I could not get this out of my head! It's inspired by Gale Song by the Lumineers.

Thanks so much to benedicted-cumberbatched for helping me with this!

DISCLAIMER: I don't own a thing, apart from Henry!


Bright blue skies, that's what met Molly Hooper when she stepped out of her building. Holding her son, unruly curls going everywhere, she made her way towards the black car that waited for them. The door opened and Mycroft stepped out. She greeted him with a nod and handed him Henry. She couldn't force a smile, not today.

The ride to the graveside was silent, apart from Henry's babbles. When the cemetery came into view, Molly could swear she heard Mycroft's shuddering breath. The Iceman cried it seems. The car came to a stop, neither one of them moved. Even Henry hushed. Molly prepared herself for the tears as she exited the car. Only the rustling of the wind could be heard as the three of them made their way toward the once empty grave. There was no one there; everyone else already thought he was dead. They stood in silence, Henry had laid his head on his mother's shoulder, perhaps he sensed her pain. Time ceased to exist as the sun made its way across the sky, each passing moment filled with silence.

"Molly?" Mycroft said as he laid his hand on her arm, "I know this is hard, but my people found this in his pocket. I didn't read it, but it's addressed to you." He handed her a letter, "we'll be waiting in the car whenever you're ready. Take all the time you need." Henry started to fuss as his uncle took him away from his mother, but calmed down when Mycroft started humming softly.

Molly looked down at the bloodstained letter in her hands and fell to her knees.

Molly,

I have no clue if these letters are getting to you, but it makes me feel better sending them I guess. Sentiment, it's a funny little thing isn't it? I tried so hard to ignore it, and I was doing fine, but then you came along and threw my world upside down. I tried so hard to push you away but you just couldn't leave me be, could you? I would love to be angry at you for that, but I could never be mad at you, Molly Hooper. You've helped me survive this long. Your voice in my head, telling me to keep going, to come home to you. I promised you, but I'm not sure I can keep that promise.

I received the pictures. The pictures of the baby. I never considered children, but I'm glad that you're the mother. I know that you'll give him the love I never could. I also see that you moved on. I'm glad for that as well. I never wanted you to wait for me. He was there when I couldn't be. I guess I should say can't. Molly, I'm not going to make it back. I tried, there were just too many of them, I slipped up. My mind failed me, I didn't even hear them come up behind me. I do believe that I was stabbed. I'm too cold to know for sure, but judging by the amount of blood, that's the only thing it could be. There's blood on the paper, sorry for that too.

There are so many things I'm sorry for Molly, not telling you I loved you is the biggest. No, not being there for our son is the biggest, though I suppose he'll do better without having me for a father...I did love you Molly, do, I do love you. I've loved you for the better part of 7 years. How different would our lives have been if I just told you?

I've not got long left, I'm sorry Molly Hooper...I hope you'll be happy, you and our son.

Sherlock

She looked up. His name stared back at her. "You bastard." She drew in a gasping breath, her voice rough from disuse. "You finally tell me all of this when your...why did you leave me? It was horrible what you put me though. 7 years of abuse, only for you to tell me you loved me the entire time? Who does that, Sherlock?"

She stopped. She was yelling. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths. She thought of Sherlock's arms around her, him telling her that she was too sentimental, his lips on hers. The tears fell; she didn't try to stop them.

"I haven't moved on. I don't think I ever can. Tom just sort of happened. Met him in a coffee shop, and he just started coming around more and more. He's good with Henry and I care about him, I really do. But…but he'll never be you."

"Henry, you'd love him. He's your clone, but there's a bit of me in his personality." She took a deep breath, "I can't look at him. It hurts too much. What kind of mother am I? I can't even look at my child because he looks too much like his father. You'd gripe at me for sentiment right about now," she chuckled. "I love you, but you knew that."

She rose to her feet and walked up to the headstone. She kissed her fingers and placed them atop it. She stood and walked away, guided by a gentle breeze.