Sherlock quickly walked out of the room. He needed room to think, sometimes there were too many people in one room. Wondering down room to room, he knew he wanted to stay in or at least round the hospital surroundings. Just so he could say something, anything, to John...his John. He needed to go outside. He needed a cigarette...well he needed something stronger, but he knew he couldn't. Mycroft was watching him like a hawk these days and he was already being threatened with rehab. He didn't have any cigarettes, but he needed one, desperately.

"Oh, Sherlock, hi" A voice released him from his addiction calling him. He looked around and realised Molly, Molly Hooper, was in fact standing straight in front of him.

"Sorry if I, well if I was, interrupting you..." She continued. "Would you like to have lunch, with me? I mean would you like to eat with me. Oh I mean would you like to join me for lunch?" She stuttered all this out.

When was the last time I did eat? Sherlock wondered to himself. Eating was boring, but sometimes it was necessary. He sighed internally, why did the human body have to be complicated?

"I'd prefer to eat alone, the canteen's this way isn't it?" Sherlock pointed of in a direction. He just wanted to get a quick get away, as she looked at where he was pointing. However Molly just kept staring at him. He internally shivered, why was she staring at him?

"Is something wrong? I mean, because, you normally look and are busy. But now, right now, you keep looking for a distraction from something that's happening at the moment." Molly asked.

For a very rare moment Sherlock stared out in shock, then he composed himself within a matter of seconds. He was about to speak, but Molly interrupted.

"And don't just say that nothing's wrong. Because pretending you're okay is worse then saying what your feeling."

Sherlock stared again. Thinking to himself, when had Molly been this perceptive? He had always known about her 'empathy' skills, but none like this. For a long moment he just thought. Talking out all his thoughts could help him more, he could organise them more. Also if Molly was this perceptive, maybe she could give advice?

'Unlikely' his brain disagreed with him, but he still had a tiny bit of hope. He then made a decision.

"You know what Molly, I think I will join you for lunch."

The canteen was bustling with life. People laughing, talking, eating. Sherlock thought they were all just being stupidly ignorant and loud. He couldn't think like this. Why was there always to much stupid in a room?

"We can eat outside, I mean it's a lovely day anyway." Molly interrupted his thoughts once more.

Sherlock looked down and smiled...well at least not all the room contained idiotic clowns, he thought. Molly either sensed his discomfort or she hated it as well.

After getting their food, they sat down outside. Molly was right it was a particularly sunny day.

"So what's wrong? " Molly asked in her most polite voice. Sherlock stared at her for a moment before speaking.

"Apparently I have a son."

Molly raised her eyebrows, as far as they would go.

"What?" She asked.

Sherlock sighed internally, he loathed repeating himself.

"I have a son."

"Well I can't say I was expecting that answer to come out." Molly whispered more to herself, then Sherlock. He laughed quietly, he supposed that answer should have been very unlikely. Molly also started laughing quietly. When they stopped, Molly said,

"So Sherlock Holmes has a son?"

"Well apparently..."

"Wow..."

"Yep.." He spoke, whilst popping the 'p'.

"Do you know her or his name, if it's okay for me to ask?" Molly spoke once more.

Sherlock ignored the last question at the end. He supposed Molly was just being nice, but Molly could ask anything and he wouldn't get angry. Well unless it was completely stupid, but he would probably still listen to her.

"His name is John."

"How come you have a son...I mean if it's oka..."

Sherlock interrupted her, whilst his anger got the better of him. The pressure was too much and he didn't need Molly acting kind at the moment.

"Of course it's okay, anything you say is okay. I only mind if it's completely idiotic and even if it is I will still listen, because it's just you!"

Molly immediately stopped anything she was about to say and looked up at Sherlock. He swallowed, Sherlock didn't even think about what he was saying, it just came out. Looking at his hands, Sherlock spoke,

"I apologise, if that was inappropria..."

"No, don't, it's fine." Molly smiled and they sat in silence for a while, until Sherlock spoke what was truly on his mind.

"I have to make a decision, whether I should keep John or give him to a children's home or something along those lines. Now in my line of work, I can't afford to have a child." He kept rambling on. "I don't think my brother or Lestrade would appreciate him at crime scenes, or if he is raised with body parts in the fridge. I don't want his to grow up to be known as weird, unnatural or a-a well a freak."

"Sherlock..." Molly interrupted, but he continued in almost a frenzy way.

"He also has injuries from his mum, well his so called mum..." He missed the way in which Molly inhaled. "...he could suffer from PTSD, well he will. He won't, certainly, trust me. Maybe not ever. If she had only told me, if the mum had only told me, this would not have happened!" He stopped, his anger got the better of him. "I am not adequate enough to raise a son..." Sherlock looked up at Molly. "...But I want to. My brain has worked out all the facts, yet I want to be his-his dad. I know I won't be good for him, I know I won't be adequate enough for him, yet I want to raise him..."

He stared at Molly. Molly gazed back, if just glancing at him from a distance, he appeared calm. However she looked at his eyes. un-shed tears lay there and he looked lost, so very lost. This was the most vulnerable she had seen Sherlock. Eventually she spoke,

"How do you know you won't be a good dad? I mean you've never done it before."

At this Sherlock looked up at her,

"But the evidence suggests..."

"What evidence is there? So he might grow up with knowing about different body parts, wouldn't that make him better educated? And everyone has different versions of what 'normal' is. If he was bullied or called a freak, couldn't Mycroft always release hell hounds on the bullies?" At this Sherlock laughed slighty. "If you're working on a case, I'm perfectly happy to take care of him, and I bet Mycroft and Lestrade are as well. But he is your son, so chances are he might be interested in the different cases, as well. You are not alone, Sherlock. I would say go with your heart, but still use your brain to help him."

At this Sherlock looked up,

"Thank you, Molly. You are certainly a genius in disguise." She smiled and glowed at this and spoke,

"Go, and make your decision and just know that I will always be there for you, what ever choice you make."

Sherlock then smiled and walked off. Because of Molly he knew his decision. Because of Molly he had spoken what he really thought. Because of Molly...he had forgotten about the cigarettes...