Disclaimer: I own nothing! I claim nothing! I'm just borrowing the characters for my own pleasure and the pleasure of whoever reads this!

Chapter One

Bang Bang

Sherlock was shot.

That thought ran through Molly's mind at least half a dozen times. It didn't seem possible. Despite her thoughts from just days ago, she couldn't imagine him just dead.

No matter how angry she was, or how cold and heartless he was to her, she thought they were still... friends, maybe?

And with the past couple of days for her to calm down, she had lost quite a bit of her anger towards him. It wasn't entirely his fault that Tom had ended the engagement.

Sure, he was the man that she was supposedly sleeping with, but he hadn't done anything to her or Tom before his rude comment while high. Tom had come to his own - wrong - conclusions on his own.

Sherlock's only fault was his drug use. Hell, she could probably blame most of her anger on the shifting hormones in her body.

Probably.

Okay, no. He had been a complete and utter arse to her and she had reacted accordingly.

That didn't matter now though, because he could be dying, and no matter how pissed off she was at him, she didn't want him to die.

She hovered outside the door of his room, glancing in at him through the small window. He was asleep now, under the influence of a fairly high sedative, as far as she could see. His heart had stopped momentarily while in the operating room, according to one of her friends who had been present during the surgery to remove the bullet. He was stabilized now, but not quite out of the danger zone yet.

Any number of things could still be the end of him. She had seen almost every situation possible by now. A tool or gauze accidentally left inside. Infection. Fever. Organ failure. Heavy metal poisoning from an overlooked piece of bullet. Her mind cruelly brought up those and several other even less likely situations that would still kill him.

She had to look away, her throat closing up.

Damn hormones. She could blame her reaction on them.

Probably.

She looked back up into the room.

For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to enter. It didn't feel right. The last time she saw him, she slapped him. Three times.

Not that he didn't deserve it, but... she felt like they needed to talk... reconcile. Because things weren't normal between them anymore.

It left a cold feeling in her chest.

He had almost died. Her last actions to her friend had almost been ones of anger. Perhaps even hate.

That terrified her.

After losing her father, she had promised herself she would never leave anyone angry. It was never good to decide or do things angry.

Not that she'd been angry with her father. Quite the opposite, but still... his death had made her open up her eyes. Anger left regrets. She was ashamed to say that Sherlock had almost caused her eyes to close right back up again.

Until this.

Until there had almost been reason to regret.

He was such an idiot, and an arse and a complete tosser at times, but he was still her friend... still a big part of her life.

In the end, it was a cup of coffee in front of her face the tore her from her thoughts. She took it, and gave John and Mary a weary smile.

John's expression was tight with worry. Mary's was... almost blank. A bit cold... Of course, Molly didn't really know the other woman well enough. That may have just been how she showed pain, by blocking it off.

She was too mentally worn out to really care about anything aside from the warm cup in her hands. She took a small sip ruefully.

You weren't supposed to drink coffee when you're pregnant. And by the taste, this was a bit strong, loaded with sugar and cream. She did not need the caffeine.

She took another small sip.

"How is he?" Mary asked. She sounded worried.

"He's... got a good chance, according to the doctor I talked to earlier." Molly replied in a soft voice, barely glancing up.

John let out a soft sigh of relief. "Thank bloody hell for that... Someone shot him while we were investigating... Jesus, if I get my hands on the bastard who did it - "

Molly shook her head, interrupting him. "Please don't, John. When Sherlock wakes up, he'll be able to tell Lestrade who it was. Let the justice system handle it."

He let out an irritated huff, glancing into the room momentarily before looking back to her. He sighed. "Right."

There was a slight pause, and then, "I actually need to go..." Molly said, looking down at the coffee in her hands. "It's only my lunch break.. I need to get back to the morgue."

"Why don't you go with her, John? You two could talk a bit more. I'll keep an eye on Sherlock for the scant few minutes you're gone." She said almost teasingly, pecking John's cheek lightly. She had a small smile on her lips, which John returned before nodding.

"Sure, Mary. Call if he wakes up, of course."

"Of course." She repeated.

Molly wasn't about to argue. Maybe a bit of company for the short walk back to the morgue would stop her from screaming like the wanted to. For a few minutes at least.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Molly knew it was a bit silly to visit Sherlock when he was still recovering. No doubt he was still knocked out with the drugs the doctors had him on, but she visited him anyway, just after her shift ended in the early morning.

Not much had changed. The machines beeped, Sherlock breathed deeply as he slept, and the area itself was just barely bustling with the morning routines as the shifts changed.

Molly checked the clipboard with his basic information on it. Still not woken up yet. Probably for the best. He'd no doubt be up and moving the instant he was awake, the foolish man.

She glanced up at his sleeping face.

At least he didn't look to be in pain.

She left quietly as a nurse came in to check up on him.

On the way out, she passed John. She gave him a small smile. "Going to sit with him?" she asked with a small bit of cheer that had been lost to her earlier.

John nodded. "Yeah. I figure he won't want to be alone, and he might need someone to explain to him what's happened to keep him from charging out. I left Mary at home to get some more sleep."

She nodded as John finished. "That's nice of you. I'm heading home myself - late shift, as usual, but I'll be back for my shift tonight."

A few more words of goodbye, and they each went their separate ways.

Molly headed for the Tube, towards a small hotel room that hopefully wouldn't be her home much longer, given the small life inside her growing.

The ride was quiet, and her hotel room, though small, was somewhat of a welcome sight after the night she'd had. Especially the bed.

She showered quickly, scrubbing away the grime of work and nerves and sweat, and dressed in comfortable pajamas before she crawled into bed.

Alone, she placed her hand on her stomach, and began rubbing small circles on her skin, even if it was a bit silly now. She fell asleep like that, wondering if things would ever be normal again. Well, as normal as they can be, at least.

Hope everyone likes this Chappie. It's a bit slow, but I'm trying to keep this fic moderately fluffy - which hopefully it will be in later chapters, if a bit angsty as well.

Thanks lovely reviewers - whenisayrun, CloudCuckooLandHasAQueen, Rocking the Redhead, Rose of Zakarisz, LovingCurlyBlackHair, Anasthesia93, FanFicGirl10, lavanyalabelle. guest, LoveMai, NiceNipps, skybird716, wittyying, , and Laura1907. Thanks guys.

Thanks to Cumberburch for betaing.

Until Next Time :*