A/N: So here's the next chapter! I hope you like it. I promised that we would have a baby in this chapter in so we shall. Warning: extreme fluffiness! Thanks to all who have been reading and reviewing! Please continue- it feeds my muse. So whataya think- end this one and start a new one that continues or just keep it all in this story...

"I hope our baby is going to be more fun than Isabel," Gabe grumbled as he stared into the moses basket where Baby Watson slept. "She doesn't do anything."

Mary giggled. "Well what would you have her do? She's only seven months old."

Gabriel shrugged. He looked around at the room that they had been working on for months. It was almost ready for his little sister. It was the room he'd first lived in when he came to Baker Street and it looked so different now. The walls that had been painted purple for him were now a light, girlish pink, save for one wall that had the same black and white wallpaper that was behind the sofa in the living room. A dark wooden cot that looked like a sleigh had been assembled in the corner with a mobile hanging over it. There was also a changing table and an enormous rocking chair. "What do we have a nursery for anyway? I thought the baby was going to sleep in the room with you and dad."

"She will when she's first born, but we'll move her up here as soon as she's big enough." Molly was sitting on the floor folding tiny clothes which she handed to Mary to place in the wardrobe. She didn't want to tell anyone, but she wasn't feeling very well this morning. Everyone was already treating her like an invalid. Last week she'd had some contractions and ever since everyone had been treating her like she was made of glass. She had planned to work up until she went into labor, but after that little episode, Sherlock had insisted that she take her leave. "You will not give birth to our baby girl on a gurney next to a corpse!"

"Have you packed your bag yet?" Mary asked.

"Are you kidding? Sherlock packed it a month ago." Molly grinned. "He's really very cute about the whole thing. Most of the time he's still the same sociopath we all know and love, but every now and then… he can be so sweet. I still don't know how all this happened."

"This?"

Molly gestured around them. "This. All of this. I blame Gabriel."

"Me?" Gabriel gasped. "What did I do?" His funny face made Isabel grin and giggle. Isabel thought Gabriel was the funniest thing ever.

"Your sweetness rubbed off on your dad," Mary giggled. Just then a clap of thunder shook the house. "Wow… sounds like we're going to have a big storm today."

Molly glanced at Gabriel who had rushed to the window to stare out. He was fascinated by storms, but they frightened him so. The last few weeks had been bad for storms in the middle of the night and he'd spent an awful lot of time cowering in bed between her and Sherlock. "Hey Gabe, help me up will you?" Redirection always worked. He nodded and came over, grasping her hands and helping to pull her to her feet.

"Oooh!" Molly exclaimed, getting to her feet. She stumbled forward, bent over clutching her belly. "Ow… damn…" she groaned.

"What? Are you okay?" Mary rushed over, putting an arm around Molly.

"What did I do?" Gabriel cried.

"Nothing, darling," Molly replied, trying to smile. "It wasn't you. Just… help me to the chair." They obeyed, lowering her to the cushioned seat of the rocking chair. She gripped the armrests tight, the gnawing pain in her belly grinding into her midsection.

"Molly… are you all right?" Mary pressed. "Are you in labor?"

"Uhm…" she panted. "I'm not sure. Maybe it's like last week."

"Is it going away?"

"No… not yet…" They all shuddered with another loud clap of thunder. And then she noticed the wet spot on the rug where she'd been sitting. "Oh Mary… I… I think we need to call the doctor. I think my water may have broken." She pointed toward the spot, her hand trembling.

"It's all right, Molly… women have babies every day," Mary said in an attempt to keep everyone calm. "I'll just… go phone the hospital."

The contraction began to relax and she found that she could stand up. "Good," Molly sighed, relieved that the pain was at last subsiding. She held Gabriel's hand tight. As she looked into his face, she could tell that he was a little frightened of what was happening. "All right, Gabe?" He nodded, but his eyes were huge. "I need you to help me, okay?"

"Okay, Mum…" he said, his voice quavering slightly.

"I'm fine, I promise. But… I need you to go downstairs and get Mrs. Hudson. And then I want you to go and find my mobile. Can you do that?" He nodded and ran down the stairs, shouting for Mrs. Hudson.

OoOoOo

"Damnit!" Sherlock growled as they stood, dripping on the sidewalk in front of NSY. The storm overhead had just broken and the rain had gone from a slight summer drizzle to a torrential downpour that had drenched them in seconds. One cab after another whizzed past them, spraying puddles in their direction, but never stopping. "We're never going to get home like this!"

"Just calm down," John said, pulling his mobile from his pocket. "I'll just call Mary and have her come pick us up."

