A/N: This is my first Sherlock fanfic, and I'm sorry if it's absolute crud. Please review, I need your feedback. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: Guess what? I don't own Sherlock, or any of the characters, for that matter!

Molly took Rosie from John's arms as he retreated to his bedroom. The one that he used to share with Mary. He was in no state to take care of a child, Molly understood, but she couldn't see why she had to take Rosie. After all, it wasn't like Rosie was her child, and maybe it would do John some good to take responsibility for the girl, pull him out of his depressed state. For now, Molly would just have to deal with it. Perhaps John would get better quickly and Molly could go back to work. Because, although she loved Rosamund, she wasn't getting paid to take care of her, and she really couldn't live without her salary.

She sent Sherlock away as quickly as she could, hating every word that came out of her mouth. Molly needed every extra pair of hands she could get, even if John didn't want the help. After all, he wasn't very helpful himself, was he? She was so desperate for help that she almost ran after Sherlock and begged him to come back, but couldn't force herself to disobey John. Rosie was his baby. So she went back inside and sat with Rosie on the couch, and finally just let herself cry. Mary was gone, and she was never coming back. The little girl seemed concerned, tugging at Molly's shirt until she realized that Molly was ignoring her, and then simply fell asleep.