly whispers, grinning when he leans down slowly to press a gentle kiss to her lips, cupping his cheek and stroking his high cheekbone with her thumb until they both pull away. "Or that." She giggles, glancing down when the baby whines again.

"We need to discuss what to do next with her."

"I think we should go make six more and create a band." Molly jokes, shrugging at his glare. "Sorry, sorry, serious time now. I know." She pokes his arm, taking the bottle and putting it on the table in front of them once the baby is done eating.

Sherlock nods, leaning back on the sofa with the baby in his arms. "The noblest thing to do would be to keep her and raise her, give her a family. But...I think I should try to find her mother, try and see if we can reunite a family. It's worth a try at least. For all we know, she came back after I took her and was devastated. And if I find her and find she shouldn't care for the child, or I can't find her, we find a family for her instead."

"That's what you're certain we should do?"

"I am, but I know we're saying we but you know you don't have to do anything at all, this is a huge responsibility to take on and you work. I know I do but I'm my own boss and have funds to support me, what if Mike-"

"Mike will understand," Molly cuts him off, stroking his hair back to try and control the frizz as much as she can. "He has children and I've never taken a holiday in the ten years I've been there so I'm certain he will not mind at all. And if this is what you think we should do. We will. I trust you with everything, Sherlock Holmes. And I will be here to help you with her every step of the way, under one circumstance."

"Anything." He shifts in his seat to face her more, looking curious.

"Two really...One, I want to go shopping for her and pick clothes and everything, not have an unfeeling bastard do it for us from your brother's gooneys or even your brother. I want us to do it, and yes you have to come." Molly grins, leaning down to press a kiss to her little forehead when the baby girl yawns, beginning to sleep in his arms.

"I accept that we can go today as she desperately needs things, and what's the second?"

"You make me that cup of tea."

That's how Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper both find themselves in a baby clothing store, just having purchased a baby carrier, feeding items and a brand new buggy from a shop called Tiny Feet right by Baker Street.

"What do you think of this?" Molly asks as she holds up a baby onesie that's a pale yellow colour with stitching of bees around it with the phrase 'bee beautiful' making Sherlock smile, turning the baby girl in his arms ever so slightly so she can see it despite the fact baby's can't see further than ten centimeters away according to the internet.

"We'll take it." He takes it from her to throw it in the pile of baby outfits, shoes, and other necessities that seem to just keep on growing bigger as they walk around. "Do you think we possibly have enough?" He asks as he lays the baby girl in the brand new buggy they purchased her, laying her blanket over her, smiling to himself at the sound of her cooing.

Molly moves to take over pushing the pram as he pushes their trolley, talking to the baby for a moment as she walks around, finding some more things she likes. "This little girl is going to be so bloody spoiled." She grins, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "We're going to buy you so much and take you to the park and show you loads of things, and teach you as you grow up-" Molly stops herself, realising that the little girl most likely wouldn't be with them for much longer, but she just smiles even though she knows Sherlock has seen it.

"Molly...are you okay?" He wraps an arm around her to comfort her, stroking her hair for a moment before a person who works at the baby clothing store comes over, cooing into the pram at the baby girl.

"Oh! She is just gorgeous, you two must be so proud. She's so tiny, how old is this little one?" The girl asks, who can't be older than eighteen-years-old, with dark wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes that have large lash extensions, and far too large penciled on eyebrows, but she seems kind and harmless enough so Sherlock doesn't point out any of these things for once.

"She's only a day old, believe it or not," Molly informs her, smiling down at the little girl.

"Does she have a name yet? I know when my cousin picked a name it took him nearly a week!"

"No, no, not yet." Sherlock shakes his head, following the women's gaze down at the child.

"Well, you two look fantastic for just having had a child, especially you, Mrs. You look amazing, and especially considering you did all the hard work!"

Molly looks like she's about to tell her, but Sherlock wants to at least give her the fantasy he knows she has in her head, to give her the conversation most mother probably has when people see their baby, so he tells a little white lie. "Well, that's my wife, always gorgeous no matter the occasion. We had brought a load of baby boy things as my fatherly instinct told me, but instead, we were blessed with a little girl."

His lie makes Molly's head snap to him, and he gives her a look, so she just smiles at him in thanks for not having to explain that no she isn't the child's mother, to allow her to pretend once again just like she wants to, just for now.

