Molly is on her third cup of tea, Toby in her lap, when she hears Sherlock come in. She isn't sure if that makes her a Bond villain or some Austen character, but it does seem rather stereotypical however one looks at it. "Molly," he says, and she looks at him.

Most of her anger has leeched out, and now all she has are questions. "Sherlock, when was the last time you had tea with your mother?"

His face pales slightly as he sits in his chair opposite hers. So, she has that effect on everyone, she thinks. "The day after I left the rehabilitation center."

Oh dear, that must've been even worse timing for him. "Was she always like that, or does she act like that on special occasions?" She really is hoping at least their childhood was spared the tongue-lashing, please.

He gives her a look, and she sighs. "Right. Of course. Gosh, I thought my mum was bad, but at least she doesn't do it on purpose." Then she regrets what she's just said. "Oh gosh, I'm-"

"Don't say it," Sherlock interrupted her. "What else?"

She blinked. "Well, can you at least pretend to be polite when your mother calls? Or texts? She is your mother, even if she can be horrible." His lips thin, but he only nods. "And Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"She asked what our plans were for our children." She blushed, she couldn't help it.

"What?" He looked rather alarmed.

"I'm guessing that she felt she'd have free reign bringing up your children if you were marrying Miss Adler, but she seems concerned that our children would have a substandard life or something." There's still the sting of indignation that her own upbringing was less than acceptable, even as she knew her parents' shortcomings. Nobody she knew had a perfect childhood, but hers was fairly decent, thank you.

Rather than brushing her off, Sherlock leaned forward from his chair. "You said you were proposed to before? Who was it, and why did you reject him?"

Molly was startled into a laugh. "What makes you think I rejected him?"

He frowned. "Well, if he rejected you, you would still be thinking of him. You would bring him up and compare his proposal to mine, you would be unhappy with your present situation and think what if you had accepted and what kind of life you'd be living." His eyes narrowed. "You seem fairly content with your lot in life, and aren't mooning over someone else. So? Was it your job or did he have someone else? No, wait, don't tell me." He stared at her for a disconcertingly long time, or it felt that way to her, before he said in a rush, "It was your job. He wanted to stay back, while you wanted to come here. You've thought about him, but not often, mostly in the first couple of months living here, but have only remembered him after recent events. He's probably living the life he wanted back home, while you are content with your work and life here." His nose twitched. "And your cat."

She laughed. "Stop that, I know you're secretly fond of Toby." Before he could protest, she went on, "That was pretty good. A little creepy, but good."

He shrugged. "It's a typical story."

"Yes, but usually for women who want something glamorous that London holds. There's nothing glamorous about dead bodies," she shrugged back.

He frowned. "Yes, there is."

She smiled. "You are one of the few, Sherlock." Then she decided to ask before she chickened out, "So, what would your plans for your children be?"

He blinked. "I don't know."

"What?" That threw her.

He shrugged. "I never thought about it. My work is not conducive to raising a child, of ensuring its safety or health. No woman in her right mind would want to be with me if she knew that she would be forever having to be put in second place to a crime scene, or that things like birthdays or anniversaries would be forgotten to have room for criminal data. She would not risk exposing the child to my work, or my world, because it is a dangerous one, and would either try to raise it all by herself thanklessly or send it off to boarding school at the first opportunity after a run of tutors and nannies. The child, for I doubt she'd wish to procreate further with me, would not recognize me as a father, for I would not wish to shackle myself with the dull duties of having to raise a child, nor force myself to project emotions I don't have for its psychological well-being." He smiled, but it was lacking warmth of any kind. "So you see, Molly Hooper, on paper, having a loveless marriage is an excellent idea, but a woman like Adler would still put demands on my time, energy and memory that I don't have any to spare."