Alex refused to talk no matter how much they pressed him. Sherlock had already realized this was a pointless pursuit and had long since resigned himself to finding his clues through other means. But Molly just couldn't seem to give up.

"But Sherlock, he needs to talk about it. He can't just bottle all of this up inside." Molly glanced towards the living room from the kitchen, lowering her voice another notch.

Alex had been emotional and clingy. He'd been having nightmares almost every night, coming down at two or three in the morning to ask if he could sleep with them. Sherlock had to admit that whatever Alex was going through was no good.

"He can't but us pressing him isn't going to make it any easier," Sherlock said with a sigh. "Leave him alone and he will eventually come to us with what's wrong...with what happened."

Molly sighed but he could tell she wasn't willing to drop the issue. "Fine, we will just have to send him to a therapist then."

Sherlock didn't really care either way. He supposed therapy had its merits for people who actually had feelings to talk about, so he relented. He let Molly take Alex upstairs to have a chat with him.

Alex, however, threw a fit. There was a large amount of crying and telling Molly he wasn't crazy and didn't deserve to be treated like he was. Sherlock sighed and pushed into the conversation. While he normally trusted Molly to do a better job with Alex than he would, this was the one exception.

"Alex, you've been to therapy before and it was fine. Your father told me that you liked it and that it helped with some of the problems. Why was that any different than this?"

Alex sniffled, hugging a soft toy close to his chest. Sherlock sat down beside him.

"That was different. That was when I was a baby and I didn't know any better. I just thought he was some cool guy who let me come play with his toys and talk some. I didn't know that he was for crazy people!"

Sherlock sighed. "Alex, do you know who else has been to see a therapist?"

Alex shook his head, lifting his head up some, though still keeping the soft toy against his face.

"Your father," Sherlock said calmly. "More than once. And he certainly wasn't crazy. He merely recognized that having someone to help with his problems was good."

Alex's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

Molly offered a timid smile. "I did too. Just for a bit of support when I went through a few tough situations."

"And so did I," Sherlock said. "Though I didn't find it very helpful overall. Mostly that the therapist was quite incapable and I was being forced there by my parents and—"

Molly elbowed him.

He considered a moment before continuing. "Alex, when you broke your arm you went to a doctor who fixed it for you. If you felt ill you'd do the same. Hurts of the mind are the same way. Having an expert who can help you isn't a bad thing. You're displaying symptoms—nightmares, crying, fear, and those all show you need help. Let's just try this and see how it goes."

Alex was quiet a moment. "I guess I'll go."

Molly scowled. "Of course you'll go. It will be good for you."

Of course, that set Alex off again. He started crying and complaining, and Sherlock had to ask her to leave to calm Alex down. What really ended up working best was simply wrapping Alex in his arms and telling him that therapy was going to help and that he would likely find that more helpful than anything else.

"I know you don't want to talk about it," Sherlock said. "Not to us at least. But the therapist can help you deal with those problems. It's going to be all right."

That was a lie, of course, but in the moment that seemed to calm Alex down some. Eventually his grip on Sherlock relaxed some, and the detective persuaded him to lie down for a nap. His eyes closed from the sheer exhaustion of his emotional state. Sherlock pulled the blankets up around him before heading to the door. Molly was waiting for him in the corridor.

"Sherlock, I think I should show you why I'm going to insist he does therapy," Molly whispered. "Do you think we can leave him with Mrs. Hudson for a bit?"

Sherlock nodded, too curious to possibly suggest otherwise. He followed her downstairs to tell Mrs. Hudson they were heading out before taking a cab over to St. Bart's.

Sherlock knew Molly had volunteered to look at Ben's corpse. And while it was likely a conflict of interest, Ben's parents had agreed they'd feel most comfortable knowing she was looking after their son.

They stepped into the lab where Molly pulled out the corpse for him to look at with her.

"So, the initial reports had mentioned blood loss. Very true," Molly said. "Quite a lot of blood was lost during his first few hours, from these cuts."

She pointed out the several slashed wounds across various body parts.

"He was tied up," Sherlock said, noticing the bruises on his wrists where rope had clearly cut into his wrists.

