Sherlock stared at Joan for a moment, his eyes studying her features, which were tense and apprehensive and betraying the emotional state she was desperately trying to conceal. He fixed his gaze upon her eyes and found the expression she had worn since his arrival, the fear mixed with guilt and desperation, burned into her very being. Her body was practically radiating with fear and apprehension. But also with great conviction and an unwavering resolve.

"A safe haven?" He asked, his voice low and slightly hesitant. Joan nodded slowly in response, clearing her throat and looking back at him with the pained expression upon her face.

"They're anonymous, they're… they're safe and-" she began, breaking off for a moment as her voice began to break. "She'll get immediate medical treatment and the best possible care. She'll be well looked after, protected." Sherlock watched her with unblinking eyes, his body tense and his expression one of confusion melting away into understanding.

"Is that what you want?" he asked gently, his voice low and kind, but not betraying his emotions. Joan faced him directly and looked slightly confused.

"For her to be well taken care of and protected?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

"For us to take her to a safe haven" Sherlock returned instantly, watching her with a kind and open expression. Joan swallowed and inhaled a sharp breath, and Sherlock watched as her shoulders tensed and her hands flexed slightly upon her knees.

"I want what's best for her" Joan explained, her voice low and gentle. "And that's not here. Not with me. Not… not with everything that she would be exposed to. Everything that she is exposed to and will continue to be at risk from until she is taken some place safe."

"You are referring to Le Milieu? And the threat they pose to Mycroft and, by extension, to his child?" Sherlock asked gently. Joan nodded slowly in response.

"Mainly, yes. As I said before, if they discovered that Mycroft was alive they would search for him. And if they couldn't find him, they could find her" Joan explained, her voice low and breaking slightly. She inhaled deeply and continued to speak, her voice imbued with greater confidence. "And even if they didn't suspect that he is alive, they could still pose a threat to her if they ever discovered her connection to him. Which they would, if they found out that I am her-" Joan began, breaking off suddenly as she spoke.

"Her mother" Sherlock stated, his voice gentle and kind. Joan swallowed hard and turned back towards him.

"If my connection to her is discovered then Mycroft's connection to her will be too" she stated. Sherlock nodded.

"You are right, of course. The child's connection to my brother would place her in danger" he stated, watching as Watson turned towards him with an alert expression. They were both silent for a moment before Sherlock posed a question he had been considering since her labour. "Earlier you told me that you had not informed Mycroft of your condition" he began, looking up to her and watching as she slowly nodded in response. "There are… several reasons for this, many of which we have touched upon already" he stated, gesturing slightly with his hands as he spoke. "Is it because of the risk of their familial association that you did not apprise him of your condition?" he asked, watching as Joan looked back at him with unblinking eyes.

"When I found out I was pregnant" she began, pressing her lips together and looking down for a moment, before composing herself and turning back towards Sherlock. "I thought about telling him. He gave us both contact information for emergencies and I considered using it" she began, her voice low and weary. "I also thought about telling you" she added, watching as Sherlock's eyes widened slightly as he looked at her. "I almost did once" she added, her eyes adopting a pensive and reflective expression, before turning back towards him with a look of conviction. "But I quickly realised that I couldn't. Mycroft finding out about the baby would prompt him to return to New York and would endanger them both. And I couldn't put you in a position where you had the knowledge of this baby's existence and had to conceal it from your own brother" she stated, her body tensing for a moment. "Which is precisely what I have done now."

"Watson, please" Sherlock stated, her voice low and gentle. "You are quite correct. Mycroft would have returned to New York and it would have endangered you and your child. It would have been precisely the rash, irresponsible behaviour I would have expected from-"

"Stop" Joan stated, her voice adopting an authoritative tone which was offset by a pleading look in her eyes. Sherlock looked at her with confusion for a moment, his eyes drifting over her face analytically as she continued to speak. "Mycroft would've wanted to be here to make sure that the baby and I were okay. You can't blame him for that. He would have wanted to protect us-"

"Yes, and in doing so he would have endangered you both" Sherlock stated, his voice rising and his consternation increased, and he looked at Watson with an exacerbated expression. Joan felt a combination of anger and sadness rise within her, until she felt as though her entire body was on fire. "Which is precisely the level of unthinking that my brother is renowned for" Sherlock added, watching as Watson stood up and took a couple of steps away from the bed as she did so, before turning back to face him.

"Well I guess it's a good job I didn't tell him then" she returned angrily, staring at Sherlock with blazing eyes and a pained expression.

