"Why, dad? Why me?" Hamish asked innocently. "Is it because mummy was ill when I was born? Mummy told me she was ill when I was a very little baby inside her tummy."

"What else did she tell you?"

"That I was born early cos she was ill and that I was sooooo little that that's why I can't hear well too," Hamish explained innocently. "Mummy said it was her fault cos she couldn't protect me when I was inside her tummy," Hamish smiled and Sherlock, and anyone, could have seen the sadness behind his eyes, inside him. "But I love mummy and I know it wasn't her fault that I'm a retarded and deaf too."

Sherlock felt like dying. He felt so guilty, so guilty because he knew that what he did to Jane years ago did not only affect her but Hamish as well. Hamish was suffering the consequences and Sherlock knew it.

"Daddy?" Locky asked innocently and pointed at the front door.

Hamish patted his little brother's dark curly head. "Dad will come soon," the six year old turned to the telly. "Look, Locky! It's The Doctor!"

Both children were sitting together in the living room, watching their Doctor Who DVD's and waiting for their daddy to pick them up when Sophie woke up after hearing the boys' voices.

"Boys, remember Sophie's sleeping!"

Jane was in the kitchen reading the papers Matthew left before going to Dublin to a medical conference. Their solicitor had already prepared Sophie's adoption papers when Jane's situation arose: she was still married to Sherlock. When Matthew suggested getting married, and knowing which was Jane's situation, their solicitor reminded that, to the laws of the country, she was still married to Sherlock and therefore, she still was Jane Watson Holmes.

Matthew insisted he wanted to adopt Sophie with Jane. The doctor didn't want to be he the one adopting Sophie alone. The doctor didn't want Jane to be the one adopting Sophie. Matthew Morstan wanted to get married and then adopt Sophia together.

And Jane was at a crossroads: she wanted Sophie, but she didn't want to get married. She was fine with her current situation, with Matthew and her being boyfriends, parters living together. She didn't want to be living with Matthew when she was still married to Sherlock. Jane wanted to divorce Sherlock and start a new life.

Even when it hurt her.

When years ago she conceived of a life with Sherlock, having babies, raising their children, then seeing their sons growing up and then growing old with him... Jane always wanted to have a life with Sherlock. Because she loved him. But Sherlock 'died', he disappeared from her life and then all those dreams Jane had within her vanished in the air. When Sherlock 'died', he took Jane's heart, her dreams, her hopes, her love. Suddenly Jane was empty. So when Matthew appeared, Jane felt happy again. She felt human again. She felt she could love again.

Jane believed she couldn't love Sherlock again. The Sherlock that had come back after three years was not the same Sherlock she had loved.

It was better to finish this.

When the door bell rang and the boys ran to the door, Jane didn't know what to do, how she would tell Sherlock she wanted the divorce.

Jane waited a few minutes in the kitchen. She placed the papers into a big envelope and left it on the kitchen table.

She was not ready to say it yet.

Sherlock didn't look at her and continued helping Locky with his little coat when Jane stepped into the living room. Sherlock said nothing. His long, pale fingers were tangled and struggling with Locky's little coat buttons while Hamish had already put his own coat on and was asking his daddy to hurry up because he wanted to go to Baker Street and see Nan Hudson.

"Hello."

The detective didn't say it back and Jane was, somehow, not surprised at all. Not surprised to hear only silence as an answer.

"Thanks for coming earlier."

Sherlock said nothing.

Jane had called him and asked him if he could pick them up earlier. She never mentioned it was because she wanted to talk to him, because she needed to give him the papers to sign and fill in to start the divorce process. Sherlock agreed to pick the boys earlier anyway.

Sophie started to whimper in her cot and Jane went over and picked her up in her arms. She noticed Sherlock's eyes on her, but Jane didn't care any more. She used to feel uncomfortable while feeling his eyes on her, scanning her body, looking for clues to deduce what he didn't want to ask.

