A/N: Sorry this took a while. I'm just going to tell you ahead of time- -everything is going to be fine...LOL. But thanks so much for all the reads and reviews and love for Gabe and the story itself. All of you are awesome!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel and Scarlett.

Sherlock and Gabriel emerged from the house just as John was barreling up to find them. "You all right, mate?" John asked, looking at Sherlock pointedly. "We were beginning to think you'd changed your mind." He chuckled nervously.

"Of course I didn't change my mind. Everything's fine." He smiled as genuinely as he was capable, nudging Gabriel ahead of him. They walked down the beach a ways to where the others were waiting. There seemed to be others, anyway. They were getting caught in the filter, fading into the background when he turned his gaze on Molly. They had agreed not to make a big deal of everything, but even still… Molly was breathtaking in her simplicity as she stood there with Scarlett cradled in her arms. The plain white sheath dress she wore practically glowed in the setting sun. Her long, auburn hair hung freely today, blowing in the sea breeze, the highlights catching fire. Perhaps it was Molly herself that was glowing with the light of a woman who had finally gotten everything she ever wanted. It was very attractive on her.

"We were wondering when you were going to see fit to grace us with your presence," Molly teased, handing Scarlett off to Gabriel before taking Sherlock's arm. "Fashionably late doesn't really work for weddings."

"Keep your pants on, Mouse. I got here," he replied with a wink.

"What pants?" she giggled as they made their way toward the vicar.

"Tsk… naughty girl."

"Sure you don't want to back out?"

"Don't you? I mean, I can't imagine anyone wanting to spend the rest of their life in my loathsome company. I'm rude, messy, moody, with a variety of annoying idiosyncrasies…"

"A sociopath…"

"That too. You're much too good for me."

"I'm just using you for sex." The vicar looked at them strangely, obviously having only caught 'sex.' They swallowed their giggles and tried to look serious as he began to rattle off all of those clichéd sentiments about love being patient and kind, how the institution of marriage was not to be entered into lightly… all those things that Sherlock usually just tuned out. He found that this time, though, he wasn't wandering through his mind palace or thinking about some new puzzle. This time he could only gaze at Molly, carefully cataloguing every movement, smile and intake of breath.

"I'm told that traditional vows would not be necessary," the vicar said, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock. "However, if the bride and groom would like to say anything before the rings."

Everyone looked to Sherlock expectantly, but he was silent. In fact, he didn't even appear to be in the world with everyone else until John kicked him lightly in the shin. "Oh. Yes. Uhm…" Strangely enough, Sherlock never had trouble speaking until a large group was standing there looking at him. He felt positively weak when there wasn't any death involved. "So… I think I'm supposed to be saying something meaningful and romantic about you, Molly. In fact, I spent all day yesterday thinking about what to say at this moment and I'm falling miserably short. In truth, you know that almost anything I say in a sentimental vein is usually completely fabricated, and it's not really a good idea to lie in front of a vicar—even if his entire profession is peddling lies to optimistic morons."

"Sherlock…" John mumbled.

"Oh… sorry. Anyway, Molly, the point is I'm not really good at this sort of thing. You are the only person on earth that could ever put up with all of my ignorance and idiocy and not fly into a murderous rage. You've been a far better friend to me than I have to you, yet you persevered. You've always accepted me, even when no one else did and despite others' urging to push me away. I in no way deserve you or the happiness that you've almost forcibly inflicted upon me. But, I'm afraid that I can't say I love you, Molly."

"Oh God…" she sighed.

He completely ignored her and went on. "While I was watching telly this morning, against my will, I kept seeing all these adverts with people claiming to love their shampoo or their toothpaste or the bloke that came to fix their air conditioning. How can I use the same words about you that someone might use to talk about dog food? But I'm told that this is something I must do, if for no other reason than to make you happy. And making you and our children happy is the most important thing to me. So, you may count this as one more time that I've said I loved you with all of my clothes on."

By the end of Sherlock's speech, Molly was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Scarlett was not so cunning and giggled loudly from where Gabriel stood holding her, on the other side of John. "Wow, that… kind of sums up our entire relationship," Molly sighed. "You say something incredibly sweet buried under layer upon layer of… Sherlockishness and then we all laugh nervously. Good one, love."

"Thanks," he replied, smiling victoriously.