Sherlock and Joan stared at each other for a few moments before Joan blinked and turned away, crossing her arms across her chest and inhaling deeply. Sherlock processed his words and hers, and upon observing the painful affect his statements had had on his already fraught and tormented partner, he felt what he now recognised as guilt wash over him. He sighed and lowered his head, placing the bottom of his palms upon his head as he exhaled, before looking back up towards Joan with a calm expression.

"Watson, I-" he began, rising from his seat on the bed and stepping towards his former partner, pausing as Joan began to speak at the same time.

"Mycroft and I are both adults and we decided to sleep together" she stated calmly, her voice low and gentle. "I understand that you disapproved and I know that you still disapprove of some of his actions and attitudes" she continued, watching as Sherlock watched her patiently. "But you cannot blame him for this" she stated with conviction. Sherlock looked at her with a puzzled expression, finding himself feeling slightly confused.

"For what?"

"For my pregnancy" she returned simply. "For the baby. And for all the dangers that she is now facing because of what we did and what we are a part of." Watson's voice was becoming heavy with emotion and her paleness and unsteadiness on her feet was clearly returning. Sherlock took several steps towards her until they were just inches apart, his eyes staring directly into hers as she looked up at him with concern and pain.

"Watson, I-" Sherlock began, his voice low and gentle. "I apologise" he stated simply, watching as she looked up at him with wide eyes. "I am not angry at my brother for having fathered a child with you, nor am I disgruntled by how I feel certain he would act if he were aware of the child's existence" he continued, watching as Watson watched him with a wary and slightly apprehensive expression. "I am… I am frustrated that the circumstances surrounding the child's existence and parentage are placing you in the most difficult and traumatic position any individual could ever face" he added, his wide eyes heavy with emotion. "You do not deserve this" he stated simply, clenching his fists by his sides in frustration. There was a brief silence which fell between them, with only the sound of the baby's breathing breaking the silence. Joan ran her eyes over Sherlock's body, observing his tenseness and rigid posture. The fact that he was so powerless in this situation, a situation involving a baby who was genetically related to them both, must torment him unimaginably. Joan took a step towards her former partner and reached out towards him, placing her hand gently over his clenched fist, which was trembling by his side, but relaxed slightly beneath her touch.

"I'm sorry" she stated simply, her voice low, almost an echo of a voice. Sherlock lifted his head slowly and met her gaze, their faces so close they were almost touching, as he stared deep into the depths of her eyes.

"You have absolutely nothing to apologise for" he stated with conviction, his voice so certain and assured that she almost believed him. Sherlock inhaled deeply and looked up at her once more. "You protected this child and my brother, and are continuing to do so, even though it involves making a decision which is tormenting you" he stated, watching as her eyelids flickered and her eyes brimmed with tears.

"It's the only way" she stated, attempting a small and reassuring smile, which was unsuccessful. Sherlock watched her for a moment before his eyes grew slightly and adopted an intelligent and knowing expression that she recognised.

"What if it's not?" he asked in a low voice.

"What?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Sherlock's hands slowly unclenched and he adjusted his standing position, placing a hand gently upon Joan's left arm.

"What if you have another choice?" he began, staring at her confused expression and continuing to speak before she had a chance to respond. "What if you left, both of you?" he began, watching Joan's confused expression as he spoke. "I could get you both passports and provide you with sufficient funds to leave the state, the country, even" he stated, watching as Joan's eyes slowly fell from his face. "You could create a life for yourselves in another country, you could be together." Joan slowly looked back towards him, her face pale and her eyes wide and tearful. He knew her answer before she even spoke.

"Thank you, Sherlock" she began gently. "That's a really kind, generous offer" she continued, watching him as she spoke. "But it would only eliminate half the problem" she stated, as Sherlock looked upon her with wide and alert eyes. "It isn't just her association with Mycroft that endangers her life, but also with me" she explained, waiting a moment before continuing. "Le Milieu and the other organisations and individuals we have become known to through our work, and Mycroft through his, all pose a threat to her. Le Milieu is the greatest one, and they are based around the world, I couldn't guarantee her safety wherever we went" she continued. "And think of everyone you and I have helped to convict or expose. We are in danger on a daily basis, and that danger would be increased for her. She wouldn't just be in danger from people in our past, but from those in our future. People who would use her to get to us" she stated, watching as Sherlock looked at her with a frustrated expression, his eyes affirming his knowledge that she was right. "She wouldn't be much safer with me alone under a new identity than she would be if she were associated with Mycroft. You know that, don't you?" she added, watching as Sherlock turned towards her with blazing eyes and tense features. "We can't justify it. No matter how much I…" Joan paused, inhaling slightly and turning towards Sherlock with confidence. "This is the only way" she stated, her voice becoming slightly choked as she spoke.