"Well, if you think of names and come across Tiff, that's mine so I do not recommend it, I hate it and she will too." The girl jokes before bidding them goodbye and allowing them to pass to walk around.

Once they're out of earshot, Molly leans up and kisses him gently before walking ahead, obviously more thankful than he originally realised.

He might just have to keep faking being a family if that's his prize.

When the pair get home they have their arms full of bags, it's lucky the pram has a large bottom they can shove quite a lot of shopping in, they find a brand new crib has been delivered and assembled in Sherlock's bedroom, making them both glance at each other.

"Mycroft knows." They say in unison, both of them rolling their eyes simultaneously.

Molly picks up the baby girl from her new pram, talking to her in a voice reserved for the little girl, cuddling her to her chest with her legs against her chest while her head rests in the crook of Molly's neck, her hand supporting the child's head.

"At least he had it assembled, if the roles were reversed I would have left it broken up and taken one screw he'd need at the very end." Sherlock jokes, except it's not really a joke and he definitely would do that, as he heads downstairs back to the cab that's waiting to grab the rest of the things they got before bringing them up. He has to make three trips and tip the cabbie, who for once refuses his money as he has a newborn and apparently needs every penny he has, especially after spending so much.

He didn't say he used Mycroft's card, and he didn't tell Molly that either.

"I'm sure he'll send you a text mocking you for being so caring and a decent human," Molly notes as she sits in Sherlock's chair, cuddling the baby close to her body, crossing her legs to sit comfortably.

"Most likely." He deadpans before making them both some tea and setting hers on the table near her. John would be furious if he knew Sherlock makes the tea, instead of making Molly do it for him.

"Doesn't matter, she's too cute to care what he says." The woman across from him mumbles, kissing the dark hair of the child in her arms. "I don't know what I'll do when I have to go home tonight, I know I'll be back tomorrow but still..."

"Why don't you stay?" Sherlock shrugs, watching them together and ignoring the tightening in his chest at the sight.

"The night? I guess I could, thanks." She presses another kiss to the baby's temple as she sways with her slowly, watching her fall asleep.

"I meant...the whole time she's here. You're much better at the parenting lark than I am, and she adores you, I could really use the help."

Molly doesn't look sure so he sighs and takes her free hand in his. "I will have Mycroft keep your flat whilst your here, so you won't need to worry, and if you want you can have the bed upstairs but it's easier for us to share at least until I get the hang of it a bit, and it won't be for too long-"

"Okay, okay, I'll stay. But only because you make a good cuppa and I can't leave her even if I tried. It hurts my heart to even leave the room." She admits, her hand squeezing his before going to stroke the cheek of the child in her arm. "She needs a name though."

"Molly junior. Sherlock is a girl's name too." He shrugs, making her laugh softly, unable to laugh too hard for the baby on her chest.

"C'mon, be serious, give me some names."

"Catherine, Elizabeth, Margaret, Sarah-"

"I like Sarah."

"I don't really." He wrinkles his nose at her, making Molly roll her eyes. "Oh, you want names I like too. Well...that's harder I will admit. What about Ophelia?"

"Bit too out there, how about Bernadette?" Molly makes the suggestion, which he shuts down fairly fast with a shake of his head. "Okay, Rachel, Olivia, Lena, Penelope, Alice, Millie...too similar to Molly actually. Holly, also too similar but a nice name actually." Molly rolls her eyes in annoyance. "Why did my name have to be a pretty name like Molly?"

"Well, she's a girl so I guess we can't use William, which I know you want for your child. What would you call your baby girl?"

Molly looks away, sighing softly. "It's silly, you'd probably hate it."

"Try me."

Molly eyes the floor for a moment or two, looking down at the child in her hands and then back to the man she loves, before groaning. "Fine, fine...its Zara. I always liked it because it means a flower to blossom. My dad called my flower. I wanted to honour that I guess." Molly shrugs; obviously concerned he wouldn't get the sentiment behind it.

His eyes soften, making him move to sit on the arm of his chair where she is and take the baby from her, leaning her back on him but supporting her properly so her face is on show but she's still able to be comfortable and asleep, his arm supporting her back while his body supports her little head.

Molly leans over to stroke her little cheek, her eyes sad and she shrugs as if it's nothing. "It's okay, we'll keep thinking."

