A/N: So, it's been a year since I last updated this. Hey, at least that gives me a better track record than the show, right? Oh well. I'd promise the next section would be out sooner, but I honestly have no idea. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Enjoy!

Mary was so surrounded by noise that she barely heard the phone ring. She ran past the pot on the stove (which was boiling over), the timer (which was going off), the TV (which was blaring child cartoons to Lily's giggling delight), and a bunch of toys to a pile of laundry which she dug through to retrieve the phone.

"Mary Watson speaking," she answered.

"I know who you really are," the voice rasped.

Mary stopped, paralyzed. She heard the echo of her own pulse rushing in her ears; she could swear the room got several degrees colder than it had been a moment ago.

"Who is this?" she questioned, her voice sharp and dangerous.

"All you need to know," the voice replied, "Is that I'm someone with access to all the information necessary to destroy you. I know who you were, the things you've done, the people you've killed, and the lengths you've gone to hide it."

Mary swallowed. "What do you want?"

"Well, if you'd like to buy back your information, I would allow you to make an exchange at the station at Coventry and Whitcomb at exactly 3 pm this afternoon for, say…50 thousand pounds? " came the leisurely reply.

"You must be out of your mind if you think I'm falling for that."

"Oh, this is no time for games, Mrs. Watson. I think we can agree that any price is small compared to facing the life sentence you'd get if the government was privy to the details of your fascinating history. Oh, and in case you didn't know, the voice sighed heavily and continued," Nothing good ever happens to the children of murderers."

And with that, Mary saw red. It was enough for her to momentarily abandon her own fear and switch to the calm, professional mindset she'd been trained to have.

"I'll be there," she responded coldly, and ended the call without waiting for a reply.

She'd handled plenty of missions like this before. All Mary had to do was think. If the unknown caller really did have her data and was looking for ransom, it was unlikely he backed it up or already uploaded it. The caller's terms were simple, that of a basic hostage situation, and didn't follow the style of any organization she knew. If that was true, then it was likely that the caller was acting alone, or with very few other people. They could hardly be well-armed, at least not to the level she was equipped to deal with. In that case, all she needed to do was scope out the drop site, come prepared, and take back whatever copy of her data they had.

She was already reaching for the weapons she kept locked in the flat, her plan laying itself out before her in her mind, when she stumbled over a wrinkle in the plan.

"Mummy!" Lily called from the other room, where her show had just ended, "Mummy, is it lunchtime yet? I hungry!"

Mary turned slowly to look at Lily, thinking hard. Taking Lily with her was out of the question, but finding someone to watch her on such short notice would be difficult. Everyone she knew (mostly John's friends) were doctors and would be at work… And Mike Stanford was still teaching…

"Not just yet, love," she said with a smile, heading to her weapons lockup behind a picture frame in the hall, "We're going on a little trip today."

"Trip?" Lily questioned, standing up quickly and nearly tripping over her scattered toys. "I wanna go! Where, where, where?!" she chanted.

"It's a surprise," Mary answered, pulling a gun out of the wall and

(double-checking the safety) holstered it behind her belt discreetly. "Can you pick out three toys to bring with you? Only three."

Lily jumped with a clatter, scooping up armfuls of toys. Mary returned through the kitchen, turning off the stove as she went, and grabbed a sleeve of crackers and a bag of carrot sticks she'd took out earlier for Lily's lunch. Lily returned with her pink Minnie Mouse backpack (with a matching lunchbox and thermos that she'd begged for in the store. Mary sighed. John couldn't refuse her anything.) It was stuffed with toys. Mary took out enough things to make room for a change of clothes, tissues, and a pack of juice boxes. She handed Lily her snack and held out the bag for her to put her arms in the straps, which she did, babbling away excitedly. Then she helped lily into her shoes and zipped up her coat.

Mary stuck out her hand for Lily to take. "Ready to go?" she asked.

"Let's go!" Lily called, tugging on her hand and making for the door. Mary smiled and locked and double bolted the door behind them. She scrawled a note on the door for John, just in case he returned before them, which simply read Call Me.

Letting Lily go to scamper down the stairs ahead of her, Mary dug her phone out and called Sherlock on speed dial.

Lily stood in the living room of 221B, as downstairs the door closed behind Mary on her way out.

Sherlock had never seen Mary active in whatever exactly her former career had been, but in his idle imagination he had pictured the hardened veteran of the crime world she used to be. He'd pictured a righteous woman who'd become sneaky to survive, and manipulative to make her own way in the world. Perhaps a sniper rifle per shoulder, and the sharp eyes of someone who'd been trained to use them.

