When Sherlock had returned to his room with the help of a nurse, he met his parents and John waiting for him.

"How did it go?" John asked him.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "She's leaving."

"What about the-"

"Gone."

John drew a deep intake of breath and nodded, standing up from the bed. "Well, I'm off home. Rosie will be missing me."

"Give her a hug from me," Sherlock replied quietly as he lifted himself up on his bed.

After his friend had left, his mother started to pester him. "You could have gotten yourself killed!" She cried, brushing her fingers over his cuts and bruises. "My darling baby..."

"He's not much of a baby, love," Mr Holmes grumbled, putting his newspaper down. "Who did you go to meet?"

"None of your concern, Father."

Mr Holmes scoffed and relaxed back in the uncomfortable seat. "I honestly do not know why we came. We could have been debriefed by your brother but it seems as if he is too busy to."

"Damage control, Father." Sherlock sighed, rubbing his side. "Before you ask, Mother, three ribs."

Mrs Holmes gasped in shock and continued to smother her youngest, pouting at all of his bumps and bruises.

Sherlock honestly did not want to put up with his parents right that moment but he humoured them, replying cynically to their questions and responding monotonously to their observations.

However, he took this to an advantage. "Mummy? Can you do me a favour, please?"

"Anything, darling. Tell Mummy what it is." His mother replied lovingly.

"I need you to buy me something. It's for someone else but I can't leave this hospital until tomorrow and it seems as if they're leaving quite soon."

His mother became intrigued. "What is it, Sherlock?"

"A ring."

...

Molly zipped up the last of her clothing and sighed, rubbing her stomach.

"I'm sorry... I just can't handle all the hurt that he's bringing me or will bring. You understand right?"

"Of course, I understand, Molly. You've always been a great girl pal to me and now it's my chance to help you. You've done so much for my John and Rosie so here's me repaying you."

"I just need someone to talk to when I'm lonely, Mary..." Molly whispered, tears falling down her cheeks. "I feel so alone."

Mary's presence sat down on her bed and crossed her legs, clasping her hands on top of her raised knee. "I'm not alive but my memory will always be with you, Molly. You can talk to me although you'll be far away from my grave. I'll be above somewhere, watching down like a hawk on all of you."

"Thank you..." Molly sighed, starting on packing her shoes.

She halted when she heard the doorbell ring. Slowly but cautiously, she made her way to the door and looked through the peeping hole.

Opening the door, she stood aside and let John Watson enter, Rosie in his arms.

"Don't worry, I'm not asking you to babysit. I've only just picked her up."

Molly nodded, smiling at the child as she brought her into her arms. "Hello, Rosie. Did you miss me? I missed you."

John noticed her packed belongings and turned away, sighing. "You're really leaving?"

"Yes, John."

"It-It isn't his fault, you know. I was there, you was there. We know what went on."

The female doctor tilted her head, bouncing her godchild on her hip. "Do we really, John? To be honest, I'm as confused as the next one. I'm leaving and that's final."

"It wasn't his-"

"I lost our child. That makes it his fault." Molly swallowed heavily. She knew her lies would catch up with her one day but for now, she needed to keep up the facade.

John scoffed bitterly. "It was his sister's fault. Molly... please don't make rash decisions because of recent events."

The godmother to his child shook her head, placing the child back into her father's arms. "I made the decision when I found out that I was pregnant," she admitted quietly, pulling the sleeve of her freshly washed top. "I wasn't planning to tell Sherlock but I had to say something to make him stop killing himself."

"I understand." John realised. "I... I think he would have made a great dad. He's good to Rosie so... Just letting you know."

"I know."

John nodded, gesturing to the door. "We should go. I want nothing more than a hot bath and Rosie in front of the TV for at least fifteen minutes,"

Chuckling, Molly led them to the door, placing a kiss on both their cheeks. "Thank you for being part of my family."

"I hope life stays good for you, Molly. Good luck in your future endeavours."

Molly closed the door behind them and went back to her bedroom, continuing to pack her shoes and other accessory items she had missed before.

This was probably one of the most stressful decisions in her life. Leave and be the best mother she could be.

At times like this, Molly wished she had her mum or her dad, at least one parent to coax and guide her at this time.

Molly placed her hands on her stomach and smiled. "You probably haven't even developed your ears yet my children but one day you will and you will understand everything I say."

