For the second time that night, Molly found herself staring unseeing at her wardrobe. This time, however, her thoughts were in complete disarray. Mycroft Holmes' words kept coming back and hitting her in the gut, which Molly blamed for the queasiness she felt.

Molly slowly turned back to Mycroft. Her tightening grip causing Archie to move restlessly until she loosened her hold. 'What?'

'I said Miss Hooper,' Mycroft responded as he strolled slowly toward her, his umbrella casually tapping at the floor like an unnecessary walking cane, 'would you be interested to know the identity of your son's father?'

Molly swallowed thickly before answering with a small, 'Yes.'

Mycroft finally made his way over to her and stared down at her son for a moment before looking back up at her. 'What was the name of the man you drunkenly slept with?'

Molly didn't even bother wondering how he knew she was drunk. He was a Holmes after all. 'His name was William.'

Mycroft seemed to smirk in triumph at the name, and Molly could only assume she had confirmed whatever he had managed to deduce. 'Tell me Miss Hooper, how well do you know my brother?'

Now Molly was not stupid, so the moment he mentioned Sherlock, the pieces of the puzzle that had been nagging at her for so long fell into place. 'No- not well," she whispered.

'Indeed,' Mycroft intoned. 'Seeing the look upon your face, I may assume you have finally seen after all this time what I saw within less than a minute. So you may not be surprised when I tell you that Sherlock's full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. And aside from a few facial features and I assume the eye coloring, your son looks quite how Sherlock looked as a child.'

Soon after the revelation of the identity of Archie's real father, Molly had left with assurances that Mycroft would not give away her secret, but that he would require a DNA sample for verification.

Molly had felt jittery and unbalanced ever since. She had to pull over twice while driving to get her shaking under control. As soon as Archie was safely tucked away in bed, Molly had sat on her own bed to let the events of the past few hours wash over her. She simply couldn't believe that she hadn't noticed the similarities before. Besides the mouth, eyes, and softening of facial features, Archie was practically a spitting image of a young Sherlock Holmes. His looks combined with his personality, which Molly had never thought before could be a genetic trait, were so eerily similar to the consulting detective that she knew anyone who had spent time with the both of them would have pinpointed their relationship.

At that last thought Molly snorted. Everyone except her would have seen the connection. But Molly gave herself some slack. After all, who would have suspected that the man who kept everyone at a distance and turned his nose up at human interaction, would have had sex (presumingly drunken sex if her old friend Mark was to be believed) with the likes of her.

And now Sherlock's brother knew the truth of the matter and it was only a matter of time before Sherlock would know as well. Molly shuddered at the thought of having to have that conversation with the man. From the look on Mycroft's face as he assured her of his silence, she knew he would not spill her secret until she had had a chance to speak to Sherlock herself. And oh boy, she had no idea what to say to the man. How does one bring up having a long lost child to someone, especially someone like Sherlock Holmes who, up until his apology that night, Molly suspected of having very little social acuity.

It would all have to be handled delicately. Most important was making sure that her son was okay. As much as Archie deserved to know his father, Molly wasn't sure if Sherlock would want to know his son. And she refused to allow Sherlock to hurt her (their) son that way. But at the same time, she didn't want to keep having to lie to Archie. And unlike her apparently, Archie was perceptive, and if he ever accidentally met Sherlock he would easily see a connection to the man.

Molly felt like her head was swimming with all the different ways in which Archie meeting Sherlock could go wrong. She knew it was futile to worry over situations that may never come to pass, but as a mother who had constantly worried if she was enough for her son, the thought that Sherlock would reject Archie in any way worried her to no end.

Molly slowly breathed in and out when she felt herself becoming overwhelmed by the enormity of the situation. There was nothing to it but to sit down and carefully plan how she would approach the situation. She would write out a list of everything that needed to be done, and probably a plan for every eventuality as well.

Molly stood suddenly with a ferocious need to get everything worked out for the best for everyone involved, but at a quick glance to the black Christmas dress that hung on the back of her bedroom door, Molly lost her nerve and decided to wash up instead.

She would draw up her plan of attack after a good cathartic cry in a hot steamy shower.

Bright and early the very next morning, a courier delivered a package from one Mycroft Holmes. Inside was a DNA swab kit and a note that the courier would return in two hours to pick up Archie's sample. Molly would normally have protested the presumptive act, but having spent most of the night planning how to go about things, she knew it was best to start the whole process early. Besides, she wasn't leaving it all up to Mycroft and whatever shadowy figures he worked with; Molly planned to run her own samples in the lab. It would be easy enough to get a sample of Sherlock's DNA the next time he came into the lab and she fetched him coffee. Molly smirked. It finally paid to have Sherlock Holmes view her as some sort of personal assistant.