"We can't do that. She has to stay at Baker Street with Molly until we get back!"

"Mrs. Hudson is there!" John shouted over the traffic.

"Mrs. Hudson doesn't have a car and they'll never get a cab in this weather!"

"They'll be fine. If she goes into labor, the worst case scenario, they'll have to call an ambulance."

"An ambulance?!" Sherlock was alarmed at the very idea.

"Yeah, you know those big lorries that run from the hospital to your house in an emergency?"

"I know what an ambulance is, idiot," Sherlock snapped. "But those things are for sick or injured people. Molly is not sick or injured!"

"Calm down, Sherlock!"

"If you tell me to calm down one more time…"

"I'm sure Molly is fine! We'll get home and she'll be there lying on the couch watching telly with a cup of tea." He looked down at his mobile, shielding it from the shower of rain. A blinking red battery symbol flashed accusingly at him. "Damn… my mobile's dying."

"What?"

"My phone. The battery's dying."

"Oh for God's sake…" Sherlock waved his arm wildly, practically jumping out in front of a cab to make it stop. Fortunately it did and the two of them climbed inside. "221 Baker Street," he barked.

OoOoOo

Molly was pissed off. You could always tell when Molly was pissed off because she pursed her lips so tightly that they nearly disappeared. They'd been sitting at home for a week, totally prepared for this. Sunny skies, warm summery weather, bag packed, Sherlock constantly underfoot… the whole bit. But the baby had decided to come on a stormy, unseasonably chilly morning when she couldn't find Sherlock. They had tried calling and texting his mobile, but he hadn't replied. They tried calling John, but no such luck. Apparently his phone was dead. Molly had even resorted to calling Mycroft who had cooly assured her that he would find his little brother. That was nearly two hours ago. Meanwhile, her contractions had gotten stronger and were coming every four minutes. She had made the mistake of showing Gabriel the monitor that showed when the contractions were coming and he had given everyone a play-by-play of the progress of Molly's labor. When she'd finally snapped at him to stop, Mary had decided to take him with her down to the waiting room to feed Isabel. So here she sat with Mrs. Hudson. Not that she wasn't grateful. The old woman had been sitting by her bed the whole time, holding her hand and telling her stories about her crazy life in Florida.

"It was all very exciting up until the end. Of course, Frank wasn't always the easiest person to live with. Lord, the rages that man would fly into. I guess it was no surprise that he was a murderer. Sherlock reminds me so much of him."

Molly quirked an eyebrow, casting a sideways glance toward Mrs. Hudson. "I probably don't want to know why." Just then another contraction began and Molly could only breathe through it. She was well beyond the stage of being able to talk through it. She was almost well beyond the stage of being able to breathe through it. And by the time it was over, she wanted to lay there limply on the bed and cry. She'd only been there two hours and already she was exhausted and sore.

"Just keep breathing, dear," Mrs. Hudson coached.

"I AM BREATHING!" she exclaimed, instantly sorry that she had shouted at the poor woman who was only trying to soothe her. "I'm… I'm sorry…"

Mrs. Hudson chuckled. "No worries, dear. I'm pretty immune to people shouting at me. You go on and shout all you want."

As the contraction ebbed, Molly lay back against the pillows, this time unable to stop the tears. She tried to breathe deeply, but her breaths were shuddery and full of tears. "Where is Sherlock?" she whimpered.

OoOoOo

The crashing thunder and strobe light show of lightning was reflective of Sherlock's mood as they sat in traffic on Regent Street. "Why aren't we moving?" he growled, staring darkly out of the window. They had been sitting here for at least a half hour. Apparently there was some sort of incident up ahead causing a bottleneck in the narrow streets. Other cab drivers were disregarding rules of the road and lane markings to drive around to the other outlets and take an alternate route. Of course today they had to get the most responsible cabbie in London who just sat there, chirping happily away at them. For a fleeting moment he almost wished that psycho cabbie was driving. At least he'd known his way around. Sherlock wasn't sure why, but he had a terrible feeling that was burning deep in the pit of his stomach. Something was trying to tell him to get home fast and this idiot wasn't making it happen.

"Big smash-up ahead," the cabbie said. "We might be here a while."

Sherlock sighed heavily and pounded his fist against the window.

"Oi! That's my window!"

"You'll have to forgive my friend," John said. "His girlfriend is about to have a baby." He turned to Sherlock, laying a calming hand on his shoulder, "Relax, mate. We'll get there. Why don't you call Molly and check on her? She's got her mobile right?"

He nodded and went into his pocket, searching for his phone. "Shit. Shit shit shit. Where's my phone?"

