A/N: It's been a while, but here's a longish, pretty fluffy chapter to make up for it. Scarlett is about to be hit with the reality that she's no longer going to be the baby of their little family anymore. Will Baker Street survive?

Disclaimer: As always, I own nothing except the children.

"Scarlett, I can't just bring a strange child home like a stray cat," Sherlock sighed as they rode through the ridiculous London traffic. Scarlett was sniffling beside him, her cheeks bright pink blossoms of rage. She'd known better than to have a full on tantrum at NSY, but she was sobbing angry tears in the cab. Bless Katie Adams, she had tried everything from singing songs to tickling the little girl in an effort to redirect Scarlett's anger. Gabriel could only groan and stare out the window, remembering for the tenth time that morning why he hated taking Scarlett out for the day. "Jada will be fine. Lestrade is looking for her mother."

"She not sposa' go wiv that bad lady," Scarlett whined. She made a sign for "mean lady" before looking directly at her father and turning the volume down on her hearing aid.

Gabriel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "I think she's too smart for you, Dad," he said.

"Evidently," Sherlock replied, turning his attention back to his mobile. "It doesn't change the fact that we're not adopting random children. We have too many as it is." He scrolled through his messages, alighting on one from Molly.

We need to talk. Tonight. ~M

"Oh Lord," he thought. What could he possibly have done to warrant a 'we need to talk' message from her? Sherlock flipped through the events of the last several hours, searching the room in his mind palace marked "Molly Fuck Ups." Strangely, there was nothing in the drawer marked with today's date.

What's the matter? ~SH

He wondered briefly why he always signed his texts to Molly. She knew who he was.

Nothing bad. Just important. ~M

Funny, she signed hers too.

Dinner? ~M

Naughty. ~SH

No. Actually eating. ~M

Damn. ~SH

But we have nine year olds tonight. And I should warn you that Scarlett is not speaking to me. ~SH

Mary and John will take them out for a few hours. ~M

Why isn't Scarlett speaking to you? ~M

Long story. ~SH

He closed his mobile as the cab pulled up at the shops. Sherlock tapped Scarlett and signed that she needed to turn her hearing aid back on. She hesitated for a moment, but his expression was unmoving and she thought she'd better do as she was told. Both children got out of the cab and stood on the sidewalk waiting as the cab drove away. Scarlett took Gabriel's hand and stood obediently on the sidewalk. She was still sniffling, but the promise of new clothes was enough to cheer her up slightly. Scarlett loved new clothes. Her wardrobe was positively bursting with girly dresses and shoes. Even when she wore jeans or tee-shirts, they were always impeccably stylish and glittery. They had no idea where this came from, as Molly had never been one to care much about fashion. Sherlock was always sharply dressed, but it wasn't something he worked at or even thought about. Even Gabriel, sharing DNA with Irene Adler, hated shopping for clothes and didn't care much about what he wore.

Scarlett began pulling Gabriel and Katie along, skipping toward the doors to the shop. "You have to slow down, Scar!" Gabriel sighed.

"Come ooonnnn, Bre!" she said. "You slow."

"And you're annoying," Gabriel retorted. "Dad… Scarlett's pulling my arm off!"

"Can we please not do this?" Sherlock sighed. "Every time we go out, you two argue. And it's giving me a headache." He ushered both children into the bustling shop. Sherlock bristled as his ear was immediately assaulted by a screaming child begging his mother for some item or other. As they passed by, Sherlock glared at the child until it stopped making the offending noise. They moved through the store quickly. Sherlock hoped against hope that there might be a salesperson nearby that would just pick things for Scarlett. He had no idea about such things. Molly had sent him to buy Scarlett a couple of new pairs of jeans and trousers. Her legs had gotten too long and her babyish tummy was being squeezed uncomfortably by the ones she had. That was clear, but as for knowing what her size was, Sherlock was completely oblivious. He could probably tell her measurements just by observing the child, but this was not how children's clothing was sized.