"Yes," Molly agreed. "There's precision in each of the cuts. They were performed carefully, no sign of hesitation. Most of them are quite deep. Whoever did this showed no signs of remorse…" she sighed and then pointed to a different shaped wound on Ben's chest.

"This is cause of death. A single stab wound to the chest. It's completely different. Shallower, clear signs that the person was shaking while performing the stabbing. Also the angle of entry and everything…" She broke off and quickly handed him her notes.

Sherlock scanned them, but it was easy to see she had drawn the same conclusions he had. He glanced between the words and the corpse. But the facts didn't lie. Everything Molly had said was true. His jaw clenched as he considered the implications.

"And what are you going to do with this information?" Sherlock asked.

Molly bit her lip, glancing at the chart. "I'm going to ignore this," she whispered. "I hate falsifying records, but..."

"But this information could hurt Alex," Sherlock agreed. "And I understand now why you are so insistent on therapy. It still seems a bit silly, but I concur it might be for the best."

Molly nodded and snatched the records from him. "I'm setting to work on it now. Could you please see if you can find out who Alex's last therapist is so we can schedule an appointment?"

Sherlock nodded, heading off in order to allow Molly time to do her work. He was still trying to process the realities around him, still trying to figure out how Moriarty could possibly have done something so senseless and evil, and how they were ever going to put Alex back together.

A few weeks later they were sitting in the counselor's office. Alex was already in a small playroom connected by a door. Molly kept giving Sherlock nervous glances as they discussed the issues of Alex's future therapy.

"The issue of confidentiality can be a bit gray when it comes to minors," the therapist told them, folding his hands on his desk and blinking through his spectacles. "But what I tell most of my clientele is that I prefer to maintain a normal level of confidence with the child in order to establish the best level of trust. Obviously, part of the reason a therapist can be so helpful for a child is that it provides an outside unbiased person to whom it can be easier to relate information. For that reason, I prefer not to give information back to parents."

"I expect there are exceptions to that," Sherlock muttered, trying his best to not feel bored, even as he drew up the little meaningless facts about the man in front of him. Nothing harmful about him, just dreadfully dull.

"Of course, Mr. Holmes. Any information about harming himself or others, I of course am required to tell you those things. And if Alex would prefer to relay information through me, I'm happy to do so. I might give you some tips if I have ideas for helping him, but no direct information. But if you are willing to agree to my terms I'd like you to sign an agreement to make sure this won't become an issue later."

"Of course," Molly said, pulling the form from his hand, then handing it to Sherlock. She probably guessed he could read it more thoroughly than he could. "And you really think you can help him? It's such an unusual case. I mean…most often kids just come in for social problems or problems at home, right?"

Sherlock scanned the document but saw no problems with it. While Molly probably disliked not knowing what was wrong with Alex, he didn't think prying was necessary. As long as Alex had the support he needed, that was enough for him.

"Yes," the therapist said. "This is an unusual case, but I've taken a wide variety. I don't tend to limit myself. Now, a case with kidnap and potential torture by a megalomaniac? Not something I've faced. But I've worked with Alex before and we did well. The main thing is helping him overcome any trauma, stress, confusion about the events that happened before. If I have any real concerns I will let you know." He paused and glanced between the two of them. "I'd also be happy to provide therapy for both of you if you have any concerns. Dealing with someone else's trauma can be difficult."

Molly hid a half smile fairly well, likely thinking how much Sherlock would hate that. "We will consider, thank you. In the meantime, we'll be back in an hour to pick him up?"

"That's perfect. Until then, we'll see how our first session goes."

Sherlock rose, eager to leave the place that reminded him far too much of his parent's few pitiful attempts at "fixing" him. If it helped Alex, perfect. But he wanted little part in it.

"Thank you," Molly said again as they headed to the door. Once shut she rounded on Sherlock. "Bad memories?"

"Don't try to shrink me," Sherlock muttered as he stalked to the door.

"Oh come now, you already admitted you'd been to therapy. I take it you weren't too pleased with the results."

Sherlock sighed but decided to just give in rather than allowing her to pester him for the rest of the day.

