A/N: Hello again! I wanted to update as fast as I could because of the amount of screaming reviews I had. I love you all, seriously. I want to thank each one of you individually and give you all internet baked goods, but I don't have anywhere near that kind of time so just know, each one of you inspired me to keep writing today. :)

I hope you're prepared for this one. R&R

Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own them.

In retrospect, Molly thought perhaps she should have been sedated. She was feeling numb from the chest down but she could still vaguely sense pressure and hear the scapels against her skin. For once in her life she hated that she graduated medical school, the jargon being thrown around by the surgeons was like a second language as they called out orders to each other, arm deep in her belly.

"Your husband's on his way in, love," the slightly plump anesthesiologist murmured from beside her.

"My what?" Molly's brow furrowed.

"Your. Husband." she enunciated and patted her shoulder gently, "He shouldn't be long,"

Molly's mouth hung open like a gasping fish but she kept silent and waited.

"You're going to have to cut deeper than that," she heard one of the surgeons instruct.

Molly cringed but her eyes popped open again once the doors behind her shuttered open and a warm hand entwined with hers.

"Finally," she gripped Sherlock's hand with a fury as he took the stool by her head and trained his eyes on the surgeons work.

"It's a clean cut, Molly," he murmured to her, "everything looks alright," his eyes flicked up to the heartbeat monitor on the baby that was slowly taking a downward turn.

Molly turned her head slightly to look up at him and he glanced down, remembering his plan and noiselessly slipping Mary's ring from his pocket to Molly's ring finger. He gave a small shake of his head for her to stay quiet about it and she nodded.

"Fetal heartbeat dropping," Both of their heads snapped forwards and Sherlock stiffened.

"Alright people, let's move a little faster," the lead surgeon announced and Molly's eyes slipped closed, concentrating on a prayer she hadn't thought of since she was a child.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and realised Sherlock was just as desperate as she was, only he had nothing to pray to. She looked up at him, "She'll be okay,"

"Of course she will," he dismissed the sentiment sharply and kept his eyes locked on the surgeon's hands.

"There she is, get her to the table," One of the surgeons said.

Sherlock watched as his daughter was lifted from Molly, his blood running cold as he took in her slightly blue pallor.

"Can you see her?" Molly asked up to him, hope filling her eyes.

"Yes," his voice came out weaker than he intended.

"Why... why isn't she crying?" Molly craned her neck to see but couldn't manage it.

He opened his mouth to speak but couldn't, his eyes still locked on the doctors that were giving his child infant CPR and clearing her airway. It felt like hours that he watched and Molly waited, whispering her prayer and holding back the flood of tears.

A choking infant sob ripped through the operating theater and the air left their lungs. "She's okay? She's alright?" Molly said frantically.

"She's pinkening up," one of the doctors said, "let's get her to the ICU,"

"Go with her," Molly said, looking up at Sherlock.

"I shouldn't leave you," he confessed and Molly was startled by the emotions she saw across his face.

"I need you to go with her," she gripped his hand, "I can't so you have to,"

Sherlock nodded and swallowed, kissing her forehead and squeezing her hand one more time before rising from the stool.

"She's still losing blood, giving me more packing," Sherlock watched as one of the surgeons pressed gauze and packing into Molly. His eyes glanced over the floor around them, it didn't look like any crime scene he had ever seen before but the amount of blood was the same. The floor was littered with a disturbing array of red rags and gruesome medical supplies as they rushed to put Molly back together.

Part of him couldn't leave her but she looked up at him with a stoic expression, "Go,"

He gave her one more nod and departed, tearing off the scrub cap as he followed his daughter's cart down the hall to the ICU.

As Sherlock left Molly felt a weight descending on her chest and the need to cry grow stronger but she kept composure, her fingernails digging into her palms as she listened to the doctors work and tried to keep calm.

"The sutures aren't holding," said one.

"We'll keep packing," said another.

"She keeps losing blood," Molly registered this in the way her head felt heavy.

"I need more packing!"

"Order some more units from the blood bank, as quick as possible,"

"We can't keep packing, she's losing more than we can replace,"

Faintly Molly could hear the sound of an extending beep and her eyes started to slip closed.

!=!=!+!=!=!

John and Mary were sitting in the waiting room, hands clasped together and tapping nervously.