Jane tried to make Sophie stop crying, but apparently she was hungry and she was crying asking for a bottle.

"Hamish, can you go and get me Sophie's bottle please? It's in the kitchen."

"Yes, mummy."

Jane turned to Sherlock, to hand him the little bag with the children's toys when Sophie's towel fell to the floor. Strangely, Sherlock didn't move and Jane bit her lip. She knelt down just a bit, shifting Sophie in her arms and picked up the towel.

Sherlock noticed Jane bite back a yelp when she bent down to pick up the baby's towel off the floor. Hamish was back just a few seconds later with a bottle.

"Are you ready?"

Both children nodded eagerly.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to pack their cups -"

"I've told you I got them everything for when they stay with me," Sherlock said sharply.

Jane took the keys from walked to the front door, swallowing her tears and still holding Sophie in her arms, trying to make her stop crying. "Remember to check Hamish's temperature -"

"I know."

Jane said nothing else.

"Good bye, mummy," Hamish said, kissing Jane's cheek.

Locky kissed his mummy too. "Bye mummy."

"Good bye. Be good boys this weekend, okay?"

"'K," Hamish waved his hand in farewell. "Get better, mummy."

Sherlock said nothing. He took his children's hands and got them into a cab.

It was a cold afternoon, so instead of taking them to the park, Sherlock took the boys straight to Baker Street. Sherlock looked at Hamish's large collection of DVD's: there were some superhero and Disney films and he even recognised Jane's old Doctor Who DVD's too. The detective immediately knew it was going to be a weekend of watching films.

And it eventually happened.

Apparently both children's favourite film was Thor and their favourite character was a blond man very fond of his hammer and who apparently wanted to be a King. Sherlock already knew the lines by heart, they had seen the film he previous weekend, but he enjoyed sitting on the sofa for two hours with both of his children curled next to him.

For tea, Mrs Hudson helped him preparing the boy's milk and baking sponge cake. While Sherlock was bottle feeding Locky, Mrs Hudson told Hamish stories of when he was very little. In most of them the landlady told Hamish about the time he said his first word during his first birthday party or when he started teething.

"How's your mummy, Hamish? It's been days since I last saw her," Mrs Hudson said casually while sitting next to the boys on the sofa.

"Mummy's sick."

"Oh. Is she okay?"

Hamish shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. She doesn't play with us and she stays in bed all the time."

"Did she go to the doctor?" Mrs Hudson asked worriedly.

"Yep."

From his chair, Sherlock heard the whole conversation but remained silent.

"Is she okay now?"

Hamish hesitated. "I think so. Matt used his special thing to listen to mummy's heart before leaving and he said she was fine."

The detective remembered how pale Jane looked when he went to her house to pick up his children. She had dark bags under her eyes and her usually pink lips were white. She was wearing a baggy jumper that only made her look very thin and it was obvious she had lost weight and that she was clearly in pain.

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish shifted on his spot on the sofa. "Can I call mummy, please?"

"Why? You have just seen her."

"Yeah," Hamish hesitated for a moment. "But I wanna talk to her. Please?"

Sherlock didn't hesitate. He was aware of how close both of their children were to Jane. Neither Hamish nor Locky never called him during the week, and Sherlock knew it was because he was still a stranger to them and because they were still bonding, that they needed more time to be as close as they were with Jane. Besides, Sherlock knew Jane would never forbid their children from calling him or seeing him. So the detective dialled Jane's number and handed Hamish the phone.

"Mummy?... yes, I'm fine... are you okay, mummy?... You sure?... okay... I love you too, mummy... bye." Hamish handed Sherlock the phone back. "Mummy says she wants to talk to you."

Sherlock went to his room and closed the door before pressing the phone to his ear.

"Yes?"

"Sherlock? I've just wanted to tell you that I'll pick them up on Sunday but a bit earlier."

The detective sat on his bed. "Why?"

"We need to talk."

"There's nothing I have to discuss with you."