"It can't be" he returned, his body language displaying clearly the signs of his increased levels of agitation and frustration. "No" he added, his eyes ablaze as his mind began to race. "There will be another way, Watson, we just-"

"No" she stated with conviction, watching as his shoulders tensed as he turned towards her. "This is the best chance she has at having a safe, normal life. One free from what we do and what we've done, and all the dangers associated with it" she added. "She deserves a normal life, the chance to make her own choices and be the person she wants to be" Joan explained, taking a step towards Sherlock as she spoke, trying to placate him with her voice and her presence. "That is an opportunity that she, and every child, deserves. I will not take it away from her, or compromise her chances of happiness and expose her to a life of danger and uncertainty when she is less than thirty minutes old. I owe her that" Joan added, her voice breaking. Sherlock exhaled slowly, closing his eyes and lowering his head.

Sherlock nodded slowly in understanding, turning slightly towards Watson as he looked down upon her with a placating expression. She seemed tired and pained and emotionally fraught, but she was attempting to conceal it all. The fact that he was inadvertently adding to her torment pained him, and he immediately regretted his conduct over the past couple of minutes, and sought desperately to make amends.

"Despite the circumstances of her birth and the dangers associated with her existence, I believe she is a very lucky child" Sherlock stated, causing Joan to look up at him with a bewildered expression. He faced her directly and held her gaze as their eyes met. "To have a mother who loves her as much as you do. Who is willing to make such sacrifices to ensure her safety and happiness" he continued. "If only all children were fortunate enough to have a parent who places their best interests so far above and beyond their own desires" he stated reflectively, turning towards the sleeping child on the bed, who appeared to be waking. "And she will never know it" he added, his eyes watching the baby, who was making soft sounds from her position on the bed. "I feel I must amend one point though, Watson" he stated, turning towards Joan who was looking up at him with a calm yet wary expression. "You spoke of what you owe her, of what you are going to do to ensure her safety" he stated, watching as Joan nodded confidently in response. "I hope that, should you permit it, you would change that to we" he stated, looking down confidently upon her. "Will you allow me to assist you, Watson?"

"Yes" she stated breathlessly, her eyes wide and brimming with tearful gratitude.

Watson's emotional eyes remained fixed upon Sherlock, who observed that each time the baby made a small noise or whimper, her eyelids would flicker and she'd peer to the side, as if hoping to catch a furtive glimpse of her child, who was resting just a few inches behind her. Sherlock noticed how the guilty expression seemed to intensify when she turned towards the baby, who had now begun to cry openly, her tiny arms pushing up from the safety of the blanket as her little face turned red with emotion. Watson sniffed and turned to the side, walking past Sherlock reaching across the bed to pick up the infant, whose cries were becoming louder and whose fists were clenched. Sherlock found himself moving instinctively towards Watson and her child, whose pained and distressed cries seemed to rouse in him a protective instinct which demanded immediate action. He stood near Joan, his body tense and his senses heightened, as he watched her attempt to calm the crying child. Sherlock's eyes drifted across the infant with interest, studying her small body and searching for any signs of what could be causing her to be so distressed. Until this point the child had been almost silent, crying briefly after her birth but calming as soon as she was held by either himself or Joan. But this time the physical contact and gentle voice of Joan Watson did not seem enough to placate the crying child, who was continuing to wail and wriggle in her mother's arms. As Sherlock looked upon the child with a nervous and concerned expression, he found himself wondering how much of the current situation she understood. There were certain to be studies relating to the perceptive abilities of infants, exploring how they acted and reacted to certain issues and conditions. Perhaps the small infant in Watson's arms was distressed by some knowledge or understanding of the subject that he and her mother were discussing.

"Hey, it's alright, shhh, it's okay" Joan soothed, holding the baby close to her chest and gently rocking her from side to side. "You're okay, you're okay" she stated, her voice low and gentle. The baby seemed to be beginning to respond to Watson's voice and assurances, and her cries began to slowly subside, as her trembling arms began to relax. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay" Joan soothed, cradling the child as she rocked her, and running her right hand gently across her head, the baby's soft hair brushing against her palm. Sherlock watched as Joan's eyes grew wide and tearful, causing his former partner to blink furiously and turn her head from him, before turning back to the baby and continuing to soothe her. Watson seemed unable to speak at that time, and so continued to soothe the child by gently repeating 'shhh' in a gentle and placating manner, until the baby's once loud cries subsided into gentle sobs, before she became completely calm, her soft gurgling noises replacing her previous distress. Sherlock walked slowly towards Joan, standing beside her once more and gazing down upon the infant.