"No, it was the first time someone called me a psychopath. The man was utterly incompetent, he had no idea what he was even talking about. The only benefit was, I ended up reading up on psychopaths and ran across the idea of being a sociopath…and therefore figured out I was one."

"Oh Sherlock," Molly whispered. "How horrible."

"And your therapist? For your self-esteem issues as an adolescent?"

Molly didn't react to the comment. If it had stung her she didn't show it, a surprise for Sherlock. She was growing more used to his barbed remarks apparently.

"No, grief counseling," Molly said. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I went after my mother's death. And then again after my father's. It was…hard on me."

Sherlock stood stalk still for a moment, and then slowly gathered himself again.

"I'm sorry," he said. He leaned in and pecked her lips.

"It's all right. It was a long time ago," Molly said with a half smile. "Now, I'm off to work. You'll pick Alex up in an hour?"

Sherlock nodded his agreement, and left to go do some casework. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so sharp with Molly. She'd only been trying to help, only been trying to see what had happened in his past to see if she could help. That was Molly, always wanting to help, always wanting to love. But where had her love gotten her before? Into grief counseling? Sentiment was a defect in some respects, and the more Sherlock allowed himself to feel, the more he felt this was the case.

Counseling did seem to help Alex in some respects. He began to become more sure of himself again. His teachers remarked that he seemed to be having an easier time in school too. The one problem that remained were the constant nightmares. And with Alex constantly coming to slip into bed with them, Sherlock and Molly had very little time to even begin thinking about the decision they'd made on having a baby.

The therapist recommended regular sleep hours, less snacking before going to bed, and trying to do something more relaxing before sleep. But even those few adjustments did little to curb Alex's obvious fear. Sherlock finally had a lock installed on his door, thinking maybe then he and Molly could finally give things a go, without the fear that Alex would walk in on them.

What ended up working best in the end was asking Mrs. Hudson to watch him for a few afternoons.

"You two going out on a date, dear?" she asked when Sherlock proposed the idea.

"Of sorts," Sherlock responded. "Actually, we…have things we need to get done upstairs without Alex interrupting us. It would only be for a couple of hours at most."

Mrs. Hudson seemed to catch on after a minute, and suddenly she was chuckling hysterically.

"Oh, you two," she said with a bright smile. "Can't keep your hands off each other then? Just like me and Mr. Hudson back in the day. Oh I remember some of those hot afternoons in Florida when we'd sneak off. There was this boat we used to take out sometimes. I remember one time we were out there…he used to get so vigorous and we ended up capsizing. Oh and those evenings on the porch we would—"

"Well, yes, thank you Mrs. Hudson. Lestrade needs to see me immediately. I'll just leave you to your scratch cards."

She huffed but did fall silent on the scratch card comment, going back to her kitchen while Sherlock headed to the door, not eager to hear anything more about the late Mr. Hudson or his boat or anything else for that matter.

But it was settled. Alex would head to Mrs. Hudson's, and the two of them would be left alone to their "work."

Of course, as they sat on the bed together, Molly kissing him and asking why he was so tense, Sherlock was beginning to think. It was one of the times he truly wished there was an off switch on his brain. But even when Molly was trying to entice him, he couldn't help but run through all the various possibilities, churn out idea after idea about what could go wrong with each scenario.

As Molly drew him down onto the bed with her, he began to truly question.

"What's wrong?" Molly finally asked.

"I'm not sure we should do this," Sherlock admitted.

Molly sat up and pushed him away from her. "If you're having second thoughts lets have it out now. I'm not dealing with those once I'm pregnant. Now, what's wrong?"

Sherlock sat up the rest of the way and sighed. "Molly, the whole reason we're doing this in the middle of the day is because of Moriarty. It's because Moriarty kidnapped Alex and traumatized him to an extent where he can't sleep through the night."

"So?" Molly said, arching a brow.

"So," Sherlock said, choosing his words carefully, "is it a good idea to bring a child into a world where Moriarty has already proved himself capable of hurting and destroying? Can we risk that for our child? Can we both live with ourselves knowing we're putting him or her in harms way?"

Molly sighed and moved a bit closer to take his hand. "Oh Sherlock."

