Sherlock woke up to annoyingly beeping machines. Grunting, he blindly took off his IV drip and drew back his covers.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Sherlock opened his eyes and turned to glare at Mycroft.

"I wouldn't leave if I were you. Mummy and Daddy are on their way."

The younger Holmes sighed and lifted his feet back into bed before drawing the covers to his waist. "Happy now?"

"Very," Mycroft smiled. "Before you ask, Molly is doing fine."

"And the baby?"

Mycroft shifted in his seat, tapping the top of his umbrella handle nervously. "I think you should speak to Dr Hooper regarding that."

"She lost it." Sherlock deduced, closing his eyes. "She did, didn't she?"

Mycroft sighed. "I... She didn't say anything to me but I had guessed it."

"I have to speak to her,"

The door opened and John Watson entered, relief written on his face. "You're all right. You've been out for hours."

"How are you?"

John shrugged. "Shocked. Still taking everything in. I'll be fine. Have you seen Molly yet?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I've just woken up. I do wish to see her immediately, though."

Nodding, John retrieved the wheelchair from the corner and nudged his head towards it. "In."

"Right now?"

"Whenever else?"

Mycroft stood, giving Sherlock a small smile. "Try not to mess this up, brother mine."

With that, he left the room tapping his umbrella as he left.

...

Mycroft sat back in his office chair, sighing in relief. He had messaged his parents that he had work to do so they would be alone with Sherlock at the hospital. He had promised all of them that he and Sherrinford will take the time to explain all but there was some damage control to be done as well as various of safety precautions.

Picking up the small, green booties, Mycroft remembered the conversation he had with Molly Hooper before his brother's awakening. He had not meant to lie to his dearest brother but it was not his secret nor place to tell.

"My-Mycroft..."

"Dr Hooper, I do apologise for my intrusion but... I must ask how you are doing? Sherlock wanted to know, he's very concerned for you."

Molly sighed, biting her lip as she fiddled with the hemming of her covers. "You know. You obviously know."

"It wasn't hard to deduce, Dr Hooper. I do have eyes and ears at all times on my brother. I am also aware of the impromptu call for a doctor's appointment."

"Yes, I am expecting. Twins, but... I don't want Sherlock to know. I want you to let him think that I miscarried after the explosion."

Mycroft tilted his head. "May I ask why you want to do such a thing?"

"Because he doesn't love me. What does he think that we can be a perfect little family? That is BS and you know it, Mycroft."

Mycroft scoffed. "And what happens when he sees that you're clearly still with child? Pregnancies do not stay quiet you know? They are quite obvious."

Molly closed her eyes, clasping her hands. "I need you to do something for me. I've made some calls already using the references from my current boss to transfer me to another workplace but... it's in America. I need you to make sure that my arrival in the States goes smoothly."

The eldest Holmes child's eyes widened. "The States? Yes, I have contacts there, there is no problem but... are you sure, Dr Hooper?"

"I've been thinking about this before everything happened, Mycroft... When I found out that I was pregnant, I made the decision to leave. Telling Sherlock was not part of the plan but I needed something over him so he could stop using. I can't let any child of mine ever think that their father is a junkie."

He understood her reasons but hadn't she admitted her undying love? Sherrinford had managed to inform him of everything that had happened, especially making sure to add that part.

"Do you not love my brother?"

Molly's eyes watered as she gave him a glare. "How dare you ask me that. Sherlock knows my answer and well, I already know his."

"Very well." Mycroft stood up. "He will be waking up soon. I wish to be there."

"Go ahead. Remember."

With a nod, he left.

He sighed, placing the booties down.

"Anthea... A large Scotch would do me."

Anthea nodded. "Of course,"

Mycroft watched her leave and he checked his phone to see if he had received anything on Eurus' matter, not that he truly cared.

He just wished that there was someway to save her as well as Sherlock.

...

Molly looked up from slipping her jacket on. "I'm going home."

"Molly, we have to talk..." Sherlock said, gesturing for John to leave.

Getting the message, John patted his shoulder and left, leaving Molly glaring at Sherlock.

"I lost it, you know?"

"Mycroft told me."

Molly gave a bitter chuckle, running her hands down her face. "I was actually a little excited. I didn't know what role you'd play but I knew that I was going to be the best damn mother I could."

"You would have made a splendid mother."

"Don't patronise me." Molly snapped. "I'm leaving."

"You're full of bombshells, aren't you?" Sherlock snapped back before guiltily turning to face her. "Sorry, that was rude of me."

Molly smiled bitterly. "You've always been a bastard. I'm used to it."

Sherlock agreed by nodding. "True. I'm sure everyone is used to it."

"Why are you here?"

"We need to talk. We need to... grieve."

"I'm fine with that on my own, thank you very much."

Sherlock gave a frustrated yell. "You're making this difficult, Molly! I want to put things right if you'd let me!"

She wanted to cry, to sob, to hit him and kick him where the damn sun didn't shine. "It's too late," she whispered, tears slipping down her worn out face. "I'm tired and it's just too late. I love John, Rosie, Mrs Hudson - even Greg - but everything needs to be... different. I need a change, a new start."

"If this is because of the baby-"

"Not just that, Sherlock. It's not me, it's you."

"Isn't the phrase, 'it's not you, it's me?'" He asked.

Molly rolled her eyes. "It is genuinely you, though. Your family even." She sat on the bed and stared him down. "I want to stop loving you. Loving you will get me killed."

"Well, I must respect your decisions..."

"Thank you..." Molly sighed, wiping her face. She felt dirty, tired, grungy and she wanted nothing more than to have a nice, long bath and cuddle with Toby.

Sherlock looked down at his hands rested on his lap. "Will I see you? Before you leave? Ever?"

"I... I don't know."

"Shall we make this goodbye, then?"

Molly nodded and arose, giving him a long hug. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I can't get hurt myself." She closed her eyes, hoping he couldn't feel the hardness of her stomach which was currently home to their two children.

Sherlock slipped his hands around her waist and brought her closer, smelling the strawberries from her hair. "Your shampoo... You've changed it again."

"I needed a change," she mumbled.

"I love you."

She sobbed against his shoulder. "Don't say-"

"I remember from that night... I never gave you an answer to your statement of you enjoying what we did. I honestly have never felt so alive since that day or even prior. You bring the best out of me and it will be most sincerely a shame when you leave."

Molly shook her head. "Please, stop..."

"I love you. I even love the fact that you once held my child inside you. I hope that one day, you'll forgive me."

"I... I can't, not yet."

Sherlock shushed her gently. "I know. I said 'one day'. I just want you to know that you'll always be on my mind, wherever you are, whatever you're doing."

"You will seldom be on mine, Holmes."

Sherlock gave a little smirk. "I think we should let go, now."

Nodding, she withdrew her arms from his neck and stepped back, fixing her top. "I think I know how much you wanted to be a father so... whenever John can't, look after Rosie for us, yeah? I know she adores you so much as you adore her."

"Thank you for the advice."

"You're welcome,"

Molly walked to the door and opened it, giving Sherlock a last glance. "Don't be too much of an arsehole, will you?"

"I'll try," Sherlock smiled.

"Good." And she walked out of his life.