"Well, I suppose one has to laugh to keep from crying sometimes. I'm afraid that I'm not quite so eloquent. I don't really have much to say beyond 'me too.' Its probably no secret to anyone here that I was ruined by you from the first time we met. Not that I didn't try to avoid it, but as you know, all of my attempts failed miserably. Let's see, I dated a homicidal maniac, an idiot, well… lots of idiots, and this one guy who smelled disturbingly of lye…"

"Molly…" Sherlock said, shaking his head. She looked up to see that everyone was staring with somewhat horrified looks on their faces.

"Anyway, I've managed to pretty well make my feelings about you known, even when I really didn't want to. And of course, when I was trying not to be obvious, you always delighted in pointing it out in case anyone missed it. Some call it adorably oblivious, I prefer to just say you're an asshole and leave it at that."

"I hope there's a but coming, Molly…"

"But it has been my privilege to be your friend, your lover and the mother of your children." She smiled nervously, glancing sideways to notice that everyone was staring. "But then, I do post mortems."

OoOoOo

Molly sighed and leaned back against Sherlock. They lay in the enormous, claw-footed tub, lazily letting the day's stress drip from their skin along with the sweat of their exertions. They could hardly be blamed. It was the first time since Scarlett was born that they'd had the opportunity for more than the occasional quickie in the bathroom or a late night tryst on the sofa. Of course, after the last sofa session, Molly had expressed concern that if she died from inhaling the sofa cushions, to please not let them put "auto-erotic asphyxiation" on her death certificate. One night on their own on the top floor of a luxury hotel down the beach is just what the doctor ordered.

"That cigarette isn't near my hair is it?" Molly asked, noticing a plume of smoke rising from behind.

"No. But I promise that if your hair catches fire, I'll dunk your head under."

"Funny." She laid her head back against his shoulder, listening to his breath and counting the freckles that dotted his neck. Sherlock was being awfully quiet, even for him. During dinner, he'd hardly said a word. He sat at the table, Scarlett curled in the crook of his arm as he used one hand to hold her bottle to her mouth and only stirred when she gave a protesting cry when the bottle slipped, pouring warm formula down her front. "Are you all right?"

"Mmm…" he hummed, taking another draw from the cigarette.

"I thought you were going to quit."

"I did."

Molly shook her head and decided not to press the issue. It wouldn't do for them to have a fight on their one night of alone time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the clock on the wall. 10:34pm. "I hope Scarlett is down. If she's not gone by 9 she won't sleep. And then tomorrow will be so pleasant."

"I'm sure she is."

Molly smiled and dripped water over the back of Sherlock's hand. "I know it's silly, but I miss them. I mean, I've been waiting with bated breath all week for this night to be alone with you, but now that we're here…" She sighed and pulled his arm around her waist. "I miss them."

"Aren't you having a good time?" he asked.

"Oh of course I am," she said. "And I fully intend to have more fun in a bit." She wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "But I keep thinking about that sweet giggle that Scarlett does when you kiss her feet. And how Gabriel is so snuggly when he's tired. He always smells so good right out of the bath and I love when he crawls up in my lap and falls asleep. He makes those little noises in his sleep that's almost like talking, but not quite. It's the same ones you make, you know."

"Mmm…" he hummed again.

Molly sat up and turned slightly so she could look at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said. You've been quiet ever since the wedding. Well… except for…"

"I'm fine. Just thinking." He shifted and smashed out the cigarette. "And cold." He nudged Molly and slid out from under her. She watched as he stood up and pulled a towel around his waist.

Something was most definitely up. She rose from the bathtub and stepped out carefully, following him into the bedroom. "You're a liar, Mr. Holmes. Please don't make me pull out the excellent deduction skills I learned from this amazing website." She gracefully reclined across the ruined bed and gazed up at him sweetly.

"Look, I didn't want to mention it tonight. Tonight is supposed to be about you," he sighed.

"Uhm… and I'm having such a great time watching you wander silently through your mind palace and then occasionally letting you fall on top of me."

He looked stung. "Are you saying I haven't satisfied you so far?"

"Not at all. As I've told you many times, you're a very thorough lover. But it's not all about me and you are obviously distracted. So just tell me what the hell is wrong with you so I can get hysterical, drink a bottle of wine and have a torrid affair with the showerhead."

