*August 13, 2019*

The summer sun beats down as Molly exits the flower shop. She is beyond thrilled that it's a bright and sunny day, instead of having ever dreary London rain. Usually, she would be busy behind the slab, performing an autopsy at this time, but not today. Today is the day that she takes off of work every year, a day she uses to reflect on her life and how blessed she really is, despite how many things had gone wrong in the past. She looks down at the pink bundle of carnations in her hand and gently strokes the petals, reminiscing about the good years of her childhood that he spent with her father and little brother in their little family cabin; the one she had inherited and hadn't visited in a while. Those quickly fleeting, yet tender five years from when she was thirteen to eighteen years old.

She makes a mental note to visit the cabin with Sherlock as her happy memories fade to sadness, her thoughts morphing into how Matty probably felt having his only loving parent die at such a young age; he was only five when their dad got custody and ten when he died of lung cancer, a symptom of fighting in the war. When he had served his tour and decided not to renew, he came back home to them. It was at that time that he saw how completely changed his wife was, and how she had been treating Molly. It horrified him enough to quickly file for divorce and for custody, which was thankfully obvious to the judge. Their mother had gone to prison for the abuse Molly had endured, and despite knowing it's probably wrong, she doesn't give a damn if she had died there. She never wanted to see her again and that still stands, no matter what the current state of affairs may be. The only thing that provides Molly solace is that Matthew was only two at the time and her mother saw him as too weak to take out her drunken hate-filled urges on.

Though her experience was rough, and she remembers the abuse of their mother more vividly than him, she still got more time with their father, being eight years older. That left her, an eighteen-year-old orphan-by-choice (since there was no way she would subject Matthew to the abusive whims of their mother, if she were even free at the time), to raise him on her own. Lots of other bad things ended up happening from the time she was eighteen to the time she had raised Matthew to that age and had reluctantly agreed to let him follow their father's footsteps and enlist, despite how much crying ensued after agreeing.

Molly takes a sniff of the flowers once she slips into the driver's seat of her yellow VW Beetle, before placing them on the passenger side. She always wishes Matthew were home for anniversaries or holidays or birthdays, but she knows that he is serving to honor their dad and that's his way of connecting to him. It's been ten years and he had renewed his contract once already, but she selfishly wishes he comes home this year instead of renewing again.

Suddenly snapping out of her daydreams, she realizes that she had pulled into the cemetery; her conscious brain must have taken her the familiar route to his grave.

Grabbing the flowers, she gets out and makes the walk down the small path to her dad's headstone.

{Mark D. Hooper

April 20, 1941 – August 13, 1997

Beloved Father}

Next to his is a tiny cross marker that says "Declan Mark Hooper", without a date. She had added it when she had miscarried about a year after her father died (a pregnancy which resulted from her being assaulted, but she was committed to loving the child. She was depressed and anorexic at the time and used to blame herself, but had learned to cope with everything through therapy).

She is glad to see that they still look clean, as she had come months ago to spiff them up a bit. Placing her hand on top of them, she closes her eyes and prays for a moment, before placing the flowers at the foot of her dad's gently. She plucks one out of his bouquet and places it at the foot of her son's before lowering herself onto the grass to sit.

"Hey, Dad...it's been a while. My life has been pretty hectic, and I know you wouldn't blame me, I know you can probably hear me whenever or wherever...I hope at least."

Looking down at her hand, she carefully twirls her engagement ring around her finger, smiling at the way the diamond sparkle in the sun.

"I'm engaged, Daddy...", she tears up then chuckles. "Yes, again. But this time it's for real. Sherlock had changed a lot due to circumstances out of my control. In a good way though, he came to his senses I suppose, and realized that we could have something special. I know that we still have many differences. This being one for example. He's not religious at all, but he loves me enough to have a church wedding, which means a lot of course. It saddens me to think that he doesn't think people who pass still have a realm of consciousness somewhere, but he's a very scientific man. I'm not sure. Maybe he thinks science just can't prove either way, and I honestly cannot fault him for that, being a science lover myself. I won't lose myself to him though, I don't want you to worry about that. I know you'd probably be really protective and question this a lot because of the things he used to do and say, but I promise you I wouldn't do this if I didn't think he was sincere. I know him better than most anyone. I wish you were here regardless...not having you give me away at my wedding crushes me. I've had like two decades to prepare myself for that possibility if I ever got married, and yet it still hits my heart like a ton of bricks."

