Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing and following this dark little angstfest. I end on a positive note - a little smut, a little parentlock, a little fluff. Enjoy!

Epilogue

It was Daisy's first birthday, and Molly was alone with her daughter, waiting for John to return from the shops with the last-minute party needs, and for Sherlock to return from wherever he'd run off to in order to escape said shopping trip. He'd claimed a last-minute need to look at some evidence for a case, but had been so visibly horrified by the thought of purchasing a balloon-animal kit that Molly and John had allowed him the fib, even giggled together over it afterwards.

"I love both your dads, Daisy, but sometimes it's like having extra children in the house." She wasn't excluding John from that statement; he could be as bad as Sherlock at times, but Molly found it easier to forgive him his moments of irresponsibility since he'd stepped up so magnificently while she'd been deep in the thrall of post-partum depression.

It still gripped her at times, a melancholy she couldn't shake off or a moment of panic at the enormous responsibility she faced as Daisy's mother, but when it did happen she had the love of Sherlock and John and all their friends to keep her from completely losing herself in sadness and doubt.

Daisy was giggling and splashing in the bath; Molly had already done her hair and soaped her soft, ivory-and-pink skin, and was allowing the birthday girl extra play time. The party was mostly for the grown-ups in her life, although two little girls and a boy from her play group were coming. Just enough little ones for Daisy to enjoy, not so many that she'd become overwhelmed.

And if she did, well, it was off to her bedroom for a nap. She was a sound sleeper who rarely fought against naps, and Molly fervently hoped that would continue for a while longer.

Especially on days when Sherlock and John showed up unexpectedly after lunch, as they had just two days ago, all revved up from solving the case early and showing up Scotland Yard for the millionth time. Molly had been greeted at the door to the flat with exuberant kisses and hugs; Sherlock had swung her around in circles until she was breathless, then snogged her silly while John peeked in on Daisy and made sure she was well asleep before bolting down the stairs to rejoin his two lovers.

The three of them had become physically intimate as a trio only a few days after Molly's baby shower, and their bond had only deepened in the time since. Some nights they simply shared the king-sized bed; some nights Sherlock didn't sleep at all, leaving Molly and John to snuggle together. But other nights…ah, those other nights were worthy of a spot in Playboy magazine's letters column.

And some days as well. She remembered how excited John had been after checking up on Daisy that afternoon only two days ago; he'd seen Sherlock and Molly snogging and had wasted no time in herding them both into the bedroom, shucking clothes as they went. By the time they reached the bed, Molly was fully naked; she clambered up on top of the duvet and knelt there, giggling, as Sherlock "helped" John remove his trousers and pants by yanking them down around the other man's ankles, then sinking to his knees and taking John's cock in his mouth. But not before flashing Molly a wicked grin; she'd discovered quite the voyeuristic side to herself since the three of them had become lovers, and enjoyed watching them almost as much as she enjoyed being with them. She'd stroked her rapidly-dampening pussy while John braced himself with his fingers knotted firmly in Sherlock's thick, black curls, his eyes shut tight and breathy moans and strangled curses issuing from his lips as Sherlock swallowed him down to his base. It was a talent Molly envied, to be able to take John in so deeply, but given the swan-like length of Sherlock's throat, it wasn't a talent she was particularly surprised to discover he had.

John had finally pulled Sherlock's head away from him with a groan. "Christ, Sherlock, you just want to get me off now so you can have Molly all to yourself, don't you," he'd accused.

Sherlock had just grinned unrepentantly before hopping back to his feet and discarding the remainder of his clothing. "Sorry, John, I can't help it if your recovery time has slowed down a bit with old age," he'd taunted, then vaulted onto the bed and covered Molly's body with his own. "How about it, Molly, shall we give the Old Man a good show?" he'd growled into her ear, and she'd gasped and moaned as his hands kneaded her breasts, his knee shoving her legs apart impatiently.

John had settled onto his side across from the two of them, watching avidly as Sherlock replaced his hands with his lips and tongue, teasing each of Molly's nipples into aching peaks. She'd beckoned John to join them, needing to feel both their mouths on her at the same time. Until the first time they'd done that, each man suckling a nipple, she'd had no idea how fucking incredible it could feel.

It still felt incredible, something she never thought she could feel enough. Just as incredible as when, like now, John worked his way down her body and planted a series of searing kisses on her pussy, and Sherlock angled his body so Molly could take his cock into her mouth while simultaneously sliding two of her fingers into his lovely tight arsehole. They kept an entire basket of supplies by the bed now; finger cots and sexual lubricant and a stolen stash of Daisy's baby wipes and condoms. Even though Molly had been fitted with a birth control implant, the one issue from her post-partum depression she couldn't seem to shake was an utter terror of becoming pregnant again. Yes, one day she wanted to have John's baby, but not yet. To assuage that irrational fear – and yes, she knew how irrational it was – both men used condoms when making love to her, front or rear. She longed for the day when that fear had finally been conquered, but until then, John and Sherlock were both patient and accepting of her needs.