"Is she alright?" he asked gently, his eyes drifting from the infant to Joan and back to the baby.

"Yes" Joan returned immediately, adjusting her hold on the baby, who she cradled close to her chest. Joan's head was slightly inclined and her eyes were fixed upon the child, who was looking up at her with a calm and almost serene expression. Sherlock watched with great interest how the baby looked up at her mother, whose very presence seemed to calm her quickly.

"I'd imagine she recognises your voice" he stated in a low and gentle manner. "It soothes her, provides her with a greater degree of comfort than she is able to receive from many other individuals or affects."

"Yeah, maybe" Joan returned, her eyes not leaving the baby as she spoke. Sherlock's eyes drifted from the baby and back to Joan, who was breathing in deeply and appeared slightly unsteady on her feet. She was tired and weak from the recent labour, and the fact that she had been standing and involved in an emotionally fraught discussion with him was harbouring her recovery. Ideally she needed calmness, peace and rest, all of which he felt certain she would deny herself until she knew that her baby was safe. Perhaps even indefinitely.

"Watson, won't you sit down?" Sherlock asked, placing one hand on her lower back and encouraging her back towards the bed.

"No. Thanks" she stated, turning towards Sherlock as she spoke. His was standing beside her, their bodies so close she could feel his warmth upon her. "We should leave soon. We have to get her to a hospital." Sherlock watched Watson for a few moments, his eyes travelling across her face, before he nodded slowly in agreement.

"Of course" he stated, his voice low and hesitant. "Will you allow me to make the arrangements? Transport, I mean. And assistance for when we arrive?" Joan looked up at Sherlock and watched him as she considered his words. She was not sure precisely what he meant by the last part of his statement, but she trusted him unreservedly and without question. She nodded in agreement.

"Sure" she returned. "Thank you". Sherlock nodded in response, his eyes falling upon the child once more, who was resting peacefully in her mother's arms. Joan watched as Sherlock's eyes grew wider and adopted a calm, reflective expression that she had seldom seen upon his face. As she considered this, the weight of the baby seemed to increase in her grasp, and she found herself looking up at Sherlock and considering his expression, before making a suggestion she wondered whether he would accept. "Would you like to hold her?" she asked gently.

Sherlock instantly looked up from the baby and turned towards Joan, his eyes meeting hers and watching her for a moment, as if trying to evaluate whether the words had come from her and whether the offer was genuine. "It's okay" she added reassuringly, watching the slightly panicked and uncertain expression that seemed to be spreading across his features. "If it's not something you're comfortable with you don't have to-"

"May I?" he asked, standing up straighter and looking from the baby to Watson. Joan nodded, taking a step towards Sherlock and gently easing the baby into his waiting arms. She helped to adjust his arms and hands so he was supporting the child as he held her. The baby remained calm and relaxed, and Sherlock's attention was completely upon her, as he drew her subconsciously closer to his chest. Joan looked from Sherlock to the baby as he gazed down upon her in a manner which made her question whether he had ever seen a baby before, let alone held one. She would have asked him about it, but she did not wish to draw his attention from the baby, whose company they were blessed with for only a short while longer. As she considered this thought with sadness, her attention was drawn back towards the former partner and her child, as his expression became confused and wary. Joan narrowed her eyes in confusion and took a step closer to Sherlock, drawing back some of the towel as she looked upon the baby, who had reached up one of her small hands and leaned closer into Sherlock's chest, making soft snuffling noises as she did so. Joan's features relaxed and she seemed almost at ease as she looked up at Sherlock, who turned from the infant and looked at her expectantly. "She's trying to snuggle into you" Joan explained, her voice low and soft. "She wants to be closer to you" she added, as she ran her finger gently over the child's delicate hand, before looking up at Sherlock and turning to the side slightly. "Here" she stated, placing her hand upon Sherlock's right one and drawing his finger close to the baby, who gripped it immediately and held on tight. Joan watched as Sherlock's eyes adopted a calm, serene expression as he watched the baby in his arms with interest, his thumb stroking her wrist and arm gently as she clung to him. They remained like this, silently and in perfect calmness, for a couple of minutes, until Sherlock felt his whole body begin to burn with indescribable anguish, which Joan had begun to detect, as had the baby, who began to cry lightly. Sherlock's eyes widened slightly at the sound and he turned nervously towards Watson.

