A/N: HELLO! This was a Sherolly two-shot, but then I developed the story even more and it became one-shots concerning mine and my friend's OC, Casidhe Holmes. But get this; my first prompt was flowers, then after I developed it, it had nothing to do with flowers, ;P oops! Also, what's molly's husband's name? I'm pretty sure I heard somewhere that it was Tom or something like that, but either way, in this it is Tom.

I don't own Sherlock. If I did, Sherolly would together and MARRIED (and I do mean together and married and not canon because I have a very specific description of canon and Sherolly fits that description, therefore, I believe them to be canon). I also technically don't own Casidhe. My friend Iris goddess of rainbows owns Casidhe Holmes; my Casidhe is slightly different.


She Remembered

She took the Forget me not in her hands stared at it, remembered. A tear trickled down her cheek. She remembered the night she heard the news.

-Flashback-

It had been quiet. It was always quiet in the morgue. That day it had seemed especially quiet. She remembered how something had felt wrong. Terribly wrong.

"Molly," a familiar voice she loved had said. She remembered how her heart had skipped a beat.

"Sherlock!" she had turned around to look at him. She remembered that sad look on his face.

He had looked down, her smile had faltered. She had rushed up to him.

"Sherlock," she had said softly, "are you alright?"

"Brace yourself," he had said, "because I'm about to get emotional. Have you braced yourself?"

She remembered the confusion, the worry, the dread.

"I didn't want to be the one to tell you this," he looked t her pitifully, empathetically…

…lovingly. She remembered that look. That look of love on his face. The first time she had ever seen that expression on his face, and it scared the heck out of her. Though she loved her husband, she also loved Sherlock, never got over him, and she remembered how much that look had made her heart beat faster, so much faster…

"Sherlock…" she had whispered.

"Now I need you to brace yourself again," he had said, "because what's coming is much worse."

"Sherlock what do you mean?" Molly had frowned, "what's the matter?"

Sherlock looked at her right in the eyes. Her heart had sped up again and even more so when he had placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Molly Hooper," he had whispered, and she had gasped slightly. He had used her maiden name, her name before her marriage.

"I am so sorry, Molly," he had whispered, "but… your husband…"

"What?" she had gasped again, grabbing his shoulders, worry filled her, worry and dread, "what's happened to him?"

"He's dead."

Sherlock let that sink in. She had released his shoulders slowly as she processed what he had just said. He was dead. He was dead. Her husband, her beloved Tom, was… dead.

"No," she had whispered, "he can't be."

"I am so sorry," Sherlock had pulled her close and stroked her hair as she sobbed into his chest. Molly had thought about how he had died before he knew.

Before he knew she was pregnant,

She had rubbed her belly, and Sherlock, of course, had noticed the movement and had taken her hand.

"What?" he had asked, "Are you alright? Do you need the loo?"

She had forced a laugh, for his sake, and looked up at him tears in her eyes. She remembered the wide-eyed realization as he deduced it.

"Are you..?" he had asked.

"Pregnant? Yes," she had shoved her face into his chest again, "I was going to tell him tonight, when I got home, but…"

"If it's a girl," Sherlock had asked randomly, "call her Casidhe."

"Why?" she had asked.

"It means brave and clever. Like her father."

She had looked him in the eye then, "what do you mean?"

"He was murdered," he had said softly, stroking her ginger hair, "because he set himself up as bait. We caught the murderer thanks to him, but only after he was killed."

Molly had cried even harder. She felt agony, longing, but she also felt love, and pride. Because of how he died for the well-being of so many people. Because he died for Sherlock, John and the police. Because he had died for her. She wiped her eyes and stared up at Sherlock.

"Thank you," she had smiled, "I will name her Casidhe. And I'll name him Tom. So that whatever I name my child, it will honor their father."

Sherlock had smiled slightly as well, and placed a lingering kiss on her forehead,

"That's a good idea," he had whispered.

-End Flashback-

Molly placed the Forget me not in the vase beside her and looked down at her bloated belly.

"Poor, poor Casidhe," she said, "My dear Casidhe. She'll never know her real father."

Sherlock, sitting beside her, hugged his girlfriend.

Molly looked up at him and smiled, then looked up at Tom, or maybe heaven, she guessed. She knew he was capital-S Somewhere (a concept Sherlock had explained to her earlier on in their relationship), and people assumed capital-S Somewhere (or heaven) was in the sky, so that's where people generally looked when talking to the deceased.

"Happy birthday, Tom," Molly had said, smiling up at capital-S Somewhere.

"Happy birthday," Sherlock agreed, his gaze not leaving Molly.

She cuddled into his shoulder and he placed a lingering kiss on the top of her head.


A/N: There! How was that? Sad? Good. That's what it's supposed to be. Sad, and very fluffy at the end. Review, Review, Review!

-Sophia Asheart