A/N: Here you are, kids! I hope you enjoy! Thanks for all the reads and reviews. You've made my day at work go by so quickly! *big kisses*

Disclaimer: I own nothing but Gabe and Scarlett.

The house was mercifully dark when Molly arrived back at Ambergris. She breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't want to have to explain why she was home without Sherlock. Honestly, she'd held out hope that he would come after her, but no such luck. When she got to the sidewalk out front, she even waited for a few minutes before it dawned on her that he was not going to sweep down the stairs and demand that she come back. Not knowing what else to do, she hailed a cab.

She crept into the lounge, moving catlike through the shadows, keenly aware of any signs of life. Once she reached the stairs, she heard a few soft noises: light snoring, a television, people laughing on the beach. Fortunately, no one peeping down the hallway. Molly sniffled and felt miserable tears rising in the back of her throat once more. Damnit. She'd blubbered all the way from the hotel, prompting the cabbie to ask her more than once if she was okay. Despite her assurances that she was, nothing could be further from the truth. Emptiness, jealousy, loneliness and even a little guilt all swirled around inside of her, making her feel sick. She wanted Sherlock, but she couldn't bring herself to repent and go crawling back to the hotel. "I'm not wrong," she scolded herself. "Why should I apologize?" But she was almost willing to swallow her pride if it meant that they would be okay again. She shouldn't be here, on their wedding night, sulking about on her own.

Molly made her way down the hall to Mrs. Hudson's room. She carefully opened the door, not wanting to disturb anyone. Peeking inside, she saw that the older woman was well asleep even though the television flickered in the corner. She must have left it on for Scarlett. The light, anyway. Molly crept around the bed to the portable cot where Scarlett lay. As she approached, the baby yawned sleepily and rubbed her chubby little hand across her nose. Molly smiled and leaned over, pulling Scarlett out of the cot and into her arms. She started to make a small noise, but Molly shushed her softly. "Don't wake up Mrs. Hudson," she whispered, carrying the child out of the room carefully. By the time they reached Molly and Sherlock's bedroom, Scarlett was fully awake and cooing at her mother.

"You weren't supposed to wake up," Molly said. She noticed that the little girl's face was flushed and her hair slightly damp. For a moment she was concerned that Scarlett might have a fever, but a gentle kiss to her forehead revealed that she was "as cool as a cucumber, you are." Scarlett grinned at her mum's sing-songing voice. "You must have been angry, then. Sweaty and weepy. Me too." Molly held her little one close as she disrobed, one-handed. As she unbuttoned her shirt, she caught the slightest hint of Sherlock's scent and she felt that heavy feeling in her chest again. Again, she wanted him so bad that it hurt and she opted to leave his shirt on. Scarlett must have sense it because she grabbed a fistful of the fabric and tugged gently. "I know, sweetie. Daddy should be here too, shouldn't he?" She went to the window and opened it, letting the cool breeze off the ocean comfort her. "He probably would be if your mum wasn't such an overreacting ninny. But I can hardly be blamed, can I?" Scarlett squealed and pulled a fistful of Molly's hair. "No, I can't be. After all, I'm scared to death for your brother." The little girl made a humming noise in answer. "Why? Well, Miss Not Her Face is known for being dangerous. She's not even supposed to be alive, you know."

She sat down on the bed and leaned back against the pillows, propping the baby on her knees. The little girl reached out, pawing at Molly's front and then launching herself forward to press her face against her mother's breast. "Uh oh… are we hungry? Didn't you eat before bed?" She giggled as the little girl made what Gabriel had described as 'yummy noises' as she moved her mouth against Molly's skin. She obliged, opening the shirt and laying it open so that she could press Scarlett's mouth to her chest. At first she was eager, suckling at Molly's breast as if she hadn't eaten in a thousand years. After a few moments, she got sleepy again, mostly just playing with the nipple between her lips and kneading at the soft flesh with her tiny fingers. "Owie, Scarlett," she giggled. "We need to clip your fingernails again."

