The first thing Sherlock saw was a beige blur before John Watson practically crushed him into a hug before the doing the same to Molly, squeezing an "oof," from the pathologist.

"What happened? Is she alright? It's early, isn't it?" Sherlock spoke quickly, betraying his worry to his friends.

Molly grasped his hand and rubbed her thumb along his in an attempt to soothe him. "It's ok Sherlock, she's term, the baby is considered developed by 37 weeks."

"Did she just spontaneously go into labor?" he questioned the army doctor.

John nodded. "She was complaining all day of back pain. We thought it was caused by the trauma from the explosion last night so she stayed in bed all day. I guess, in a way it was because when we finally realized it was labor and came here, they said that all the stress of yesterday probably triggered the early labor."

If something goes wrong, this is all my fault.

"I've got to get back in there, or Mary will kill me." John said, starting to edge towards the doors.

"How is she?" Molly quickly asked, as John made his escape.

"In pain." John turned and fairly ran back through the double doors.

Sherlock sank into a chair in the waiting room, intending to pull Molly down into his lap but she headed over to a coffee machine and proceeded to pour them both a cup, fixing his just how he liked it. It wasn't very good, but the caffeine helped his nerves a bit, as did Molly's presence beside him and her fingers in his hair.

Finally, a couple hours later, John reappeared, a smile that could light up the city on his face. Molly had fallen asleep on Sherlock's shoulder, and he put a finger to his lips as John came into view.

"How are they?" he whispered.

John collapsed into the chair next to Sherlock and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand.

"They're good. Both good. Mary had a bit of trouble but everything turned out fine and Amanda, oh Sherlock," he paused, tears welling in his eyes, "Sherlock, Amanda is the most beautiful little girl in the world. She's perfect, absolutely perfect."

Forgetting Molly was asleep on the other side of Sherlock, John grabbed his best friend in a hug and hit Molly in the head, startling her awake. Sherlock shot him an evil glare and soothed an alarmed Molly.

"Shh, shh, it's ok. John just punched you in the head by accident. I'll kill for you later. It's ok."

Molly rubbed her face, sleepily smiling at Sherlock, then John.

"Oh, baby? Is baby here?"

Sherlock and John nodded simultaneously.

"She's here, Molly. She and Mary are both fine. Do you want to come see them?"

Molly nodded, grinning excitedly. "Oh yes, please!"

The three stood and Sherlock put his hand on the small of his girlfriend's back as John led them down the halls to Mary's room. He poked his head in first to make sure his wife was decent and then motioned for the other two to enter.

Mary was radiant, even through the exhaustion that was apparent on her face. In her arms, she held a tiny infant. Sherlock hesitated but Molly immediately went to the bedside and began cooing over little Amanda.

John clapped Sherlock on the shoulder and leaned to whisper in his ear, "Molly is gonna be a great mom one day."

Sherlock raised a startled brow at John, his eyes darting back and forth between his girlfriend and the baby who was now in her arms. Abruptly, he turned and walked out of the room.

Sherlock fully expected Molly to run after him. When fifteen minutes passed and there was no sign of her, he began to worry that perhaps he had acted hastily, leaving the hospital room. He paced the waiting room, frantic thoughts rushing through his brain.

How could I be so stupid? Molly wants a normal life, a family, a husband who can take care of her and be home for dinner. She wants that blasted cat to stay with us forever. (He didn't really hate Toby. The cat had long since claimed the upper bedroom as his and hardly left it except to eat and use his litter box.) I can't be all that for her. I'm not a good enough man. I'll never be John Watson: loving husband and father. I'm not capable of it. I'm a fucking sociopath! Oh great, I'm having a nervous breakdown. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Sherlock sighed heavily, entirely failing to notice the small woman leaning against the door frame, silently watching him. He turned, putting both hands flat against the wall and proceeded to quietly beat his head against it.

On the seventh hit, his head contacted with something that was definitely not the wall. It was warm. It was soft. It was… Molly's hand? When did she get here?

