Author's Notes: This is the first part of a three-part conclusion. Also, Molly has the baby in this chapter and the actual birthing scene is part of it. Just a warning if that sort of thing bothers you!

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The Fourteenth of May

Molly woke with a moan and pressed her hand hard against the twisting pain in her lower stomach. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down on it, trying to suppress any further sounds as she waited for the pain to ease off. She drew a deep breath and slowly released it, then reached for her phone on the bedside table. 4:42. She took another deep breath, held it for a few seconds, and concentrated on breathing normally.

"Are you all right?" Mycroft's soft question stirred the hair by her ear.

Molly shivered in response and turned her head until his lips were against her cheek. "I'm fine, but that contraction felt like it meant business." She reached behind her to grab Mycroft's hip when he tensed as if to get up. "No, ssshhh. Relax," she said, shifting to turn her head further until her lips brushed his. "Mycroft," she chided, when she felt how tense his face felt. "If that actually was the start of something, it's the onset of a long process, so come on … relax." She smiled when he raised his hand to her cheek and gently pulled her into a slow kiss. "Mmm."

"Mmm," he agreed. "Can you go back to sleep?"

"I don't know, but lying here quietly is almost as good as sleep," she said, turning away to nestle her head into the pillow with a sigh. "You go back to sleep if you can." She felt Mycroft shift a bit before he slid his arm around her and echoed her sigh. Ten minutes later, she was about to drift into a light doze, when – "Damn."

"What is it?"

"I need to go to the loo." She elbowed him gently when he snorted a laugh. "It's not funny having a hard head pressing against your bladder." Mycroft sat up and pushed the bedcovers off them, then helped her sit on the side of the bed. "Stay here … I can make it by myself." He ignored that and offered his arm for the short walk to her ensuite's door, where she stopped and turned a stern look on him. "Okay, go back to bed now."

"Fine, but leave the door open, and call me if you need help."

Since Molly had to pass first through her dressing room and then across the bathroom to get to the loo on the far side, she had no problem with that. On her way back to bed, another contraction hit just as she reached the dressing room, and she clutched her lower stomach with a moan.

"Molly?"

"I'm all right," she replied somewhat breathlessly, leaning against the door jamb. She looked up when Mycroft appeared in front of her and pulled her to him. She stood with her forehead and bump resting against him until the pain eased off, then allowed him to help her back to bed. Once settled again, she checked the time. 5:14. Twenty minutes between contractions, she thought. A long way to go.

They lay in silence for a while, but Mycroft kept his hand on Molly's belly, occasionally stroking a circle around it, so he felt the next contraction coming on. When Molly drew a deep breath, he pressed closer against her back and flattened his hand over the lower curve of her bump. They waited through each contraction in similar fashion over the next two hours, during which Molly made another trip to the loo, and then got up and dressed just after 7:30 when she felt the need to move more.

"Is that what you're wearing to the hospital?"

Molly snorted as she glanced down at the long, baggy T-shirt and leggings, then looked at Mycroft where he was crouched in front of her. "Hardly." When he finished tying the lace on her left trainer, she lowered that foot to the floor and propped her right one on his knee so he could pull on her sock and shoe. She ran her eyes over his jumper and khakis. "What about you?"

"Hardly," he said, mimicking her with a flick of a smile before helping her to stand. They walked slowly along the hall, then very carefully down the stairs, and made their way to the kitchen, where they were surprised to find the senior Holmeses and Mrs. Collingwood facing the doorway, all bearing similarly expectant expressions.

"We heard you coming," Violet said, quickly rising to give them both a hug and kiss. "How are you, darling girl?"

"In labor apparently," Molly said, grinning.

Violet clapped her hands and hugged Molly again, while Mycroft headed for the teapot. "How far along?"

"Fifteen minutes at last count."

"Still quite a while then," Violet said, slipping an arm around her daughter-in-law's waist. "Do you feel like eating something?"

Molly sighed. "What I'd really like is a strawberry smoothie."

Violet raised her eyebrows toward the housekeeper. "Coming up," Mrs. Collingwood said, smiling. "Miss Molly has had a craving for those lately so we're prepared. Now if she'd wanted cucumbers and ice cream …"

"Ugh," Molly groaned. "Once was enough."

