Molly woke Monday Morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She reached out, and picked it up without even checking to see who was calling.

"Hello."

"Molly, are you awake?" She sat up, hair matted sloppily against her head.

"John, Morning. Yeah, I'm awake," she said with a yawn.

"Sorry for calling so early, but they've called me into work and the Browns are still on vacation. Would you mind coming over to watch Rosie?"

Molly yawned again. "No, I don't mind." She blinked at the phone to find that it was just past eight A.M.

"Great. Thanks Molly. I'll see you soon," John said before hanging up.

When she arrived at John's house some time later wearing an old striped jumper with her hair pulled back tightly into a ponytail, he was was waiting for her. He pulled open the door at her first ring inviting her into the house. Then he took her coat and purse and hung it up on the rack.

"There's formula in the refrigerator, and some snacks for Rosie. And I've left some money on the table in case you want to order some food for yourself."

"Oh John, you don't need to..."

"It's the least that I can do for calling you out on such short notice." He tilted his head looking closely at her. "Have you done something to your hair? It looks nice."

Molly smiled reaching back to touch her hair. "It's nothing really. I just had it colored."

"It suits you."

Molly was surprised that John had noticed, because she had washed her hair over and over, brushing it straight as she tried to remove all traces of hairspray from her head. Maybe being married made a difference. Maybe he had learned how long it took to do one's hair after having lived so long with his wife, or else had he just learned that it was important to mention such things.

John smiled at her. Then his face slowly changed, and he frowned, his brows knitting together. He looked down and away as he said, "So, you and Sherlock…you've have finally hit it off. That's... great." When he lifted his head, he was smiling broadly, although the smile never quite reached his eyes. "That's really great. Sherlock deserves someone, and I know how he feels about you."

"You do?" Molly said. "How is that?"

"He loves you. I heard him say it. And when he thought you might die, he destroyed a casket with his own hands."

"A casket?"

"Yeah." John said. "I'm glad it's you he's chosen instead of... that is, you'll be good for him."

"It's really not like that, John. We haven't…."

"But, I do wonder if you've really thought this through… being with Sherlock, It's not like being with a normal bloke. That is to say, it can be dangerous being around him."

"What?"

John shook his head. "Sorry. I shouldn't have said that. Nevermind me."

"John. What is it?"

"I don't mean to interfere. It's just...I think you should be careful letting yourself fall too much into the Holmes influence. You escaped most of it when Moriarty didn't believe that Sherlock liked you, but if you are known to be dating him then you might become a target. In fact, you already have been one. Eurus Holmes was going to bomb your flat, and if she knows who you are, then others might too. Being close to Sherlock can get you all sorts of unwanted attention. It's a whole level above anything you've ever seen before. I know."

"What do you mean by 'a whole level above'?"

John shook his head "I'm sorry, Molly. I don't know what made me say that. Please just forget it. If you're happy, that's all that's important." John looked at his watch. "Sorry, I have to rush. If you take Rosie out, just text me to say where you've gone. I expect I'll be back late. Thanks again for coming on such short notice. I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, Molly. You're a lifesaver."

He grabbed his bag then, and rushed out of the door.

"No problem," she said as the door closed behind him.

Molly moved to sit on the couch, and then changed her motion to sit on a wooden chair instead. She was cramping again. Rosie sat in her little chair. She had obviously been eating. Now she wanted to get out, so Molly walked over and picked her up, bouncing her up and down on her hip.

Rosie was a beautiful baby. She had a baby's smell. Molly hugged her to her chest. She had imagined a dark haired baby, Sherlock's child. But in truth she didn't care what it looked like. She loved holding a child. She loved the thought of changing their clothes and reading to them. John had thought that she was doing him a favor, but he was doing her one. She needed this. She needed some unconditional love after all that had happened with Sherlock.

When she had first met Sherlock, she wouldn't have imagined that he would be a good father. But despite expectations, Sherlock was excellent with children. She had first seen it at the wedding. The little boy with the rings had adored him. And Sherlock loved little Rosie. He was so sweet with her. It had hurt Molly's heart to see them together when John had finally let him visit her again.