He swallowed. "I don't know if I can do that Molly. I'm…scared…I feel scared for Alex. And I don't know if I can be scared for someone else too. And you—what if he does things to you. He hasn't yet, but he might. We're in a rather precarious predicament at the moment. Perhaps this is all foolish…playing house while a madman threatens to ruin everything."

She moved to lift his chin, staring deep into his eyes, hers showing no signs of the worry or fear he'd expected from her.

"What you're doing right now is letting him win, Sherlock," Molly said. "If we live our lives in fear of him he wins. He gets what he always wanted of ruining your life. You can't give him that power over you, always looking over your shoulder, always wondering what he'll do next. It's no way to live."

She sighed and he thought she was finished, only to be cut off by her voice rising a bit as she spoke on.

"Life is unpredictable," Molly said, offering him a smile even as her eyes glittered with some level of care and warmth that he'd become accustomed to over the past few months. "If it's not Moriarty it's something else. People die, Sherlock. People get hurt. Someone will walk out a door one day and never come back the next. We can't know how life works or where it goes. That's not something you can deduce or reason and trying to do so is only going to drive you mad. Please, Sherlock, if you can't do this, I understand. But even if you don't have this child…you need to not let him beat you. You need to not live life afraid."

Sherlock smiled. His eyes felt a bit watery, but he refused to cry.

"I knew there was a reason I proposed to you, Molly Hooper."

She laughed at that, even more so as he slid closer, arms encircling her comfortably. She felt right in his arms somehow. She really did suit him in some ways.

"And it's the reason I'm going to make you the mother of my child," Sherlock said.

Molly's eyes glittered. "We're in this together, Sherlock. Never forget that. You don't have to fight this battle alone."

He moved to kiss her, deciding they'd had enough words. Before he could lose his courage, perhaps trying for the baby would be the best. So, settling back to enjoy their reprieve from caring for Alex, the two of them set into their next task.

There was something pleasant in putting a purpose to what normally was assigned for pleasure. Sherlock found himself more motivated now than before, and he noticed that had added a little more happiness in Molly. She never complained, of course, but he sensed sometimes that she longed for more physical intimacy.

They were restricted some by having to work around work schedules and times Mrs. Hudson could watch Alex, but with everything Molly had told Sherlock from doctor visits, he wasn't too concerned about needing excessive attempts. They had time, even if Molly worried on that some.

A few months later though, Sherlock was already picking up on the signs even Molly wasn't aware of yet. Fatigue. A little dizziness. As Molly prepared to do some shopping one weekend afternoon Sherlock finally decided to break the news.

"Pick up some milk, please, we're out," Sherlock said. "Oh, but before you go…maybe you should try this."

He handed over a small rectangular package. Molly studied it a moment, turning it over in her hand. She quickly seemed to realize what it was.

Molly had frowned. "Not possible I had mine about a week ago, Sherlock. We're going to have to wait another month at least. When did you buy a pregnancy test?"

"Never can be too prepared," Sherlock said. "As for your supposed cycle, spotting sometimes occurs in the beginning stages, not as heavy as your normal ones. You've had cramping in the last few days, not abnormal, but that combined with the dizzy spell the other day and the headaches.. You've been more tired lately. And your—"

"All right," she said, holding up a hand. "I'll try a pregnancy test. How early do they work?"

"Depends," Sherlock said. "But usually a week will do it. Based on our last sexual intercourse, that should be about right."

"And you know that how?" Molly asked, studying him critically.

"Oh you never know what information might be useful for a case," Sherlock said with a wave of his hand.

Molly crossed her arms. "Sherlock."

He sighed. "All right, I read it on a website. Happy?"

She shook her head at that, but deposited her handbag on the table before heading to the bathroom. Sherlock moved to his feet, wondering how long he should wait.

Molly emerged with the plastic stick in her hands, still looking down at it. Sherlock felt his breath catch.

"Results of the test?"

"Not in yet. It takes a minute according to the packaging."

Sherlock's jaw clenched and he did his best to take a deep breath. He was probably right with his deductions, but he had to be sure. He had to know for certain what was coming.

After a few minutes of waiting, Molly gasped and covered her mouth with one hand, staring down at the stick in the other.