Mycroft, who'd taken the stool beside his father, grimaced at the reminder of that particular craving, and Siger looked at him, grinning. "Those strange cravings aren't just a cliché, huh, son?"

"Molly hasn't had many, but …," he shook his head, grimacing again. "There was one involving kippers and banana yoghurt." He shuddered, then took a bracing sip of tea.

"Not long now, son," Siger said, raising a hand to squeeze Mycroft's shoulder. "Just get through today and then …"

Mycroft lowered his cup and lifted his eyes to Siger's. "And then the real chaos begins."

"Precisely," Siger said.

Over the next several hours, Molly took turns walking through the house, stretching out on the sitting room sofa, walking around the back garden, playing the piano … always accompanied by one or both of her parents-in-law. She'd talked Mycroft into doing some work, so he spent the rest of the morning in the study, but popped out occasionally to see how Molly was doing. When Mycroft came into the music room, Molly lifted her hands off the keyboard and shifted over so he could sit beside her on the piano bench. "Anthea sent her regards," he said, glancing at his parents who were both reading newspapers. "She said to give her a call if you'd like to chat."

"I may do that," Molly said, giving him a smile before she lowered her eyes to the keyboard. "Would you like to play a duet?"

They were in the middle of a Haydn minuet, when Molly dropped her hands to her stomach and gave a low moan. Mycroft wrapped his arm around her and pulled her against his chest. "How close now?"

Siger answered from behind them. "About eight minutes."

Mrs. Collingwood came to the door, hesitated when she saw the couple at the piano, and looked at the older couple. "Should I delay lunch?"

Violet got up and went to join the housekeeper. "No. Let's go ahead and lay the table. Molly still has quite a ways to go before leaving for the hospital." She glanced back at Siger, who stood and followed them to the kitchen.

Molly joined the others at the dining table, but had soup only … and two more contractions before she and Mycroft went upstairs. After going to the loo, Molly stretched out on the bed on her side, and Mycroft sat beside her and began massaging her lower back. Two more hours and the contractions were coming five minutes apart and lasting close to a minute. Mycroft called the midwife, Susan Milstead, who said they should come to the hospital. He'd already changed into a suit and helped Molly change into a loose dress and flats after taking one last photo of her bare bump. "Just for us," she said, grinning. "Maybe I'll show him when he's a teenager and most likely to find it appalling."

Since Molly didn't want anyone but Mycroft in the delivery room, they decided Violet and Siger would wait for news at home. By the time Mycroft and Molly left with Walter, her contractions were consistently four minutes apart. They arrived at the hospital less than ten minutes later, and Mycroft helped Molly walk – "waddle," she said – to the reception desk. They were immediately escorted to their delivery suite, where admitting personnel met them a few minutes later. Molly had been hesitant about using a private maternity hospital, but went along with Mycroft's request. She certainly couldn't protest the accommodations, which offered a double bed that Mycroft could share with her that night, and the location just south of Regent's Park was extremely convenient to home.

Once they were alone, Mycroft started to remove his jacket just as Molly bent over the side of the bed and moaned. He dropped the jacket onto a chair and went to slide his arms around her from behind, pressing her lower body against him and covering her hands with his over her belly. When the contraction eased, he lowered her to the side of the bed, took her shoes off, and helped her stretch out on the bed. "Thank you, Mycroft," she said, rubbing his arm.

He checked out the ensuite and the small second bedroom, called his parents on the landline (no mobiles allowed), took two bottles of water from the mini fridge, and settled in the chair beside the bed. Their eyes met as Molly ran her hands over her belly. "This is it then," he said, softly. "Not long before we two are we three." Their eyes held until the door opened after two quick raps and the midwife came in.

"How are you doing, Molly?" Susan glanced at Mycroft, smiled briefly, then bent over her patient. "I need to check your vital signs, then we'll see how far you're dilated." She gripped Molly's hand when the younger woman gave a low moan and half sat to clutch at her belly. "You're at about four minutes, right?" She nodded when Mycroft confirmed that. When the contraction eased off, Susan quickly checked Molly's vitals before moving down the bed. "We need to get you into a gown," she said, helping Molly to lift her bottom so she could remove her knickers.