"It's alright" she soothed, addressing Sherlock more than the baby, as her former partner gently passed the infant over to her, and she settled herself calmly in her mother's arms. Sherlock felt a curious and indescribable feeling at the infant's absence, as though all his nerve endings were completely on edge, as if his entire body was alight. Joan looked up at him with concern.

"Sherlock-"

"I have some calls to make, to-" he began, inclining his head and drumming his fingers lightly on his thigh as he shifted on the spot. "To make the arrangements" he added, clearing his throat and rising his head to face Joan. "I'll be in the kitchen" he stated, nodding a couple of times and walking quickly from the room. Joan was poised to call after him but decided against it. He needed some time alone to process everything, to work through what was happening. She would not deny him that. Instead, Joan looked down at the baby in her arms, who was now wide awake and very alert, and staring up at her. Joan's lips played into a small, sad smile as she rocked the child slightly in her arms. She remained standing perfectly still as she gazed down upon her child for several moments, before swallowing hard and forcing a small smile.

"Let's get you ready, okay?" she whispered softly, holding the baby close to her chest as she carried her slowly towards the bathroom.

Sherlock walked briskly into the kitchen and turned on a switch, causing several small lights above the breakfast bar to flicker on and send strobes of light yellow light down upon the shimmering surface. Sherlock walked around the breakfast bar and pulled his phone from his pocket and, after a few minutes of research, he nodded in contentment at the arrangements. He scrolled through his contacts lists and made two brief phone calls, his direct requests and clear instructions being agreed to by the individuals on the other end. Sherlock nodded briefly as he hung up the second call and placed the phone back in his pocket. As soon as he did so he felt his arm brush lightly against his chest, and his eyes travelled down his body and towards his black waistcoat. Sherlock felt his eyes widen and his chest tighten as he remembered the feel of the baby leaning closer into him, gripping his finger. He could perfectly recall her weight, the feel of her in his arms, even her smell. In indescribable, wonderful scent. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply in an attempt to calm himself, to reduce his current levels of frustration and anger at his inability to help the child and her mother. In his self-condemning and emotional state, he remained completely oblivious to how much he was assisting them both. But as he clenched his hands and flexed his fingers, he found himself remembering the feeling of the baby in his arms even more clearly than before. Her weight, her scent, the softness of her skin, all returned to him in full force. Sherlock felt his breathing increase and his heart beat mercilessly against his chest as he battled to calm himself. Before he could reach the levels of calmness where he could open his eyes and allow himself back into the moment, he found the images and memories of the baby intensified by his recollection of the soft, snuffling sounds of contentment she made when she was resting happily in his arms. Without thinking and with little anticipation Sherlock took a single step forward before turning to the left and punching Watson's kitchen wall, the waves of pain which ran through him allowing him a temporary reprieve from his own torment.

Joan carried the baby carefully towards the bathroom, holding her securely to her chest as she put the plug in the sink and began to run the taps, filling the white basin with warm water. Joan opened the medicine cabinet and removed a packet of cotton wool balls, taking one out at a time, soaking it in the warm liquid, and using it to clean the baby, who had some traces of blood and liquid on her skin from her birth. Joan acted on autopilot, her eyes wide and hazy and her hands working on their gentle ministrations without thought, as she quickly cleaned up the infant, who made content snuffling noises as the warm cotton was drawn gently over her skin. Joan was mainly silent but occasionally spoke some soothing words of kindness or praise to the infant in her arms, who seemed relaxed in her presence and responsive to her voice. The wide, intelligent eyes of the baby continued to watch Joan with fascination, as she calmly allowed her mother to clean her without protesting once. When she was finished Joan wrapped the blanket back around the baby and let the water out of the sink, carrying the infant back into the bedroom. Joan lay her gently down upon the duvet on her bed before pulling a white polythene bag out from under her bed and placing the contents beside the infant. Joan withdrew a small packet of nappies, some talcum powder, a white sleep-suit and matching hat, and a soft cream blanket. Joan lay the items beside the child, who she began to dry with a fresh warm towel, as she gently kicked and wriggled, enjoying the unrestricted space she had. Joan inhaled a shaking breath as she applied talcum powder to the infant, rubbing it into her delicate skin with care, before putting her nappy on and easing her into her sleep suit and hat. By the time Sherlock returned into the bedroom Joan had swaddled the baby in the soft cream blanket and was holding her tenderly to her chest. At the sound of her former partner's approaching footsteps she looked up, and immediately noticed that something was wrong, and a brief scan of his body quickly revealed what that was. His left hand seemed perfectly fine, but the fingers on his right hand were curled inwards and flexing slightly beneath the makeshift white bandage he had placed across his hand.

