Molly Hooper was not in a very good place. Even though she knew that Sherlock was really alive – something that perhaps only four people in the world at that moment knew – it felt like he had died all over again. Because there was no guarantee that he would be coming back alive. He had brushed off her concerns, told her that he would obviously be back when the time was right. But she just wasn't so sure. His endeavor was dangerous, at best, and so was the British Government (a.k.a. Mycroft Holmes.) One wrong move on either side, and bam, no more Sherlock Holmes… forever, this time.
Further clouding her mind was what she had come to call The Jim Thing. Jim Moriarty, criminal mastermind and psychopath extraordinaire, was very much alive. Molly didn't want to hurt Sherlock, didn't want to betray him. But she and Jim had a more profound bond, and she couldn't just tell him no when he had asked her to help him. If he didn't fake his death, then his real death would have been imminent. It was curious, sometimes, just how similar Sherlock and Jim were. Which, when she thought about it, explained her attraction to both of them. But the fact was, both of them were going to come back at some point. And when they did, she was going to have a lot of explaining to do. More than she wanted to do.
She had fallen pregnant just before The Fall. She knew the father, of course, and had informed him. But Sherlock… She never got the nerve to admit it. She felt, for some reason, that he would further reject her, or criticize her. He had left when she was four months along, and just starting to really show. Jim... Well, she hadn't spoken to Jim since he had asked her to positively identify the fake body. Nine months after the two most important men in her life had disappeared, and she now sat in a hospital gown, holding a little ball of mess. She should have been happy – her mother and aunts had all told her that having a child was the best thing that could happen, that the bond between mother and child was stronger than anything else. But with everything else on her mind, she couldn't bring herself to be happy. She loved the little baby girl, she really did. But perhaps not as much as she should have.
"The court hereby grants custody of Jane Morine Ollivander to Molly Hooper." The judge said, before slamming down the gavel. Molly smiled at her lawyer and other family members in the courtroom, genuinely happy. She had missed nearly two years of her daughter's life, and she didn't plan on ever missing any more.
A week ago, Jane's father had gone missing. No note, no forced entry, no car, no James. It was a mystery that the London police did not seem very keen on solving. But then, with a string of homeless people dead under very strange circumstances, it wasn't that surprising that a missing man was not their first priority. And so the case of the missing James Ollivander was put on the very back burner, likely never to be touched again. Which was bittersweet. While Molly was excited to have her daughter, by all accounts James had been a great father, and knowing that Jane might live the rest of her life without him was quite sad. But there was no use dwelling on it.
She had spent the last two weeks preparing the nursery in her new apartment. She didn't know exactly how children worked, what Jane would like, or if she would like her room. But Molly had Googled and researched her butt off, and she was confident that she could take whatever life dished out for she and her offspring. When the judge dismissed them from the courtroom, a rather snippy looking social worker came out holding a very confused looking Jane.
"I expect you know how to take care of a child and don't need any further explanation, Ms. Hooper?" The woman asked, her nose pinched as though there was a bad smell in the air. Molly took a short sniff, and concluded that the woman must have just had a sour personality.
"Um, yes, madam." She said, eager to be away from the woman who seemed to be constantly judging her, calculating her. Sherlock made her uncomfortable enough when he had done it, and he wasn't as obvious about it as this woman.
"Well, here you go then. Happy Christmas." The woman said, pouring a protesting Jane into Molly's arms. The woman's heels clicked on the tile of the grand hall as she walked away. Immediately, Molly's mom and aunts were all over her, cooing over the new baby in their family. Jane began to cry, and Molly suspected it was from the immediate surprise attack of attention on her. Molly rocked her gently. That was what the books had said to do when babies cry.
"Um, Mum, maybe you should go to lunch. I'll go home and get Janie settled in and you thhree can visit her later." She said, trying to put enough urgency in her voice to make her mother understand. It appeared to work, though after a bout of her mother's usual fussing that she never wanted her around, and soon Molly was a free mother.
She had quite the time putting the squirming little girl into the car seat, and had another time driving with Janie's squealing over a bird from the back seat. But after forty-five minutes, the two were at Molly's new apartment, all clean and ready for a little girl to move in. Molly hoped that Jane liked it at least enough as she had liked her old home. Sure, she might not be a great parent yet, but she would be. She would make sure of it.
She wrestled the tiny girl out of the stubborn car seat, and took her inside. She watched Jane's face as she looked around, and couldn't tell if her daughter was fascinated or confused or just making oblivious baby faces. Okay so she wasn't good at reading facial expressions of one-year-olds. But she was good at reading her own belly, and her belly was hungry. "Janie want lunch?" Molly cooed to the girl, as she sat her down in the playpen in front of the tv. She turned on some happy children's show, and that seemed to make Jane content, as she started smiling and clapping to the cheerful music on TV.
Molly went into the kitchen, and busied herself with cutting up chicken and boiling rice. She had bought a years supply of small meals and snacks for babies, so she didn't expect she would have to learn anything about baby nutrition any time soon. As she was pulling the melted cheese out of the microwave, there was a knock on the door. "Just one second!" She yelled, putting the hot bowl down and wiping her hands off on a towel. She bounded to the front door, her ponytail bouncing behind her. She opened the door, smiling. But the smile melted from her face as she saw who was at the door.
"Did you miss me?" He asked with a grin.
