Alright, so I've been iffy about this one, but I feel better about it. Thanks so much to channyfaith and EloiseAtThePlaza for helping me with this fic.

Mentions of Miscarriage.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing!

Sherlock pouted as he and John walked down the street.

"Honestly John, that case was barely a four. I told you I wasn't leaving the flat for anything less than a six."

"I'm sorry, Sherlock, it looked like a seven at least," John said as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, trying to fight off the crisp London air. "Honestly, mate, Mary was begging me to get you out of that flat. We haven't heard from you in weeks, haven't seen you in longer. Hell, when I walked into Baker Street this afternoon, I thought you might have died it smelled so bloody awful. I know-" He slowed to a stop when he noticed Sherlock wasn't beside him.

Sherlock had stopped in front of a window of a restaurant. A look of pain was etched on his face.

"Sherlock- what is it?" John looked towards the window and suddenly understood why Sherlock had shut down. He grabbed his arm and tugged, "Come on mate, let's go. You need to see Rose. She's grown so much since you last saw her."

"Did she ever look happy, John, when we were together? Was she ever truly happy?"

"Sherlock-"

"Just look at her."

John finally stopped and looked at the pathologist sitting on the right side of the spacious restaurant. She did look happy. The smile on her face was bigger he had ever seen it before. Her hair was piled on top of her head and she wore a simple black dress and just a hint of makeup. The man she was with had his back towards them.

"This is why I don't do sentiment, John. Nothing is worth this. I don't underst-"

John spun around and faced Sherlock. "No, you don't get to do this. You don't get to make this about you. Sherlock, you tore her down for seven years. Seven Years! She did nothing to deserve that! Then you actually got your head out of your arse and did something productive with all those pent up feelings. Yes, Sherlock, she was that happy with you. Happier even. But you couldn't stand that could you? Somebody found your heart and you had to punish her for it!"

John was in his face at this point. "You just had to break her, the best thing that had ever happened to you."

"Yes, but I was the worst thing that could ever happen to her! Don't you see? I had to break her heart! Else, she would have stayed with me. She deserves so much more! I did what I had to do. I gave her a way out. I let her go. Would you not call that kind?"

"No, Sherlock, no. I'm...I'm not even going to explain why. But you don't get to stand out here and feel sorry for yourself because she's moved on. She deserves happiness and as much as I hate to say it, Sherlock you need to feel this. All of this pain. You're human, this is what we do. We fall in love and try to find ways out. You know why? Because we get scared. We all do. Thankfully, most of us get a second chance. I'm not sure you're going to, though."

"I love her."

"I know you do. That's why this is so hard."

"Did I do the right thing, John, letting her go?"

"No, you should have let her make the choice."

They both stood and watched Molly, laughing and having a good time. As they were about to leave, she looked up. Her face dropped. She said something to the man she was with and stood up. She grabbed her coat off the back of the chair and started to make her way towards the door.

"Shit, Sherlock we-" John looked around, but Sherlock was nowhere to be found, "Bloody git."

"John? What are you doing here?"

"Molly, Hello. Sherlock and I, well just me now I guess…just finished a case. Happened to see you."

"So you just thought you'd stand around and watch me then?" Molly said with a slight smile.

"We- ah no," John laughed nervously, "Um how are you?"

Molly laughed as she wrapped her arms around herself, "I'm great actually. I just found out that I'm going to be an aunt."

"Really? That's wonderful, congratulations! Are you alright though?"

"Yeah my brother just told me."

John gave her a pointed look. "Are you alright?"

"I am," She said as she looked around. "Really, I am. I'm happy for them. They've been trying for years. I've no reason to be upset. There is a new life coming into the world, it's not mine, but it's a miracle nonetheless. "

"Molly-"

"He called me earlier and said he wanted to take me out, that he had something to tell me," her words sped up. "I didn't know he was talking about such a high end restaurant. I would have tried to dress better!" She laughed nervously as her eyes filled with tears.

Before she could say anything else, John hugged her, "Oh, Molly."

She hugged him back, probably longer than she should have, but she pulled away and smiled.

"Really, John, I'm fine. Well, I will be at least.'

John looked at her and took hold of her shoulders. It was then he actually realized what she had said. A bitter laugh escaped his throat, "Your brother? Of course, your brother."

"John?"

"Molls, I'm sorry, I've got to find Sherlock." He turned and began to walk away.

"John wait! Sherlock, how is he?"

"Honestly?"

"Please, I need to know."

"God, he really doesn't deserve you," he said, running his hand down his face. "He's not good Molly. I had to drag him out of the flat today." He looked at her, "Molly, he still loves you."

"I know he didn't mean it, but it still hurts. But even after all of that, I still love him. If he asked, I'd go back to him, fool that I am." She laughed lightly. "I haven't forgiven him. I just can't yet," She said as she looked at her feet.

"I know Molls," he sighed. "He is so broken right now. I mean, it's his own fault, but every night is a danger night."

"John, would it help if I went to Baker Street?"

"I don't see how it could hurt. I've never seen him like this."

"Go home John, I'll go see him."

"Are you sure? What about your brother?"

"He'll still be around tomorrow. Go on, John. I'll take care of this." She turned and walked back into the restaurant.

As John walked home, he hoped that Molly could fix this. Sherlock needed Molly Hooper. She was his saving grace, and he was hers.

Molly let herself into Baker Street. It was the first time she had been back since she left. The building didn't feel as welcoming as it once did. She looked towards Mrs. Hudson's door. It was well past time for her herbal soothers, so she knew the conversation wouldn't be interrupted. A conversation Molly wasn't sure she was ready for.

Molly stood at the fireplace and looked towards Sherlock, who was looking out of the window. She walked toward his chair and sat on the arm. "We can't go on like this," whether she was talking to herself or to Sherlock, she didn't know. His only response was a deep sigh.

