Hello, I am Bex and this is technically my second Sherlock story but I will be mainly focusing on this one.

I kind of have a direction with this. It's mainly based on Season 4 so it will kind of be spoiler related but it will coincide with all episodes, especially the recent one. So enjoy.

Save John Watson, plagued Sherlock's mind as he sat quietly on his leather chair, facing the street before him.

It would help if I knew of his whereabouts, Mary..., Sherlock thought. Sherlock obviously knew that he would easily find John but he had a feeling that maybe John didn't want to be found. The letter proved so and his distance away from Rosie also proved so.

It had only been a week and a half since Mary's death and in that time, since the funeral, Sherlock had seen John only once. He had also seen Rosie only once; in the arms of Molly.

His phone chimed and Sherlock looked at it, laid on his desk.

You have one new message from: Molly Hooper

He picked it up, scanning the message quickly.

Rosie's sick. We're at the hospital. Can't get hold of John.

Sherlock's heart sank as Mrs Hudson placed a cup of tea in front of him.

"I won't be needing that at all now," he said, calling for a taxi. "I've got somewhere I have to be."

"Oh? Are you going to talk to John? See little Rosie?" She asked, taking the tea for herself.

Sherlock glanced at her, his phone on his ear. "I will be back late." He simply replied, standing up. "Don't wait up."

She chuckled. "Do I ever?"

...

When Sherlock got to the hospital, he was met with a very worried Hooper whose eyes were filled with tears.

"She just stopped breathing. I didn't know what to do!" For once, her medical skills had failed her. Her mind void of her First Aid course when she was at university.

Sherlock surprised himself by bringing her in for a short hug. A comfort if you will.

A doctor appeared, giving Sherlock a tired glance. "Are you the child's father?"

"Godfather." Sherlock replied. "Which means if anything were to happen to said child's parents, I will be responsible for the child."

"Fair enough. Any proof?" The doctor asked.

Molly wiped her tears, "I can vouch. As the godmother, I mean."

The doctor nodded, his hands gripping the medical files as his eyes scanned them.

"Meningitis. Rosamund has meningitis. According to her records, she received no vaccinations after she was born."

Molly gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she looked down in shame. I should have looked after her better. Not take her out to the park. Oh God, we shouldn't have fed those ducks!

Sherlock knew that it was inevitable, he wanted to assure Molly but she had already started to pace, berating herself for her actions.

"We will keep Rosamund-"

"Rosie." Sherlock cut him off. "Her name's Rosie..."

Rosamund was far too painful to hear. The woman who gave up her life to save his left one stinging memory with her daughter. Her true name.

"-Rosie under observations through the night. I highly doubt that she will be able to go home tomorrow."

Sherlock looked at Molly who was now leaning against the wall with her head in her hands.

"Is there somewhere that her godmother and I can stay to be closer to her?"

The doctor nodded. "In these circumstances, I will have an on-call room sorted for your wife and you." He said, leaving before they had a chance to deny their relationship.

Sherlock made his way over to Molly's side.

"It isn't your fault, Molly." He started. "John, Mary and I have taken her out on cases many times. It is just unfortunate that she became unwell in your care. It wouldn't be any different if she became unwell in my care, or Mrs Hudson's or even a babysitter."

Molly looked somewhat comforted by his words but his voice was terse and held a bit of... disappointment? In me?, she thought.

"I hope we can find John before anything more serious happens." His voice changed again, she noticed.

Not me, but John..., she realised.

"Thank you, Sherlock," Molly said confidently. "Do you think that we can see her now?"

He turned to finally face her to give his answer. "If they won't, I'll force them to."

...

John stood in front of the cold marble stone and closed his eyes.

I need you, Mary. Rosie needs you. Why? Why did you save him? He's bloody Sherlock Holmes, he faked his death!

He was angry. At Sherlock. At Mary. At... himself.

John sighed, closing his eyes as he placed a hand on the gravestone. He guessed that he understood why in some twisted way.

Sherlock was their friend. Best friend. But that didn't mean that she had to put her life in danger! Sherlock probably had numerous of ways to either a) dodge the bullet or b) position himself for a lesser and lower impact. She had shot him once before which had resulted in his hospitalisation and he had survived. He would do the same thing again, or better yet - fake his death.

John shook the thoughts of having his best friend die both in falsity and reality. Those were dark thoughts, Mary would have been ashamed.

Rosie needs her daddy..., John thought he was going mad when the idea suddenly plagued his mind for the first time in days.

Maybe visiting Mary's grave again gave him the strength to focus on the important things. Rosamund and stopping whatever the hell Moriarty had planned from the dead.

Turning his phone on, he was met with repeated texts from Molly but one stood out.

You have one new message from: Sherlock Holmes

Rosamund's taken unwell.

John's heart fell as he read Molly's texts, each one increasing the worry and fear.

Luckily, she had managed to put down which children's hospital they were at in her distress.

Hailing for a cab, John found himself going to save his daughter.

...

Sherlock winced as Molly shot up from her nap, running a hand through her hair.

"Sorry," she put a hand to her mouth to cover her yawn. "I fell asleep."

He nodded and silently placed a polystyrene cup in front of her. "Decaffeinated tea."

"Hmm, thanks." She replied, taking a sip before hissing at its temperature. "Should have blew it," she scolded herself.

Sherlock sat beside her on the sofa in their provided on-call room and took a slow sip from his coffee.

"Any news?"

"No," Molly shook her head. "You?"

"None."

The echos settled and they silently sipped on their beverages, Molly being the one to anxiously check the time every now and then.

"She'll probably be asleep," Molly assured herself. "All warm, no pain."

Sherlock turned to face her, no words leaving his lips.

"This will all be alright. She'll come home and John would be none the wiser..." Molly continued. "I wouldn't have condemned the child into a life of pain..."

"Molly..."

Molly gasped, coming out of her tirade and turned to face Sherlock with wide eyes.

"I honestly believe that it was not your fault." He told her.

She scoffed, placing her cup onto the table. "You're just saying that to make me feel better. It's not working."

"It should be because it truly is not your fault, Hooper." He replied more sternly.

She raised an eyebrow at him after he addressed her as her surname. "Well, whose fault was it?"

Sherlock wanted to say nobody's but to be honest, it probably was his fault. Sherlock was pretty sure that Mary had told him that Rosie had missed an appointment with the doctor when they went on another of their cases and forgot to get the babysitter in as Molly worked and Mrs Hudson went to visit some old friends.

So he stayed silent. And watched the minutes tick by with Molly.