Greg was in another floor talking to some doctors when Mycroft stepped in. He, secretly, caught his breath when he saw Jane standing behind a half glass wall, helplessly staring at the small baby inside the incubator. Her eyes were absent. She looked sad, broken. Jane was all a mess and Mycroft wished he could go back in time and change all of this.

"What do you want?"

Mycroft remained silent as he looked to the little baby in front of him, behind that glass wall. There was an inscription, Hamish Watson.

If everything had been different, there should be written Hamish Holmes.

Had everything been different, Jane would have had a normal pregnancy. Maybe Sherlock would have a little Hamish in his arms, smiling and showing everyone how proud he was and how perfect his son was. If that had been the case, Mycroft knew Sherlock would have smiled and he would probably have taunted him saying he was younger and cleverer and he had a family already.

But that was only a thought, pure imagination. Jane's pregnancy hadn't been a normal one, she wasn't resting on a nice bed and Sherlock wasn't by her side. Sherlock was not there with her, he was not holding Hamish, he was not smiling and he was not teasing him with the fact he had a family.

Jane was still covered with bruises, she was tired and still standing in front of her baby, and both are separated by a glass wall. She was alone, no one was by her side. No one was holding Hamish and no one would probably do for a long time. There wasn't a family family behind Jane but an empty space.

"He sighed this," said Mycroft as he offered Jane the divorce papers. "You'll be receiving the certificate within days."

"Do I need to keep these?"

"No. Just the certificate," explained he.

Jane handed the papers back. "Then I don't want them. Tell your parents I'm sorry. I should do it myself, but I know they don't want to see me."

"May I ask how did you get to that conclusion -"

Without turning, Jane replied. "I'm not stupid."

"No, you're not."

"Take him away, Mycroft," said Jane as she wiped some tears off her face. "I swear I'd do anything you want - anything. But take him away from me and my baby."

Mycroft nodded. "Do not worry, Jane. I don't want my brother near you as well."

A week later, Jane was still not allowed to meet her baby. She had to stay in hospital too, and every time she was allowed to, Jane went to NICU to see her baby from behind that glass wall. And that was as close as they could be.

Jane was dying to be close to her baby, to feel him, to touch him and to tell him she was going to be okay for him. Only for him.

Jane's dreams about feeding her baby, rocking Hamish in her arms, kiss his tiny face and hold his tiny hands vanished. They were always dreams and now they seemed impossible to happen. Even when Hamish seemed to respond well to the treatment, Jane's chances to be close to him were only dreams and hopes. Still, Jane had hopes.

As soon as she was allowed to go, Jane went to NICU and spent most of the afternoons looking at her baby and praying for him. The only one next to Jane was Greg. She eventually told him the truth about Hamish's real father when Greg asked her why Suzanne didn't want to see her.

Greg tried everything he could, but Suzanne wouldn't change her mind. The Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard wasn't able to understand how a mother would turn her back to her daughter. Jane was suffering and she needed her, Greg told Suzanne about Moriarty and about Hamish being ill, but Suzanne repeated always the same; She's not my daughter anymore.

"I'll talk to her. You need her."

Jane shook her head. "It's okay, Greg. I'll be fine."

Jane regretted her lies. She really needed her mother, she was still fearful about becoming a mum being so young, and being alone. Even though Hamish was still in the incubator, Jane was fearful for their future. She didn't know what she would do next once Hamish was allowed to leave the NICU and go home with her. But then Jane accepted she was paying for her mistakes. She was paying for her and for Sherlock's mistakes.

For days neither Jane nor Greg heard a word about Sherlock. The Holmes never visited, as Jane had said. She was terribly sad, ashamed, angry with herself for lying to them, for letting them believe Hamish was their grandchild when he wasn't.

She forgot all about Sherlock and after a week the bruises all over her body and her ribs were healing well. She was feeling herself stronger now. But all the bad things were nothing when the doctors told her Hamish was indeed a little baby who was strong because he was fighting for his life.