Staring down at her daughter's hazel eyes, the tightness in her chest loosened just a bit. Examining her child had become Molly's favorite pastime of late. She could spend hours cataloguing and committing to memory every tiny pore. Her eyes were almost exactly the same shape as Sherlock's, but wider and when she looked at them she always had an expression of surprise. Scarlett's face was softer, though, like her mother, with a turned up nose and a light scattering of freckles on each cheek that were scarily reminiscent of the two little boys in the picture on the wall opposite. "You couldn't escape the hair, could you darling?" Molly whispered, fingering the little auburn ringlets that stood out all over. Mrs. Hudson had assured her that this was not her real hair. That this curly mess would fall out and her real hair would be straight as a stick and thick like her mother's. So far this had not happened. If anything, the curly hair had thickened and was getting redder each day. They weren't sure where the red had come from. Molly's hair was brown with a few strands of auburn threaded through that made it fiery in the sun, but all indicators were pointing to Scarlett having more than a few strands. Sherlock claimed it was just her personality coming through. That was certainly true enough. The little girl was only a few months old and had already exhibited symptoms of impatience and a short fuse. Everyone assumed that the temper was all Sherlock, but anyone who knew them intimately knew that Molly was the one with the temper. Sherlock was more of a volcano: slowly bubbling under the surface for ages until he exploded. And once the lava started to flow, the anger would ooze with an eerie calm. Gabriel was the same. Molly and Scarlett lost it easily and quickly, but just as fast the anger would be gone as they moved on to something else.

Molly smiled as the little girl gave a light snore, falling asleep with her little bow mouth open. She slid down in the bed, shifting Scarlett to lie flat beside her before curling around the child protectively. In minutes, both mother and child were sleeping soundly.

OoOoOo

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock stopped dead on the stairs at hearing Gabriel's voice behind him. "I thought you and mum were sleeping at the hotel tonight."

Sherlock turned to see Gabe standing at the foot of the staircase, a cup of milk in one hand. His hair was disheveled and he had obviously given up on his pajama trousers, so he stood there in his skully teeshirt and Batman underwear. This did nothing to hinder the intimidating glare he turned on his father. "Why are you awake?"

"I asked you first."

"I forgot something," Sherlock said.

"Nope."

"I wanted to make sure you were sleeping."

"Nope." Gabriel took a sip of his milk and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "You can always try again. Third time's a charm, Mrs. Hudson says."

"Fine. Your mum and I had a fight. She came home. I came after her."

Gabriel shrugged. "I figured. She's in your room with Scarlett," he said, brushing past his father to tromp up the stairs. "I thought people weren't supposed to fight when they got married."

"People fight all the time," Sherlock replied, following the little boy. "Sometimes when it's most inconvenient."

Gabriel shrugged. "Maybe you should just say sorry."

"It's not that simple."

"Why not?"

"It just isn't."

Gabriel shook his head, heaving an exasperated sigh. "You make things too complicated. When me and Katie get mad at each other, whoever started it says they're sorry. Then we make up."

Sherlock thought this over, slightly horrified that he was entertaining seven year old problem solving. "What if you can't agree on who started it?"

"Then we just count down and say it at the same time. Like 1…2…3… sorry!"

"That's not a bad idea," Sherlock said, his clasping his hands in front of his mouth as he continued up the stairs.

"I know," Gabriel said with a yawn. "Night, Dad."

"Don't you want me to tuck you in?" Sherlock asked.

"Nah. You have other stuff to do," he replied, waving from his bedroom door. "Love you," he said, mid-yawn.

Sherlock smiled. "Love you more, child-thing."

As soon as Gabriel closed his bedroom door, save for a single crack, Sherlock slowly opened his own bedroom door and slipped inside. Molly was curled in a tight ball on her side of the bed. Scarlett, on the other hand, was splayed on her back, one hand braced on Molly's cheek. He smiled longingly as he went to the bed, grasping Scarlett gently by her feet and pulling her to the end of the bed. She didn't even stir as he scooped her up cradled her against his shoulder. He was slightly disoriented until he remembered that he and Gabriel had assembled the cot in Mrs. Hudson's room earlier in the evening. Quickly, he sneaked across the hall and deposited his sleeping daughter in her cot, praying that he wouldn't wake Mrs. Hudson. That would be a complicated and irritating conversation if he woke her up.

When he arrived back in the bedroom, though she was still curled up on her side, her brown eyes were wide open and waiting. "Oh… sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Molly replied. "Why aren't you at the hotel?"

"Because you weren't there. I would have been here sooner, but it took forever to get a cab."

"Oh."