"Positive," Sherlock deduced.

Molly nodded, even as she began to tear up.

"Congratulations, Molly," Sherlock said. He smiled and moved closer to wrap his arms around her in a tight hug.

"We're having a baby!" Molly said with a laugh. "Oh Sherlock, we're actually having a baby. It's happening!"

"We might want to do a second test in a week just to make sure," he stated. "Or go to a doctor for a blood test."

"Shh, don't spoil this for me. I'm enjoying the moment," Molly said.

Sherlock managed to catch further comments, settling for hugging her and smiling and enjoying Molly's obvious happiness.

After reconfirming with a second test, the two did begin to spread the news. But of course, Molly pointed out immediately that the first person who needed to be told was the one who would be affected the most.

"We have to tell Alex," Molly said. "It's only right. He's going to be so excited."

Sherlock nodded, though he found the telling people thing a bit silly, he supposed most people weren't sharp enough to deduce it on their own. And Alex still believed storks brought babies or some nonsense of that sort, so he wasn't just going to assume anything.

It was after he came home from school one evening. Molly snagged him before he could make his way up to his room. He appeared a bit tired, and Sherlock could tell it had been a hard day. Bad grade on a test probably. But Molly was not going to be deterred by that.

"Sherlock and I have some exciting news for you," Molly said. She beamed at him from his spot beside her on the sofa. "You're going to have a new brother or sister soon."

Alex's brow furrowed, and he looked at her first, then at Sherlock. "What?"

"Well, Sherlock and I decided we'd like to have a baby. It'll be a while before he or she is born, but in a little less than eight months he or she will be here," Molly said. "Isn't that exciting?"

Alex continued to look confused for a moment, but after a long moment clarity seemed to strike him, before his mouth creased in a more obvious frown.

"I don't want a brother or sister," he said.

Molly's smile faltered. "Oh, well, I know it will be a bit of an adjustment."

"Send it back," Alex ordered.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. So much for Molly's idea working.

"Oh sweetheart, it's a bit late for that. But I'm sure you'll love him or her when it all happens. You'll be a wonderful big brother and—"

Alex stood up and shot a hurt look at Sherlock. "I don't want a brother or sister. I just want—I want—" he broke off with a sob and ran to the stairs.

Molly sat with her mouth open, staring at the chair where Alex had been seated.

"Oh god, I thought…I thought he'd be so happy. Did I…what…oh Sherlock, have we made a mistake?"

"Give him a moment to cool off," Sherlock said. "We'll talk to him when he's in a more rational mindset."

Molly nodded, but her set jaw made him think she wasn't finished.

"I'll be right back."

She headed back towards their bedroom. Sherlock sighed and picked up her laptop to do a little more research on. He'd had little luck with the Moriarty case lately, but maybe there was something else interesting in the news.

He was drawn out of his thinking by Molly appearing back in the room. Glancing at the clock he saw that twenty minutes had amounted, even though it felt like less than five to him.

"Nice phone call?" he asked. "You've got an imprint from where you held it to your face. I know you're upset, but do be careful."

"Yes actually," Molly said, folding her arms. "Talked with Alex's therapist."

"And what's he have to say? Something about not being able to break confidentiality?"

"No," Molly said with a sigh. "This is serious, Sherlock."

He closed the laptop and looked up at her. "What?"

"He told me that adopted children more often feel…excluded," Molly said. "Especially when there are biological children in the home. It makes sense really."

"No it doesn't," Sherlock said with a frown. "Alex knows we care for him. Why do genes matter?"

"It's just how he might feel," Molly said. "How a lot of children living without their parents feel apparently. He said the best thing to do was to make sure Alex knows he's supported and loved and to have a good chat with him about why we've made this decision, keep him involved and all that."

"All right. Sounds good. Anything else or can I go back to reading?"

Molly pursed her lips. "Sherlock, you know…I can't help but think he might be right. I think Alex really does feel like we won't care about him as much as our own child."

"It's ridiculous, Molly," Sherlock said. "Completely irrational."

"Completely irrational when you've never once said that you love him?" Molly countered, giving him a hard stare. "At least not in front of me you haven't."