"Help you, love?" Sherlock turned and a young girl stared up at him through cats' eye glasses.

"Perhaps," he began. "I'm looking for jeans and trousers for my daughter."

"All right. What size?" she asked sweetly.

"Uhm…" Sherlock stammered. He looked around to see if Gabriel were standing there. Gabriel seemed to be a font of knowledge about his sister. He paid attention to all those little things Molly was always chirping about in his ear that got caught in the filter. "Smallish?"

The salesperson chuckled warmly and nodded. Evidently she'd helped incompetent fathers before. "How old is she?"

"Nearly four." He looked around and spied Katie, Scarlett and Gabriel over by the shoes. "Scarlett!" he called, beckoning her over. Her head snapped up at hearing her name. She sprinted across the room, her red ringlets bouncing wildly around her head, and promptly ran into a display of shoeboxes. They rained down around her as she watched, almost impressed that she could have caused such havoc.

"Oopsie," she murmured.

"Oh good job, Scarlett," Gabriel said, starting to pick up boxes and put them back on the table.

"I sorry, Daddy," she said as Sherlock closed the distance between them. "Those shoe got in my way."

"That's why we don't run in the shop," Sherlock said and then looked back to the salesclerk. "I apologize. She'll clean this up." He gestured that Scarlett should help Gabriel pick up the boxes.

"Oh it's all right. I'm not sure why on Earth we have big, awkward displays in the middle of a kids' place," the girl said. She was clearly taken with Sherlock's eyes and unusual beauty. Her cheeks were a glowing pink and every word she said was tinged with laughter. "We'll take care of it." She took a box from Scarlett's hand and led them over to the section for little girls' clothes.

OoOoOo

"So I told her that I couldn't just bring home a child like a stray dog. She didn't seem to understand." Sherlock and Molly walked hand in hand up the damp sidewalk that would eventually lead back to Baker Street. They lagged behind John, Mary and the multitudes of children they had acquired. Archie had joined the brood just before dinner and now they were like a mass of noise that oozed down the street. Amazingly enough, they had managed to avoid any altercations and all of the children, including Izzy and Scarlett, were still laughing together. "She actually turned her hearing aid off so she couldn't hear me! I think she's getting more stubborn the older she gets."

"Gee, I don't know where she'd get that from," Molly said.

"Still, I didn't know what she expected me to do."

Molly sighed in that way that suggested she was being patient with an idiot. "She's three, darling. She's always lived in a house with two parents that love her and today she was confronted with the reality that not every child has that. Her logic dictates that little Jada come to live with us. She doesn't understand all the complications involved. And why should she? Maybe she's right. Maybe when you see a little kid being abused or neglected, you should be able to just take it home." They walked on in silence, Molly considering little Jada and the conversation she'd had with Mary earlier. It was upsetting that John and Mary so desperately wanted to have another child and yet Jada's mother had thrown her away.

"I don't know how this happened," Sherlock sighed, toying with the cigarette in his coat pocket that he desperately wanted to light.

"What do you mean?"

"Look at them all. How did we acquire this hoard of children? I don't like children, yet they always seem to be hanging around." Molly smiled and looked at the ground, seemingly dazzled by the flecks of moonlight that reflected a thousand times in the tiny puddles under their feet. She knew he didn't mean it. Children loved Sherlock. He was silly and interesting and seemed to be one of them most of the time. Not to say that he was irresponsible or immature and in their house he was the ultimate authority. But they seemed to sense that all of his blustering and resistance to their childish charms was just a show. It was obvious to everyone that he was just as in love with them.

"You liar," Molly said.

"They're noisy and messy… and expensive."

"Kind of like you." He stopped, staring down at her briefly before she linked her arm through his and gave an affectionate squeeze. He gave a grunt and pulled her along. "So yeah," she said after a time. "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Will I need a lawyer?"

She chuckled. "Of course not, silly."