"What?"

"My phone! Where's my phone, John?"

"Well where did you have it last?"

Sherlock closed his eyes, mentally retracing his steps. "Damnit… I left it on Lestrade's desk. Fuck me…" As the cab crept to another halt, Sherlock threw open the door and rushed out into the busy street.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, throwing money at the cabbie and practically falling out onto the road. "Stop! It's raining and its at least two more kilometers to Baker Street!" But it was too late, he was already gone with a swish of his coat.

OoOoOo

"If you shove your hand into my snatch just once more…" Molly was growling at the nurse as Greg Lestrade burst through the doors. "Greg!"

"Molly! Thank God… I made it in time." He stopped by the bed, bending over with his hands on his knees and breathing heavily. "Mary… called me… Sherlock…" He put a finger up to indicate that she should wait for him to catch his breath. "I ran… all the way here… big pile-up… no cabs…"

"What about Sherlock?" she asked, clutching Mrs. Hudson's hand as she had another contraction.

Greg held up Sherlock's familiar mobile. "He left it on my desk. And when I saw that there were several missed calls from Mary, I thought it must be time. I had to call every hospital in London to find you. You just had to be difficult and not go to Bart's, didn't you?"

"Greg!" Gabriel ran through the door and tackled the inspector, Mary and baby Isabel following close behind. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh… just returning your dad's phone," he replied, scooping Gabriel up and holding him upside down.

"We're having the baby today!" Gabriel exclaimed, giggling as all the blood rushed to his head. "Where's my dad?"

"I don't know." He looked up at Molly whose face was tense and worried. "I sent as many guys as I could spare out looking for him, Mols. We'll find him. Have you tried calling John?"

"Yes! Neither of those idiots is answering their phone!" she cried. Mrs. Hudson patted her hand gently.

"I'll be back to check you again in a while, Dr. Hooper," the nurse said. "Some of your guests might want to retire to the waiting room so that you can get some rest."

"No," Molly replied with as much calm as she could muster. "I won't be resting until Sherlock gets here so they might as well stay."

An hour later and Molly was a little more than half-dilated and begging for drugs. The stupid nurse kept telling her to rest, but obviously she'd never had a football being shoved forcibly through her naughty bits. Every time she tried to close her eyes, it felt like she was being ripped in two and now the pain wasn't subsiding so much as it was settling in her lower back, hiding there until the contractions of her uterus shoved it back into the light. She wanted to scream, cry, push… everything all at once. When the nurse had tried to throw everyone out of the room, she'd protested angrily to keep Gabriel. Strangely, she could manage to hold it together for him. And when she looked at his face, she could see Sherlock staring back at her and it was a comfort. The others had gone to find some food while she and Gabriel dozed, thunder rumbling in the distance.

Molly wasn't aware that she had fallen asleep until she opened her eyes to see Sherlock standing over her. He was soaking wet and shivering, but he was there. She made a noise somewhere between a cry and a moan as her eyes focused and she became aware that it really was him. "Thank God!" she sighed as he leaned down to kiss her lightly. She was having none of it and pulled him into a full on embrace that squished the sleepy Gabriel at her side.

"Uggh… stop!" Gabriel cried. "I can't breathe."

"Breathing's boring," Molly and Sherlock replied in unison, then laughed.

"Where have you been?"

"Trying to get to you," he replied. "It was murder getting here. There was an accident and our cabbie was an idiot, so we got out of the cab and walked all the way back to Baker Street where Anderson, of all people, was waiting outside the door to tell me you were here."

"We tried to call you, Dad," Gabriel said. "But you didn't answer your phone."

"I know. I was so distracted that I left it in Lestrade's office. Then John's phone died."

"It's fine," Molly breathed. "The important thing… is that… you're here… owww!"

Sherlock looked stricken and took a step back. He watched as Molly leaned back, breathing in that erratic rhythm that she'd been taught at that ridiculous childbirth class. One hand was wrapped so tightly in the bedclothes that her knuckles were bright white. The other hand held on to Gabriel, who was surprisingly unbothered. He held onto her hand, stroking the back of it gently. "What's she doing? Why's she doing that?" Sherlock asked.

"It's the baby," Gabriel whispered, looking at his father like he'd suddenly turned idiot. "She'll be okay in a minute or two."

"Should we call someone?"

"They'll…be in to violate me again… in a second…" Her words trailed off in a scream that startled even Gabriel. "They better hurry…" she breathed.

