A baby's cry echoed through the building. Molly could hear the screeching, loud and clear, when she entered the hallway and up the stairwell of 221b. She scrunched her nose slightly as the cry became louder, almost breaking her eardrums. Molly fumbled with the doorknob as she entered the famous Sherlock Holmes flat, a bit uneasy to enter the scene before her.

Sherlock looked weary as he held the screaming baby in his arms—his brow lining with sweat and his blue-green eyes were drained from his usual energy.

"I just don't understand," Sherlock said in annoyance as he saw Molly stand before him. "How can Watson's baby cry for three hours straight? Doesn't the baby get tired of sobbing? I mean, he's making me go mad! I've tried everything to make the thing stop!"

Molly couldn't help but suppress a giggle at the flustered Sherlock. He might've been the world's one and only Consulting Detective; but he was utterly helpless to the wrath of the babies.

"Oh Sherlock," Molly giggled as she kissed his cheek, taking the little Watson into her arms. The baby quieted instantly after Molly rocked her back and forth in her arms.

"Molly Hooper, how did you do that? In merely seconds!" Sherlock spluttered in bewilderment, throwing his hands wildly in the air.

"It's really easy, Sherlock. All you have to do is calm the baby down. You'll learn one day," Molly replied softly, placing the baby safely into the crib.

"Is it strange that I find you so devastatingly attractive right now?" Sherlock muttered as he walked over to Molly and stood behind her, slipping his arms around her waist. He buried his face into the crook of her neck, letting out a soft sigh.

Molly's cheeks reddened at Sherlock's affection. It felt like only yesterday when she would chase for Sherlock's attention, and become so ridiculously nervous around him. But it wasn't until the day he told her that she counted, that she was the person that mattered the most—their relationship changed. Sherlock would show up at her flat once a week, and they would sit together and talk about anything and everything. And one day, her birthday, Sherlock confessed his love for her and their romantic relationship officially began. A lovely two years, three months, 26 days, and 11 hours.

Sherlock spun Molly around to face him, taking her out of her daze, and kissed her. As he pulled away from the kiss, a smile formed on his lips and Molly returned the same, genuine smile. The pair returned their focus to the sleeping Watson baby.

"Where are John and Mary anyway?" Molly asked, holding onto the strong arms wrapped around her.

"They went out for a nice dinner and a Broadway show," Sherlock replied, a yawn escaping his mouth.

The baby stirred slightly. Molly heard Sherlock mutter a few curses from the scare of the baby threatening to awaken.

"I don't think I'll be very good at this," Sherlock frowned.

Molly turned, surprise in her expression. "You're thinking about children, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded, "Of course I am. I plan on spending the rest of my life with you, Molly Hooper."

Molly stood silent, unable to speak. She thought her mind was playing tricks on her again. All of this seemed too good to be true.

"You don't believe it," Sherlock deducted. "You're scared of me breaking your heart."

Molly nodded slowly, and a bit shamefully. She couldn't bring her eyes to meet his.

"Molly," Sherlock rasped putting his fingers under her chin to raise it. "Please do believe me. I'm afraid that if I truly confess my love for you right now, the baby will wake up. And then we'd be back to square one: me acting like an idiot and you being my savior-which if you think about it, that's practically our relationship."

Molly bit her lip, her heart melting over his blue-green eyes and his dark, curly locks. She blushed from his words.

"I love you. Forever," he said in a low whisper. He slipped his hands in hers, putting his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes, sucking in a breath. "Thank you."

"For what?" Molly asked, still making sense of the situation.

"For never giving up on me."

Molly almost died right there. Six words. All it took was six bloody words to make her so inlove with him. Six bloody perfect words.

"Oh Sherlock," was all she could say before she found herself giving him a soft kiss. "I could never, ever give up on you. No matter how harsh you were, I knew that there was good in you."

She paused. The doorknob rattled, and the voices of John and Mary were heard from behind the door.

"Sherlock! Molly!" Two very exhausted voices exclaimed. The Watson pair could barely keep their eyes open, yawning with every sluggish step.

"W-wa-was the (yawn) baby (yawn) alright?" John wondered, struggling to form his words.

"Thanks, Sherlie," Mary murmured. How she managed to make fun of the Consulting Detective while she was desperately exhausted, Molly didn't know.

"Yeah, yeah-the baby was fine. Don't worry about the little one," Sherlock answered quickly-not even remarking the Sherlie comment-and rather there was a softness to his voice, the tone that was only available to his friends whilst in some form of weakness. He rushed to the couple's side and ushered them into John's old room. "You two are sleeping in my flat tonight," he told John and Mary as he closed the door behind him.

"Now," Sherlock clasped his hands together, walking back beside Molly, looking into the crib. "Are you ready to spend the night watching this little screaming machine?"

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