Sherlock awoke from a deep, dreamless sleep. He'd heard crying, somewhere far off into the distance, the void between him and the disembodied voice hollow and dark. He flailed, his arms making some semblence of movement as he came out of his sleep and blinked his eyes into the light. Molly? Is Molly awake and crying? This thought both thrilled and terrified him. Surely if Molly was awake and sobbing it couldn't completely be good news.

Sherlock's eyes blinked opened and adjusted to the dim light of the lamp beside Molly's hospital bed. He stared into the strange orange pink glow towards John who strode back and forth slowly with Abigail within his arms. He was shushing her and cooing at her to quieten down. "There, there. It's alright. Now shhh..." John's voice was low but soothing. Sherlock completely regained his awareness. He'd been sleeping in the bed next to his comatose wife and Abigail's cries had wrenched him awake. John started towards the door, hesitating, as if it were the last place he needed to be with a crying babe.

"I'll take her." Sherlock spoke sleepily and ended the short sentence with a yawn. John turned about and his face was shamed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake you. She's probably hungry. Just waiting for her bottle to finish. I would've taken her outside but people would probably wonder about the cries of a child in the abandoned wing." John chuckled a bit and handed over the squealing baby girl to her father. Sherlock nestled her within his arms and cuddled the swaddling cloth up about her rosy cheeks. He began to speak softly to her. John was amazed at the quickness with which she quieted as he coddled her. "She's missed her father." John smiled.

"I know I should have been around more but the last few days have been so vital..." Sherlock felt guilty. He surely should have been caring for Abigail, but Molly's ailment and possible recovery had completely overtaken any priority he'd had in mind.

"No worries. Mrs. Hudson had been wonderful caring for her. Keeping her on schedule. I just figured it had been a while since Abby had seen her mother and, well..." John trailed off, not wanting to sadden Sherlock any further. Sherlock shook his head and gave John a knowing look.

"I understand, it was right of you to do so." Sherlock looked down upon his daughter as he spoke, watching as she followed him with her bright eyes and suckled on her left hand and fingers. Never before had he ever imagined he would receive joy merely from admiring his own child. Life was a beautiful thing, this he had learned from Molly and their life together up to this point. You cannot let it pass you by. You must cherish every moment with the ones you love before it is extinguished like a candle flame in a wavering breeze. Sherlock sighed.

"I'm just going to pop out and grab her bottle." John motioned towards the door and exited it quickly. Sherlock looked on, rocking Abigail back and forth as she cooed. He glanced over at Molly. She lay upon the bed something of a sleeping beauty. Sherlock longed for her to awaken, to look at him and their daughter, to hold Abigail in her arms. Soon, if I have anything to say about it. Sherlock's face hardened at the thought. It's got to work. It has to.

Sherlock heard the door open and close behind him. When he heard the approach, he noted the change in gait. Surely John has not acquired his psychosomatic limp once more? Or even this quickly? Sherlock turned and watched Mycroft enter, using his umbrella as a cane. Sherlock's eyebrows rose in unison with pleasant surprise. "Brother, it appears you are recovering."

Mycroft nodded, his usual sly grin gracing his face. He took a seat in the chair next to Sherlock. "Yes, it appears that your friend John Watson is something of a genius when it comes to serums and antidotes. I've been steadily progressing even within hours. I should be back to normal come the end of the week I suppose." He laid the umbrella up against the table with the lamp upon it and glanced down at his niece. "How is the family?"

"Well at the moment it would seem." Sherlock watched Abigail with a father's pride. John entered the room once more, nodding his hello to Mycroft and handing Sherlock the bottle. Abigail took to it hungrily. The three men watched her suckle for a few moments.

"Any improvement?" Mycroft asked John. He returned with a sullen shake of his head.

"Not much. Her vitals have stabilized, and she hasn't had an episode like the one Sherlock experienced the other night since, but she hasn't awoken or attempted any signaling that she can hear us or even respond." John rubbed his knees anxiously. He was equally ready for Molly to show some signs of recovery.

"Do you think this is in part to the tumor that has yet to be removed?" Mycroft glanced over at Sherlock, who he knew had heard but was fully intent on watching Abigail get her fill of the bottle.

"I hate to say it, but it may be due in part to that." John looked up at his friend as well, who glanced at him, acknowledging him. He hated to make the decision. "I do believe that the tumor is perhaps feeding off of her good antibodies and not allowing her body to properly fight the damage that has already been done."

"You truly believe that removing the tumor from Molly is going to allow your antidote to work?" Sherlock inquired. He glanced once more at his brother, twiddling his foot about mindlessly. It obviously was working well for him.

"I hate to say it, but yes." John answered, wringing his hands. Sherlock sighed and hung his head. He glanced down once more at Abigail, who by now had finished the bottle and was starting off to sleep after being burped.

"What are the chances of her survival if the tumor is removed?" Sherlock asked as he gently rocked Abigail to sleep.

"Greater than 50% if I'm in the room with an experienced surgeon." John stated.

"I can have Britain's leading neurosurgeon here within the hour." Mycroft added. Sherlock glanced at them both.

"Fine. If that's what needs to be done, then so it shall be." Sherlock averted his eyes. John could see the start of an emotional release Sherlock was prone to in these situations forming in his eyes. "I want you to prepare another dose of your antidote and as soon as you see she's properly recovered from the surgery, administer it." Sherlock stated sternly. John nodded his agreement. Mycroft looked at them both, sensing the green light, and pulled out his phone. He stood, with some difficulty and the help of his umbrella and took the call into the bathroom.