"Don't you want me to get you more clothes?"

Jane nodded, knowing she wasn't going to be able to live on hospital gowns and a single pair of jeans and her favourite jumper forever. "Please."

"What happened between you and Sherlock, Jane?" asked Greg, concerned.

She looked away. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I've sent him texts, I've called him but he won't pick up my calls. Is it because of Hamish -"

"No. He is- he was fine knowing Hamish wasn't his," explained she, cutting Greg off.

Greg bit his lip. "Jane... did Sherlock hit you? Did he ever...?"

"Greg..."

Jane tried to stay calm, but it was impossible. The simple mention of Sherlock's name and all the memories of that night in which Sherlock hit her, abused her and pushed her down the stairs were back again. The tears were endless and Greg got to his feet, abruptly.

"Why you didn't tell me?" asked he, angrily.

"I - I'm sorry."

"Don't say you're sorry! You shouldn't be sorry. He almost killed you, Jane!"

Jane had tears on her eyes. "Please Greg, don't be angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you - God," he covered his face with both hands. "I'm going to kill him."

"Please Greg, don't!"

"I'll teach him a lesson."

Greg Lestrade slammed the door behind his back and swore he would make Sherlock pay for what he had done, no matter if it could cost him his own job.

Mrs Hudson opened the front door of the building after spending three weeks at her sister's. She was already missing her own flat, the awful traffic sounds from the busy London and her favourite tenants as well.

No sooner had she left her bags on her rooms than she took the shopping bags with the presents she got for Sherlock and Jane. She got herself ready to pay them a visit hen there was an insisting, annoying knocking on the front door.

"Oh, Mr Lestrade good morning -"

Lestrade stepped in. "Where's he?"

"Detective Inspector Lestrade your manners! I'm an old lady -" she tried to scold, but she was being ignored by the furious D.I. of the Scotland Yard.

He insisted. "Where's Sherlock?"

"I've just arrived from the countryside!"

Greg ignored her comment and ran upstairs. Behind him was Mrs Hudson, sensing something wrong was going on.

"That bastard! Where is he?"

The flat was a mess. The floor was covered with broken glasses, and smashed frames. There was white powder on the table, two lines of white powder and a needle on the floor. Gregg looked at it and his eyes widened.

Cocaine.

Jane never told him Sherlock was an addict.

Soon, Greg's eyes focused on the papers left on the black armchair, Sherlock's armchair. The policeman examined carefully; they were divorce papers and they had Jane and Sherlock's signatures.

"Detective Inspector, what happened?" asked Mrs Hudson.

Greg knew there was no point keeping the landlady out of this. And there was no point in keeping Sherlock's behavior from the others. Everyone needed to know who Sherlock was and what he had done to Jane and Hamish. "Sherlock beat Jane to a bloody pulp and she's in hospital."

Mrs Hudson caught her breath. "Oh my God - That's impossible!"

"He pushed Jane down the stairs, Mrs Hudson."

The landlady's heart sunk. "How is she? How's her baby?"

"She's fine. Hamish was born last week - he's not well."

Before Mrs Hudson could say something else, Greg Lestrade's phone went off. It was Mycroft Holmes.

"Go back to the hospital - now."

"What?"

"Sherlock's on his way. I'm afraid he's under the effects of drugs -"

Greg finished the call. Then, he called his team and headed back to hospital. He knew Sherlock was going to hurt Jane and Greg was not going to let that happen.

Not again.

Jane was sitting on her bed, brushing her hair with her back to the door. She was getting herself ready to visit Hamish again when someone opened the door of her room and stepped in.

"Greg, did you get my clothes?" asked she, without turning.

But she never expected to hear his voice again.

"Why are you doing this to me?"

Her eyes widened, her pulse got quicker and Jane felt her weak heart pounding within her chest. When Jane turned, she found Sherlock closing the door behind his back. He was wearing the dark shirt and the blue scarf she gave him for Christmas. Sherlock's eyes were darker. He looked pale and he had bags under his eyes. Jane looked into those eyes she loved so much, but she feared them. There was not tenderness, love behind those eyes. There was hatred, pain.

