Crowded into the living room is a group of her friends. Mary, John, Mrs Hudson, Greg, Meena, and even Mycroft are there. Her eyes are shining with tears as she takes them all in, rushing forward to envelope each person in a warm hug.
When she finally let's go of the army doctor and his girlfriend, she makes a sound between a sob and a laugh, grateful that she has such wonderful, wonderful friends.
"We brought presents as well!" Greg announces, smiling at her in a way that tells Molly he and his wife are on yet another break.
"Honestly, you didn't have to go to so much trouble… Shall I open them now?"
Molly is guided towards the black leather armchair in the centre of the room. She sinks into it, and though she'd only ever visited one time while he was here, she knows immediately whose chair it is. Something in the looks on John and Mycroft's faces confirm her suspicions.
She opens her presents and cards as they are handed to her. There are a few for her (a set of scented candles from Meena and a heavy silver locket from Mycroft that looks too old for it not to be some sort of heirloom) but mostly, she receives gifts for the baby.
They all laugh at the babygrow Lestrade gives to her – she has to stifle her giggles with a hand over her mouth as the words 'Honorary Yarder' written on the front. Meena also gives her a pair of tiny Converse trainers in black, earning a collective "Awwww" from the women in the room. Next is a handmade blanket from Mrs Hudson, made of some kind of soft white fabric; tiny bumblebees are embroidered around the edges.
"It's beautiful, thank you so much."
"You're very welcome, dear."
Mary hands her a large box with a silver bow stuck to the top.
"We were originally only going to get one or two things, but John apparently had other ideas." She says fondly, stroking the doctor's hair from her position on the arm of his chair. He shrugs as they all chuckle.
"I'm allowed to spoil it if I want, that's my duty as godfather!" he protests, jokingly sending Molly a pointed stare.
"Of course you're going to be godfather, there's no one better for the job!" Molly notices Mycroft's raised eyebrow, "Oh god, sorry Mycroft. You're promoted to the position of favourite uncle, I swear."
She receives a tiny smile from Mycroft before she goes back to the box.
After a brief struggle with the tight lid, she manages to prise it open, and she gasps.
Inside is almost an entire wardrobes worth of clothing for her baby. Most of the items are neutral colours, but at the bottom she finds the most stunning outfit she has ever seen for a child.
A pale blue striped button down, dark grey trousers and one other thing; a tiny navy blue coat, almost identical to the famous black Belstaff.
"I- I know it's a bit pointless buying boy's clothes when you don't know the sex, but… I had to buy it."
John's voice cracks slightly, and everyone goes silent. All eyes are on them, the two people who have lost more than anyone can imagine, even the detective's brother. One has lost his best friend, the man that made his life worth living again; the other has lost the father of her child, the man she had loved for the past 3 years, who had been cruelly taken from her just as he began to return her affections.
Molly wants to tell them all right then, to shout "It's all okay, he's alive!" but she knows exactly what is at stake so she stays silent and simply take John's hand and squeezes it tight.
"It's perfect, John. Thank you."
Much of the evening passes without any drama; when all the presents are opened, they nibble on the food that has been laid out on the kitchen table (it looks slightly forlorn without the pile of unfinished experiments it had been home to a few months before) and chat as a group.
Mostly, they talk about the detective, but there are no sad stories. John is wheezing with laughter as he tells them about the time he broke into the house of a suspect that had been avoiding him, only to find the person in a rather questionable position with his wife on the bedroom floor.
"God, you should have seen the look on his face," John's face is bright red by now, "He climbed straight back out the window and I found him in his room when we got home, rocking back and forth."
"I think I've still got the pictures somewhere!" Greg pipes up, and they all burst out laughing again.
They can't contain themselves when Mycroft regales them with the tale of how his little brother was stung by a wasp age six, only to have his shorts and pants pulled down and an onion rubbed on his backside by their eccentric Greek cook.
When they're finally calm, they talk a bit more about the baby. Molly allows John to place a hand on her bump while her son kicks happily at his hand. John excuses himself to the bathroom, still grinning, and his seat is taken almost immediately by Mycroft.
He is impeccably dress, as usual, but he has taken his grey jacket off and rolled the sleeves of his pristine shirt above his elbows in an attempt to look more casual.
"Would you mind if I-" he gestures to the spot where John's hand had lain.
"Of course. Here-" Molly takes his hand gently. His fingers are cold, and she can feel the temperature difference when she guides his hand to the area where the fluttering sensation was focused. They wait for a second, Mycroft's eyes focused unblinkingly on her abdomen, before there is a sharp jab against the barrier of his hand. Then they're both smiling, wider than Molly had ever seen Mycroft smile before.
"Molly?"
John is standing in the doorway, eyeing Mycroft, but he makes no comment. "I've just found this. I dunno who it's from, but it's addressed to you."
He holds up a parcel wrapped messily in brown paper. As he crosses the room to hand it to her, Mycroft stands from his chair and slinks away to talk to Lestrade.
John is the only person who watches her open the suspicious gift. When the final strips of paper are torn away, they both stare at it in shock, before Molly bolts down the hallway and into the bathroom.
On the floor where her feet had been, is a tiny black t-shirt, small enough to fit a new-born baby.
Across the chest are 5 simple words:
"I believe in Sherlock Holmes."