Another week had passed when Sherlock began taking cases again. His parents were still staying with Mycroft while dealing with Eurus's situation. They hadn't gone to see her yet but the time was approaching. John noticed that his best friend had been avoiding Molly like the plague even going as far to not work on their current case until it was one of her off days. Boy, was Sherlock surprised when Molly was in the morgue.

"M-Molly, what are you doing here? Aren't you off today?" Sherlock asked, desperately trying to figure out what to do with his hands.

"Switched shifts for a colleague," she replied nonchalantly as she examined the murder victim on the slab. Molly paid no attention to Sherlock; not one bit. The tension was thick enough that John could cut it with a knife. He felt that maybe he should give them some space but when he tried to slip away, Sherlock caught his arm. His eyes pleaded for him to stay, so with an inward groan, John did what his best friend silently requested.

"May I?" Sherlock asked, gesturing towards the body.

"Sure, whatever," Molly shrugged, still adamant about not looking at him. John watched with secondhand embarrassment as the two moved around each other awkwardly. He still felt he shouldn't be there but kept himself rooted to the spot he stood in. Their fingers brushed suddenly, and though hers were gloved, Molly jumped back a bit when their eyes finally locked. The tension in the room shifted from angst-filled to a wistful sadness mixed in with a touch of romanticism. They looked at each other with such longing and then the moment passed when Sherlock finally turned away.

Mycroft, it's time to implement plan A. –JW

Excellent. Prepare Rosamund.

"Thanks again, Molly, I really appreciate it," John told her.

"Oh, it's no trouble, John. I enjoy spending time with Rosie. You go out and have fun. You need it after everything that's happened," Molly smiled.

"Alright, I'm here, where's Rosamu—" Sherlock faltered when he saw Molly holding their goddaughter.

"Oh, look at the time, must go," John spoke quickly before closing and locking the front door behind him. Not that it could stop Sherlock from walking right out, but he knew that he would stay.

"I'll just," Sherlock said, motioning to the door.

"No," Molly spoke up. "I'm gonna use this to my advantage. You're going to help out whether you want to or not."

"But you never have trouble babysitting alone," Sherlock argued.

"The point of this is not to help me, but to help you become a competent godfather," Molly told him icily. Sherlock winced as she sounded a bit like himself when he insulted others for being stupid.

"Well, if you're only going to insult me, I should leave," Sherlock huffed. There was a deeper sadness in his eyes and it didn't go undetected by the pathologist.

"Sherlock, hey," Molly began in a softer tone, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, "look I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm sure you're a good godfather to Rosie. I crossed a line. I know you care for her deeply." He met her eyes solemnly.

"You have no idea," he replied. Unbeknownst to Molly, there was a double meaning behind his words. Obviously he deeply cared for his goddaughter, but he also felt the same about the woman holding her. His Molly. Except that she wasn't his; not truly. "Rosamund needs changing." It was the only thing he could say.

"Well, you're learning how to change a nappy tonight," Molly informed him with a smirk. She decided to attempt to be on her best behaviour with Sherlock but only for Rosie. Their goddaughter didn't need that kind of negative tension around her. It didn't change the fact that Molly was still broken inside; broken but strong. She was resilient.

Molly guided him as he changed Rosie's nappy. He was surprisingly a natural at it. She allowed a soft giggle to escape her lips.

"What?" Sherlock asked with confusion.

"It's just you changing her," she laughed.

"Molly, I hardly think any of this is a laughing matter. Besides, I did it right, see?" he gestured towards Rosie.

"No, I know you did it right," Molly replied. "It's just that men usually don't get it right the first time around and here you are, ever the expert."

"Don't be surprised," he remarked with his trademark arrogance. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. As she watched Sherlock lift Rosie into his arms, a warmth spread through her at the beautiful, genuine smile he gave their goddaughter. Rosie giggled as she grabbed onto his nose, causing him to make a face of playful annoyance at her. He attempted to hand her back to Molly but the little Watson was not having it. She fisted her tiny hands in his curls tightly.

"Oh, no, Rosie here, let go of Uncle Sherlock's hair," Molly said, biting back a smile.

"Just as stubborn as your mother," Sherlock chuckled. Molly successfully got Rosie to release his hair and took her in her arms. "Molly, I—"

"Don't," she warned. "Just don't." His heart ached, and though he was trying to keep her safe by keeping her at arm's length, Sherlock felt his harsh words were the biggest mistake he had ever made.

John sat with Mycroft in his office watching the somewhat successful plan unfold. He had given permission to Mycroft to bug his house only this once and they were both sighing with annoyance.

"If only Miss Hooper would make things a bit easier," Mycroft complained, a hand running down his face.

"To be fair, what Sherlock said was not the way he should have told her," John defended Molly. "I mean, how would you feel if you were on the receiving end of that phone call and afterward, that person told you that even if they meant those words, they'd still never pursue a relationship with you?"

"Why would I care?" Mycroft asked.

"Nevermind, forget I asked. I almost forgot who I was talking to," John huffed. A moment of silence passed before he spoke up again. "It'd be different if he told her why he wouldn't pursue it, but no, he had to go and cock it up." Mycroft only sighed once more.

When John arrived home, Sherlock and Molly were passed out on opposite ends of the sofa with Rosie asleep on the consulting detective's chest. John had to admit that Sherlock was more cut out for domestic life than he had previously thought. If Rosie had dark curls instead of the blonde, it would make them look like a married couple with their baby. He took his phone out and snapped a photo before waking them up.

"Long night?" John asked.

"Oh, John, get your offspring off of me," Sherlock yawned.

"Hmm?" Molly mumbled, her eyes fluttering open. "Oh, hey. Must've dozed off. Sorry."

"Ah, it's fine. Wasn't too much trouble for you?" John questioned.

"No, she was an angel," Molly replied.

"I meant the consulting annoyance over there," John smirked. Sherlock half-opened his mouth in offense.

"Oh, he was…fine I guess," Molly stated, her face completely devoid of emotion. Well, she did learn from the best on repressing them. "I best be going. Hope you had fun tonight." And with that, she was gone, not even sparing Sherlock a glance.

"I'm an arse," Sherlock sighed.

"Yes, you are," John agreed with a disappointed shake of his head.

Author's Note: Goodness, things are still icy but a bit melted. I wonder what Mycroft has planned...