Four Years Later

The gently tinkling of cups and saucers were lost in the laughter of the three women. Seated in the drawing room, Molly Holmes smiled with fond affection at her dear friends. Next to her, Charlotte Lestrade glowed with the pride of a recent mother, her newborn daughter, Elizabeth, cradled in her arms. A heavily expectant Mary Watson was currently ensconced in a padded chair, throw pillows hugging her growing body.

'You are to deliver soon, is that right?' Charlotte asked Mary, her arms gently bouncing a gurgling Elizabeth.

Mary groaned and chuckled as she shifted slightly, 'My dear husband believes his daughter will make an appearance by the end of the week. I, however, believe my son will arrive the following week.'

Molly laughed, 'Is he still adamant that you are carrying a girl?'

The doctor's wife rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, 'He claims that the way I'm carrying the baby indicates a female. I have told him many times, 'I am carrying this baby the only way I know how. I believed you the first time, and lo and behold, our Isabelle was actually an Isaac. So, forgive me if I doubt your powers of deduction.''

Charlotte and Molly roared with laughter, Elizabeth adding her innocent giggles to their mirth. Once they had calmed down, Molly noticed the hour.

'My goodness, it is nearly suppertime,' she exclaimed, rising from her seat. 'Perhaps we should discover where our husbands have gone and have them return to the house to eat.'

The three of them, and the baby, made their way to the terrace. The crisp, London wind hinted at autumn as Molly gazed across the yard, searching for a familiar, tall figure.

'There they are,' Charlotte declared. Molly turned her head and followed Charlotte's line of sight to see their husbands running about. Laughing, Molly walked down the steps and into the middle of what appeared to be a game of cat-and-mouse.

'Aunt Molly!' Four-year-old Isaac Watson shouted from behind a laughing Gregory. 'The Cat is behind you!' John was currently pretending to hide behind Thomas Lestrade, the five-year-old bravely defending him.

Molly froze as she saw four pairs of eyes widen at something behind her. She spun around quickly and found herself nose-to-nose with familiar green-blue eyes. A hand reached out and bopped her on the nose.

'You the Cat, Mummy,' Georgina Holmes giggled, her curly black locks ruffled and her dress smudged with dirt.

Molly playfully kissed her daughter's cheek. She looked behind Georgina's mysteriously suspended body and saw her husband's smug smile.

'You hafta catch us, Mummy.'

With a small smile, Molly bopped Georgina on her nose, resulting in a flood of giggles from the three-year-old, 'Perhaps another time, my dear. Because it is past time you were washed up for supper.'

A chorus of 'awws' echoed behind her. She laughed as she heard Gregory's and John's groans of disappointment as well. Sherlock lowered Georgina to the ground and she immediately raced over to Thomas. The five-year-old immediately beamed happily as a smitten Georgina grabbed his hand and began dragging him toward the house. Gregory trailed behind them, smirking.

Molly laughter at her daughter's antics was cut short as a pair of strong arms wrapped possessively around her waist. She sighed happily and snuggled into the warmth of her husband's embrace, his face nestling into the curve of her neck.

'You do realize they will most likely marry,' she nodded in the direction of the children.

Sherlock growled in response, tightening his arms around her middle.

Molly turned her head to look up at her husband's scowling face. 'She will marry some man someday, my love. It may be Thomas. It may even be Isaac.'

If possible, Sherlock's scowl deepened. Molly shook her head and smiled. Ever the protective father.

When Georgina was born, Sherlock had been reduced to a shaking mess of a man, afraid to even hold her. But the moment her delicate hand wrapped around his finger, she wrapped herself around his heart. And every time he heard his daughter say, 'I love you' another chord wrapped around his heart. There was nothing he would not do for his daughter. Killing a boy who broke her heart would be a pleasure.

'We shall see,' he replied darkly, a wicked half-smile on his face.

Molly rolled her eyes when she realized her husband's thoughts, 'You would be of a different mind if it were your own son pursuing a woman. So, no killing.' He opened his mouth, but she shot him down with a look, 'or maiming.'

Pouting, he merely grumbled incoherently into her neck. The others had reached the terrace by now and were heading inside to clean up. Molly pulled out of Sherlock's embrace, his mumbled disapproval making her smile. Even still, his attentions made her heart race. Lacing her fingers through his, she let him lead her up the slope.

'Besides, that is years from now, there is no sense worrying about such things now. So much shall happen before Georgina is even of marrying age.'

Sherlock nodded solemnly, 'Indeed. You are due well before that. June, I would estimate. I suspect our plans to visit Mycroft and Anthea in Brixton this May will be-'

His words were broken off as Molly stopped suddenly, her hand falling from his. He turned back to ask her why she halted when her face struck fear into his heart. Her eyes wide and cheeks completely white, she swayed on the spot. He lunged forward and caught her as she was about to collapse in shock. She took a few deep breaths before raising her wide brown eyes to his.

'A-a baby?' she whispered, her trembling hands trailing up to his shoulders.

Sherlock brushed her hair from her face, realizing what he had missed. 'I thought you knew,' he whispered regretfully. 'I was waiting for you to surprise me, but I let it slip out.'

'A baby,' Molly repeated, trying to get her head around the idea. They had tried for years after Georgina was born, but had never conceived. In her reluctance to get her hopes up, she had missed the signs, putting down her recent nausea to a passing illness and the tenderness of her breasts to… she blushed. Well, now she knew.

Sherlock watched her tentatively. A smile began to break her shocked face, her eyes crinkling with tearful joy. Suddenly, the reality of it hit her and she threw her arms around Sherlock and kissed him soundly. He eagerly returned the kiss, latching his arms around her waist and lifting her from the ground entirely.

'Finally,' she murmured against his lips.

Several minutes of joyful affection passed before they were brusquely interrupted by an amused Watson shouting from the terrace, 'Oi, you two. The children are not going to wait forever to eat, and quite frankly, neither are your guests.'

Laughing, Molly pulled away from Sherlock. He growled and leaned down to capture her lips once more. She pecked him lightly and grabbed his hand to again walk up the slope. A joyful melody played in her heart as she placed a hand over her stomach, knowing it would soon show evidence of another life. Sherlock's thumb grazed across her knuckles and she leaned into his arm.

She was completely and utterly content.

And in her happiness, she couldn't resist teasing her husband once more.

'Perhaps we shall be blessed with another girl,' she chuckled, 'so you shall have both Isaac Watson and Thomas Lestrade as sons-in-law.'

Her laughter at his indignant sputtering was quickly cut off by his mouth as he crushed her to him.

'Wife,' he growled against her lips, 'you are a devious woman.'

Molly ran her fingers through his hair, groaning as he nibbled her lower lip.

Sherlock pulled back and dragged her into the house. 'Why must you invite these people over? It is most inconvenient,' his voice husky with desire. Before he could kiss her again, Georgina raced into the room, clean and dressed for supper.

'Mummy, Father, supper!' She exclaimed, reaching up to grab their hands and drag them to the other room. Molly laughed at her daughter's antics and obediently followed along. A little put out that the moment had been broken, Sherlock trailed along, pouting.

But when Georgina looked up at him and smiled, his heart nearly burst as he once more realized what he almost lost due to pride and foolishness. In a rush of affection, he swooped down and grabbed his daughter, hauling her up against his side with a kiss to her cheek. With his other arm, he wrapped Molly close and gave her a chaste, yet loving kiss. Looking between the two loves of his life, soon-to-be three, he smiled broadly.

This love, this sentiment, is what makes life worth living.