Lily, her armor a pink backpack stuffed with snacks and her rifle a plush rabbit dangling out of her hand, was the spitting image of this version of Mary. She had impressively rigid posture for her age, and made good use of all two and a half feet of height available to her. Sherlock found Lily's gaze as calculating as his own as he surveyed her.

John obviously thought he'd been subtle about having thus far successfully managed to avoid ever leaving Lily alone with him. Perhaps this discretion had been done to spare his feelings, but as Sherlock had less experience with childcare than he did with archaeoastronomy, this suited him just fine. With a glance at Lily, Sherlock realized the unprecedented nature of their current situation had not escaped her notice either.

"Want to… play…something?" Sherlock offered feebly, certain he was doing this wrong.

Lily just glared at him suspiciously.

"You left her where?!" John raged, as he stormed up the sidewalk after Mary.

"It was an emergency," Mary insisted, "Sherlock was the only one available."

"An emergency? Excuse me for thinking our daughter being left with Sherlock is more of an emergency than your—" He cut off abruptly as Mary sent him a look that could melt steel.

Mary shook her head. "Trust me, he won't let anything happen to her."

"How do you know?" John exclaimed, "He's Sherlock."

"Exactly. John, listen to me– " She stopped and turned to face him, grabbing him by his shoulders. "—Lily matters most to you, you matter most to Sherlock – and don't bother denying that part," she added, holding up a finger to silence John as he was about to interrupt. "Point is, on his life, Sherlock will protect her."

John contemplated this for a moment as they both continued to hurry down the sidewalk.

Mary continued, "Now, I know 221B is hardly the best environment for a child—"

"You're damn right it's not!" John spluttered, happy to go back to being cross instead of oddly pleased.

"—But the sooner we finish this the sooner we'll be back to pick her up. I didn't want to leave her with Sherlock at our place either, in case these hitmen try to return there before we get to them."

John sighed resignedly. "As long as Lily doesn't get at Sherlock's sugar bowl," he muttered, "Last I checked he kept eyeballs in there."

Sherlock had just been beginning to suspect that parenthood was not actually possible without more limbs than humans were normally equipped with, when Lestrade called to beg for his help on a case.

Sherlock had been chasing Lily around the flat after she'd managed to find some of his fragile glass test tubes filled with an even more fragile experiment. He'd just plucked them from her fingers when the phone rang. He picked up the phone and sank into his armchair, which allowed Lily to immediately embark upon using him as a human jungle gym.

"I'm kind of—ow!" Sherlock swatted away little hands as they reached up to tug at his curls. "—busy."

"Well, so are we. And don't play hard to get or any of that rubbish, you're not impressing anyone. And what are you so busy doing, anyway? I'm sure whatever illegal substances you're working on can wait."

"Wow, Lestrade, you really make a compelling case for me to rush to your aid."

Lily shrieked a laugh, and jumped off Sherlock's lap, running dizzy circles around his chair.

Lestrade sighed. "Look, will you just come by the Yard for a minute? We have some evidence for you to look at and a witness here who won't be patient with us for much longer."

"Well, boohoo for you," Sherlock said, voice dripping in biting sarcasm, " But I can't. As I told you despite your belittling, I'm in the middle of something important."

He could practically hear Lestrade's patience cracking amid the buzzing static on the phone.

"Sherlock… do this for us and I'll let you in the evidence lockup for that old Havemeyer case you've been nattering on about."

Sherlock pressed his lips together in a thin line, considering silently.

"…Do we have a deal?" Lestrade pressed.

"Scotland Yard only. If you have a problem on a crime scene you're on your own." Sherlock gritted out.

"So you will come. Excellent." Lestrade, sounding relieved, hung up the phone.

Sherlock tapped his phone to end the call and stared down in mild bewilderment at the bright-eyed, sticky-fingered creature attempting to climb up the back of his chair.

This was going to be a long day.

After much convincing and chasing her around the flat to get her to put her jacket on, Sherlock finally got Lily out the door and on their way to the Yard. Lily's suspicion of him had waned once it became clear that Sherlock shared none of her parents' reservations about giving her sweets. Trying to keep her busy and resume his casework, he was quite happy to negotiate her silence with a packet of chocolates.

Once mollified, she had resumed the usual unguarded behavior she displayed around him when her parents were present. Sherlock was grateful for this sudden renewed trust, as it made bringing her along on this trip to Scotland Yard much easier.

He struggled to keep a careful eye glued to Lily as she kept bounding ahead of him on the sidewalk, chasing pigeons and cheerfully greeting anyone who would meet her eye. He experienced a brief and unexpected flare of panic as he lost sight of her in a rush of people coming up from the underground station.

