On June 15th, Sherlock Holmes falls to his death from the roof of St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
The next day, he wakes up in Molly Hooper's flat, entangled in the sheets on her bed, along with the pathologist herself.
A week after that, he kisses her goodbye and leaves London. He doesn't see her again for almost two years.
On November 21st, Molly Hooper turns 30 years old.
She wakes up at 8.30am, checks her phone, and finds that she has 4 texts. All of them are birthday wishes from her friends.
None of them are from Sherlock Holmes.
After showering, she pads into her room to get dressed. She stops when she sees herself in the full length mirror.
The towel wrapped around her can no longer conceal her growing stomach. She touches it absentmindedly, glad that she has at least one reminder of her consulting detective.
When clothed, she feeds Toby and fixes herself breakfast.
While washing her bowl in the sink afterwards, her phone rings. Her heart leaps. It isn't him.
"Mary?"
"Happy birthday, Mols!" her friend greets her in a sing-song voice. Molly laughs.
"Thanks! So, are you coming to see me today, or am I doomed to spend the day like a stereotypical 30 year old single woman. I'm scared Toby's getting tired of me blowing my nose into his fur while I mourn my lack of a love life."
Mary laughs, but Molly can picture the expression on her face. She doesn't mean to make things awkward.
Mary and John know who the child's father is, they both believe that he threw himself off the roof while his best friend watched; they both believe that her baby will grow up without knowing its dad.
"Actually, John and I were wondering if you'd like to spend the day with us. Uh… Mrs Hudson's baked you a cake actually, so try and act surprised when you get here."
"That sounds great, what time should I be round?"
"Oh, hang on," there is the sound of a muffled conversation from Mary's end, and Molly almost thinks she hears John hiss, 'No, we're not ready yet!' before the other woman replies, "Is about 4 okay?"
"Fine, that's fine. See you then."
"Bye, love."
"Bye."
After hanging up, Molly is left in her silent flat. The only sound is Toby's purring as he rubs himself up against her ankles, leaving grey and white hairs on her leggings.
"When will you be back?"
"…I don't know."
There's a pause before Molly smiles sadly.
"It hurts you to say that doesn't it?"
He doesn't answer her, running his hands down her arms and linking their fingers. He's wearing his gloves and scarf and that ridiculous wool coat even though it's June and any ordinary man would be living in shorts and t-shirts.
Then again, he isn't an ordinary man.
"Will you be back for my birthday?"
There is another pause, in which he presses his lips to the back of her hand.
"I'll try."
"I need you to promise."
"I promise you I'll try my best to be back for your birthday. Maybe I'll even make you coffee, as a gift."
He's trying to cheer her up, but Molly doesn't want to smile. He's leaving her, leaving everything and everyone he knows and she can't be sure that he'll ever come back.
"I have to go now."
"I know. I'll miss you."
His only response to this is to kiss her softly on the forehead, on both cheeks, and finally on the lips. It's quick and chaste, but she doesn't think she'd be able to let him go if he gave her much more.
Then he's gone, out of the door with a quick smile and a swirl of black fabric.
Molly Hooper leans against the wall and lets out a sob.
At 3.30pm, Molly straightens her new dress in the mirror, checks that Toby is still sleeping on her bed, and pulls on her coat. She grabs her handbag and shuts the front door to her flat, shivering slightly in the cold air.
At 3.43pm, she taps the front door to 221 Baker Street with the bronze doorknocker.
Mrs Hudson answers, a grin plastered over her perpetually smiling face.
"Molly, dear! Come in, it's too cold out there for you. I hope you took a cab!"
"Oh, no, I was fine to walk, really." Molly allows her coat to be taken from her, setting her bag on the hallway floor and pointing up the stairs. "Shall I go on up?"
"No!" the old woman says, too quickly, "I mean, let's just have a chat for a bit, my love. How's the baby doing?"
Molly's hands ghost over her abdomen through the soft material of the maternity dress Mary had helped her choose a few weeks ago.
"He's fine. A few kicks, I'm not sure if that's normal or not, but everything feels right."
"Everyone's differe- did you call it a 'he'?"
Molly claps her hands over her mouth, regretting her choice of words.
"I wasn't going to tell anyone…"
"A boy. Oh, that's wonderful!" Mrs Hudson whispers, tears filling her eyes as she pulls the young woman into a tight hug. The woman may be small, but she's much stronger than she appears.
"He would have been so proud, you know. He pretended he didn't care about anyone, but he must have loved you, I can tell."
Molly can't think of a response, and she's glad when Mary calls down the stairs, "Molly? You can come up now!"
"Come on, let's go celebrate." Molly smiles at Mrs Hudson, who is hastily mopping her eyes with the sleeve of her purple blouse.
They ascend the stairs, arm in arm.
Molly pushes open the door to 221B and is almost knocked backed by a collective shout of;
"SURPRISE!"