"Congratulations, we're paying close to 400 pounds for a lovely room for our overnight bag to stay in." His smile reached his eyes this time and Molly returned it, scooting over so that he might climb into bed beside her. Making quick work of his clothes, he pulled the duvet back dramatically and slid under. Molly followed suit and situated herself in his embrace. He leaned in and kissed her nose. "I'm sorry, Molly. You were absolutely right. I should have talked to you first."

"No, I was overreacting. I'm sorry too. When you told me she was back, I immediately got my back up…"

"You have absolutely nothing to worry about from Irene Adler. As far as I'm concerned, anyway. I have no interest in her whatsoever, save for her interest in Gabriel."

"I know that. I'm really actually embarrassed that I reacted so strongly. But it really has nothing to do with whether I like her or you're attracted to her or whatever… I don't trust her, Sherlock. And I'm afraid of what she wants with Gabe."

"I don't think she wants anything. Just to see him and let him know she exists. That's all."

"Are you sure?"

"It doesn't matter anyway. That's all she's going to get. She said herself that her life is too scattered and dangerous for a child. That's how he ended up in St. Christopher's anyway." He pulled Molly close and tucked her head under his chin, stroking her hair lightly with his fingertips.

"Sherlock?" Molly asked after several moments.

"Yeah, Mouse?"

"Do you think Gabriel will like her more than me?" There it was. What had really been bothering her the most since she'd first learned of the visit.

"He doesn't even know her. Gabriel loves you and that's not going to change. I predict he'll be intrigued at first, probably confused and most definitely curious. But you're his mother."

Molly smiled. "I hope you're right."

"I always am." He pressed a kiss to her temple. She was quick to turn her head so their mouths collided.

OoOoOo

Gabriel's eyes were everywhere as they sat in the lounge at The Albatross. He'd never been in a restaurant like this before. Crystal chandeliers, white linen tablecloths, sparkling silverware laid out on the tables in the dining room (most of which he couldn't even identify what the utensils were used for): all of it was very different from the places that they usually took him to eat. He was kind of glad that he wouldn't have to go into the dining room. It looked like the kind of place that the Queen would eat and Gabriel wasn't sure he ever wanted to eat with the Queen. They were having tea in the lounge.

That morning, his dad had taken him out to the beach for a swim and had explained that they were going to tea to meet the lady who had carried him in her belly. Her name was Miss Adler and everybody thought she was dead. That's what they had told him anyway. He thought she'd gotten sick and left him with that awful lady at the convent, but as his father explained, she had recovered and now she wanted to meet him. A long time ago, he had really wished he could meet her. He used to dream about what she might be like, but now when faced with the reality, he wasn't sure he wanted to. He felt almost sick thinking about what she would think of him. Or what he would think of her. Would she make him come live with her? That was probably the scariest notion he'd entertained all morning. He didn't want to leave Baker Street. He loved his dad and mum. He had his toys and Cat and his baby sister. Katie lived just down the road. His John and his Mary and Izzy and Mrs. Hudson and Greg: he couldn't imagine his life without seeing them every day. What if this lady made him leave all of them?

He sat on the leather sofa in the lounge between his dad and mum. Everyone was quiet while they waited. They had made the executive decision to leave Scarlett at Ambergris with the others. He'd overheard Molly telling Mary that if there was some kind of outburst, she didn't want Scarlett to witness it. Gabriel shifted closer to Molly, nudging his head under her arm and at one point wrapping his arms around her waist. She was just as scared as him and he wanted to make sure she knew that she was his real mum. He stole a glance at Sherlock. He sat still as a statue, save for his fingertips that were rushing over the keypad on his phone. Gabe wondered what he was doing.

"Do you think she'll show up?" Molly whispered to Sherlock, trying not to let Gabriel hear.

"I told her this was her only chance," he replied, not looking up.

"Do you think she'll like me?" Gabriel asked.

"Of course she will, darling," Molly said, running her fingers through his hair.

"What should I call her?" Gabriel asked.

"Whatever you like, dear."

He smiled up at Molly. "I won't call her Mum. No matter what, okay?"

Molly giggled. "You can if you want to."

"She's not my mum though."

Sherlock sat up straight, looking suspiciously like he'd been struck by lightning. He stood up and offered his hand to Gabriel. He stared at his father's hand briefly, then gave Molly a squeeze before taking it and following his father. Molly looked unsure as to whether she should come along, but Sherlock waited.

The three of them made their way toward the tall thin woman that stood in the foyer of the restaurant. The one with the cold eyes and the deep red lips. "Hello Irene," Sherlock greeted her.