"No. I made my decision." He states simply, holding the baby girl close to him. "Zara. I love it. It's unusual but usual enough not to make people laugh, perfect for a girl found by Sherlock Holmes and named by a pathologist and detective don't you think?"

"That was the point too," Molly admits, making no secret of her love for him, how she had picked names he would like in the unlikely event they would have a child. "Zara it is?"

He moves the baby girl into the crook of his arm and moves down the chair until she's half on his lap, leaning on his shoulder while they both watch her breathing.

"Zara it is."

Molly grins wide, leaning in to press a kiss to her chubby little cheek, stroking Zara's hair back from where it had been ruffled against his body when he'd leaned her on him. "Hello Zara, but when we do her birth certificate she'll need a last name. Did the note have one?"

"Oh, no, no it didn't. I hadn't considered that. We have to register her being born, right now she has no record of ever being alive."

"Exactly, and if she has no last name, I think it should be yours. You found her, took her into your home and spent thousands on her, are taking care of her still. Her name should be Holmes."

He glances at her, obviously not having expected it. "You are too, why not Hooper?"

"Because one, Zara is my name I have to honour my dad, and now it should honour the man who's done more for her in her day of life than anyone."

His eyes grow slightly misty but he pushes it aside, obviously a lack of sleep has rendered him more emotionally available than before, then he's probably ever been. "Okay, I suppose it'll be Zara Holmes."

"Zara Holmes." Molly strokes her little cheek. "You have absolutely no idea how loved you are right now, little one because I have a sneaky suspicion that your holder there is becoming quite attached to you."

Sherlock chuckles, lifting her to brush a feather-light kiss over her straight dark brown hair. "Possibly." He whispers.

"Well, I know I love her already, and that's enough to be very, very loved indeed." She uses her baby voice despite the fact Zara is asleep in his arms so deeply she hasn't woken and they aren't whispering.

"I know what that feels like," Sherlock whispers down at Zara, feeling Molly stiffen from next to him, her breath hitching nervously. "To be loved by Molly Hooper is an absolutely wonderful thing, you are one very lucky baby girl, loved so much at only a day old."

Molly glances up him just as he looks her way, her hands cupping his cheeks and tugging him in for a kiss that's deeper than any one they've ever shared before, lasting for longer than ever before, and when they pull away, both of them have smiles on their face and nerves in their eyes. However, they both know they won't speak of it after. It's too fragile now. But instead, she does what she does best and makes a joke.

"Careful, Consulting Detective Holmes, or I'll drag you to that bad and you'll end up with two babies to care for." She teases, not meaning her words, and giggles at the blush that overtakes his cheeks uncharacteristically. "Or maybe I'll just cry and be a baby instead."

"Don't make jokes, Molly." He tries to put on the tone he used once upon a time with her, cold and cruel, but he finds he's...happy, and he likes her laugh too much to stop it. "Zara is sleeping, we'll wake her up laughing."

She refrains from punching him because of Zara, not wanting to knock her, so, instead all she does is kiss his cheek and cuddle into his side.

"We wouldn't want that, would we?"

Once Zara is down for the night and the pair are wrapped up in his bed together, with him stroking her hair slowly while her head is resting on his chest, Molly gasps quietly when she realises something. "We never gave her a middle name, you have two middle names and I have one, yet she doesn't. Zara Holmes is plain all on its own, when we register her birth I think we should already have a middle name."

"A middle name isn't essential, you know that." He mumbles tiredly, his eyes closed, voice low and showing obvious signs that he's been up since nearly four am with a crying child. If he's this tired after one day, he can't imagine how it will all be as she continues to grow whilst in their care.

"I know it isn't legally needed or essential but I do think she should have one," Molly tells him simply, leaving no room for argument and even if she had, he hasn't got it in him to disagree for the first time in his life.

"Right..." He sighs, not opening his eyes still as his fingers play with her long hair. "Any names in mind you would like her to have?"

"Well, not ours. Molly is not a middle name and my middle name is awful, so I don't think I would like to have her hate it as much as I do."

"Margaret is your first name, Molly is just a nickname. She could be Margaret." Sherlock mutters, feeling her glare and sighing, finally opening his eyes to look down at her on his chest.

"Fine, I don't want my first name, Margaret is not my idea of a middle name." Molly rolls her eyes, but she's not really annoyed, she's just tired and it'll plague her if they don't find a name. "We could always use your mother's name?"

