"Sometimes, when the mother suffers from a disease…" the doctor was saying. Molly stood in the middle of the floor, which seemed to be growing around her. The white tile disappeared, only to be replaced by the fuzzy yellow carpeting in the twins' room. Twelve-somber faced men sat behind a long counter nearby, whispering among themselves quietly. A rapping noise silenced them, and Molly turned towards it to find Sherlock, holding a small wooden mallet. "The court of law finds this woman guilty… guilty… guilty," he said. Molly's eyes widened. "Sherlock?" she asked. The jury gasped. "Contempt in court!" one man declared. Sherlock's eyes found Molly's. "This woman is guilty of murdering her child," he said. "And her sentence shall be… Death by hanging." A gallows sprung up next to Sherlock, and Molly found herself being led up the steps. She stood astonished as the noose was placed around her neck. She was about to be pushed off when she heard it… a baby crying. "No!" she screamed in despair, right as she was shoved off and everything went dark.

Molly's eyes opened, and she quickly covered her mouth with a pillow so that her sobs wouldn't escape. It had been a week since the doctor's horrible news, and she spent much of her time in bed. The children were often over at the Watson's, and Sherlock stayed at the flat with Molly.

Molly desperately needed Sherlock, but she knew she didn't deserve him. And how was she fit to watch her own children, after being the cause of death in her unborn child? Molly had nightmares every time she closed her eyes, but even those were preferable to what she felt upon waking.

The door cracked open, and Sherlock stuck his head in. "Molly!" he said when he saw her. "You're awake." He came and sat down on the edge of their bed. Molly removed the pillow from her face so she could speak to him. "Yeah," she said. Her throat was dry.

Sherlock held out a cup of tea. "I thought you might be thirsty," he said. Molly didn't take it. Sherlock sighed. "Molly," he said to his wife, but he didn't say anything more. All Molly could think about was how her baby was probably thirsty, as well, but since Molly's condition caused such a scarcity in physical attachment, her child had literally starved to death.

"You have to eat, Molly," Sherlock said. Molly pressed her lips together and shook her head. "I can't, Sherlock," she told him. Sherlock sighed again. "Nonsense," he said. Molly hesitatingly took the mug from him. She held it to her mouth, but the second the warm liquid entered, her entire system rebelled and Molly had to run to the bathroom to violently vomit into the toilet.

Sherlock came and stood behind her. "Molly," he said once she stood up. He walked up to her and hugged her tightly to himself. Molly wept into his shoulder. "I just feel like it's all my fault, Sherlock," she said. Her voice was muffled.

"Oh, my dear Doctor Hooper." A voice rang out behind them. Sherlock let go and spun around to see who it was. As soon as he recognised the speaker, Sherlock roughly pushed Molly behind him.

"It's not your fault at all," said James Moriarty. "In fact, it's mine."