He had called Rosie 'Watson' and shook her tiny hand. That's when Molly knew that Sherlock was made to be a father. Why didn't anyone else see it? Why hadn't anyone else realized that becoming a father could end the recklessness and the loneliness that consumed Sherlock's heart. Then again, it hadn't seemed to work on John Watson. He worked and worked and left Rosie behind. Why? He could have requested time off. What was he running from?

Rosie cried out then, reaching for her rattle. Molly reached down and picked it up, wiping it on her shirt before handing it to Rosie. Such a beautiful child. She deserved a father who would spend time with her. She would get to the bottom of this. Once John came home, she would find out what was going on.

It was after eleven when John arrived home. He apologized profusely for the late hour, and offered to pay for a taxi, but Molly shook her head. She placed two short glasses on the table, filling them each with whisky before placing the bottle on the kitchen table and sitting down.

"What's this?" John asked.

"Sit down. Let's talk."

John stood behind the chair looking down at Molly. "If this is about what I said this morning, Molly, I didn't mean that. I was tired and..."

"It isn't about that. Now sit down...please."

John sat. He looked down at the glass. "I wouldn't have marked you as a whisky drinker."

"I'm not, usually, but you apparently are. I found the bottle in your cabinet."

John made a shy half grin. Then he sat down in the chair and took a drink. Sighing out loud before putting the glass down on the table with a snap. "So Molly, what's all this about?"

"I just wanted to ask you...Why are you abandoning your daughter? What do you have against Rosie?"

"I have nothing against Rosie! I haven't abandoned her.… What are you on about?"

"You're her father, her only parent now. She needs you. You are all she has of family, but you're spending all of your time at work. You are missing some of the most important days of her life. I think you're avoiding her."

"I'm not avoiding her."

"You look at her, and then look away. Do you think that she won't notice that? Children are incredibly insightful about emotions. She's lost her mother. She needs your love more than ever. You are her whole world. Why are you leaving her behind?"

John frowned. "I haven't left her. I haven't gone anywhere. I am right here."

"Yet you leave her with others for weeks at a time."

"Look, Molly. I know that you probably mean well, but you are not a parent, and you don't understand what kind of stress I'm under. It is because of Rosie that I have to be gone so often. I'm a doctor, and I have to work to support her."

"No you don't."

"Of course I do."

Molly tossed a stack of envelopes on the table bound by a rubber band. John picked them up. "What is this?"

"It was for Rosie. I suppose now that it's for you."

"What is it?"

"You don't know?"

"I don't know what?"

"About Mary's investments?"

John pulled out an envelope and opened it. He read the letter carefully. "This is a great deal of money. It's in the name of Mary and Rosie Watson. I don't understand. Where did this money come from?"

"Mary said that it was for Rosie. She said it was her inheritance, but after her parents died, she didn't want to touch it so she invested it. She didn't want to risk cutting into it when times were tight, so she had the statements sent to me since I'm Rosie's godmother. You really didn't know about it?"

"No. But then again, there were a lot of things about Mary that I never knew."

"Do you know why she shot Sherlock?"

John looked up. "Who told you about that?"

"Mrs Hudson. She thought that I already knew. Why would Mary shoot Sherlock? What had he done?"

"Nothing. Sherlock did nothing wrong."

"Then why…?"

John picked up the bottle and poured another glass downing it in one go. Then he poured another.

"John,"

"I told you, Molly. You are better off staying away from the Holmes family."

"The Holmes family? Why? Is Mary related to Sherlock?"

"No, God no. It's just… Mary lied to me."

"Lied about what?"

"Everything. Who she was, where she was born, what she used to do. Mary used to be an assassin. She did things, terrible things. Shooting Sherlock was just... falling back on old patterns. It was something she used to be good at. I shouldn't complain. I used to be a soldier."

"But you didn't hurt Sherlock."

John took another drink and his grin grew wicked. "Didn't I? Did you forget? I put him in the hospital. I hurt him bad. Mary did too, but I don't think she meant anything by it."

"She didn't mean anything by almost killing Sherlock? Why would she do that? They always seemed so friendly with each other, so comfortable. And if you knew that she shot your best friend why didn't you do anything about it?"

"What should I have done? You tell me?"

"You could have left Mary."

"And then where would Rosie be, huh? You accuse me of being a bad father, and then you suggest that I should have left my wife? Abandoning my unborn child?"