"Mhhh, Violet?" He asks, considering it for a moment. "I always thought you wanted her name for a first name?"

"It's unlikely I'm ever going to have a child, Sherlock, I've accepted that," Molly whispers into his chest, her eyes filling up but she just blinks her tears away. She accepted long ago she would never be a mother, and that the hole inside her chest would always be gaping over, the place in her heart where she loves and nurtures is usually only used for him, but she had always wanted a child too. His child, yes, but she would love to have any kind of child, adopted or otherwise.

"Why do you stay that?" He furrows his eyebrows, frowning at her words. "Do you really think I would allow this world to carry on if I thought Molly Hooper would never have children?"

"You've thought about me having children?" Molly sits up, leaning on her elbow and turning on her side to face him, looking very interested in what he has to say to her. He moves into the same position as her, resting his head on his fist as he looks at her.

"I have. I always thought you would have exception children, and I know you want to be a mother but would never tell anyone for fear of being told you should focus on your career you worked so hard for. But you're a natural nurturer, I've seen you with your nieces and nephews and I know how badly you wanted to be your siblings when they had them..." Sherlock halts in his words for a moment, deciding whether or not he should tell her the next part, but she looks so sad and hopeless he can't help but tell her. "On the day your latest nephew was born and you were crying after, I had to comfort you. Do you remember?"

"I do." She whispers, looking down at her hand laying on the bed as he takes it in his free one.

"I made a promise in my head that day, another vow. I swore I would never make another one but look at me, making loads." He chuckles, squeezing her hand gently. "I made a vow to you that I would make sure you became a mother someday, somehow."

"But...you...don't we..." Molly trails off, biting her lip before she can figure out what she's trying to say. "Don't we have something...between us?" She whispers, scared of the answer she'll receive. They've never spoken of what's going on between them, and she's well aware she's on a slippery slope, scared of him retracting and taking a case just to get away from the topic.

"We do." He finally acknowledges, nodding slowly.

"So how could I ever become a mother?" She mumbles tearfully, wiping at her eyes when one tear escapes, knowing that if she was to be with him she would have to give it up as he didn't want children, how could he want someone depending on him for everything and ruining his life? He hates needy and babies are in truth, very needy entities.

"Because I made a vow you would be." He states as if it's the simplest thing in the world, sounding so Sherlock-like, being so factual, that she can't help but breathe out a laugh. "Molly, I made a promise. No matter what, I will fulfill it if it will make you happy. If you want it."

"I do...but how could I?" She repeats, sniffling softly as she glances down at their hands held so tightly. "If we have...something between us. How could I be a mother when you..."

His hand moves to wipe away her tears with his thumb; nodding his head slightly to encourage her to speak her mind despite the fact it could potentially irritate or upset him. "When I what?"

"When you don't want children." It finally comes out in a rushed whisper, making her close her eyes to pretend she didn't say it, tears falling down her cheeks.

"I see." He whispers back, matching her tone exactly, and it shocks her as she had thought he would be mad at her or at the very least he would get it completely and let the subject do. "I don't...but I do with you. Only if you do too, otherwise it's all for naught. One day."

Her head snaps up and her eyes open quickly, shocked by his words, never having imagined what he said to ever come out of his mouth. He is Sherlock Holmes, he never wanted children or even someone to love or care about, but here he is, with her in his bed and a child sleeping next to them, discussing them having children. "But...you never...we aren't together or anything, how could you know or think that yet?"

"Simple. Whether or not we would be together is irrelevant, as you claimed there is something between us and I made a vow. If needs be, the child could be a 'turkey baster' child or so I've heard it called, made scientifically instead of biologically, and we're both intelligent, attractive people who get along well and have similar interests. You would excel at being a mother and I'm sure I could learn as it goes along, perhaps Zara is our practice."

"Excuse me?" She frowns, but he carries on like a steamroller.

"Well, most people have a first baby they call a practice baby as the second one is usually easier since they know what to do more. When we have our own baby, Zara will have helped us immensely."

"So...your vow to allow me the chance to be a mother, it's driven by you wanted to practice on a child and not denying the world a Hooper-Holmes spawn? Not by anything real like sentiment and emotion and, dare I say, love?"

