"You won't bloody believe it!"

It was her last day there for the moment in time and she couldn't go without giving Emilia one last chance of gossip.

Emilia raised her eyebrow, a curious smirk playing on the corner of her lips. "What?"

Molly sighed before groaning in frustration and sighing again in defeat. "Sherlock's here. In Miami. With John and Rosie and they're staying in my spare bedrooms!"

The blonde stopped analysing the piece of evidence they were investigating and turned to Molly, feigning shock. "Here? At yours? Bloody hell, Molly."

"I know!" Molly said, snapping her latex gloves off as she threw them away and headed to the exit. "The bad thing is... they're looking for someone." She took her lab coat off and sighed. "My brother... Hurry up as much as you can and meet me in the staffroom. Where's is Rhys anyway? Hiya, Liz!" The brunette suddenly called as she left Emilia flabbergasted and Liz alarmed when she waddled to catch up to her.

"Dr Hooper, how may I be of help?"

Molly hesitated, stopping when Liz came to a halt to turn to face her. "You know your contact in England?"

Liz raised an eyebrow. "Which one? I have many."

"That doctor at St. Bart's."

"Ah, Jeremy Calhoun. Yes, why?"

Molly smiled but it still came out nervously. "I'm wondering if he could be at my discretion. I have a family situation and I need someone who wouldn't ask any questions. You said he could help in ways."

Dr Fontaine glowered at Molly, her short height doing so much as to make the young woman blush with embarrassment.

"Forget I said anything."

"No, no. He is very discreet at what he does out of the hospital. I'll make contact and give him your name and number. He will call when he is available."

"Can it be soon? Like, today or tomorrow? Preferably today?"

Liz sighed. "I'll get right on it. It will be around six in the evening in England. I'll speak to you later."

Molly released the breath of air she held and turned around to spot Rhys coming in with his biking gear on.

"Hoopy-Molly!" He called out, smiling. "How are you?"

Molly chuckled, crossing her arms. "I'm good. How was the bike hike?"

"Great. I feel like my personal matters away took a lot out of me. It was nice to get back into my routine." Rhys took his helmet off and followed her into the staffroom where he accepted her offer of tea. "Make it green, please. I've been a little naughty whilst I was away."

She chuckled. "I'd imagine so! Your great aunt must have buttered you up."

"Hmm, yeah. She had all kinds of meat and fruit and drinks." Rhys hesitated. "She's like that."

"One to make a buffet?"

"Hmm-hmm. Yep. Uh, I'm going to have a shower and change, can you put that on me desk, please?"

Molly narrowed her eyes. "Oh yeah. Then you can tell me what you really were doing in Miami."

Rhys stopped by the door, the sliding doors unsure of whether to open or close and moved stuck in limbo as they failed to make up their mind. "What I really was doing?"

"Yes, Rhys. With Sherlock Holmes. Don't worry, he gave me a full account but I'm willing to hear your part."

With that she slammed his cup of green tea on the table and walked out, returning to her duties with Emilia.

...

Sherlock tapped away on his phone, ignoring the death threats from Rhys via text once he realised that Molly had told him she knew what happened. Honesty was always the best policy.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes, Watson?"

"Do you know where the spare towels are?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning to face the hallway where the spare bathroom was. "No."

He heard John mutter "Some help you are!" under his breath as he turned his attention to Rosie who was babbling about some ducks and a tea party.

He then focused on the pictures around the room. There were photos of Molly and her colleagues and dear friends on top of the fireplace and he was surprised to see that one of him, John, Mary and Rosie had made it. But other than that, they were mostly of Emilia and Rhys and the occasional one of her colleagues back in St. Barts.

Sherlock stood up, making his way to the stainless steel fridge where more photos littered the surface but they were different. He smiled when Rosie toddled up to him and pulled his trouser leg, allowing him to pick her up to show her the photos. "These are sonograms. They show people where babies are."

Rosie pressed her stubby little hands on the recent sonogram in glee. "Babies! One... Two... Babies!"

Sherlock chuckled, nodding at her. "Yes, dear Rosamund. Aunt Molly's having twins. We're having twins. Can you believe that Uncle Sherlock's going to be a dad himself? Hmm?"

"Nooooo!" Rosie said flabbergasted. "Baby in Unc's tummy?!"

"Oh, no. The babies are in Aunt Molly's tummy. Uncle Sherlock put them there."

The toddler seemed pleased and he was relieved when she didn't ask how or why. She struggled out of his grip and went to collect Ducky and Lamby before sitting by the TV in peace.

Sherlock took the time to read his brother's message over and over again.

From MH:

Safe. Work things out with her.

It took him a while to reply, the photos on the fridge plaguing his mind full of happy memories that he wished would come true.

To MH:

Many thanks. I will try.

Sherlock Holmes never tried. He just did. But something told him that Molly wouldn't be too willing to forgive him just yet.

The front door opened at around five in the evening, Rosie had been put down for a nap and Sherlock and John were disinterestedly watching the TV.

"Hey. I have some takeaway." Molly placed the containers on the counter before taking her coat off and hanging it by the door. "Where's Rosie?"

John stood up to help her with her bag. "Asleep."

"Ah."

"She'll be awake within an hour or so."

Sherlock glanced back, Molly's face unreadable. "We need to talk?"

She nodded, glaring at him. "We do. I want answers."

John glanced at Sherlock before looking at Molly. "I will, uh... Take these," he took his order. "And go and sit with Rosie. I think she's calling me."

There wasn't any call for any fathers but John quickly left down the hall, closing the door behind him.

"Molly..."

"Start from the beginning."

And so he went on to explain everything in such great detail, he had taken two hours to finish the story from start to finish. He'd apologised many times and Molly had shrugged nonchalantly.

"You used my brother to get to me."

"I needed to see you, to see them. To know that you were okay. I... wanted us to be together, properly."

Molly sighed. "I told you I needed time. Oh, you've gone and ruined it all!"

"Ruined what?"

She bit her lip, rubbing her stomach as she glanced upwards through her lashes at him. "I was meant to surprise you. You arsehole had to go and do this and ruin my plan. I was coming back home to go into labour and... I wanted to surprise you with their birth. I wanted the first time that we'd seen each other in ages to be our children's birthday but you bloody went and ruined my plan. I was even getting so homesick that I told Emilia that I wanted to come earlier but she'd managed to stop me. Was that you? Did she know you were here?"

"No," Sherlock paused. "I only asked if Rhys was available."

"Ah, so you needed Rhys' help as a forensic analyst."

"I didn't bring my own. Mycroft told me your brother's safe. Your niece and nephew are with their mother in a safe house. We, however, do not know what Sherrinford wishes to do with him."

Molly nodded. "Do you know their history?"

"Briefly. I did not even know that they'd worked together in the Secret Service. I'm sure Mycroft knew though, nothing gets past him but things get passed me."

Molly sighed, playing with a throw pillow beside her. "I believe you. So, what do we do now?"

"You come home, Molly with John, Rosie and I tomorrow and we raise our family together."

And she looked into his eyes and smiled. He was being sincere.