Sherlock rushed ahead, then saw that she had paused at the curb and was waiting for him, rocking back and forth on her heels.

"Come on, this way," he said in a rush, as he whipped his head around to check for traffic before stepping out into the street. He felt something soft and cold brush his hand, and looked down, startled.

Lily was grasping his hand, her small fist only big enough to wrap tightly around the ends of his fingers.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Without looking up at him, Lily answered, "Daddy says we hafta hold hands when crossing the street."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at this.

"Does he. I guess Daddy would say that, now wouldn't he?"

She payed him no mind, unaware of his amusement at the phrase as she skips over pedestrian crosswalk lines.

He left his hand in her grasp until they reached the end of the road.

"Fifty thousand pounds!" John exclaimed. "What's going to happen when they find out you don't have the money?"

"I am going to have the money," Mary answered. "We need to make a stop." She veered right and entered a bank that John had passed on the sidewalk.

"What do you mean, you have the money?" John asked, his voice lowering as they entered the near-silent, glass-walled bank. Mary dug a key out of her pocket and presented it to the clerk, who handed her a form to sign.

"I mean I have the money. Well, sort of." The clerk directed her to a courtesy room and went to retrieve her safe deposit box from the vault. "Can I use your briefcase? Looks much better to carry cash in than a backpack."

John followed her into the small room and closed the door behind them. "Mary, stop changing the subject. Look, I'm not going to ask about what info they have, alright? But I need to know what we're getting into here. You want to explain how you sort of have fifty thousand pounds?"

There was a knock on the door, and the attendant entered with the box. Mary waited until the door clicked shut once more.

She unlocked the box, clearing her throat. "I have fifty thousand in counterfeit bills."

"Holy mother of…" John watched, wide-eyed, as Mary nonchalantly pulled stacks of cash out of the box.

He shook his head, disappointed. "I thought you'd given up that life."

"I have," Mary exclaimed, "But for my past to stay gone, I have to take precautions, and the less you know about them the better."

"But what if I need to know? If these people put Lily in danger…"

"Do you seriously think I'd let that happen?" she snapped.

John could only stare at her in response.

"Tree! 'Nother tree! Mailbox! Birdy in a tree!" Lily chanted, from where swung on Sherlock's arm. She had taken to naming things as they walked past. Sherlock had taken to tuning her out.

"Shiny building! More shiny building! Door! P'liceman?"

He dragged them through the doors of Scotland Yard. Lestrade was already in the lobby waiting for him.

"Oh good, you made it. Listen, I'll show you what we've got in a bit, but I've got a witness upstairs that's about to walk out on me and… why do you have a child with you?" Lestrade's eyes went wide as he spotted Lily.

"Hi," Lily said, before hiding herself behind a long fold of Sherlock's coat.

"Because I do," Sherlock answered testily, striding off, "Now, what have you failed to get out of this witness?"

Lestrade put out a hand to stop him.

"Seriously Sherlock, please don't tell me we should've put out an Amber Alert because of you. I know you normally consider the law beneath you, but there are limits, even for you!"

"For heaven's sake, I didn't kidnap her, she's John and Mary's daughter."

"This is Lily?" he asked, surprised, leaning closer to Lily a small wave back. "Blimey, I haven't seen her since her first birthday. She's really grown." He straightened up. "And the Watson's… knowingly left her with you, did they?" he asked, smile freezing on his face.

Sherlock's scowl deepened. "I believe it was an emergency of sorts."

At this, Lestrade looked up in genuine concern. "Oh no, not something we'll have to get involved in, is it?"

"Just a personal matter," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Right well, our evidence isn't exactly age appropriate, but luckily Molly's here doing some consulting of her own for me. I think she's just doing paperwork today, we'll see if she can look after Lily for a few."

They proceeded to his office, and he opened the door slowly.

"Molly? We have another visitor." He gestured behind him, as the other two followed him in. "This young lady is Lily Watson, if you can believe it."

"Lily?" Molly exclaimed with a smile, coming out from behind the desk and bending down to her level. "Well, aren't you all grown up?"

Lily frowned slightly, considering this.

"I this much grown up," she said, holding a hand up level with the top of her head.

"Coventry and Whitcomb, Coventry and Whitcomb…." John muttered to himself, as he walked around that very intersection. The thing was, there was no station here. The map of the underground hadn't marked anything at this spot. But, once he'd dug up maps a few years older, there did appear to be a station here, which led him to believe it had been abandoned. Now the only trouble was finding it.

He scanned the area one more time, almost hoping he was mistaken, but there wasn't so much as a bus stop here. Then he spotted it. A rusty old staircase and a pair of unmarked metal doors. It looked more like it led to a basement than a subway station, but nothing else was unmarked in the area.