"But I do."

Sherlock ran a hand over his curls. "Fine."

When Sherlock returned to the living room, he found Locky playing with his toys on the floor and Hamish sitting on the sofa, his legs glued to his chest, trying to hide his face from anyone.

The detective sat next to his eldest son and focused on the mop of fair wavy hair that Sherlock remembered used to be wild curls like his, but golden. But now Hamish looked more and more like Jane.

"You want to go with her," Sherlock stated.

"Mummy said she was better," Hamish said, with little tears in his eyes.

Sherlock frowned. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't wanna mummy to die."

The detective didn't know why seeing his eldest son crying, thinking Jane could die, broke his heart. Sherlock held Hamish in his arms and kissed his tears. "Don't cry," Sherlock said softly. "She will not die."

"How d'you know?"

"Jane is very strong. You don't remember this because you were very little, but when Jane was pregnant and expecting Locky, she was ill," Sherlock said, remembering that moment when Jane collapsed and she almost lost Locky. "And she almost lost your brother."

Hamish's eyes widened. "Really?"

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. But she was so strong that nothing happened to your brother."

"So... mummy's not gonna die, right?"

"No," Sherlock's eyes fell on Locky who was happily playing with his toys. "Jane is very strong. I know she is."

The following morning Sherlock woke up feeling his youngest son's little hands patting his back, trying to wake him up to prepare breakfast. Sherlock of course got up and prepared Locky his bottle, Hamish's his milk and he drank some tea.

As the day was sunny and not as cold as it had been the previous day, Sherlock decided to take the boys to the park.

"Dad? Can we play with those boys?" Hamish asked pointing to a group of little boys kicking a ball. "Please?"

"Okay, but stay close were I can see you."

Sherlock sat on one bench at the park and pulled out his phone and started typing texts. He had got a few domestic cases and Lestrade had called him early to ask him if he could go to the Yard on Monday. Little by little Sherlock was going back to his life and going back to work too. As he had been rectified as a true genius and not a 'fake', Sherlock had got several calls from people all around the country requesting his services. Sherlock rejected lots and accepted a few, just the ones that really caught his attention and that would allow him to keep a low profile and stay away from the spot light.

"Hello."

Sherlock raised his gaze and looked at the woman standing in front of him.

It was Molly Hopper.

"Molly."

"Is this seat taken?" Molly asked, pointing at the empty place next to Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head. "Obviously not."

Molly sat next to him, awkwardly, and soon her eyes fell on the boys playing a few metres away from them. "Good day to bring the kids, uh?"

"Hmm."

A long silence fell upon them. Molly's eyes were on the boys she knew were Sherlock's children, happily kicking a ball with another three kids a few metres away from them. Molly couldn't help but feel amazed by how alike Sherlock's little son was to his daddy. That little boy who could hardly run after a ball had dark, very dark and curly hair, pale skin, pink full lips and the strangest eyes she had ever seen. However, the eldest boy Molly knew was called Hamish, looked a lot like Jane. He had fair, wavy hair and blue eyes. His skin was slightly tanned, not so pale like the little brother and he was little too be a six year old boy while Sherlock's youngest son was taller to be a two year old.

"Do you know him?" Sherlock asked after a long moment of silence, his eyes focused on his children.

"Who?"

"Jane's new partner."

Molly nodded softly. "Doctor Morstan? Yes. Well... I've just heard his name a couple of times -"

"She introduced him to you," Sherlock said, cutting Molly off.

"Yeah. I ran into them once and she introduced us," Molly said remembering seeing Jane holding Doctor Morstan's hand. "He's nice."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock."

"You told me so, remember?," Sherlock said, bitterly. "You said she would never forgive me."

Molly said nothing, but she remembered telling Sherlock he had to find another way to save Jane and his children. That it was going to be too much for Jane to handle; she was pregnant and very close to give birth to their child. Molly warned Sherlock Jane was going to be not only devastated but sad and angry as well. But Molly never thought Jane would find a new love, someone else who was not Sherlock Holmes.