"What happened?" she asked as she held the baby close to her chest and took a few steps towards Sherlock, her eyes falling upon her hand.

"Nothing, Watson, it's quite alright" he stated, looking from Joan to the newly dressed infant, his eyes widening and adopting a now familiar expression which, until that night, Joan had never witnessed before, but would never forget.

"It's not alright, you're hurt. How did this happen?" she stated, reaching down and drawing his hand close to her.

"I punched a wall" he stated simply, causing Joan to turn towards him with a confused expression which quickly abated. It was quite clear what had caused him to lose his temper.

"Are you alright?" she asked in a low and gentle voice as she adjusted her hold on the baby.

"Perfectly fine, thank you. The injuries are quite superficial. Your landlord should use stronger materials in his buildings" Sherlock stated dismissively.

"I wasn't referring to your injury" she replied in a low, kind tone. Sherlock looked at her for a moment before drumming his fingers on his thigh and turning back to her.

"I called Alfredo and he has driven a car to the back of this building, where he has left it. I gave him no details of its purpose or intended use" he assured her, watching as Joan nodded in understanding.

"Thank you" she stated simply, not wishing to press the former issue further, knowing that now was not the appropriate time.

"We'll take the elevator to the-"

"We have to take the stairs" Joan interrupted, watching as Sherlock looked at her with confusion. "The elevators in the building have CCTV" she explained. "The staircases don't, and it'll lead us directly to the back of the building." Sherlock watched her for a moment, knowing that advising against her plan would be futile.

"Are you quite certain that you can manage the stairs?" he asked, kindness and consideration present in his tone.

"I'll be fine" she assured him calmly. Sherlock watched her uncertainly for a moment before nodding. "It's only three flights, it won't be a problem."

Sherlock nodded briefly before outlining his plan to her. He explained that he would drive them to a hospital in the city where one of his irregulars would meet them. He stated that they would arrive at the hospital at the time of a changeover of medical staff, meaning that several doctors and nurses would be outside the building at the time of their arrival.

"I have requested one of my irregulars, Amelia, a very capable investigator and completely trust-worthy individuals, meet us outside the hospital. I have not told her the purpose but I thought that, given your desire to minimise the chances of the baby being connected to you or to me, we could ask her to take her to a member of the medical team" Sherlock explained gently, watching as Joan held the baby slightly closer to her chest. "I can ask her to leave as soon as we arrive if you are uncomfortable with the idea, and you can take the child yourself if that is what you would like" he explained gently. "If not, we can remain in the car and watch until the baby is-"

"Yes" Joan stated in a low but confident voice. "You're right, that's safer. It's a good precaution." Sherlock watched Joan for a moment, his eyes travelling across her features and searching for signs of discomfort, of which he found many.

"Watson, are you certain?" he asked kindly.

"Yes" she returned instantly, inhaling deeply as she held the baby close. "Are you ready?" Sherlock nodded, picking up his discarded jacket from the ground and putting it on, before walking towards Watson's wardrobe and removing a black jacket, which he carefully draped across her shoulders.

"It's quite cold outside" he stated in a low and gentle voice as he draped the garment across her, before standing by her side and pulling the material across her so that she was covered, his eyes drifting down to the now-sleeping infant. Joan watched as Sherlock looked at the baby with a calm expression and wide, unblinking eyes. "Will she be warm enough?" he asked, looking back up towards Joan.

"Yes" she reassured him. "Her clothing is cotton and the blanket is thick. She'll be comfortable and very warm" she stated, returning her gaze to her child, and missing the pained look which flashed across Sherlock's eyes as he walked past her and towards the bed, removing the bloodied towels and bedding from the bed and floor and placing them into a black bag which he pulled from his pocket. Joan watched as he tied the bag off and held it beside him.

"These are the only remaining evidence of the fact that you gave birth tonight" he explained gently. "I will burn everything so that there will be no trace." Joan nodded silently and adjusted her hold on the baby before walking towards Sherlock and following him through the apartment.