Sherlock sighed, shaking his head and pacing back and forth in that nervous, frantic way he did. "Look, the reason I was late this evening was because… well… I had a visit from someone I didn't expect."

"Oh…kay… so who was it? Mycroft? Why didn't he stay?"

"It wasn't Mycroft."

"Oh. Well then… who was it?" She giggled, "Jim from IT?"

"That's not funny."

"Sure it is. Obviously you know nothing about my sense of humor."

Sherlock sighed. "Irene Adler."

Molly immediately stopped laughing and sat up on the bed. "Irene Adler? As in the dead dominatrix Irene Adler? As in Misses Not Her Face, Irene Adler? As in biological mother of Gabriel, Irene Adler?"

"Yes."

"I thought she was dead."

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. She was very much alive when she showed up at Ambergris this afternoon." He went to the balcony door and leaned in the doorway, looking down on the dark beach below.

"Well… what did she want?"

"She wants to see Gabriel."

Molly got up and grabbed Sherlock's shirt that lay disheveled across the chair and pulled it around her shoulders. She held it closed as she sidled up behind him, sliding her arms around his waist and pressing her chest against his back. "God, baby… I'm sorry. Where the hell has she been? I thought in her letter, she told you that she was terminally ill."

"She did. She was. But apparently she has nine lives. Or a fucking guardian angel, because there she was." He clasped Molly's hand tightly in his.

She couldn't help but feel a twinge in her chest. It wasn't exactly worry. She knew that Sherlock loved her and that he had chosen her, but the thought of The Woman filled her with jealous dread. Molly was not glamorous or flashy. She didn't wear sexy clothes or spend hours on her hair and makeup. She was just Molly. Mousey Molly. The weird girl that liked to play with dead things. "So are you going to let her?"

"Let her what?"

"Let her see Gabriel?"

"I told her that I would bring him to see her tomorrow afternoon. She's going to have tea with us at The Albatross."

Molly let her arms fall to her sides and stood back. "You told her what?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"This will really go much faster if you can stop having me repeat everything," Sherlock sighed. "Of course I told her that she could see Gabriel. She's his mother. What was I supposed to do, Molly? She knows where we live and she's proven in the past that she's not above breaking in."

"You could have discussed it with me before you just said yes!" she shouted.

"Discussed it with you?" He looked genuinely confused.

"Yes! You could have at least asked me my opinion before you just invited her into our lives!"

"I'm not inviting her into our lives! I'm allowing her to see her child!"

"No, you're allowing her to see our child. Or don't you remember? Gabriel calls me mum! You yourself said that I was the only mother he'd ever known, but I don't even get the opportunity to have input?"

"I was trying not to ruin your wedding day!" Sherlock shouted. "Everything I've done today has been for you!"

"Oh really? As if this whole thing has just been another something you do to appease me so I'll give you what you want! Just like always!"

"I didn't mean it like that," he sighed. Molly went to the wardrobe and pulled out the overnight bag, searching through it until she found her blue jeans and began pulling them on. "Molly… what are you doing?"

"Going home."

"Oh come on, Molly. Don't be like that. I'm sorry. I didn't think it would upset you."

She snickered, jerking up the zipper and pushing her hair back. "Really? Mr. Genius Detective couldn't manage to deduce that I'd be angry when he hides his dead ex-girlfriend from me and then invites her to tea so she can completely disrupt our lives? Not to mention confuse the shit out of our child. Oh wait… I guess he's your child, not our child since I get no say in what happens to him whatsoever!"

"Why are you so angry, Molly? This is just stupid," he sighed. "She just wants to see him. She doesn't want to make him stay with her or have any sort of regular contact with her, she just wants to see him."

"Yeah, like she had no intentions of blackmailing anyone with that stupid camera phone!"

He pulled at his hair in frustration. "Oh hell! That was ages ago! And she wouldn't have a leg to stand on anyway. She's been legally dead for several years. Her parental rights expired ages ago."

"And you know this how?"

"I called Mycroft when I went out to smoke at dinner. Trust me, she has no claims to Gabriel."

"Then there's no problem—"

"Except that not letting her see him would be cruel."

"You never had problems with cruelty before," Molly grumbled. "Or maybe she does still have some kind of hold over you." She jerked her shoes on her feet. "It doesn't really matter. Do whatever you want. But I won't be there to see it."

"Molly…"

"No." The sound of the slamming door hung in the room long after she was gone.