Mary could see it best to stay quiet, John's mind was going a mile a minute and it was obvious he needed all of this to be over.

The hospital doors opened loudly and they both swiveled to look as a team of doctors rushed past them followed up by a serious looking man with an umbrella.

"Mycroft!" John jumped to his feet, "What...?"

"Sherlock called me, said he needed the best doctors I could find," Mycroft nodded and watched as his team waved credentials at the hospital staff and made their way back to surgery.

"She's in good hands now," John nodded, "she'll be just fine now,"

"Yes, I should hope so." Mycroft hummed, "their deaths would surely be a tragedy for my little brother,"

John would have bit back a reply at the condescending tone but caught the sincerity in his eyes and thought better of it.

A nurse came to find them then, "Are you John Watson?"

"Yes,"

"Sherlock Holmes said to come and find you, bring you back to see his daughter," she said, waving them to follow.

A smile spread across John's face, "She's alright!"

The nurse nodded but said nothing more as she led them through the halls. As they turned the corner John saw him, standing at the wide window with his hand against the glass, his shoulders slumped forwards and his head slightly bowed.

John murmured quickly to Mary and Mycroft, "Let me go first,"

They nodded silently and watched as the army doctor took a deep breath and made the long walk down the bright hall to his best friend. As he approached he gazed through the window and instantly caught sight of the little girl he would one day call his god-daughter. Her bright curious eyes and dark curls were so clearly Sherlock and her delicate face shape and skin tone reflected Molly perfectly.

"She looks like you both," John began, pressing a warm hand to his friend's shoulder.

"John," Sherlock started and John felt a chill across his spine at a voice he hadn't heard since their final conversation the day of the fall.

"They're both going to be just fine," John murmured and gestured to the infant through the glass, "they'll keep her for observation for a day or two and then you'll all be able to go home,"

"There's a chance Molly won't make it," Sherlock's voice was grave, "as I was leaving I saw the amount of blood she'd lost and her heartrate... she asked me to go with the baby." After a beat he mumurmured, "I left her there, John. Why did I leave her there?"

John sighed and gripped Sherlock's shoulder, "Because she asked you and you were following her wishes. I won't lie to you about her odds because you know them already but you're focusing the worst case scenario and we both know Molly wouldn't go out without a fight. She's small but she's determined and there's no way she would leave either of you,"

Sherlock's eyes slipped closed and and his hand slipped from the glass to lean against the ledge before him, "She can't leave," Sherlock murmured, "I need her here,"

"It's okay to worry," John turned to him, "but Mycroft's doctors are here and are with her now,"

When Sherlock didn't respond John looked back to the baby, "The doctors said she'll be alright though, yeah?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded, "they want to keep her under observation like you suggested, ensure that the lack of oxygen had no lasting effects,"

"I'm sure they'll both be fine," John echoed.

"There's no one I can kill, no one I can blame for this," Sherlock's voice was darkening.

"What?"

"When Molly was attacked... when that man hurt her," his jaw was clenched, "I could hurt him, I could kill him... but now theren's no one to blame and I want to hurt someone for doing this to her,"

John's eyes widened, "You killed that man who attacked her?"

"Of course I did," Sherlock scoffed, "and Lestrade knew and he said nothing so who's to blame there?"

"I just thought..." John began but decided to leave it, "Things happen Sherlock, I know you want an explanation and a puzzle to solve but sometimes things just happen. No one caused this but the doctors are going to solve it, and then you'll be able to take them home and make sure they stay safe, and happy, and loved."

"John," he nearly corrected him but as he watched his daughter through the glass, reaching out with tiny hands for some unforseen thing, he felt a change. Perhaps this sentiment he had been feeling for so long was more than affection, more than caring. For a fleeting moment he could have sworn he had just locked eyes with his daughter and in that second he decided, he loved this child.

"Mr. Holmes?" A voice beckoned from behind him.

Sherlock turned and studied the doctor before him, "Yes?"

"It's about your wife," she began before taking a step forwards and shaking her head.

A/N: BOOM. DOUBLE CLIFF HANGER.

And I'm sorry, I know you're probaby all about ready to stake me, but just trust me, bare with me, and wait until next chapter. It will all be... something.

Drop me a review, I'm almost at 500!

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