And she was accepting of theirs. After John had made her come with his mouth, he'd started working his fingers along her arse, rubbing at her smaller entrance with fingers slick with her own juices. When he worked first one, then two fingers inside her, she knew exactly what he wanted, and popped her mouth off Sherlock's dick in order to tug him down behind her. His eyes lit up when he realized what was coming, and Molly grinned as he fished out two condoms from the basket sat on the bedside table. She knelt up and straddled his legs after John removed his fingers, carefully cleaning them with one of the wipes Sherlock tossed him. Then he quickly donned one of the condoms, watching eagerly as Molly began the slow, careful process of lowering herself onto Sherlock's cock.

"God, you have no idea what that does to me," he panted as Molly nodded her readiness to him. He knelt carefully in front of her, easing his cock inside her. She knew he loved how tight she felt, just as she knew he loved the feel of Sherlock's cock rubbing against his through the narrow barrier of Molly's flesh separating them. She gasped and began moving, up and down, working into a rhythm that all three could enjoy. When she felt her second orgasm building she dug her hands into John's shoulders, feeling Sherlock's fingers tightening on her hips as he helped move her into position so that when she came she would achieve the maximum pleasure.

After coming, she'd eased herself away from the two of them, content to watch as John pressed himself deep inside Sherlock, who was stroking his own cock, head thrown back and eyes tightly shut in the pleasure of the moment. Molly had rested her head on the pillow next to his, pressing soft kisses to his shoulder, when he'd turned his head and blindly sought her mouth with his. Their kisses had been urgent, passionate, their tongues tangling and teeth clacking as Sherlock reached his peak; he'd removed his condom and came over his stomach and hand, John following not long after with a string of muffled curses as he laid his head on Sherlock's shoulder opposite Molly.

They'd remained in bed, naked, tangled in one another's embrace until the sound of Daisy stirring had come over the baby monitor. John had jumped up and thrown on his clothes, allowing Sherlock and Molly a few extra minutes of cuddling, and then it had been back to being parents and friends as well as lovers.

"Daisy, love, you are the luckiest little girl in the world," Molly advised her daughter as she finally lifted her from the tub and started toweling her off with one of her cheerful yellow duckie towels.

"Daisy lucky," she echoed her mother, cheeks pink, hair disordered and damp, eyes glowing happily. "Lucky Daisy. Luv you, Mummy!"

Molly felt tears prickling in the corners of her eyes; impulsively she swept her still-wet daughter up into her arms and hugged her. "Mummy loves you too, sweetheart. So very, very much."

"And so does Daddy, and so does Daddy John," came an unexpected, but not unwelcome, voice from the door to the bathroom. Molly looked up and smiled at Sherlock as he joined them, kneeling down and taking an excitedly-squealing Daisy into his arms for a warm hug. He leaned over and kissed Molly softly on the lips. "Happy Daisy's birthday, Molly."

"Happy Daisy's birthday to you too, Sherlock," she replied, then added as she glanced up: "And happy Daisy's birthday to you too, John."

He had taken Sherlock's place in the bathroom door, a Tesco's bag in one hand and the paper sack holding the balloon animal kit in the other. He set them down and squeezed his way into the small room, taking his turn to hug Daisy and plant noisy kisses on her cheeks as she laughed and squirmed, loving all the attention. "Daisy luv Mummy, Daisy luv Daddy, Daisy luv Daddy John!" she crowed. "Daisy luv you all!"

Molly's heart fell full to bursting; how had she managed to end up with such a perfect life, after everything that had gone wrong after her daughter's birth? Then she looked at Sherlock and John, laughing and tickling Daisy under the chin, exchanging kisses with one another, and finally felt the last inhibition, the last fear, releasing itself.

"John," she said softly as Sherlock lifted Daisy up and began to finish the drying-up process. He gave her an inquiring look; Molly leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "How do you feel about not wearing a condom the next time we make love? And maybe helping remove my implant?"

He stared at her, looking shocked, but then a huge grin broke out on his face and he pulled her to him for an enthusiastic kiss. "You hear that, Sherlock?" he said. "Maybe our Daisy will be getting a new little brother or sister soon!"

"Yes, John, I heard," Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes while at the same time carefully dressing Daisy in her party dress, which Molly had laid on the edge of the sink. "Do try not to gloat too much the next time we have sex, hmm?"

Then Molly chastised him for talking like that in front of someone who was getting to the age of repeating things adults would rather they didn't, and John informed him he was just jealous, and their good-natured bickering continued until the guests finally arrived.

Yes, Molly thought contentedly as she helped Daisy blow out the single, oversized candle on her cake, life might have had its rough patches – and no doubt would again in future – but all in all, she was happy.

And so very, very lucky.