Chapter Two

Sherlock was frozen in place, unable to believe his eyes. Molly was dead. She was dead! He had identified her body, for God's sake! Masters had been found guilty of her murder! How could she be there? Was he missing Molly so much that his mind had conjured her? It wouldn't be the first time that had happened.

Some of his inner turmoil must have shown on his face, because Molly suddenly spoke.

"You're not hallucinating."

Sherlock's lungs released, and he let out the breath he had apparently been holding. He had not heard her voice in so long…

"I really am here," said Molly softly as she took a step into the flat. "I faked the whole thing."

Sherlock stared at her, still unable to find his voice. She was alive?

No! he told himself. Don't let yourself cling to hope! Your mind has played this trick before!

Then again, her face had been so beaten that she'd had to be identified through dental records, which could easily be fixed. All the things found on her body could have been planted. Masters had never actually confessed to the crime. All the evidence had been circumstantial.

Or could his mind be grasping at straws?

A phone began ringing somewhere, but Sherlock found that he couldn't move.

Molly glanced at something behind him and then looked back at him. "You'll probably want to get that."

Sherlock stared at her another moment before slowly turning his head to look at the table, where his phone was ringing. He slowly reached out and picked the phone up, reading the Caller ID: "The Queen." He stared at it for what felt like an eternity before answering it. "Mycroft…"

"She's alive, Sherlock," his brother Mycroft told him. "We did fake her death. She's real."

Sherlock stared across the room absently. "Thank you…" He lowered the phone, not bothering to disconnect the call. He slowly turned back to Molly.

Molly was staring at him in an anguished sort of way. "Masters had threatened me. He came to the morgue one day. He tried to kill me because you wouldn't drop the case. If I hadn't had my autopsy tools nearby, I wouldn't have made it. It ran from the hospital, and Mycroft was pulling up in one of his cars, telling me to get in." She took a calming breath, obviously distraught by the memory. "We came up with a plan: to fake my death in order to protect me from Masters. Mycroft then increased security on everyone else in case he came after them. We also decided it would be best to fake my death instead of placing me in a safe house. We knew that you would catch Masters in the end, but if you believed me to be dead—if it became personal—you would not rest until he was caught. You would get him in half the time and would save who knows how many lives. So, just like with you, we found a body double and faked the whole thing."

Sherlock watched her as he took in the explanation. It made sense. The pieces all fit together, and it wasn't out of the realm of possibility. Hadn't all of London believed him to be dead once? And it was definitely something Molly would be able to put together, along with Mycroft, in order to fool him.

Then again, was it? Or was his mind combining his own faked suicide with his desire to have Molly back? Mycroft had told him this was real, but his mind could have thought up that whole conversation. Hadn't John hallucinated Mary for weeks after her death? And John's brain wasn't nearly as powerful as his.

What was he supposed to believe?

What was he supposed to allow himself to believe?

A touch to his hand broke him from his thoughts. He looked down to see that Molly had gently grasped his hand, bringing it up in between them and placing her other hand around it as well. Her touch…it felt so real, so solid, unlike any figment his mind palace had ever dreamed up. Even a hallucination brought on by his mind palace was unable to fool him. It was the reason he had never suspected that his sister masquerading as Faith Smith in his flat of being anything other than real. He could feel the difference. And this…this was reality.

Sherlock's eyes moved up to hers as she stared back at him, tears filling her eyes.

"I'm here," Molly told him, her voice breaking as her tears began to fall. "I'm really here."

"Molly…" Sherlock whispered before pulling her into his arms, holding her close and firm as he buried his face in her hair.

Molly's arms came around him as he grasped onto her, not ready to let her go for a while. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

One of Sherlock's hands moved to the back of her head, clinging to her for dear life. "Oh, God…"

"Shh," Molly whispered, tightening her hold around him. "Everything's all right now."

Sherlock suddenly realized he was trembling. With as much willpower as he could manage, he pulled away from her, framing her face between his hands. He smiled, laughing almost deliriously. "You're here. You're really here."

"I am," said Molly as she reached up and swiped her thumb across his cheek, and Sherlock realized he had been crying.