Sherlock looks hurt by her words, recoiling back a bit. "I didn't say that, I only said our child would be like us and it's a good thing, and how we would be as parents. Don't put words in my mouth or claim I've said things I haven't. You know when I speak, it's not with any of those...feelings lark. But I mean the things I say, I would have thought you understood more than most."

With that, he climbs out of bed, quickly heading out into the living room with a scowl on his face, but she isn't letting him get away with it, following him out and finding him sitting in his chair, his hands steepled under his chin.

"Don't pretend to be in your Mind Palace, you forget that I know exactly how you are in there." Molly crosses her arms, stood in front of him with an irritated expression on her face.

Sherlock groans, cursing how well this woman seems to know him. "Fine, I'll bite. Do you want to know why I vowed to give you a child one day? For purely selfish reasons, I assure you."

"And what are they?" She whispers, still mindful of the baby in the bedroom.

"I wanted to make you happy!" He whisper-yells, standing up until they're nose to nose. "I wanted to make you the happiest woman in the world because I know how long you've waited and still are for me to be ready and how willing you are to sacrifice your dreams for me, to be with me, but I don't want you to!" He nearly yells, his eyes flicking back to his bedroom as he remembers Zara is in there.

"What?" She backs away by one step, never having imagined he'd say something like that.

"I'm not a perfect man, Molly, I'm stubborn and infuriating and I will make you rip your hair out most of the time, I already do. I irritate and belittle everyone I know, I treated you like an utter cad and a coward because I was afraid to admit how I've felt for you, convincing myself it's nothing and I'm still learning, but I want to make you the happiest woman in the world when we finally get there!"

"Sherlock..." Molly whispers, taking his hand in hers slowly, so gently so as not to spook him.

"No, let me get this out or I never will." He squeezes her hand though, to prove he means it all, his eyes searching hers. "I want to give you everything, Molly Hooper. But I'm not ready yet, and I'm scared I won't be, but what I can give you if I'm never ready is a baby. The chance to be the mother yours never could be, just as you want. And, call me crazy and delusional, but the thought of you with our child fills me with something. I don't know what but it does."

"You really want a life with me, don't you?" Her eyes light up, filled with happy tears now, making her sniffle softly as she pulls him in for a hug.

"Yes...but not yet." He whispers simply, hugging her close to his body. "I may never...we may never...I'm sorry."

Molly shakes her head, pulling away just enough to press a kiss to his soft cheek, her thumb stroking over his high bones there. "Don't be, I know how you feel, that's enough. Now, come back to bed?"

Breathing a sigh of relief, the man she loves nods, following her back to his bed where they resume the position they had been in at the beginning of their conversation.

"Martha Anne, by the way." He mumbles after a while of silence, his head now resting on her chest. "After Mrs. Hudson. She had a part to play in helping Zara when she first came and she's put up with me all these years just as you have. And Anne for your middle name, although you hate it."

Molly smiles, pressing a kiss to his temple as her nails rake through his curly hair. "Martha it is then. Has a lovely ring to it actually, when you repeat it in your head a few times."

"What does?" He whispers quietly, yawning as he begins to drift off on her chest.

"Zara Martha Anne Holmes." She repeats from her mantra in her head, her heart bursting with pride and love for the child by their bed and the man in her arms. "Beautiful, I love it, it's perfect."

"As are you." He mumbles, and before she knows it, he's asleep on her chest, letting out a soft snore every few seconds, which only makes her smile all the wider.

Leaning down slightly, she presses a kiss to his wild curls, her nose nudging his forehead as she smiles wide into his hair, before shifting down until her mouth is right by his ear, whispering softly to the sleeping Sherlock. "I love you." Before she lays her head back on the pillow that was originally his but she's now taken for more support under her head, falling asleep herself within minutes, content with the man she loves in her embrace and the child she's coming to adore sleeping by them.

For once, everything in Baker Street is good.

Ack, holy crap! I wrote wayyyyy more than I was intending but I suppose that's a good thing huh? I remember years and years ago where I used to struggle reaching 1,000 words, but now I struggle to get to fewer than four thousand. This was only meant to be about two or three thousand but has someone become a nearly eight thousand-word chapter. Oopsie.

Leave a comment on what you think of this chapter to let me know whether or not I should continue it or not. Thank you for coming this far, you're all wonderful and lovely and I hope you're all having beautiful days.