"I saw her early this morning," Molly almost whispered. "She looked sad."

Sherlock frowned. "At Bart's?"

Molly nodded. "In one of the hospital corridors."

"Hamish said she was ill."

The fair haired woman got to her feet. "I'd better be going. Good bye, Sherlock."

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For keeping my secret," Sherlock said softly, with his eyes on his children. "For helping me to save my family."

Molly smiled fondly at the detective. "I'm very happy you are back to your children, Sherlock."

Sherlock said nothing and watched Molly walking away.

"And now what?"

Sherlock sat Hamish on his lap and showed him the microscope. "See that? Those are blood cells."

"Whoa!"

The detective smiled.

"You're so so so clever! I wanna be clever like you when I grow up!"

Sherlock's eyes focused on Locky, who preferred to play with his own toys in the living room and then he kissed his son's fair hair. "You are already very clever."

Hamish rested his head on Sherlock's chest. "I'm not. I'm a retarded and deaf too."

Sherlock frowned and looked down at his son. "Why you say that?"

"Cos it's the truth, dad."

"Who told you so?"

"No one. But I know I am. The teacher exlains things twice or three times because of me," Hamish said casually. "All my friends can read pretty fast and they know lots of numbers and I don't." Hamish smiled to his daddy, as if everything he had just said was normal. "Marty says I don't look like a retarded. And mummy and Matt say I'm clever but I know I'm not."

"You're not a 'retarded'."

Hamish's eyes showed the sadness he had inside. "Mummy says it's a lot not good to tell lies, daddy."

"Has your mother ever called you 'retarded'?"

"No. She says I'm not but I know she only says that cos she loves me," Hamish said softly.

Sherlock kissed Hamish's pink cheek. "I love you too. But we're not telling you a lie. It's the truth," the detective held his son's little hands. "You're not a retarded."

"Then why I can't be like Marty or Julie? Or Nicki or Ben? They know lots and they are very clever!"

"Because it takes time," Sherlock explained. "Some individuals can acquire knowledge more faster than others."

Hamish frowned. "What?"

"Some people learn things faster than others."

"Oh," the little boys seemed to consider this for a moment. "Mummy said somethin' like that. She said she could ride a bike when she was ten years old!"

Sherlock looked away. "You are not different from the others. You are special."

"Why?"

"Because you are my son."

"But why, dad? Why me?" Hamish asked innocently. "Is it because mummy was ill when I was born?"

Sherlock froze.

"Mummy told me she was ill when I was a very little baby inside her tummy."

"What else did she tell you?"

"That I was born early cause she was ill and that I was sooooo little that that's why I can't hear well too," Hamish explained innocently. "Mummy said it was her fault cos she couldn't protect me when I was inside her tummy," Hamish smiled and Sherlock, and anyone, could have seen the sadness behind his eyes, inside him. "But I love mummy and I know it wasn't her fault that I'm a retarded and deaf too."

Sherlock felt like dying. He felt so guilty, so guilty because he knew that what he did to Jane years ago did not only affect her but Hamish as well. Hamish was suffering the consequences and Sherlock knew it.

Now that Sherlock was sitting with his six year old son, now that he was seeing how he struggled with learning new things, how he pressed his hand to his hearing aid... that was the moment when Sherlock realised that that night he did not only hurt Jane but her own son as well.

Hamish was the one suffering the consequences. And everything because of his addition.

Jane got better, she healed. Both healed.

But Hamish would always suffer the consequences.

Always.

"It wasn't your mother's fault. She did the impossible to protect you, I know it," Sherlock said, caressing his son's fair hair. "There are things I can't tell you now. Things I'm not proud of. Things that I wish I hadn't done," the detective said with little tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Hamish. I'm so sorry."

Hamish hugged his daddy. "Are you sad, daddy?"

Sherlock nodded.