She smiled at the thought. Raising her two kids in sunny Florida or warm California. New York was an option but she highly doubted that Manhattan was a place to raise two young children. Ohio... her mother had a sister in Ohio. That aunt of hers had probably forgotten that she even existed after her sister's death twenty-eight years ago or so when her niece, Molly, was just a young innocent child.

"So... what do think? Is Florida good for you until you're born?"

...

Anthea smiled gently, placing her hand on Mycroft's forearm.

"You're thinking of Molly Hooper."

Mycroft sighed, downing the rest of his Scotch before checking his phone for texts and replying, "She is having my nieces or my nephews or even one of each. She is refusing to inform Sherlock of their continued existence."

"She told him that she miscarried? How... horrible." Anthea had not been one to like the younger Holmes brother but loving Mycroft meant that she had to deal with his eccentric family.

"Indeed," He sent a quick affirming text to Sherrinford, confirming a visit was in order. "Mother and Father are aware of Eurus' presence so I am arranging a suitable time for them to meet under severely controlled conditions. They berated me for a bit but they wish to see her."

Anthea drew her hand back and poured him a smaller intake of Scotch. "When?"

"Tomorrow. Sherlock has agreed to meet as well. Although, I believe he plots to kill her."

His assistant chuckled gently. "I'd expect nothing more or less of your dearest brother. I hope all goes well."

Mycroft took a sip of his drink and smiled, giving her the rest. "Oh, everything will go well. This time."

Thirty-seven minutes later, he found himself in his brother's hospital room with newly-made bespoke clothing for his brother.

"I figured that you will need new clothes when you leave tomorrow," he said, frowning distastefully at Sherlock's T-Shirt and joggers. "You have an image to uphold."

"I'm in a hospital-"

"Yes, he's in a hospital, Mycroft. Can you bloody not speak about maintaining images when your little brother is unwell?" Their father snapped. "I doubt anyone would be taking pictures. You are the British Government, remember? You're meant to deal with those menial things."

Mycroft scoffed, dumping the clothes unceremoniously onto Sherlock's covered feet. "'Menial things'? Menial my arse, Father."

"Mycroft!" Mrs Holmes scolded, covering Sherlock's ears.

Sherlock brushed them away, frowning deeply at their mother. "I am not a child, you know? I am a highly fully functioning sociopath."

His mother chuckled, pinching his cheeks. "Yes, you are, my darling boy."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Have you got what I need?"

"Yes, I have. It's the perfect size and all!"

Mycroft became intrigued at their little secret. "What is this, exactly?" He asked, eyeing the large gift bag which said 'Get Well Soon' in annoyingly curly writing.

"You're clever, brother mine. Deduce it." Sherlock muttered, looking inside the bag. "Did you get the other thing?"

Mrs Holmes nodded and dug into her Michael Kors handbag, handing him a smaller gift bag with the words 'I Hope You Feel Better!'.

Mycroft sighed, shaking his head. "You seriously believe giving Dr Hooper a ring and a bracelet with the gemstone of what would have been your child's birth month will make her love you again?"

Their parents gasped and Sherlock closed his eyes.

"I-I thought that this was for your girlfriend. The gemstone representing her birthday. Since when have you been... sleeping with her exactly?"

Sherlock almost blushed at his mother's question, taking the box containing the bracelet out of its bag.

"I was going to tell you in my own time. Molly did not want anyone else knowing."

"Knowing what exactly?" Mr Holmes bellowed. "What did your brother mean when he said, 'would have been your child's birth month'?"

He really did not want to get into this with his parents. He was grieving and he honestly wanted to be alone but with the warm cup of teas from Mrs Hudson, the soft chattering from Rosie and the obnoxious rustling of newspaper pages from John.

"We... Molly and I... we were expecting but she miscarried today." Sherlock finally replied.

Mrs Holmes gasped. "Can we see her? Is she all right? I do apologise, my darling!"

"She is leaving so you cannot see her. However, you may see Eurus at her fortress. I will highly suggest that you all leave me to my thoughts as I am currently..."

His heart sped up and he felt almost scared at what he was feeling. He could feel the pressure in his cheeks and eyes. Am I... Am I going to cry?, he thought, panicking.

Mycroft got the message and stood up, helping their mother from her seat. "Let's leave him to rest, shall we? We have a long day tomorrow."

"I... I'm sorry, son." Mr Holmes mumbled as they filed out of his room.

When the door closed, Sherlock's heart completely dropped and he cried.