"All right. Go ahead then."

"Okay. Just don't get… well… you know how you get." Molly twisted the end of her ponytail around a fingertip. "I had intended for us to talk alone, but… apparently that's just not in the cards for us tonight." She stared up at the group ahead of them. They were paying no attention whatsoever to them and were well out of earshot. "I didn't want to tell you at all just yet, but… I just can't keep it to myself."

Sherlock chuckled and kept walking. "I must tell you that all this stammering and stuttering is physically painful to watch. Silly Mouse, I already know that you're pregnant."

"What?"

"Well that's what you were going to tell me wasn't it?"

"Yes, but… how did you know?"

He stopped and glared, narrowing his eyes and giving a snort of derision. "Really?"

"Don't be so smug! I didn't know myself until a few days ago."

"Then you weren't paying attention," he said. "You've had no appetite, been complaining about phantom smells, not sleeping and…" He paused and stepped back from her, looking up and down, giving her a once over. "And your breasts are definitely bigger."

"Sherlock!"

"Well they are. Not to mention more sensitive. The other night—"

Molly slapped her hand over his mouth. Her cheeks blushed deeply. "I get the picture, thanks." He leaned over and pressed a kiss against her lips. "So, it's okay then?" she asked when she could breathe again.

"Of course it's okay," he replied. "Besides, there's not much we can do about it now."

Her playful grin broke into a genuine smile that lit up her whole face. As if Sherlock had just given her permission to be happy about it. "It won't be like last summer," she said, this time confident in her words as she snuggled against his side.

"No reason to think it will be."

OoOoOo

It didn't take long for their secret to get out. By the end of the next week, it seemed that everyone in London knew about Molly's delicate condition and the constant congratulations were starting to become exhausting to Sherlock. When word had gotten out about Scarlett, most people were so shocked that they didn't say much of anything, despite the fact that Gabriel had been a fixture in his life for two years at that point. Apparently everyone thought that he had grown his oldest child in a petri dish, but were rendered speechless when actually confronted with Molly's swollen belly. Now that it had been proven that he was capable of procreation, everyone was being just ridiculous about it. Greg Lestrade had actually threatened to throw them a party at NSY.

"That's ridiculous," Sherlock replied, not looking up from the case file in front of him.

"Come on, Sherlock! We could have cake or something."

"No."

"But why not?"

Sherlock sighed and shoved the folder aside. "For one thing, what you're talking about is a baby shower and it's a ridiculous American custom that's completely unnecessary. For another, I don't understand why Molly being pregnant again is any more of a big deal than Scarlett was. Or Gabriel, for that matter."

"We were just so shocked last time," Greg explained.

"Well get over it. Evidently Molly is extremely fertile." He opened up the next case file and was met with the enormous brown eyes of Jada, the little girl with whom Scarlett had been so taken. "Lestrade, this little girl. What's going on with her?" He held up the file so that the other man could see it.

"Oh, Jada Barrow. Well, she's a very lucky little girl." Sherlock relaxed a little at hearing the child was lucky. "We managed to catch Nichols before he could get her into his slave ring. She's in a temporary home right now while they wait for an opening at St. Clare's." Sherlock thought this over. Jada was about the same age as Gabriel was when he came to live at Baker Street. He remembered how frightened Gabe was at first and how he carried scars, both physical and mental, from his time at St. Christopher's Convent. Even now he would be awakened in the middle of the night sometimes by the childish whimpers of his son. In his groggy dream state, Gabriel would cry out and fight when Sherlock tried to soothe him.

"What about the child's parent?"

"Best we can tell, the biological mother traded her for drugs when she was two or three years old. She's been in one bad situation after another ever since. Apparently the person she was living with most recently was approached by someone that worked for Nichols and sold little Jada. If we hadn't caught him trying to leave the country with her, she'd have been completely lost twelve hours later."

"What about all these others?" Sherlock asked, already knowing the answer. "Are you just going to leave them to die or worse?"