"Why?"

"Because of things I did and I wish I hadn't."

"Matt says that when we're sad we have to think in the people we love," Hamish said softly. "Sometimes when he's sad cos he remembers his children he says he thinks in mummy and in Locky and in me and in Sophie and the sadness goes away!"

Sherlock faked a smile. "I'll think in you and in Locky then."

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish buried his face into the detective's chest. "I love you. I'm glad you're alive. Cos now I can be with you. An' I don't have to tell Locky stories 'baut you any more."

"I love you too, Hamish. With all my heart."

Locky and Hamish were crazy after watching Iron Man 3. Sherlock still couldn't understand why children found that character so 'amazing'. But he managed to see the whole film sitting between his children when the whole room was full of children of all sorts of ages, from little children like Locky to teenagers and even adults!

"Dad?"

"Hmm?"

Hamish held Sherlock's hand tightly whilst the detective was carrying Locky in his arms and hailing a cab all at the same time. "You're very clever like Tony Stark. Can you build a magic suit like his?"

"No. That's surreal, science fiction, Hamish. Made for a film."

Once they were back to Baker Street, Sherlock helped the boys to pack their toys and their DVD's. Well, he helped Hamish to pack everything because Locky refused to help and sat on one of the armchairs. This made Sherlock see how his children were: Hamish liked to cooperate, talk lots and he was a very lively child while Locky preferred to play with his toys and leave them there on the floor, he never liked to talk, or at least that's what Sherlock had seen and he was very quiet.

When the doorbell rang and Mrs Hudson opened the front door, the boys were already waiting for her in the living room, sitting together on the sofa while Sherlock stood close by the fireplace.

"Hello mummy!" Hamish ran to Jane and hugged her tightly. "I missed you! Are you better?"

"Hello big poppet. Yes, I'm better, thank you. I missed you too, you know," Jane smiled at him and hugged Locky. "Did you have fun?"

"Yes! We went to the park and Nan baked a chocolate cake and we went to the cinema and we watched Iron Man 3!"

Jane smiled. "Was it good? You think I should go and watch it?"

"Yes! Can we go again, mummy?"

"We'll see... why don't you go downstairs and stay with your Nan for a bit? Sophie is downstairs too and she missed you."

The boys didn't argue and went downstairs as Jane had told them to.

Sherlock's eyes scanned Jane from head to toes, trying to deduce, trying to find out what she wanted to discuss with him. Jane was wearing a pair of blue jeans, flat shoes and baggy jumper. There was a pink blush on her cheeks and she looked better than she did two days ago.

Jane's eyes were on Sherlock.

"Well?" The detective said and sat on his chair. "You said there was something you wanted to talk about."

"May I?"

Sherlock nodded.

Jane sat on what used to be her old chair and opened her handbag. She placed a brownish envelope over her lap before handing it to Sherlock. "I need you to sign these," Jane looked how Sherlock opened the envelope and faced the papers.

She bit her lip in anticipation.

Sherlock's eyes focused on the first paper.

It was a divorce file.

Jane was asking him to sign a divorce petition.

Jane wanted the divorce.

The detective felt his heart pounding hard inside his chest. He showed no emotion whatsoever, but Sherlock was dying inside. He looked at the papers one by one and all of them were correct. Jane was stating they had lived apart for more than two years as the main cause of the divorce. The papers about his name, his address... everything was correct. There were several papers that included Hamish's school fee, about both boys' maintenance and there were forms to fill in about the childcare and with whom the boys were going to live with.

No.

"I've only included Hamish's school and Locky will start nursery soon," Jane said, nervously. "I'm not asking you for more money than for their education," Sherlock's eyes were on hers. "I know that the country house has been given to both of us when we got married, so I'm willing to resign to my rights over that property and over all those that belong to you."

"You've been advised."

She nodded. "We didn't sign any agreement when we got married so -"

"You want nothing in the process of diving the assets."

"Exactly. I don't want anything."

