8th October 1940
The underground was crowded, sweltering and noisy. People filled every square inch of the station, children lying on spread out coats, women sitting against the wall, old men standing at the foot of the stairs and talking. A dull roar of the planes could be heard above their heads, above ground. A baby cried. The smell of makeshift tea and smoke filled the air
"This is absolutely..." Sherlock muttered under his breath, stopping as Molly gazed at him. He frowned and pulled a cigarette out of his solid silver case with shaking hands, biting down on the end of it. Molly struck a match, cupping her hand around it to make sure the draught from the tunnel didn't extinguish the flame as she lit Sherlock's cigarette for him.
"I know." She murmured, shaking the match until a thin line of smoke curled up towards the ceiling.
Sherlock drew the smoke into his lungs with a quick, deep breath. "The last time we can be together for God only knows how long..." He spat, pressing the tips of his fingers to his forehead, elbow resting on his drawn-up knee. Smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. "The last time before they send me god knows where, I'm not anywhere near and the others get sent to the bloody continent and there is none here to keep you safe..."
"Sherlock." Her tone quiet and firm as ever. Putting a hand in his bicep. "I will be fine, Greg's here too."
"It's not fair." Sherlock sulked, inhaling deeply again. "It isn't fair, and it's horrid and hateful and beastly and it's our last night together and we're in this Godforsaken place and.."
"Shut up Sherlock." She told him. "I don't want to remember you sulking."
He dropped his voice. "I want you. I want my hands on your skin, my lips against yours, I-' He broke off and brought the cigarette to his mouth, sucking in a shaking breath. He fisted his other hand in the material of his deep grey suit. Not helped by the fact that the baby was still crying. "It isn't fair!" Sherlock whispered.
"I know it isn't fair, but it is what it is and there's nothing we can do."
"I love you." Sherlock breathed, turning his head so that it appeared he was looking at the ceiling as he spoke, his mouth six inches away from Molly's ear. He pulled his huge, blue coat out from underneath himself and threw it over their legs, using the movement to shift closer to her. He ran his hand along the dirty ground until he found hers and laced their fingers together, clutching tightly, Molly squeezed back.
"I love you too. Just come back home soon."
"I'll try too. That baby is really starting to annoy me now. Where is the mother?"
"I don't know. I sounds like a cry of pain." She says, getting up.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock looks up.
"Well, you said it was annoying and it might need medical help." She pushed her way through to the crowds to find a Moses basket in the corner.
"Molly! It's got nothing..." He had noticed the crying had stopped as Molly picked it up.
"She's only a few weeks old." Molly looked over her to make sure.
Sherlock looked over to see a note amongst the few things to help look after the little girl. "Veuillez prendre soin de mon chère petite Emmeline."
"Please look after my dear little Emmeline." Molly murmured.
...
The siren wail allowed them all to resurface to see what the latest damage the German's had inflicted on the capital city. Molly and Sherlock emerged from the station, Emmeline asleep in Sherlock's arms.
"She's taken a shying to you." Molly smiled, looking up at him.
"Molly, she's a baby. I doubt that." Emmeline sucking her thumb asleep with had a tight grasp on his white shirt.
"She's still human Sherlock. She can like and dislike people."
"She can't understand it Molly." He frowned a little at her. He looked down as Emmeline opened her bright green eyes. "Look completely oblivious."
"Sherlock." She shot him a look. "Like you said, she is a baby. She is not oblivious. She recognised us as someone that would look after her. That's why she stopped crying."
"Fine, she's slightly less oblivious than Anderson."
...
Molly opens the door to 221B for Sherlock as he wanders in. "Sherlock, is that you?" Mrs Hudson cooed as she popped her head around the door.
"Yes, could you warm up some milk for us please?"
"Milk?" She asked before she noticed the bundle in his arms.
"We found her in the station. Molly insisted on looking after her."
Molly passes her a bottle as she smiles. "Good, you can't leave a baby down there. What's her name?"
"Emmeline." He murmured looking up at the clock. "Bugger, I have to go."
"Sherlock, what have I told you about your language!" Mrs Hudson gasped a little, taking the baby.
Grabbing his hat and coat from the hatstand, Sherlock pulled them on, flipping his collar up. He kissed Molly. "I love you. I'll see you soon." He picked up his suitcase, looking sadly at Molly as he kissed Mrs Hudson's Cheek.
Molly kissed Sherlock's cheek and breathed in the smell of him. "I love you too." She whispered before stepping back, brushing an piece of lint from Sherlock's suit jacket.
"You'll miss your train." Molly squeezed Sherlock's hand.
Sherlock leant in for another quick kiss, brushing their lips together once more, murmuring "I love you." Before he turned on his heel and left.
Molly watched him walk out of the door. A lump stuck in her throat. Mrs Hudson touched her shoulder. "He'll be alright, I'm sure. We need to focus on this little one more. Sherlock can look after himself."
Molly nodded and took the baby. "Come on little one."
...
Sherlock turned the corner of Baker Street when a black car pulled up again. He sighed and got in. "I have a train to catch and you know that."
"Your not catching that train. It was a ploy, so not to worry anyone."
"Your not going to. I am not infiltrating anything for you." Sherlock snapped.
"You have to." He looked at Sherlock. "You promised."
"Don't start that again Mycroft."
Mycroft sighs. "Do I have to tell our parents?"
"You wouldn't, it should compromise me and the others you've already got in there. How long?"
"As long as is needed, brother dear."