His head snapped up, and he pressed his lips together, somewhat annoyed at having been caught in such a vulnerable state of mind. He looked down at her, a bit sheepishly as he noticed that she was cross with him. Her hands were on her hips and she opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind.

Before she could get even one word out though, something snapped in Sherlock and he grabbed her, covering her mouth with his.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I won't do that again. I just panicked. I don't know how to be a father and I'm so scared I'll let you down and what if our baby is like me?" he gasped out between frantic kisses.

Molly gently pushed on his chest and he pulled back, staring down at her, wild-eyed.

"Sherlock, calm down. Why are you freaking out?" He shook his head at her, not finding words, and she smiled. "We just started dating, you silly boy. Children are the furthest thing from my mind right now. But for the record," she reached up, twirling the curls at the nape of his neck between her fingers, eliciting a shiver from him, "I think you will make a great father someday."

He gazed down at her, wanting to believe, knowing he would try if she wanted him to.

Anything for you Molly.

He let her take his hand and guide him back to the maternity room, where he greeted Mary with a kiss on the cheek and awkwardly peered down at the baby.

He had to admit, as far as babies go, Amanda was pretty cute. He was confident that he and Molly could do better though.

He gave Mary a nod of approval, accompanied with a wink and another kiss, this one on the forehead, before he straightened and grasped Molly's hand.

"We'll be going now." Hearing a tsk from her, he added, "I'm sure you are exhausted and need rest."

Mary grinned cheekily at him, obviously amused that the pathologist could make him observe social niceties, and he rolled his eyes at her.

John tells me when I mess up too. I just elect to ignore him.

He waited while Molly cooed some more at little Amanda and asked Mary about ten times if she needed them to bring her anything when they came to visit the next day.

Just as they were set to leave, a nurse entered with an enormous flower arrangement. It was gorgeous, with huge gerbera daisies framed with ferns and baby's breath. Molly froze, the smile dying from her face. Sherlock glanced back and forth between her and the flowers.

Come to think of it, those look familiar.

His brow furrowed as Molly grabbed for the envelope tucked into the arrangement. It wasn't a small card, like the ones from the florist's shop, no this one was the size of a greeting card and Sherlock pursed his lips as he recognized the type of envelope.

Ah, our friend has reemerged.

Molly shakily handed it to him as Mary and John gave each other wary, confused glances. Molly clasped her hands and became very interested in her toes.

What is her – OH!

"He gave you these flowers."

It was a statement, not a question, but Molly nodded anyway, still gazing at the floor.

"Jim from IT," he clarified to the baffled new parents. He opened the card and skimmed over it before reading aloud.

My Dearest Pets,

A new addition to the family! How fantastic!

Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock saw Mary grip Amanda a bit tighter and John's fists clench.

I do hope that our little brush with danger yesterday has no adverse effects on mother or child. Too bad Sherlock brought it on by ignoring me. Blame him.

Speaking of Sherlock, I see that you found my little clues that I left for you. Good work. Here is your new set of places.

Sherlock looked back in the envelope and pulled out two photos, handing them to Molly before he continued.

This theme is sadness. Something you both will know a lot more about after I've finished with you. Have fun!

Love, Me.

Molly was staring at one of the photos with tears in her eyes. Sherlock moved closer to her and out an arm around her before looking down at the picture. It was a normal looking street and his brow furrowed.

What is this?

He ran through what he knew of Molly and lit on the answer after a few seconds.

"Molly, is this where your mother died?" he asked, pointing to the photo in her hand.

She nodded, on hand on her mouth, holding in sobs. He put his arms around her after glancing at the other picture which only showed a tree. He frowned.

"Come on, let's go home," he said, turning a tearful Molly towards the door.

"If you need my help," started John, as they exited.

"No, stay here, you don't need to get involved in this," interrupted Sherlock, shaking his head emphatically.

Mary piped up from the bed, "Seems we already are," pointing towards the flowers.

He shook his head again. "No, you just happened to be the method he used to get to us. If we aren't around, he'll leave you two alone."

He nodded a solemn goodbye to John and Mary and led Molly out of the room.