Molly hated being cooped up in the house.

At 34 weeks she couldn't exactly move around a lot, but she still didn't like the idea of staying the flat all day. Even though going down two flights of stairs felt like the equivalent of running a marathon, she would push herself to go get a coffee every other day (with Mycroft's security team following her as inconspicuously as possible) just so she could get out of the house. It was the beginning of September, which meant that most days she had to spend 15 minutes contending with trying to wrap herself up in a sweater or some kind of jacket. All of her sweaters were oversized because she enjoyed their comfort, but not so much that she could extend it over her massive belly. There were a few days where she just let it ride up and let her pregnant stomach go uncovered by anything but the shirt she had under. She was over the looks she got on the sidewalk and coffee shop; she was already miserable.

So of course one of the days where it felt like her back was about to split in two, her feet were swollen to the size of pumpkins, she had to pee every fifteen minutes and she could not get comfortable for the life of her, all hell had to break loose.

She was sitting downstairs, wearing an oversize t shirt and maternity pants, sipping hot water with lemon and trying to catch up of Downton Abbey, when the door burst open and everyone she knew piled in.

"How did this happen?" Mycroft barked at Sherlock as Mary came around to sit next to Molly, holding baby Charlotte close to her body. John was pacing the length of the room, holding his hand to his mouth as he thought. Sherlock whipped off his scarf and threw it at the chair, scaring Gandalf off.

"I don't know, Mycroft,"

"The Watson's safe house is discovered and wired with explosives and you don't know how it happened?!"

Molly's ears perked up and she turned to Mary, who was holding Charlotte close to her and staring off into space.

"What?"

Mary turned to her and nodded, and looked down at Charlotte. Molly could see a small bandage on the girl's forehead and covering her tiny ears.

"Oh my God," Molly breathed.

"Last night," Mary said. "Woke up to hear a detonator go off. Bastards had planted on in my baby's room. Thankfully the bookshelf was in the way or else she may not have made it," she reached out and ran her nails through some of the fine hair growing out of Charlotte's head as the baby made eye contact with her mother. "Got a scrape pretty bad, and her hearing…" Mary began to cry and Molly reached out to put a hand on her back. "Oh my brave little girl, I'm so sorry," she pressed a kiss on Charlotte's forehead and held her close to her chest.

"We got them out before the others could go off. Seemed like there was a hitch in the wiring: a rat had chewed through one of the circuits in the walls." Mycroft finished for Mary. John came around and sat next to her, consoling her.

"Seems your frugality finally paid off," Sherlock quipped.

"When have I ever proven to be frugal?"

"When you hid the Watson's in a home with the security of a child's dollhouse! Now they are without a home and their daughter is deaf!"

"Sherlock!" Molly barked.

Mycroft fell speechless, for the first time Molly had ever seen. He went to sit in John's old chair, holding both of his hands to the top of his cane and looking towards the floor.

Sherlock turned, looking out the window. "We need to move, quickly. Moriarty is smart, he'll know we would have come here after briefing and as we're all together in one place, he could kill all his birds with one heavy stone," Sherlock turned to face them.

Mycroft pulled out his phone.

"Quite the opposite," he said. "This may be the safest place in London,"

"Forgive me if I don't trust your definition of 'safe' right now,"

"You should," Mycroft's eyes met his brothers before turning his smart phone to face him. Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he reached out at took the phone, examining the contents of the screen.

"What is it?" Molly asked.

"Moriarty," Mycroft answered. "It seems the Watson's weren't the only victims of explosives last night. At least three members of Parliament are dead, and the city-"

"Is rioting," Sherlock ran to his laptop, furiously tapping at keys. Mycroft's phone began to blow up with top secret texts, emails, and phone calls. Sirens echoed through the entire street below and Molly began to feel sick with worry.

"Gangs all over London are having open fire warfare in the streets," Mycroft said. "Some people are taking this opportunity to riot stores. There have been five bombings in the last five minutes in Tube stations across the city,"

"What does that mean? Where are the police?"

"Trying to take care of it. London has descended into chaos. I can't keep your security team here," Mycroft looked at Molly.

"Can't you see this is what he wants?" John said. "You let the security team leave and he has complete access to waltz in here and finish the job,"

"What do you want me to tell them, John?" Mycroft said. "Sorry, you can't leave to help thousands of innocent people, my brother might get hurt?"

"Let him come," Sherlock said.

Molly felt something deep within her twist. All this panic was causing her immense pain.

"Invite that psychopath into your house?" John cried. "Have you forgotten that you have a child to consider now?"

"Mycroft," Sherlock turned. "Have Molly, Mary, and John taken away for here. Dispatch your security team to escort them somewhere safe,"

"Oh do not pull that self sacrificial bullshit," Mary spoke up "Is this still a game to you? Half of the fucking city is on fire and you want to keep this stupid battle of wits with him going?"

"I-" Molly began.

"Well what do you suggest?"

"It's impossible. The streets are impassable."

"Well call in a helicopter then!" Sherlock yelled.

"Sherlock-"

"Yes, let me just demand a helicopter leave the site of one of the most massive terror events our nation has ever seen to whisk away four people! I don't even know where a safe place is!"

"Well then what do you plan to do?"

Mycroft went quiet, and looked down at his phone.

"Let me make some calls," he said.

"Excellent," Sherlock turned back to the couch. "Now, Molly, go pack a bag."

"I would but," she held up her hand, wet with fluid. "My water broke,"

I'm so sorry that this is late! Exams have been killing me and I haven't had much time for fun stuff. Thanks for sticking with me guys!

I did see that I got a criticism in my reviews for making Sherlock and Molly's baby a girl, and was told I was 'uncreative' and 'predictable'. Here is my answer to that

1)1) I am close to my father, and like the parallel of Molly's relationship to her father with Sherlock's relationship with his daughter. Healthy father-daughter relationships are very rarely shown in media.

2)2) There aren't enough women in Sherlock to begin with

3)3) It's my story and I wanted them to have a girl.

Aside from that, all of your reviews make my day! You are all so sweet. I hope your lives are much more stress free than mine right now!