Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

In case you haven't guessed, school is back in session and to say that I'm busy is an understatement. I've been trying to write a chapter for over a week now and I finally had time to finish what I had started last weekend. Thank you, as always, for your support via faves/follows/reviews. Your encouragement is always … well, encouraging! I hope to have another chapter up within a week but that *may* be too ambitious …

Molly wasn't sure what time it was when Sherlock returned but she had cried herself to sleep on the sofa and woke up with a stiff neck. She jumped slightly to see Sherlock sitting stoically in the chair across from her.

"What time is it?" Molly asked, sitting up slowly.

"Four thirty in the morning."

"Why are you still awake?"

"You're on my bed."

"Oh." Molly's voice fell. "Sorry, I'll go back to my bedroom."

"You don't have to."

Molly didn't appear to be listening and stood up, groaning slightly. Pregnancy may be a miracle of nature but she was tired of feeling so nauseous all the time. It was disgusting.

"Good night," she mumbled, shuffling off to the bedroom.

By the time Molly got up for the second time, Sherlock had not moved.

"Sherlock?" she asked. "Are you alright? It's after ten o'clock and you're still sitting here."
Sherlock didn't respond.

"Sherlock?"

Still no answer and Molly had learned by now to just let him be; he'd break out of his trance when he was ready. The flat remained quiet until just after twelve.

"Don't keep it."

"What?" Molly asked, looking up from her magazine.

"Don't keep it," Sherlock said. "I don't want it. Neither do you."

"That's not true," Molly started but Sherlock cut her off.

"Yes, it is. You are a smart, beautiful young woman who has no business being tied down by a child."

"Don't go there with me, Sherlock."

"You're the one insisting on carrying the fetus to term!"

"It's a baby," Molly said. "Your baby, if you've forgotten already. I didn't just become pregnant one night by myself; you were there."

"Yes, and I have no business being tied down by a child, either."

"So what?" Molly asked. "What are you asking me to do?"

"Terminate the pregnancy."

"No."

"Why not?"

There was no way Molly would ever divulge the true nature of this answer. Yes, she was facing single motherhood now because she knew Sherlock wouldn't move in or be a serious part of the child's life. But the truth? Molly Hooper had always wanted children but she had always doubted that anyone would ever love her enough to have sex with her. While the prospects of the next seven months were terrifying, not to mention the lifetime that followed, this was a way that maybe, just maybe, she could get a little bit of what she wanted out of life.

"Because," Molly said. "I am not doing it."

"Then get rid of it. Deliver it and put it up for adoption."

"I don't think … I don't think I can do that, Sherlock."

"What can you do?" Sherlock snapped. "You won't get rid of it now before you get emotionally attached but you won't carry it to term and give it away, either. You're not giving me a lot to work with."

"What if I want to keep it?"

"Do you expect me to help?"

"Financially or to be involved in the kid's life?"

"Either."

"You'll be legally obligated to pay child support." Molly said. "You know that."

Sherlock stayed silent.

"But I'd like for the baby to grow up with a father."

"Then I fear you're going to be disappointed."

Molly didn't say anything, but her lower lip was trembling.

"You haven't even seen it yet," she said. "How can you know you won't love it?"

"Love it?" Sherlock repeated. "I've never loved anyone in my life."

"Except John." Molly added softly. Sherlock ignored her statement.

"I will not love this child the way a child deserves to be loved. As far as I'm concerned, it's better not to bring it into the world in the first place."

"I'm going to have this baby, Sherlock."

Molly's voice was quiet but firm.

"I know you don't love me and I don't expect you to start but I hope one day you can look at what we created," Sherlock snorted but Molly continued. "Even if it was an accident, I hope you can look at our child and love it."

Sherlock stood, picking his coat up off the chair where he'd dropped it.

"Listen to me," he said darkly. "I will never love that child and I will never want it. It was a mistake, something created when we did something stupid. It is not fair to give birth to it and expect it to live in a broken family. I'll do what I need to to appease the law but your life will be miserable. Single mothers fall below the poverty line and struggle to support themselves from the moment their child is born. Keeping it is a mistake that will haunt you the rest of your life."

With that, Sherlock turned on his heel and stalked out of the flat. Molly, by the time Sherlock left, was trembling, although her hand was gently resting on her stomach. She looked down at her still-flat belly.

"Don't listen to him," she whispered as the first tears fell. "Mummy will love you and take care of you. You'll be the best thing that's ever happened to me."

She sighed and stood up. She felt achy and stiff, like she was coming down with the flu. She wondered if this was a pregnancy thing or a result of sleeping on the sofa last night. As she made her way to her bed, she realized she should probably buy one of those "What to Expect When Expecting" books so she could read up on the pregnancy and how to prepare for the baby.

As she lay there – there was no way she'd be able to get to catch a nap after that conversation – she couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement.

Finally, this was something to make her life worthwhile … to make her count in everyone else's eyes. Yes, she had a successful career but she'd never found that someone to love her – Jim had just been a disaster – and the only person who ever noticed her was Sherlock and that was only when he needed her help.

"I matter when he needs me," she muttered, turning onto her side. "What about when I need him?"

She didn't get an answer of course, but she let her mind drift to what it would be like to have a baby in the flat. She'd have to be creative in finding space, she realized, but she could make it work. It would be cozy but that was alright. Molly hoped it was a girl … they could be the mother-daughter duo taking on the world together, best friends who shared everything and sat up late gossiping and talking about dresses and boys and doing their nails.

She didn't need Sherlock. She didn't need any man.

Despite feeling like she wouldn't fall asleep, Molly dozed off with a determined sentiment running through her mind.

She could do this and she would do this.

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