Joan walked slower than usual but at a pace which surprised Sherlock, who repeatedly encouraged her to slow down, even decreasing his own walking pace. After a few minutes they made it to the bottom of the stair case and outside the back of the building where a black people carrier with tinted windows was parked. Sherlock walked towards the vehicle and assisted Joan and the baby into it before walking back towards the building and placing the black bag into a tin dustbin and setting it on fire. Joan watched from the car as all the proof of what happened that night was burned away, obscured from view and removed from history. She held the baby tighter as the flames subsided and Sherlock made his way back towards the car.

Sherlock drove them through the city, whose bright lights continued to burn and light up the streets. Some drunken students walked unsteadily down the pavement, couples on dates and groups of friends walked down the streets, and several cars cruised through the city beneath the dark sky and burning stars. The brief journey was made in almost total silence, with Sherlock understanding that these were the last moments that Watson would be spending with her infant daughter, and the furthest he intruded upon their sacred time was the frequent glances at them in the mirror to ensure that all was well. On the last occasion he caught Watson's eyes, and found her wide and uncertain gaze staring back at him.

Sherlock pulled into the parking lot about twenty meters from the entrance of the hospital, and the car came to a complete stop, the vibrations from the engine abating and causing Joan's chest to tighten. Somehow sitting in a parked car of the hospital parking lot as the bright lights of its name shone down imposingly upon the space before them made the situation even more real than she already knew it to be. Joan stared at the hospital and was vaguely aware of the sound of Sherlock's voice, but it took her several moments until she was able to focus on it completely.

"Watson" he called gently, causing her to blink and turn towards him on the third occasion her name was mentioned.

"It's okay" she mumbled, inhaling deeply as she spoke, the rising tension in her body being perceived by her infant daughter, who began to become unsettled in her arms. Joan turned her head down towards the baby and soothed her, speaking to her gently and running her hand comfortingly up her back, which settled her slightly, but not completely. She was still notably unsettled. Sherlock watched the scene before him with pain bordering on anguish, before turning towards the ER doors, where doctors whose shifts were ending were greeting those coming on shift. His eyes then drifted to the figure of Amelia, who was navigating her way through a sea of cars and heading directly towards them.

"The doctors are congregating outside the building" Sherlock announced, earning a small nod in response from Joan. "Amelia is approaching the vehicle" he added gently, watching as Joan's eyes grew slightly as she looked up. Joan watched as a thin, petite woman with dark hair and a kind expression walked towards the car, only for Sherlock to open his door and step out, heading towards her and preventing her from approaching any further. Joan stared at Amelia with interest for a moment, taking in the similarities of the physical characteristics they shared. It became clear to Joan why Sherlock had selected this particular irregular to assist with the matter at hand. Joan watched silently as Sherlock and Amelia exchanged a few words, the young woman's face never betraying any signs of confusion or uncertainty. She nodded in understanding to his statements, glancing occasionally towards the car but generally maintaining his gaze. After a few moments Sherlock nodded and turned on the spot, briskly walking back towards the car. He opened Watson's door a few inches and stood in front of it, completely shielding her from the view of any passer's by, including Amelia. Joan looked up at him as he stared down at her, and their eyes met with identical expressions of sadness and fear.

Before Sherlock could speak Joan undid her seatbelt and eased it off her, before edging forward in her seat and turning towards Sherlock who, completely understanding her actions and intentions, held out his arms, and watched silently as Joan eased the increasingly unsettled infant into her uncle's arms. Sherlock accepted the child immediately and held her close to him, holding her securely and protectively beneath his jacket before looking back towards Joan.

"Watson, are you-"

"Take her" Joan stated, her voice low and choked, as she looked back up towards him. "Please" she added, her eyes wide and tearful. Sherlock's analytical eyes scanned her for a few moments, before nodding once in agreement. Joan inhaled a shaking breath as Sherlock took a few steps back and shut the car door behind him, turning on the spot and walking briskly towards Amelia. He spoke to her for a few moments, which Joan observed with interest, before passing the infant to his irregular. Joan watched as Amelia held the baby close to her, using her jacket to shield her from the small amount of ran which was falling, as she carried her quickly to the doors of the ER, and approached two nurses, who were engaged in conversation. Joan watched as one of the nurses turned towards Amelia with a smile, which quickly turned into an expression of uncertainty and concern, as she took a step forward and accepted the baby from Amelia, who eased her into her arms. The second nurse approached Amelia and appeared to be speaking to her tenderly, possibly offering her medical treatment. Amelia, of course, brushed aside these concerns, indicating towards the baby and speaking to the nurses for a couple of minutes, before turning on the spot and walking through the car park. The nurses looked after her for a few moments, but as the rain began to fall harder their attention was drawn back to the infant, who they took into the building, the automatic doors closing behind them as they entered it quickly. Joan had been so engaged in the scene before her that she had not noticed Sherlock return to the vehicle and sit himself in the driver's seat.