He pulled her towards him, planting a passionate kiss on her lips. The kisses might have gone on for days—he couldn't be sure—before he pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. "I missed you so much. I didn't know how I was going to move on. I didn't want to believe you were dead. I—"

Molly placed her fingers over his mouth. "It's over. It's all over. I'm back."

Overcome with emotion yet again, Sherlock pulled her back into his arms. "I love you. I never said it enough before, but I vow to tell you every day from now on how much you mean to me." He pulled away again, reaching into his pocket. "Starting with this." He removed the ring box from his pocket and opened it, holding it up in front of her.

Molly gasped as she stared at the diamond ring.

"You are the most amazing, beautiful, intelligent and fearless woman I have ever known," Sherlock told her. "And the thought that I would never get to see you or talk to you again nearly killed me. I don't ever want to feel that again."

Tears fell out of Molly's eyes as she stared at him in surprise.

"I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to comfort you when you're sick. I want to surprise you with breakfast in bed on your birthdays. I want to argue with you over which schools to send our children to. I want to postpone cases when our anniversaries come around. I want to grow old with you. I want—"

Molly inhaled shakily as she pulled him down into a kiss. "Yes." She kissed him again. "Yes, yes, I'll marry you!"

Sherlock smiled as he kissed her. He removed the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. He pulled her into his arms again; he couldn't remember when he had ever been this happy. Locking his arms around her waist, he lifted her off of her feet and spun a couple of times, reveling in the adorable laugh he thought he would never hear again. He placed her back on her feet, adjusting his hold to make room for the slightly bulging belly pressing into his abdomen.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open as he pulled away and looked down at her stomach. Sure enough, it was pressing out against her traveling cloak, barely noticeable under the layers but still there.

Sherlock looked up into her eyes, his won wide and shocked. "You're…"

Molly nodded, biting her bottom lip. "I am."

Sherlock looked down at her stomach, speechless. Based on the size, she was about four months along. Four months. Which meant that in five short months, they would be parents. His jaw dropped a little. He was going to be a father…

"I didn't find out I was pregnant until after I had already left," Molly began explaining. "I'm one of those women who doesn't show very many symptoms, so I didn't find out until my stomach started growing around the third month. If I had known, I would have found another way. I know we didn't plan anything like this, and I don't blame you if you need some time to—"

She broke off and looked down at the hand resting tenderly on her stomach. She looked up, seeing Sherlock properly this time. He was staring at her stomach, his eyes lit up with something akin to wonder. They also looked suspiciously watery. A smile was also working its way onto his face. Molly smiled as she moved her hand to covers his.

Sherlock looked up at her, the hesitant smile breaking over his face. "Our baby…"

Molly's smile threatened to leap off of her face. "Our baby."

Sherlock's smile widened, if that was possible, and he leaned in, giving Molly a slow, tender kiss. Something thumped against his hand, and he jolted back, staring down at her stomach in amazement. "It kicked… I felt the baby kick!" He glanced up to see Molly staring at the floor with her jaw slack and eyes wide. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Molly looked up at him, her smile starting to return. "That's the first time it ever kicked."

"Really?" he asked as the baby kicked again.

The two of them reacted with gasps and laughs and kisses as Molly cradled her pregnant belly with her hands.

"She was just waiting for her daddy," Molly told him.

Sherlock froze. "She?"

Molly shrugged. "Well, he, she. I haven't found out yet. But we would be able to find out now if you wanted to come with me to an appointment—"

"Can we go first thing Monday?" asked Sherlock. "Mycroft can probably pull some strings to get us one last minute."

Molly laughed at his eagerness. "As long as we tell everyone about me before then. I don't want to run into anyone while we're out and give them a heart attack."

"Hmm," said Sherlock as he thought for a moment. "I could invite everyone here for dinner tomorrow night to celebrate closing the case. That will be believable."

Molly frowned. "Really? They won't think it out of character with how depressed you've been?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Probably. But we'll worry about that later. Right now, I'd much rather focus on you."

Molly squealed as Sherlock suddenly scooped her into his arms and carried her towards his bedroom, their laughter echoing through the flat.

One more chapter to go!