As if on cue, a nurse appeared out of nowhere. She narrowed her eyes at Sherlock as if to ask why the homeless person had been allowed into the room with the pregnant lady. "I need to check Dr. Hooper, I'm afraid you'll have to go, Sir…"

"This is my dad!" Gabriel said, sliding down from the bed, prepared to face off with the nurse. "He's supposed to be here!"

"Oh yeah? Well I think little boys are against the rules," she scolded, pointing toward the door. "As for you…" But her words were lost on Sherlock who was kneeling by the bed, whispering softly in Molly's ear as she breathed through the contraction. Neither were listening.

"Please stay," Molly whimpered. "I can't do this by myself."

OoOoOo

Scarlett's eyes were hazel almost from the moment she was born. That doesn't seem unusual until one considers that babies have blue eyes for the first several months of their lives. Usually. That was the first sign that Scarlett, or Scar as Gabriel insisted on calling her, was an unusual child. Well, that and her head full of fiery auburn curls. And the fact that she seemed to giggle at her father and brother the first time they held her.

She was born in the maternity ward of Chelsea and Westminster Hospital at 10: 25pm. She was tiny like her mother, weighing a mere 7 pounds, 10 ounces. It was a private and fairly quiet affair, only her mother, father, a doctor and nurse in attendance. It might seem like a lonely way to enter the world if it weren't for the multitude of family members pacing back and forth in the waiting area, proof that family is love not blood. Her older brother was ready to crash the barricades to get to his little sister before their father peeked out from behind the double doors and beckoned for him to come. Gabriel didn't get to see her actual birth, but she was still red the first time he held her. One look at her round, hazel eyes and he was in love. When the nurse tried to take her to give her the first bath, Gabriel actually growled.

Once the family was settled back into their room, eager hordes of family poured in to see her. John and Mary, her worthy godparents, were first to be allowed inside. Though they were still dazzled by their own little one, they were mesmerized by Scarlett's beauty and fawned over her accordingly. When Mrs. Hudson arrived, they were banished to the sidelines as she forcibly took the newborn from John's arms and cradled her against her chest. "Look at you!" she cried, trying to resist the urge to squeeze the little thing. When she passed Scarlett off to Lestrade, she threw herself against Sherlock, hugging him tightly. Though he had a look of uncomfortable distress, he allowed the embrace and even returned it. Even Anderson was allowed to hold the baby, as long as he was sitting down of course.

"Well you might have called to tell me that you arrived and that your child was born without incident." Mycroft stood in the doorway of the hospital suite. Gabriel raced over to greet him, grabbing him by the hand and pulling him into the room.

"You've got to see her, Uncle Mycroft! Come on!" he said, tugging him across the room to where Sherlock stood, holding Scarlett. "Isn't she pretty?"

"Indeed." He peered down at the baby girl. "Thankfully, it appears that she will take after Dr. Hooper." Sherlock smirked.

"She's going to look like me," Gabriel said with a proud grin. "She's already got my hair!"

"Yes, it would appear that no Holmes can escape that," Mycroft sighed. He gasped as Sherlock pushed Scarlett into Mycroft's arms. "Wait… no… Sherlock…"

"Shut up, Nancy," Sherlock replied. Mycroft held the little girl as if she were a landmine. "Look, you can't hold her out in front of you like a flounder," he scolded. "She needs to be close to your body or she'll start crying." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and stared at Mycroft. "Do not make my daughter cry."

OoOoOo

The room was silent and dark. It was a welcome inner sanctum after the events of the day. Molly and Sherlock lay in her bed, their tiny daughter cradled between them. They had counted every one of her fingers and toes, examined every centimeter of her little body. "I just can't stop looking at her," Molly whispered. "I'm so exhausted and I want so badly to sleep, but I just don't want to look away."

"I know," Sherlock said, pressing a kiss to Molly's forehead. "I can't believe she's really here. It's so odd. That this tiny thing came from us."

"Gabriel came from you," Molly giggled.

"Well of course, but I never got to see him like this." He glanced over at his son, lying on the tiny couch, breathing evenly. "He already had a personality when he got here. I just hope I don't screw her up."

Molly laughed. "You won't. You're brilliant with Gabriel. And this one has me to save her." He leaned over and kissed her mouth gently. "Mmm…" she sighed, breaking the kiss. "The doctor said six weeks, you bad boy."

"I can't help it," he purred. "I don't think I've ever wanted you more." He brushed another kiss across her lips. "But I can wait." He shifted around, trying not to jostle Molly and Scarlett too much. "Though, call me old fashioned, but something is definitely missing in this picture."

"Oh yeah?"

"Definitely." He handed her the tiny velvet box, dropping it into her outstretched hand. "You will marry me right?"