Sherlock frowned. "I don't see why saying one silly little word is so important. The idea of love is simply so imprecise. I don't care to use it. It's my personal choice."

"Well, your personal choice probably comes across as not caring to your eight year old," Molly said with a sigh. "He's not old enough yet to understand things like that, Sherlock. He's not like me. I don't expect it of you. But he does."

"And if I tell him I love him, all the problems will simply go away?" Sherlock asked, cocking his head at the idea.

"No," Molly said. "But it might help. Please, Sherlock. Just go tell him."

He sighed, but on considering what she'd said agreed that did seem like the most likely means of helping Alex at the moment. It was a bit ridiculous, but nothing else seemed like a possibility, and so that meant giving in and compromising on his own comfort.

Sherlock rose to his feet and headed towards the stairs. Molly didn't move behind him, indicating to him that this was his own battle to fight. She'd already paid her penance in telling Alex of her love. It made sense she didn't need to come, and he appreciated her respecting his privacy.

Alex was curled up in a ball on his bed. Though not asleep, he appeared to be resting, even though the red rimming his eyes showed Sherlock he'd been crying for a while.

"Can I come in?" Sherlock asked from the doorway.

Alex offered a single shaky nod before the detective walked into the room. He came over to sit at Alex's bedside, reaching down a hand to rub along Alex's spine, feeling every bit of tension that rested there.

"I think we need to talk," he began stiffly. "Molly and I are worried you're getting the wrong idea about the baby, Alex. We're not having it because we don't like you or want to replace you with our own child or anything like that. In fact, we care about you very much. But Molly would like to have another baby, and this is the most logical option and—"

He stopped, realizing his ramble probably wasn't getting anywhere.

"The point is, this baby isn't going to change how we feel about you, Alex. It's not going to make me love you any less," he swallowed at the word that he didn't particularly care for. "I do love you, very much, Alex. You're very important to me."

Alex lifted his head slightly to look at Sherlock, eyes wide.

"When you were just an embryo, I promised your father I would look after you," Sherlock said. "I promised I would always be there for you and your mother and father. And nothing has changed about that. I meant every word of it, even if the part about your parents no longer holds true, I can still honor my word in caring for you."

Alex sniffed. "I just think you'll like him or her more than me. It will be a better kid than me and you'll not like me anymore."

Sherlock smiled. "If it's anything like me, then I assure you that you're going to come off as the angel in this house. I was a total brat as a little boy. Wild and headstrong and stubborn. I don't want a little clone of myself. In fact that has little appeal to me. All I can hope is that Molly's genes are going to play a stronger part in this than mine. I know I will forever appreciate your kindness and strength and love, Alex. No matter what. You will always be a special person in this family."

He smiled as Alex sat up to come sit in his arms, cuddling up against his chest.

"Besides, you're going to be the best big brother there is," Sherlock said. "How could I not love you for that?"

"I love you too, Sherlock," Alex whispered.

"You know, before I had you, I didn't think I could ever be a father," Sherlock said. "You taught me differently. You made me see that wasn't true."

He glanced up to see Molly in the doorway. She offered a half smile before backing off, probably seeing he had things under control.

"I love you, Alex," he said one last time, before settling into silence. Although he had long thought speaking of love was silly, he was beginning to see there was something beautiful in those simple words. Even so, it was pointless to over use them. So he settled for simply showing his love physical instead, keeping a firm hold on Alex, as his son eventually fell into one of his first peaceful sleeps in a long long time.

A/N:Whew, hope that makes up for being gone so long. I really had wanted to edit this one last time, but it's really late and I am determined to get it up before I go to bed. Spent too long editing vacation photos today. Had a great vacation, but it's good to be back home with my computer and my writing. Also, I made a Tumblr, so feel free to find me on that. I listed myself on my profile so you can find me more easily.

Baby name guesses/suggestions are welcome at any time. Love hearing what other people think Sherlock or Molly might name a kid. I have some ideas of my own of course, but there is an element of Q & A to all this (sorry my nerdy Sherlock Sign of Three quoting coming out).

Thanks to Denethorian, BelieverofManyThings, and Anasthesia93 for reviews!