One year to the day that she first met the man (excluding the night of Archie's conception which she couldn't remember), Sherlock Holmes came into the lab to x-ray a phone, and Molly managed to get a sample of DNA from his coffee cup.

The next day Molly had the day off and Archie was at school, which was lucky for her, as she received another package from Mycroft through courier. Inside were two smaller boxes. One was square shaped and had Archie's name written on a gift tag attached to a large bow. 'A late Christmas present for my nephew' was also written on the tag which Molly promptly tore off and threw into the fire that was lit in her sitting room fireplace. The other small box was more rectangular and came attached with an envelope wielding her name.

Clearly the sample Mycroft had all but demanded of her had been analyzed, and Sherlock was confirmed as Archie's father. It would take five more days for her own sample to come in, but Molly decided to trust Mycroft and allowed herself to shakily sit down.

Sherlock Holmes was Archie's father.

William Sherlock Scott Holmes was father to Archibald Adam Hooper.

Sherlock Bloody Holmes. A father to her son.

Then came the thought that Molly had dared not think. Molly had had sex with the man she was enormously attracted to and couldn't remember the experience. Bloody hell her luck.

Once Molly was able to gain control over her emotions again, she turned back to the gifts Mycroft had sent over. She would let Archie open his gift when he came home from school, so she turned instead to the envelope attached to what she assumed was a gift for herself. Molly set the box aside and opened the envelope. She pulled out a letter and quickly scanned through it before she began choking on her own spit.

Apparently Mycroft had seen fit to gift her and Archie with half a million pounds each. The money came in the form of two trusts set up in their names. Molly would be able to access her trust at any time in order to provide for her and her son. Archie wouldn't be able to touch his trust until he turned 24, though Mycroft assured her in the letter that all his educational expenses would be paid for through the trust once he began attending university. Mycroft further explained in the letter that the trusts he was giving her and Archie had been set aside specifically for this use 'in case Sherlock ever managed to procreate' (his words exactly). So Molly put out of her mind, at least temporarily, the notion of refusing the money.

Molly nervously reached for the rectangular box, unsure of what new insanity she would be gifted with. Inside the box she found a silver locket. When she opened it up she found a small photo of a boy with two older people on the left side. The boy looked like Sherlock and the people must have been his parents, though they seemed too nice to be the parents of Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. The other side contained a picture she recognized as being of herself and her parents when she was a little girl. She felt tears prick the corner of her eyes as she recalled the picture being taken right before her mother was killed in a car accident. It was the last picture of her family whole and happy before everything was turned upside down.

Molly wiped at her face when she felt the tears roll down. She assumed Mycroft took the photo from the archives of the local paper in her childhood town. It had been used when the report of her mother's death made the news. The photo held bittersweet memories, but she appreciated the effort he, or whoever he had working for him, put into making the gift. Molly set the aside the locket with the letter and went to the kitchen to make a cuppa. She certainly needed it after the emotional roller coaster she just went through. After putting away everything from the package, except the gift for Archie, Molly went to pick up her son from school.

Archie chattered loudly about his day on the way up to their flat, and Molly listened attentively as always. As soon as the small boy got through the door and saw the gift lying on the kitchen table, he turned to Molly and exclaimed, "Mummy! Is that a gift for me?!"

Molly laughed at his exuberance and nodded her head. "Yes baby, it's a late Christmas gift from one of mummy's new friends."

The little boy squealed in excitement as he proceeded to tear off the silver bow and green wrapping paper. "Look it mummy," Archie exclaimed as he held up what looked to be an old fashioned telescope. "It's for pirates!" And he proceeded to jump about the room examining everything through the lens of his new pirate telescope.

Inside the box that Archie left lying haphazardly across the table Molly found another note: "I noticed in most of the pictures Archie draws in class that he likes pirates. He wanted to be a pirate at that age as well. The telescope is in fact a genuine pirate artifact and belonged to him, though I dare say it rightfully belongs to Archie now."

Molly couldn't believe the nerve of Mycroft Holmes to have spied on her son like that. It was one thing to look up pictures of her parents in a newspaper, but it was quite another to visit her son's school without her permission. Molly made a note to speak with Mycroft about the matter the next time she saw him. He had written down his number in case of emergency in her letter, but she felt like it would be more satisfying to relay her feelings in person.

At the sound of giggling, Molly turned to see Archie examining Toby up close, the telescope practically shoved in the poor cat's face. Toby got up at the intrusion and sauntered out of the room, but Archie soon forgot the cat when he realized he could point his new 'toy' outside the window.

"Mummy, that lady outside has a limp. You think it was an accident? Like when Mrs. Carlton hurt her foot in the doors." Archie was still peering down at the street through his telescope when Molly had a vision of a young Sherlock Holmes doing the same thing. Between his temperament, looks, and now the gift of a bit of Sherlock's childhood, the fates seemed hell bent on making Archie a miniature of his father.

Molly smiled.