The staircase stood before her as if it was daring her to take the first step. She didn't understand how something so normal could be so intimidating; she just had to make it to the top. But then again, Sherlock was waiting at the top as well. The stairs would be the easy part. She grabbed the railing and took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."

"Sherlock, please talk to me. It's been weeks. I need to- I need to know what you're thinking."

"No, you really don't," he said with a huff of laughter.

"Sherlock-"

She had reached the halfway point. The stairs seemed to stretch out before her and her feet grew heavier with each step.

"No, Molly," he said, turning toward her, "You caused this, all of it. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't feel this- this pain. Sentiment, Molly. Sympathy for a life I never knew. An existence that wouldn't have been around if it weren't for you."

"Don't you dare, Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare blame this on me!"

"And why not Molly dear?" he said with a sarcastic laugh. "If you hadn't lost it-"

She slapped him.

She came out of her reverie. She had reached the top. The door to flat B was in front of her. All she had to do was knock, though he probably already knew that she was there.

"It's open Molly," came from the door.

There was her answer. She steeled herself and opened the door. She was nearly knocked down by the smell in the flat. Sherlock was standing in front of the window, looking down at the street below dressed in his pajamas, his blue dressing gown hanging off his shoulders.

"Sherlock, what on earth is that smell. Are those toes still in the fridge?" She started to make her way to the kitchen.

"I haven't noticed."

"Well, you wouldn't would you? John says you haven't left the flat since-"

"Since you left."

Molly turned to face Sherlock. He was already looking at her with those eyes of his, those icy eyes that never ceased to draw her in, full of pain and guilt. "You know why I left, Sherlock."

"I know. Molly, hear me out. Will you sit?" he gestured to the couch. "Please?"

She narrowed her eyes at him but moved to the couch. As she sat she looked around the room. It was messier than usual. Papers strewn about, random trinkets lying around everywhere.

"Molly, I'm not good at this sort of thing. However, I wasn't wrong in what I said before-" She moved to get up. He rushed to stand in front of her, "Please, hear me out! Let me get it all out. You can leave after you hear what I have to say, but just please, let me explain."

She shook her head as she sighed and sat back down. She ran her hands down her face and put her elbows on her knees. "Fine, go on then." He began to pace the floor in front of the coffee table.

"I wasn't lying earlier; it is your entire fault. You made me face what was in front of me. I kept you at arm's length for all of those years. Molly, I did that because I knew that you would cause a problem for me. After I jumped, I realized what you meant to me. I'm selfish, I couldn't not have you, but you had moved on. You had Tom and you seemed happy. But then you broke things off with him. I had a chance to make you happy. Sentiment, you brought it all out in me. I was truly happy when I was with you."

He moved to sit on the coffee table in front of her and took her hands in his. "When you told me you were pregnant, I was so scared. I never thought that I would be a father. There is little I could offer a child, but with you as the mother, our children would survive having me as a father. So, when you- when you lost the baby, I didn't know what to do, how to react. I knew that you were hurting but I didn't know how to help you through it, I didn't know how to help myself. I got lost inside my own head. My mind palace became a maze. I had to find you, I had to help you but I just couldn't get out."

He had tears in his eyes, and Molly had tears tearing down her face. Sherlock cupped her cheek and wiped them away. "When I finally found my way out, I was angry. Angry for what I had lost. It blinded me to all reason. I know it wasn't your fault and I know how much it hurt when I threw that in your face. I knew that you already blamed yourself and it was just easier to agree, to try to convince you of it."

"That was the worst thing you have ever said to me Sherlock, the worst thing anyone could ever say. Why was that even an option? How? You claim that you cared about me, maybe even loved me but Sherlock, you blamed me for losing our child!"

"Molly-"

"Shut up Sherlock!" she said as she stood up. "When we started this relationship, I was so happy. You finally had begun to see me as more than a chess piece in the games you played. We were equals finally. But then I found out I was pregnant. I didn't know how you would react, but you were happy. I thought everything would be ok," she took a deep breath, "but then I lost him and, and Sherlock you left. You were here but you weren't! I had to deal with all of the condolences, the pitying looks. I had to come home to find you in that damned chair in your damn Mind Palace. I had no one who understood! They tried but I needed you, Sherlock. And you left me alone. Four weeks. That's all it took to break us."

She never yelled, never raised her voice, that's what did him in. He stood up and hugged her to him as if his life depended on it. In a way it did. She didn't fight him; in fact she hugged him back. She could no longer hold in the sobs and if she felt him shake, she didn't say anything. They fell to the floor, and just held each other.

"I'm so sorry, Molly, so sorry," he said into her hair, repeated it as if it was a prayer.

She pulled back and looked into his eyes. He cupped her face and wiped away her tears. "I understand the science and the statistics of it all but why us Sherlock? Why our baby?"

He looked at her with a tenderness she didn't know he was capable of, "I wish I knew. I would do anything to bring him back."

Sherlock shifted them so that he had his back resting on the couch, with Molly curled into his side. How long they stayed there, he didn't know, but the ache in his heart was beginning to dull. "Molly, could you ever forgive me?"

She toyed with his dressing gown, "Someday, yes. I just don't know when that day is." She pulled back and looked at him. "You hurt me Sherlock, and it will take time to heal. I still love you, but it's too soon. We can't just go back to what we were. You broke the trust I had in you. That takes time to build back." Sherlock looked devastated. He opened his mouth, but she stopped him from saying anything. "Please, don't misunderstand me. One day, just not today."

He hugged her to him and rested his chin on top of her head, "I understand. We'll take things slow. I'll win you back Molly Hooper, if it's the last thing I do."

"I know Sherlock, you always do. We'll get through this, somehow."

"Together?"

"Together."