Sherlock shifted on his chair. He put the papers back into the envelope and, with a quick movement, he threw them to the fireplace, where they burnt. The edges curled and soon the white paper turned yellowish and then black, until it was nothing but ashes. Jane's eyes were as wide as saucers. She didn't know what to say for a moment. How to react. What to do.

Jane gasped in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"I won't sign them."

"But -"

"I won't. You can beg, cry, do whatever you want. I won't sign them," Sherlock said sharply.

Tears started to fill Jane's eyes. "Why?"

"Because I don't want a divorce," the detective said as a matter-of-fact. "You are my wife and you belong to me. It seems you hit your head and forgot that," Sherlock said angrily, cruelly. "Now that you want to marry him you remember to whom you belong?"

Jane swallowed some tears. "I don't belong to anyone. I'm not an object."

"You're my wife," Sherlock said standing up and practically yelling at her. "You're my wife and you belong to me. I won't give you the divorce so you can marry him."

"You don't understand," Jane said. It was almost a whisper compared to Sherlock's shouting. "I don't want to get married. I want to adopt -"

"You don't want that baby. She's your excuse. And you know it. You're so pathetic."

Sherlock's words broke Jane's heart. And for a moment, she felt she could collapse at any minute.

Jane got to her feet. "Shut up."

"Do you really think I don't know what you feel?" Sherlock said to her ear. "Or what you think? I know you think of me when you're with him."

"Shut up," Jane insisted.

But Sherlock was far from shutting up. "I know he can't make you feel like I did, or can he?" Sherlock walked a step forward close to her. "You don't love him. You never did. Why are you with him then? Oh, is it because he pleases you?"

"Sherlock, please. Shut up."

"You needed someone who would please your needs, didn't you?" Sherlock smiled darkly. "You're using him. Just like you used me to fill in the empty space Sam Sawyer left in your bed. Am I wrong?"

Jane tried to step back, but Sherlock's grabbed her forearm to pull her closer and Jane knew he wasn't going to let go of her, so she looked away so that way she wouldn't face Sherlock and his madness, his cold, cruel eyes. And tears rolled down her face. "Sherlock, please, stop it."

Sherlock looked at her form head to toes and deduced all he needed to know. "All those medical appointments, your 'illness', the pain...," that was the moment when realisation hit Sherlock like a brick. "You had an abortion. You killed his child."

Jane remained silent. But the tears were endlessly rolling down her face.

Sherlock leaned close to whisper to her ear. "That's better, isn't it? Because I won't raise his child once you're back to me."

Jane couldn't stop thinking in all the things Sherlock said, because all those words felt like knives stabbing her heart. Almost like bullets going through her chest, taking her life. Jane felt like dying and if she ever considered she could go back to Sherlock, now Jane was sure there was nothing for them.

Now Jane was convinced they will never get back together.

"How can you be so heartless?" Jane whispered, turning so she would see Sherlock in the eye. And their faces were mere inches apart.

When the detective saw the tears in her face, he realised what he had just said, how much damage he had caused and how much he had just hurt the woman he loved with all his heart.

Sherlock let go of her arm . And everything felt like a nightmare. Sherlock needed to know it was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, a bad dream. Because suddenly, they were standing in the same place where more than six years ago, he had hurt Jane for the first time. In the most unforgivable way a man can possibly hurt a woman.

"I never used you..." Jane murmured. "I loved you with all my heart," she closed her eyes and endless tears rolled down her face. "Did our love really mean that little to you?"

The detective remained silent. But there were little tears in his eyes.

And that was the moment when, seeing the tears in Jane's eyes and her hand in her flat stomach, that was the moment when Sherlock realised he had made a huge mistake. Probably one of the worst mistakes he had done.

"I didn't have an abortion - I didn't kill my baby. I had a miscarriage," She closed her eyes and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. "We weren't looking... it was an accident... I didn't want to get pregnant... but I lost it. And you know what?"

