Molly had discovered that, out of all the relatives that had shown, the only ones staying besides them were Roger and his family. Everyone else had to leave for work. Sherlock had taken Molly around shown her the place. He had shown her every bedroom, every bathroom. He had shown her the kitchen, the dining room, the den. He showed her the drawing room, the music room (really, just a bedroom where their instruments were) and the courtyard outside. Finally, they made it back to the living room, where Jonah was playing with Sally. Both looked tired. Mr. and Mrs. Holmes sat quietly, romantically. Sherlock handed her the bracelet.

"Here you are, Mummy." Sherlock said. She opened it.

"Oh, Sherlock, this is so sweet." There was a ship (Sherlock liked pirates in his younger days) a calculator (Mycroft liked math a lot) a horse (Mr. Holmes had loved to ride them) and a rose (they were Mummy's favorite flower). "I love it. Sherlock delicately took the bracelet from her, and put it on her wrist.

After Jonah and Sally were found asleep on the couch, did everyone decide it was bedtime. Sherlock lead Molly to a wing of the house she hadn't seen, and entered. There was a small sitting room, with a desk by the window, a large mantel, a couch, and two matching armchairs. There was a bathroom, and two bedrooms. Sherlock woke Jonah enough to get pajamas on him, then put the boy in bed. He changed into his pajamas, and found Molly curled up in the sitting room, already showered, and into her pajamas and dressing gown. One of the cooks had brought them tea.

"Thank you, Darla." Sherlock smiled at her warmly. Sherlock poured Molly a cup of tea, then himself, before sitting next to Molly. He watched her as she watched the fire roaring in the mantle.

"Sherlock. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Sherlock sipped his tea.

"You seem...different, when you're around your family. In fact, you have a different side of you for every person you meet. Why is that?" Sherlock looked at her. He sighed.

"I hoped you hadn't noticed that." He said. "Molly, I'm happy here. This is my comfort zone of comfort zones." He sipped his tea. "I'm never truly happy anywhere but home."

"Can I ask why?"

"I saw you talking to my father. I can deduce that you never believed me to be a diagnosed sociopath. I'm not. Well, one doctor did suggest it, and I quite liked the idea. It fit me for playing pirates." Sherlock smiled. Molly was listening, watching him intently. "I'm actually Autistic. Severely, in fact. It's a challenge to shake people's hands, to hug people. But my family, especially Roger, Mycroft, my mother, they've all been so...helpful, with making it less of a challenge. You'll notice my demeanour between you and John is different. John is my best friend, but...there's a lot I can't bring myself to tell him. It's hard. I've never had a friend who was another male, close to my age, that understood. And it makes it difficult to open up to him." Sherlock said. "My bluntness, that's my inability to interact with others. My obsession with Chemistry, that's the characteristic Autistic sign, obsession."

"What about deducing?"

"Mycroft taught me that. Mummy always believed he had a touch of Autism, but it would have been more like Aspberger's syndrome. It's a milder form of it, but there are traits of it. It's in him. I always believed he was the sociopath."

"He's got a wife and kid, though."

"His wife was for convenience, and his son...well, I'm not sure what their relationship is."

"He certainly likes you."

"Archie and his father never got along. Mycroft tends to be away from home a lot, so their relationship is rather strained." Sherlock sipped his tea some more. Sherlock waited for the next question. He knew it was coming.

"Can I ask why you're so good with kids?" Sherlock knew this one was coming. He had seen it sense he had taken in Jonah.

"It's a very difficult past, and a rather painful experience, but, I'll do my best to have you understand." Sherlock began. He stood, put his cup down, and picked up an old picture of a beautiful girl with two kids, laying in the grass that was now being covered with snow. She waited, allowing him the time to gather his thoughts. "I used to be a father." Molly was shocked.

"Are you serious?"

"Completely." He sat down, putting the picture face down on the end table. "I was bullied a lot as a kid because of my Autism." He sipped his tea, knowing she wanted to add in her two cents worth.

"Is that your resistance towards strangers, then?"

"Absolutely." Sherlock replied. "I was hateful of people after the bullying. When I was in high school a lot of that changed.

"Roger had been the only cousin and other male my age, and after my aunt had enough of the bullying, she sent him to school with me, so I could have a friend. Roger would stick up for me, and eventually, so did his girlfriend. You met her tonight."

"Which one?" Sherlock smirked.

"He married her." Molly smiled.

"That's sweet." Sherlock refrained from rolling his eyes.

"Well, Anna had a best friend, and she was rather attractive." Molly looked faintly surprised. "Normally, I didn't really care for girls, but she was...special." Sherlock thought for a moment. Molly was quiet.

"She was like you, but different. She shared my passion for Chemistry, she was in the forensics crime club at school. She read my article on the science of deduction that was published in the school papers. People would ridicule me for that." Sherlock was watching the fire now. "She praised me.

"Her name was Kirsty." Sherlock was smiling. "And she was amazing. You see the teenage couples who have all the same interests, and then some? We were one. At sixteen, you don't really understand what love is, until it comes at you in a pair of basketball shorts, swinging pony tails, and a tank top across the lawn, when you literally fall off your skateboard in shock." Molly giggled. "I was in love. And, even at sixteen, you really don't understand. It was different. I had the IQ and mindset of an adult, and everyone thought we'd get married one day. At the time, I wanted to work in Forensics, so I could use lab equipment, and try my experiments, and do what I loved. I actually had an internship lined up. Everything was wonderful. Then, she got pregnant.