"We're trying to get information from Nichols to find the others, but the chances are remote. These people are just part of a vast network. Most of those children, if they're even still alive, could be anywhere in the world by now."

"So you're just not going to do anything?" Sherlock snapped, slamming the folder down on the desk. "You're just going to leave them!" Suddenly, a wave of rage like nothing he'd ever felt washed over. He wanted to go across the desk at his friend and shake him. Force him to do something! "What exactly is the point of having police, then?" He stood up fast, knocking the chair backward. With another growl of fury he kicked the chair across the room and swept out before Greg could say another word.

OoOoOo

"I just couldn't believe it, Mols. He doesn't seem to be bothered at all by the fact that there are at least a dozen missing children in that case file. Missing children that could be being beaten or molested right this second while we're sitting here!" Sherlock sighed and lay his head against Molly's belly that was already swollen with their new addition.

She stroked her fingers through his hair, brushing the unruly mess of curls away from his temple. "You can't take it so hard, love," she soothed. "Isn't that what you're always telling me? Chemical defect and all?"

Sherlock sighed. "Please don't use my own words against me right now."

"I'm sorry," she giggled.

"It's just… sometimes I wish I could go back to not caring. The uncaring, cold, logical Sherlock would have been able to just separate himself and find the answer. But when I looked at those photographs, all I could see was Gabriel and it made me so angry. At Nichols and all those sick fucks that buy and sell children."

"Can you not say 'sick fucks' over the baby?"

"It can't hear me, Molly."

Molly started to argue when Scarlett ambled in from the next room and stood in front of her parents, arms folded and pout firmly in place. This suggested that she had something important and final to say. "Hello, precious," Molly cooed. "All right?"

"No," she said. "No baby."

"What do you mean?"

"No baby," she said again. "I not want baby. I the baby!"

Sherlock sighed and let his head fall down against Molly's belly once more. He wasn't sure he could take much more today. His patience was wearing thin. Molly sensed this and answered before he could snap. "Of course you're a baby, precious. You'll always be our baby just like Gabriel's our baby still."

"Bre not a baby!" She signed angrily. "Bre a big boy. I'm the baby!" Big tears gathered in Scarlett's eyes and it was obvious that she was at the end of her tether. Any moment she was going to have a full on tantrum. Gabriel had tried to warn them weeks earlier when they had revealed the pregnancy that Scarlett was not going to be too happy. He remembered his own tantrum when Scarlett was imminent and though she seemed happy at first that she was going to have a little brother or sister to play with, he knew that her elation would not last. He may have helped her along a bit.

Two weeks previous…

"What are you doing, Scarlett?" Gabriel asked, looking down at his baby sister who was lying on the floor, intently drawing a picture.

"I draw a picture for the new baby," she replied. She sat up and pushed her heavy red curls away from her face and held the picture up for Gabriel. "See, Bre! I drawed Mummy and Daddy and me and you and the baby." The baby was sitting on the ground in her picture and the Scarlett figure was happily wrapped in her father's arms.

"Why is the baby on the ground?" Gabriel asked.

"Daddy put baby down to hold me."

Gabriel snickered and shook his head. "Scarlett, you better get used to Mum and Dad not carrying you around everywhere."

"Why, Bre?"

"Because. They'll have to hold the baby. Once the baby comes, you'll have to act like a big kid. They won't have time to hold you or carry you. You'll have to learn to change nappies and get your own milk out of the refrigerator. And forget sleeping with them anymore." Gabriel went on and on, enumerating the ways in which Scarlett's life was about to be upheaved. "You and Izzy will have to be quiet when you're playing because the baby will be sleeping. And then they'll start letting the baby play with your old toys."

She'd had two weeks to stew and come to the conclusion that her brother was absolutely right. "I hate babies!" she shouted, reaching back to pull out her hearing aid and throw it on the ground before bolting up the stairs.