Sherlock remained silent. He was speechless.

"I can't have babies, Sherlock," Jane smiled at Sherlock bitterly. "You get off with this. Hitting me wasn't enough, was it?"

People say you don't know what you got until it's gone. Sometimes forgiveness is granted to us easily. Sometimes we don't think in our actions, and we are forgiven. Sometimes we make the same mistake over and over and in the same way we made those mistakes, in that same way the affected by our actions forgive us.

There's a moment in which the person affected by our actions, after forgiving and forgiving, they start to blame themselves.

When Sherlock started taking cocaine and hurting Jane, it started with a shout. Then there was more shouting and shouting until one day the physical abuse started. Jane blamed herself after each shout and until she almost lost her son and died.

Jane always forgave Sherlock because the love they had was stronger than anything else in the world.

But now Jane was done.

And this time Jane knew she couldn't forgive any more.

"Jane..." Sherlock tried to reach out her hand, but Jane walked backwards. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"

"You didn't mean to hurt me again?" Jane asked sarcastically.

"Jane, I'm sorry," insisted Sherlock. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I love you. Please love, come back to me," he circled her waist with his arms and tried to kiss her, but she moved her head away. "I love you."

"I don't love you any more."

Sherlock froze.

"I'm done, Sherlock. I really wanted us to be... to have a good relationship - for our children. For Locky and Hamish. But I can't do this," Jane looked at the light bruises in her arm. "I don't care what you think or say about me. If you want to go and tell everyone about this, go. I don't care any more."

"He doesn't know - you didn't tell him about the miscarriage," Sherlock whispered. "Why?"

Jane cried again. "It was the size of a pea. We doctors don't even consider it a baby," Jane whispered. "But it was a baby. It was my baby."

He embraced her and pressed a hand to her flat stomach. Both remembered when Jane was pregnant for the first time, expecting Hamish. And then when they were trying for a baby, those long nights when Jane cried after a negative pregnancy test and when she was pregnant again, expecting Locky.

If there had been a wall between them, now there was an entire ocean. And ocean impossible to cross. No matter how hard they tried.

Jane stepped back to get off Sherlock's touch. "Don't touch me!" Jane said hoarsely, still hurt by Sherlock's words. "You once said Sam was a coward for all the things he said, for the things he did. But look at yourself now, you're just like him."

Tears rolled down Sherlock's face. "I'm not like him! I love you!"

Jane picked up her handbag and called her children to come upstairs and say goodbye to their father.

"One last thing: I'm tired of you saying I did nothing while you fought Moriarty's men," Jane said angrily, pointing at Sherlock's chest with her index finger after every word. "You don't know what I had to go through and how hard was to raise two children alone."

The detective said nothing.

"I'll let you see them because I know you care about them. But listen to me, and listen to me carefully," Jane said quietly, yet angrily. "Don't you dare to hurt them," She looked at him straight in the eye. "I swear on my children that if you ever hurt them, I'll kill you. I don't care what you do to me, what you say about me, but just one tear Sherlock... and I'll tear you limb from limb."

"Mum?" Hamish and Locky were in the living room, each with their little bags. "Mummy, are you crying?"

Jane turned to her children. "Yes."

"Are you sad?" Hamish walked towards her and rested his head on Jane's stomach. "Does your tummy hurt, mummy?"

Jane looked away and wiped the tears off her face. "Say good bye to your father."

Jane went downstairs to pick up Sophia. Locky was the first hugging Sherlock. Then, Hamish threw his arms around the detective's neck. "Dad, why's mummy sad?"

Sherlock kissed his son's forehead. "Be a good boy, son. I'll see you next Friday, okay?"

"Okay," Hamish said a bit sad. "Bye, dad."

Sherlock watched Jane and his children getting into a cab and leaving. He just wished he could have some cocaine to forget all the things he had said, all the damage he had caused.

And how much he had hurt Jane, the woman he loved with all his heart.