Sherlock sat perfectly still and soundless behind the wheel for a few minutes, watching as Joan stared at the doors with wide and unblinking eyes, before crossing her arms across her chest and inhaling deeply. She was beginning to tremble. Sherlock turned the key in the ignition and drove the car out of the car park, heading back through the bright city lights and towards Joan's apartment. This journey, too, was travelled in silence.

Sherlock parked the car at the back of the building, where Alfredo would collect it in the morning. He got out of the driver's seat and walked towards Joan's door, holding it open for her and assisting her out of the vehicle, before walking her through the building and towards the staircase, which they ascended together. Neither of them spoke a word, the time being passed in complete silence. Joan's eyes were wide and fixed, and her movements were automatic and almost lifeless, but Sherlock knew that she needed time to process the recent events. His words would be of little comfort to her at this time, and he knew it. Instead, he stood close beside her, their bodies almost touching as they made their way up the stairs and towards her apartment. Sherlock watched as Joan removed a key from her jacket pocket and opened the door, stepping inside and walking slowly through the apartment, which was dark apart from the strobes of light from the kitchen ceiling, which danced upon the countertop. Joan turned towards the counter and placed her key on it beside her phone, in a momentary action which caused her to recall the last time she had done so, just a few hours earlier, when her child was still inside her. Joan blinked, her eyes feeling sore and red, as her hand drifted down to her slightly curved but empty abdomen. She felt cold.

Sherlock closed the apartment door behind him and walked slowly into the room, watching as Joan put her keys upon the counter and then appeared to freeze. Her back was to him but even in the relative darkness he could see that she was placing one hand onto her abdomen, before her whole body began to tremble. Sherlock watched as Joan's head lowered slightly and her shoulders shook, and small hitched breaths escaped her lips as she sobbed. Sherlock walked quickly towards her, reaching her in seconds. He placed one hand on her lower back and she turned towards him immediately, pressing her hand to her mouth as her gentle sobs turned into desperate and painful cries, as she collapsed against him. Sherlock wrapped his arms across her and held her tight, and could feel his shirt become saturated with her tears as she sobbed into him, grabbing handfuls of his jacket as she clung to him desperately. Sherlock had never seen Watson in this way before, and had not imagined it possible. Her composure was completely destroyed and her crying was pained, desperate and full of anguish. After a few minutes he felt her legs weaken and the pain and exhaustion she had experienced in the past hour or so finally overcame her. He held her and eased her to the ground, holding her close as she cried into his chest. Sherlock supported her back with one arm and placed his hand on the back of her head, running his hand gently across her in a soothing manner. The previous boundaries between them regarding their physical contact had broken down completely, and this was not the time for words. Instead, Sherlock held his tormented partner close to him for fifteen minutes as she cried desperately into him, before exhaustion and pain caused her body to finally force her to return to the unconscious.

Sherlock carried the sleeping Joan back to her bedroom, laying her gently upon her bed and covering her with the clean duvet. He sent off a couple of texts to Kitty and Gregson, excusing his and Watson's absence for the next few days, explaining that a case required their urgent attention and they were travelling out of state. He set Kitty a task involving some undercover work, which would keep her suitably engaged and uninclined to press Sherlock's whereabouts or actions too far.

Sherlock remained with Joan for three days, assisting her as she regained her strength. They spoke about the baby, about her life, about the freedom and safety that Joan had given her, and about the life she would be able to lead. The only thing they did not discuss was whether they thought they would ever see the little girl again. Joan found the subject too painful to broach and Sherlock knew her well enough not to mention it. The question would play on their minds throughout the years that passed, and remained eternally unanswered. Until one day, seventeen years after the baby's birth, when a kind, warm and intelligent young woman knocked on the door of New York's renowned consulting detectives with the intention of employing them to assist her in locating her birth parents. The door swung slowly open before her, and she peered nervously inside, her eyes resting upon the face of the well-known and celebrated detective, whose heart stopped as he looked down upon her, and found a familiar set of eyes staring back at him.