John descended the staircase furtively, even though no one was around to see him.. He noticed the rusty lock on the door had been broken off. He nudged the door open with his briefcase, and it squeaked on its hinges as it swung inward.

He strolled into the abandoned subway station. The sound of his footsteps echoed back from far corners of the space he couldn't even see. The station was bare and dark, lit only by a string of work lights. John peered around. He cleared his throat.

"If you're here, you might as well come out," he called. He stepped around the concrete pillars, wary of the edge of the drop off, where unfinished rail lines lay a few feet down. No one answered him.

"I'm here on Mary's behalf," he added. "I have what you asked for."

A creak at the other end of the hall. A rusty construction door swung open, and a heavily-covered figure walked out.

He approached John with a lumbering gait, gun at his side and scarf pulled up leaving just his eyes visible. John swallowed nervously as the man stopped a few yards from him.

"Please, I- I don't want any trouble. You can have the money, just let me go with the data."

"D'ya have the cash?" the masked man grunted.

"Yes, I do," John said, holding open the suitcase. "It, It should be enough. Well, it is, I counted it, but maybe you want to count it as well—"

"Shut up," the man barked. "Put it down and back up."

John nodded, starting to rest the case on the ground, then paused. "You sure you don't want to look at it? Maybe I should just double check…"

"Back up! Now!" The man gestured with his gun. John did as told.

The man strolled up to the case and rifled through the cash, apparently satisfied. He picked up the case, then plucked a silver flash drive from his pocket. "Think I'll be keeping this as well," he said, "Seeing as you paid so well for it, I bet someone else will too."

"Oh you lied, did you? I'm shocked," John snorted, his eyes darting briefly behind the other man before focusing back on his face. "I really wouldn't do that if I were you."

"Like you're going to do anything about it," the man sneered. "Why not?"

Inches behind his skull, there came a soft click as Mary released the safety on her pistol.

"Because you're way out of your league, pal," she said.

The masked man froze. John's eyes widened as he saw the thief's hand creep toward his gun. He hurriedly reached for his own weapon, but before either of them could draw, Mary pulled back her arm and clocked the man across the temple. He dropped like a stone between them.

"Nice stalling," Mary commented.

"Thanks."

"'You may want to count the money' though, really?"

"Shut up."

After receiving a text from Sherlock, John and Mary made their way to Scotland Yard by 3:15. As they entered Lestrade's office, they saw Sherlock deep in conversation with Lestrade, with Lily sitting on top his desk, scribbling on a spread of paper. Molly looked up first to greet them.

"Hello Watsons! Good to see you."

They bid their greetings, at which Lestrade also looked up.

"There you two are, I heard there was a personal emergency, is everything alright?" he asked.

"Oh yeah, everything's fine," Mary assured.

"Taken care of," John added, discreetly nudging his handgun further in his jacket out of sight.

John rushed to Lily and began fussing over her. Mary fussed as well, Sherlock noticed, but she was more subtle about it. John looked around the room, for the first time noticing the state of the office, with drawings and markers and toys spread al over the desk and floor.

"Have you actually been working today?" John asked Lestrade.

"I don't know what you mean," he answered in mock offense, "I've been meeting with my interior decorator all afternoon." He gestured a palm towards Lily with a grand smile.

The interior decorator in question was holding her latest masterpiece up to her mother's nose. It was a bountiful mess of colors, scribbled on the back of what appeared to be a police report.

"Mummy, mummy, look, I drew this!"

"I see that, darling, it's lovely. You made these all yourself?" Mary asked.

John saw that indeed, some drawings had already made their way onto the walls. He watched Sherlock peruse files in the corner, pretending he wasn't paying attention to what was going on. John made his way up to him and cleared his throat.

"I reckon you might be mad about, well, you know. We've never left Lily with you before."

"Hm, mad? I'm not mad," Sherlock replied airily. He turned over the paper he was holding and stared intently at the other side. John couldn't exactly see over his shoulder, but it didn't look like he was reading it.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," John replied. "Anyway, I'm sorry. The only excuse I'm going to give is that Mary and I are paranoid new parents, you know? But that doesn't mean it was personal. Doesn't mean we don't trust you."

John shifted his feet. Sherlock still hadn't turned around.

"And not that we're going to make a habit of this, but… you came through when it counted. So…uh, thank you."

John waited for Sherlock to answer.

"John, did you know that 90 percent of all hostage cases …"

John snorted in disbelief, walking away.

"You're welcome," Sherlock said, turning around.

John paused for just long enough for Sherlock to know he heard him.