Tear slip down her face and she wipes them away slowly. "I'm a lot older now, I'm more confident and certainly healthier. But that doesn't take away or change how much I miss you and always will. I know I have Sherlock's parents to lean on, they're amazing but y'know...they're not you. And again, I know I might be a bit old for it, but if Sherlock and I have a kid or kids...they have his side of the family for grandparents. Hopefully Matty will be around by then, so they'd have a kick-ass uncle", she chuckles softly. "I think I win in the sibling department at least, compared to Sherlock", she shudders a bit.

"As depressed as I was as a kid not having you around and going through shit, it sucks just as much not having you around as an adult. I guess that goes for not having a mother worth being one too. A lot of women lean on their mothers when they get pregnant, and I don't have one. But I saw my friend Mary do it, and all our friends rallied around her and John. So it's good to know we have amazing friends willing to step up if I ever need it. Plus, I've had my share of practice, from raising Matty to being Rosie's Auntie who babysits for her often. So if I can physically have a baby, I want to. It's crazy to me that Declan would be twenty-one right now if he had been carried to term. I think about what he would have looked like or been like. I know you're taking care of him. But I do want to be a Mum, I really do. I just have to discuss it with Sherlock of course."

Just then a voice comes from behind her, and she jumps a bit. "Oh no, I heard my name. Not talking bad about me to your father, I hope", Sherlock smiles, sitting next to her.

Molly blushes. "No-h-how did you know I was here?"

Sherlock quirks his eyebrow. "Really? I've known you for twelve years. You take this day off of morgue duty every single year without fail. I may be a genius, but it doesn't take one to figure it out, love."

"You memorized the date?"

"Well, it pertains to your happiness, broadly speaking...so yes."

"Oh, Sherlock", Molly sniffles and scoots over, cuddling and burying her face into his shoulder.

"I've got you...I'm sorry. I know this will always be hard for you. Losing him caused so much terribleness for you, and I wish I could've been there to protect you back then. I promise you, I'm here now. Always."

"I know", she sniffles and raises her head to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek tenderly.

Sherlock pecks her lips softly and wraps her in his arms, allowing her to cry freely for a while, talking about her dad.

Once they decide to leave, Sherlock suggests that they do something that she enjoyed with her father. Molly suggest baking, as she got her love for it from him. This results in Sherlock begrudgingly bringing home a large bag of apples and other ingredients for the grocery store. Luckily, this results in Molly making her famous apple crisp, a recipe handed down to her by her dad, from his mother. She smiles proudly, telling him about her grandmother as well. After they indulge in her baking, she suggests that they play Scrabble, a favorite game of her dad's.

"Ohhh, you don't want to play that with me."

"Oh, but I do."

"You'll lose, Molly."

"Oh well, excuuuse you, Big Head."

He gasps. "Fine, but no whining when I win."

"I can do you one better."

"And what would that be?"

"Let's sweeten the deal. If you win, I'll let you choose a body part for an experiment from the morgue freezer."

He grins boyishly and sits cross-legged on her sofa as she pulls up a chair. "Agreed! What about if you win?"

Molly blushes slightly and bites her lip. "Wellll...if /I/ win...", she pauses. "...you have to put a baby in me", she says shyly.

Sherlock's head snaps up to look at her and his jaw drops.

"I-If you want to..."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes..."

"Molly, really?"

She nods softly.

"That's a win-win for me though!", he laughs.

Molly gapes and then laughs with him. "Well technically, but that's what I want. I'm positive."

She squeals as Sherlock grabs her and collapses on the sofa, peppering her in kisses before nibbling and growling into her ear. "Love, I'll put the best damn baby deep inside you." He kisses down her neck. "You'd be the most incredible Mum."

Gasping, goosebumps cover her arms as her cheeks turn red with anticipation. She pushes him back playfully and giggles. "Sherlock! We have to play the game first!"

"Do we though? I'm pretty sure I can forfeit", he mumbles and sits up, looking at the letters he chose. "Hm, yeah, wow look at that, terrible letters. I forfeit, can't make anything with those, looks like you win, Ms. Hooper."

Molly squeals loudly and giggles hard as Sherlock scoops her over his shoulder and rushes her to her bedroom, kicking the door closed with his foot.

Suffice it to say, Molly didn't feel any more sadness for the rest of that day. Or that night for that matter.