Jane feared for her life.

"What -what are you doing here?" mumbled she. Jane felt her throat dry and she wanted to scream, shout for help but she could not.

Sherlock took a step closer. Jane walked a step backwards. He didn't say anything. He walked forwards and Jane walked backwards until she was against the wall.

"Please - leave!"

He grabbed her arm. "It makes you happy now, that you don't belong to me anymore?"

"Let me go -"

"You told everyone didn't you?"

"Sherlock..."

Sherlock pressed himself against Jane and started kissing her neck, fiercely. Jane tried to fight him back, but he was stronger than her and Jane couldn't get him off her.

"You're mine!"

"Please help!"

Sherlock pressed a hand on her stomach Jane hissed in pain. She was still in pain after the c-section. Jane tried to scream, but Sherlock pressed a hand to her mouth.

"Mmmhhh!"

"Shut up!"

Gathering all her strength, Jane pushed Sherlock off her.

"You promised you'd never hurt me! You promised it and you hit me," said Jane between tears. "You almost killed my baby!"

Two policemen kicked the door open and pointed at Sherlock with their guns. Behind them was Greg, more policemen and Mycroft Holmes.

"Sherlock Holmes! Hands up!" shouted Greg.

Sherlock chuckled. "Or what? Are you going to shoot me?"

Mycroft stepped in. "Sherlock -"

"Shut up! This is between Jane and me!"

"Hands up, NOW!" insisted Greg.

Sherlock turned to face Jane, who was crying. "You promised you'd always love me." Jane nodded. "You promised under your God's eyes that you would love me, comfort me, honour and keep me, in sickness and in health," said he, pronouncing the same words they said to each other the day their wedding, and pulling out Jane's father's gun, Captain Watson's gun from inside his coat pocket, Sherlock pressed it to his temple. "As long as we both shall live."

Jane panicked. "Sherlock - drop that gun, please!"

"Please, Jane," begged he. "Please don't leave me. I love you so much, Jane, I'm nothing without you. I'm so sorry, please forgive me!"

Jane shut her eyes. There were tears on her face and seeing Sherlock with a gun on his temple was killing her. "Please Sherlock, drop the gun."

Sherlock aimed at Jane. "Please Jane, please love, come back to me, please! I'm begging you, please come back to me!" begged Sherlock.

Before anyone could do anything, he dropped the gun and fell to the floor. On his knees, placing both of his hands on the small of Jane's back and pressing his head against her flat stomach, he begged again. "We can raise Hamish together and be a family again, please!"

Jane looked up. Several policemen were still holding their guns and they were aiming at Sherlock. Lestrade was holding a gun too. Mycroft looked at her. And Jane nodded.

She then looked down at Sherlock's face, his crying eyes, he looked so sad. She knelt until both were facing each other. Jane placed both of her hands on his cheeks and looked into his eyes. Jane was dying to kiss him again, to caress his cheeks and run a hand on his soft curls.

But she could not do it.

She remembered she had a son who was fighting for his life. Jane remembered Hamish needed to be safe. And knowing her decision was going to break her heart and Sherlock's, Jane knew she had a son. And she had to protect him. It wasn't duty. It was love. Jane loved her son, and she was willing to give up everything if it meant her baby, Hamish, was going to be okay.

"I can't stay with you and I can't forgive you, Sherlock. I'm sorry - I just can't."

Everyone was silent.

Sherlock panicked. "Jane -"

Two policemen grabbed Sherlock by his arms, got him to his feet and pulled him away from Jane.

"Jane, I love you! Please!"

Jane shook her head. "I can't love you."

"But you promised it! You promised you would always love me!" begged he, and Jane couldn't fight her tears anymore.

"I don't want to see you again, Sherlock."

The policemen took Sherlock out the room.

"You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence," said Greg sharply, as he handcuffed the young detective. "Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on attempt murder, domestic violence and drugs possession."