"But if she lied to you. If she endangered Sherlock."

"Do you suppose that Sherlock would have been safer if I had kicked Mary out of our house? Do you think that we could just go back to a time before I found out that I had married the wrong woman?" John took another sip. His hand shook. "Everyone always expects too much of me. I don't have all the answers. I never pretended to. Mary and Sherlock were always so clever. Do you think that I didn't know they were smarter than me? They never let me forget it!"

John had raised his voice, and Molly looked over at the door wondering if he would wake the baby.

"I'm not a genius. I'm not important. I'm a good shot, and I used to be an excellent surgeon, but truth be told I'm a rubbish GP because I just don't care enough about my patients. I don't know what Mary saw in me. I don't know why she didn't just leave when we found out who she was. No, that's a lie. I do know why. Mary stayed because she was hoping that I would forgive her… because she thought that was the kind of man I was. She urged me to forgive Sherlock because she felt that if I could forgive him, I could forgive her. And she wanted forgiveness so much, after all she'd been and done, she craved it. That's why she didn't leave. That's why she went to Sherlock's house that Christmas. She was hoping that I would forgive her."

"And did you forgive her?"

"I gave her the Christmas present she wanted, and she gave me Rosie. I don't want to give you the wrong impression. I loved Mary, I still do. But I realized that there was part of her that would never be my wife. There was part of her that was still an assassin. She never let me see her phone. Did you know that? I would offer to go and get her purse, and she would jump up and get it herself just to keep me from seeing it. I began to wonder what she was hiding from me, but it's possible that she wasn't hiding anything. It was just a habit she couldn't break. I started leaving things on my phone to see if she would read it. I flirted with other women."

Molly breathed in, surprised. John smiled and took another drink. Then his lip curved down.

"That's right, I was cheating on my assassin wife. Some part of me wanted her to find out. I think that she did. She told me that I was too good for her, that she forgave me. Although none of that mattered in the end. She died, and the woman I was cheating with was really Sherlock's sister playing a game. I should have known that nothing I did would matter. I'm like an old shoe thrown to a pack of dogs. They like to play with it. Fighting over it to prove how powerful they are, but win or lose, as a prize I'm still basically worthless."

"That's not true, John."

"Isn't it? I work hard to make money to pay for a home for my daughter, and now you tell me that I don't need to because Mary left Rosie money to support her. Money that she probably got by killing someone." He took another drink. "Did you know that Mycroft Holmes offered to pay my bills after Mary died? Fucking Mycroft Holmes felt sorry for me!

"And Sherlock. I never asked him, but I'm sure he would have offered to help her as well if I had listened to him. Sherlock never told me the whole truth either. He told me that he needed a flatmate for the money? How could that be true when he wore nine-hundred pound shirts? I hadn't lived there a week before he offered to pay for my groceries. Everything is a game with them. I just get tired sometimes of being the ball."

"John, I don't think that's the way it is at all. Not with Sherlock at least. If you only knew what he went through to keep you safe when Moriarty..."

"Perhaps, but Moriarty wouldn't even have known me if it wasn't for Sherlock. I was a pawn. I still am one. I don't want that kind of life for my daughter."

Molly took a sip of her drink. She imagined Rosie being kidnapped. Her hand shook.

"I'm sorry about the way I acted this morning, Molly. Trying to warn you off. It's really too late. You're already in. Eurus has already used you against Sherlock. But seeing how upset he was when he found out that you were in the game, it just reminded me of the difference between the way Sherlock sees you and the way he sees me."

"The difference? What difference?"

"When Sherlock jumped off the roof at Bart's hospital, he lied to me about his death, but he told you the truth. He gave you the one thing that he never gave me."

"And what is that?"

"Respect."

John finished his glass and then rose to his feet. He picked up the bottle and carried it over to the sink, putting it back in the cabinet. Then he took Molly's glass and drank the last of it before putting both glasses on the side of the sink.

"Well, if you don't mind letting yourself out, I'm going to bed. It's been a long day, and I've drunk more than enough. Goodnight, Molly." John said leaving the kitchen and heading down the hall.

"Goodnight, John."

Molly sat in silence for a long moment before gathering her things, and leaving John and Rosie alone.