Jim guessed that Rosie had gone to find her mother the minute Sebastian had called to inform him of her escape. As long as he was definitely right (and he would check the moment he could get one of his goons to answer their damn phone) he didn't mind. She wasn't exactly in any imminent danger if she stayed with her mother in a small London flat, and he was planning on taking her back in a few years anyway, when she was old enough. Seb was pissed though, now that he was on "stalker duty" as he had so poetically put it. It was partially punishment for letting Rosie slip from their grasp, but also to make sure nothing too serious happened to her over the next few years. He was sent to watch her from the shadows, never revealing himself but reporting everything back to her father. This was going to be interesting.

oOoOoOo

Sherlock was the first person Molly told. She rang him in tears, begged him to come round and sat with him while they watched her daughter, fast asleep on the sofa in front of them. She explained everything.

"I-I don't know what to do, Sherlock. Please don't hate me. God, I hate myself enough already. I thought- I hoped- that he would treat her right. But look at her, she's broken." Molly sobbed, clutching her sofa cushion to her chest. Sherlock placed his arm around her uncomfortably. Physical affection made him incredibly uncomfortable but in situations like this, that's what people do, right? They console each other by hugging and whatnot. He wanted to make Molly happy. He wanted to comfort her, and to tell her exactly how he was going to make things better. He had so many things to say but no possible way of putting them all into words. But he had to try.

"Molly, god knows I have more than enough regrets for a lifetime. Luckily only a few of them have managed to come back and bite me, but I suppose, when it comes to it, you can't really dwell on these things. I mean, isn't this a good thing? She's back, and it's not too late. You can help her. And I'm- I'm- I'm here for you, Molly. Whatever you need."

Molly relaxed a little and leaned against Sherlock. He tensed up before attempting to ease himself into the embrace. It occurred to him at that point, whilst watching Rosie practically comatose on the sofa, that he would do anything for Molly. He did have a few people in his life that he cared about, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud- John, Mycroft, his parents, Mrs Hudson- but his feelings towards Molly were different. He didn't always know how to understand and interpret his emotions, but knew his feelings enough to know that he would die for her. And now she had a new addition to her family, he supposed he would have to look out for her too.

"You were the only person I could tell, Sherlock. Thank you." She whispered.

Rosie's eyes flashed open and they stared straight at the man across the room. She recognised newspaper- the consulting detective or whatever ridiculous title he had given himself. Perhaps he was why her father had suddenly started referring to himself as a "consulting criminal". She sat up, running her fingers backwards through her short hair before stretching her arms above her head, suddenly appearing oblivious to the pair seated in front of her. Molly found that in some ways, Rosie reminded her of Sebastian. She wondered if he had had some input into Jim's fifteen-year tirade of abuse.

Sensing his friend's uncertainty, Sherlock decided to step in and break the silence.

"Hello Rosie. Did you sleep well?"

A/N: Sorry I didn't update for ages! School is hell. As before, please follow/favourite/review. Thank you!