"I knew it was mine, we were each others firsts." Sherlock took a shaky breath. "We were terrified. We told our parents, and, they caught the fact that we were absolutely terrified. I'd taken her to the doctor, who wanted us to get an abortion. I may like murder investigations, but actually sending a child off to it's death repulsed me." Sherlock shuddered. "It wasn't it's fault that I was careless for a night of passion. We decided we wanted to keep the baby. Her parents, the loved that I wanted to stay with her, instead of running off.

"We had a son, named Callum. He was beautiful." Sherlock smiled. "His hair was just like mine, and his eyes were a beautiful green colour, much like his mother's. He was small, but he wa wonderful. A year later, we had a daughter, named Lily. Mycroft liked to joke that we were like rabbits." Molly caught the tears in his eyes.

"What happened?"

"One night, I had come home from uni. We lived together, here. That room that Jonah is in was where Callum and Lily slept. They were so young." He took another shaky breath. "And, I had planned to propose. It was Rogers idea. Anna, Roger, Kirsty and I had been best friends. Kirsty really understood what I went through, stood up to me." Molly hadn't liked the vulnerability in Sherlock's eyes. It scared her to no end. "I came home, the perfect proposal in mind. I was going to have a moonlight picnic, and propose at midnight. She said the moonlight was most romantic. Only full moon though, nothing more, and nothing less." Sherlock smiled at the memory. "She wasn't here. I knew she had gone out with friends, and figured she had been running late. So did the rest of my household." Molly was scared for what the rest of the story was going to be.

"At midnight, I had Mycroft keep an eye on the children, while I went off to find her. Anna hadn't seen her, so we looked everywhere." Sherlock stopped for a long moment, trying to regain his composure. Molly needed to hear this, but he was having a hard time continuing.

"Did you ever find her?" She waited a moment.

"The following morning." Sherlock began, now sounding like he had a rather bad head cold. "I was still out, and I got a call from Lestrade. He was new to the force, and I was still looking." He went quiet. Tears thick in his voice, he said, "Lestrade had found her in the park. I ran as fast as I could, but, she had died hours before, and I was already to late." A tear trickled down his face, while tears had poured out of Molly's eyes.

"She was killed, by some man. He was just a mugger. A popular mugger." Sherlock chocked out. "Everyone knew his name, but not his face. Lestrade caught him, and was praised all around. Kirsty had been raped, beaten, and shot to death. Nobody heard the gunshot, because the gun had a silencer. I was devastated.

"After that, I had to come home, and tell my family. I had to tell Mycroft, and my parents. I had to tell Roger, Anna, and their families. But the hardest was walking up the doorsteps to Kirsty's parents home, and telling them that their daughter had been killed in a mugging. I was heartbroken to see them so devastated." Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, as tears fell more freely down his face for a moment. Molly's heart broke for him, but she didn't want him to totally lose it, and refrained from touching him. "I planned the funeral, everything. I wrote a speech, and I left our picture in the coffin. It was the worst funeral I'd ever been too. Even Mycroft was crying, and Mycroft doesn't cry." Sherlock said. "I was miserable. I couldn't even live here. I had to leave.

"Unfortunately, that meant the kids were mine. I had to take care of them." Sherlock took a shaky breath. "And, unfortunately, I became rather depressed. I was into drugs, cocaine, mostly." Molly could feel her eyes welling up harder. "And, I hated myself, so much for it." He sobbed once. Molly wanted to bad to reach out for him, but she knew he needed to get through this on his own.

"I had to give up my children for adoption. They couldn't live the way I had. I swore off love forever, but vowed to get my children back. I could never get clean enough, and by the time I was out of rehab, their parents refused to allow me to even see them." Sherlock was sobbing. Molly was silently crying. Her heart had shattered. After a long moment, Sherlock had stopped. She reached out, and stretched out his hand.

"Jonah, brings that back to me. You and Jonah fill that empty hole in my heart, one I never knew I had after Kirsty. Mrs. Hudson was a nanny of mine growing up, and Lestrade had found the body. They were the biggest supporters for me. You walked into my life, literally, if I can recall how we met, and that hole is being filled." Molly scooted closer, and snuggled against Sherlock. He held her to him. "The hole is still there, but it's not hurting as bad anymore. You've helped me." Sherlock held onto Molly tight. She was handed a tissue, and so she blew her nose. Sherlock did the same. "While we are here, I would like to visit Kirsty's grave. Mummy bought me flowers for the occasion, so I would like to put them on her grave. It would be wonderful if you would come."

"Sherlock, you need all the support you can get." Molly said. "I'd love too. And, if you had told John...I think he'd understand." Sherlock shook his head.

"While John is like a brother to me, there are some things that I'm not quite ready to admit to him just yet." Sherlock said. "It was hell trying to tell you." Molly snuggled deep into Sherlock's arms.

"Is that why you have Jonah call you Sherlock?"

"No, he does that himself." Sherlock said. "It would be okay for him to call me Dad." Sherlock said. "I'd be more than okay."

Nobody noticed the same little boy, sitting on the floor in his bedroom, crying in silent, heartbroken sobs for his adopted father.

"Daddy." He whispered towards Sherlock. "I love you."

Can I just say, I about cried writing this. I had the idea in mind, because I knew it was one nobody had come up with yet, so I was keen on the idea. That's why I posted so many chapters about it. Thank you for your wonderful words, and support.

Also, I wrote a letter to Benedict Cumberbatch. I added a self-addressed envelope with it, and am hoping it'll come it soon. I addressed it on July 19, his birthday. I'll keep you posted on the letter.