It was all too sudden when the nausea hit her just as she began the autopsy. She had already felt a bit off when she first woke up but shrugged it off.

"Ah, Molly, already started on Mr. Williams, perfect," Sherlock greeted. He watched her face lose her natural rosy color before she ran out of the morgue, leaving Sherlock with nothing but concern etched on his face. Molly never got queasy around the dead; her stomach was quite strong.

Her breathing was heavy as she rested against the wall of the bathroom stall when her mobile started ringing. She looked down and saw John's name come up.

"Hello?" she muttered.

"Molly? Hey, are you alright?" John asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine aside from the bout of nausea," Molly replied.

"Well, it makes sense because your test results came back positive," he informed her. There was silence on her end, unable to convey the sheer happiness she felt, though the morning sickness had her feeling quite horrific. "Molly? Did you hear me? You're pregnant, just as I suspected. Congratulations!"

Wha—yeah, I heard you, I'm just—God, I'm so happy right now. Thank you. I gotta tell Sherlock," she rambled on excitedly. She popped a couple of mints in her mouth before heading back.


Sherlock was pacing the morgue, completely uninterested in the cadaver before him as his worrying about Molly was at the forefront of his mind. He looked up immediately when she rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Molly, are you alright? What happ—mmph!" he asked before she was suddenly snogging him.

"Mhmm," she murmured as her lips pressed against his fervently. "I'm perfectly fine." Their breathing was heavy when they parted, their foreheads leaning against each other.

"But you became nauseated; that's unlike you," Sherlock pointed out.

"That's because I have morning sickness," she told him.

"Morning sickness? You—oh," he realized. "Molly." Her name came out in a whisper as he sunk down to his knees and rested his head against her tummy. Her fingers wound themselves in his curls, gently twisting them.

"We're gonna have a baby," her voice broke with a sob of happiness. "I'm gonna have to get my wedding dress tailored." She laughed then and he laughed with her. The warmth filled her heart when he began pressing soft kisses to her abdomen. He rose up slowly and captured her lips with his.

"How far along are you?" Sherlock asked.

"A little over six weeks," Molly answered.

"We're going to be parents," he marveled with a smile.

"You'll be an amazing father," she told him, caressing his cheek.

"I hope so," Sherlock remarked. "But I do know for a fact that you'll be a wonderful mother."

"Hey, you two, any progress on Mr. Williams?" Greg asked, strolling into the morgue.

"Uh, I should probably get back to that," Molly admitted. "Sorry, I barely started before I got sick."

"Sick? You okay enough to be working?" Lestrade questioned.

"Morning sickness," Sherlock stated, unable to keep his eyes off of Molly as she resumed the autopsy.

"Well, congratulations, you two!" Greg exclaimed. Then reality set in. "Oh, God, there's gonna be another Holmes."

"I know, isn't it wonderful?" Molly beamed. Sherlock chuckled at the mixed reactions.


Two months in and Sherlock was already driving her nuts with his overprotection. He wouldn't take cases that he couldn't solve from within the flat and he insisted she go ahead with her maternity leave. Of course, it was sweet that he worried so much but Molly felt the need to go over his head.

"Mycroft, there's gotta be something, anything," Molly pleaded.

"I'm sorry, Miss Hooper, but there isn't a thing available. Though, if I may add, I do not have an understanding of this particular predicament but Sherlock loves you and only wants what's best. I would suggest talking to him," Mycroft told her.

"I know, you're right," she sighed. "And Mycroft? You can call me Molly. I'm going to be your sister-in-law in a couple of months; I think it's time," Molly laughed.

"Quite right, Miss—Molly," he replied. "Give my brother my—" he faltered.

"Love? It's not a bad word, Mycroft," she told him. "I will."

"Thank you," he replied.

Stepping out of their bedroom, Molly realized Sherlock wasn't in his chair anymore.

"Sherlock?" she called out.

"He's upstairs, dear," Mrs. Hudson piped up from the kitchen. "Said something about a project he's been working on." Molly nodded and padded her way up the stairs to John's old bedroom. She cracked open the door and saw Sherlock sitting on the floor, his back turned and hunched over something.

"Sherlock, are you alright? I—" Molly stopped talking as she looked around the room. It was re-painted a cheery yellow (her favourite) and he was working on the crib they had bought. Some of the congratulatory gifts from friends and family still sat in the far left corner of the room.

"Just fine, though you weren't supposed to see this until it was finished," Sherlock admitted. He stood then and opened his arms as if showing off the room. "What do you think?"

"Sherlock, this is—goodness, it's beautiful," her eyes welled up with tears as she stepped further into the room. "Stupid hormones."

"They're not stupid; it's completely natural," he told her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind. His hands settled against her growing tummy, cradling it gently. They stood there like that in companionable silence, enjoying the reality that this really was happening. This miracle growing inside her was their child; the beginning of their family.


Later that night, Sherlock was in his mind palace as she slept beside him in bed. He was like that for hours, unmoving. That is until Molly woke up close to three in the morning with a craving. They happened so rapidly and were always so different that he had a hard time deducing what her next one would be.

"Molly, what do you need?" he asked softly.

"Mint chocolate chip ice cream," she told him.

"I'll be right back," Sherlock said with a kiss to her forehead.

When he returned, they both sat in bed enjoying the ice cream together, as Molly told him to get his own spoon so they could share. It was the little things like this that they enjoyed the most; their playful conversations interspersed with cold ice cream kisses. They loved each other and they loved their little bundle of joy and that's all that really mattered.