Within the span of two hours, Mycroft had indeed acquired Dr. Sebastian Garrow and had him flown out to their location. He'd blocked off a surgical suite and allowed the staff that accompanied the surgeon to set up the room and prepare for the surgery. John had taken the time to speak to the surgeon, noting his experience and situation regarding the patient, and stood mentally preparing himself as he watched his friend lay within the hospital bed with Molly and their child and spend their last few moments together. Mycroft, Dr. Garrow, and John stepped out into the empty hallway to allow them some privacy.

Sherlock gazed over Molly as she lay. "I hate having to hold your life within my hands, Molly." Sherlock shook his head. Abigail slept silently between them. "But John says this is the best path to take, and I trust that man with my life as I would trust you would make the same decisions for me if I were in your position." Sherlock stroked Molly's soft cheek and allowed the tears welling up in his eyes to roll down his own. He would not hide his emotions in this moment, which could always realistically be their last. "I just want you to know, if you can hear me, that I love you fiercely. More so than I ever could have thought I could love. I hid my heart away, due to the sloppiness of human sentiment and emotion. I was blind to you for so long. It's pathetic that I never took the time to really look at you and see you before I found out your diagnosis. But now, I think we can heal you, fix you, and give you back a life full of my everlasting love and attention." Sherlock sobbed silently, not wanting to awaken Abigail during this moment. "You're going to make it through this, you're going to awaken, you're going to get better day by day, and we are going to raise this child together and teach her to be just like you." Sherlock smiled through his tears and laid a sweet kiss upon Molly's cheek.

John re-entered, and by that time Sherlock and risen from the bed, righted himself, and placed Abigail in the crib provided within the room. "It's time. Are you ready?" John laid a comforting hand upon Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock pulled him near.

"Take care of her, John. Please." Sherlock begged. John agreed and patted him on the shoulder. He opened the door, allowing Sherlock to exit with Abigail and the team of nurses entered the room to wheel Molly down to her operation.

Sherlock watched after her, growing desperation within his rapidly beating heart.

It was hour six. Sherlock was laid out over both of the chairs within the room, awaiting any word, anything at all from the surgical suite. Nothing had been reported since hour four. Sherlock was assuming the worst, but he couldn't keep his mind from focusing on what was out of his hands, out of his control. Abigail had been whisked off to a nap back at 221B Baker Street with nanny Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade had popped in for a moment to give his regards and check on Sherlock's mental state. Mycroft had brought him a cigarette. A normal one this time. Low tar was for unimportant tugging of heart strings. Regular full flavor were for those you truly loved it would seem. Thankfully afterwards, Mycroft had silently wandered off to take care of some trying government business. Sherlock hadn't even asked after it, knowing both that his brother would not tell him anything substantial, and also because he didn't really care about it at the moment. He wanted to know about Molly.

The door opened. Sherlock sprung up from his position and noted John as he entered, pulling off his surgical cap as he did so. John smiled. Sherlock's shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor relaxed. "We were able to locate and remove the entire tumor. There were no other noted lesions upon her spinal cord. Her scan came back with a few upon the brain, but those were the ones already there when we entered the hospital this go, Sherlock. They'll give us something to watch after we give her the second dose."

"Is she doing alright?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, she's in recovery. She's been there a good thirty minutes. As soon as they wheel her back down here and I'm absolutely sure that she's stable, I'll administer the second dose. I hope you've got a stomach for coffee because it's going to be a bloody long night." John was still smiling, which caused Sherlock's heart to rejoice. Molly was doing well, she had survived major surgery once more. Sherlock drew his friend in close to him and embraced him. John returned the hug and chuckled. It had been a grueling operation, but with such care and consideration as the two surgeons took upon Molly's body, not one mistake had been made.

Sherlock and John joined in happy conversation for a good twenty minutes longer before the nurses wheeled Molly's hospital bed back into the room. Sherlock drew Dr. Garrow's in for a manly hug as well, surprising Mycroft who stood close by chatting with them. His brother definitely had changed.

After all of the bustling had died down, John and Sherlock remained within the room. John held the syringe within his hand, watching the monitor with renewed anxiety. "Are you ready for this?"

"Most definitely."

"Anything could happen."

"I'm prepared for anything."

"That you are." John smiled and prepared the injection site. "Here goes nothing." The syringe was emptied into Molly's arm once more. John griped Sherlock's shoulder firmly. "Pray and be vigilant." John sighed. The anxiety was back in full swing for both of the men within the room. Sherlock took his place in the chair beside her, leaning in to kiss her sweetly upon her forehead and taking her hand in his to let her know he was present and unwaveringly vigilant.

The last few chapters are upon us my friends. As sad as it is, I'm going to have to bring this fantastic story to an end sooner or later. Unlike some of my fanfics I can only take certain storylines so far before they start to become a little out there. So, I'm not saying its going to end right here, because that would be cruel. But I am indeed winding up for a big silver lining filled finale!

Next chapter, we find out if the second round of antidote had any effect...that's all I'm saying. Will there be joy? Love? Angst? Tears? Moriarty? I'm not saying. You'll just have to read and find out.

Thank you all for sticking with me these 38 chapters! I'll try to get that next chapter conjured up and cranked out soon! :)

Reviews and comments are cherished. Please leave me some!