Molly turned her head toward Mycroft as Susan bent between her legs and wasn't surprised to find his face deliberately expressionless. She knew he was uncomfortable with the forced intimacy and stretched her hand toward him. His gaze returned to hers as he gripped her hand. "They've seen it all, Mycroft, and are going to see a lot more of me before we're finished," she said, laughing softly. He didn't say anything, but looked a bit sheepish.

"You're already fully dilated, Molly, and the baby has moved lower," Susan said, smiling. "Ms. Kayser will be here shortly." The midwife helped Molly out of her dress and bra and into a hospital gown, then handed Mycroft the footies Molly had brought. He snorted when he unrolled the bright purple socks that not only had large yellow and pink dots but also lime green non-slip strips on the sole.

Mycroft pulled the socks over her feet - "Couldn't you find something colorful, my dear?" - then smoothed her hair back and gathered it into a ponytail, before slipping an elastic band around it. Molly's grin quickly turned to a grimace when another contraction started, and she leaned against Mycroft, trying to suppress a moan.

"You'll need to put on scrubs, Mr. Holmes," Susan said. "There's a selection of sizes in the cabinet in the other bedroom."

When the contraction eased off, Molly moved to the chair, and Mycroft went to change. Susan stripped the top covers off the bed and placed several pads over it, helped Molly onto the bed on her side, then covered her with a light blanket. "I'll be back in a few minutes. Use the call button if you need anything before I return."

Molly chuckled when Mycroft came back from changing and sat in the chair beside her. "I do love you in blue, but that's certainly a new look." He glanced at the loose fitting drawstring pants, pullover scrubshirt, and shoe socks, and made a face. She reached for his hand, then said softly, "You're doing a great job, darling."

"I'm supposed to be saying that to you," he said, partly standing to give her a lingering kiss.

Molly's smile faded at the sudden pressure between her legs and she clutched her stomach as another contraction built in intensity. As Susan came through the door, Molly felt an internal "pop" and a rivulet of fluid ran down her thigh. Susan quickly reached for a towel and helped Molly roll onto her back.

"I feel like pushing," Molly said, panting.

"Don't push yet," Susan quickly replied, as she attached the fetal monitor. "Breathe in slowly, Molly, then out slowly." She looked up as the consultant obstetrician came through the door. "Here's Ms. Kayser now."

Christine walked to the foot of the bed and smiled at Molly. "I hear you're doing really well, Molly." She nodded at Mycroft. "Mr. Holmes." She pulled gloves out of a dispenser and put them on while Susan removed the wet pad under Molly, replaced it with a dry one, lifted Molly's legs into position, and draped a clean sheet over her knees. "All right, let's see what's going on." After a few moments, Christine looked up. "It won't be too long, Molly."

Mycroft climbed onto the bed behind Molly, knees raised, feet drawn up on either side of her hips, and pulled her to rest against his chest. Once they'd settled, Susan pushed several firm pillows behind him to brace against. Time was counted by contractions peaking, then subsiding. As each pain set in, they leaned forward into it, with Molly bearing down, panting, squeezing Mycroft's hands, then relaxing back so that he took her weight as the pain eased.

Molly panted through another contraction, then words burst from her as it eased off. "Mycroft, you have to get over the Mikey thing!"

"What?" He sounded astonished and somewhat aggrieved.

Christine, thinking Molly might be referring to another man, told Mycroft, "Mr. Holmes – Mycroft …, women in labor get a free pass. Anything they say here can't be held against them."

Molly stared at Christine, confused, then twisted her head toward Mycroft as another contraction started. "Mycroft," she moaned, "Mummy promised me she'll stop calling you Mikey." He grimaced before he could stop it, then held tight to Molly's hands as she squeezed his. "You have to -" she paused, panting, "You have to get over it, Mycroft!"

"All right, my dear," he agreed, patiently.

"Mycroft!" Molly's voice rose at his absent-minded tone. "You don't understand!" She stopped to groan when the contraction reached its crest, then panted as it seemed to ease off a bit.

"Mycroft –" Christine started to break in as Molly seemed distressed.

Mycroft bit back a sharp response, then took a deep breath, flexing his fingers as Molly's grip loosened. "What don't I understand, my dear?"

"I want to name him Mi-" She broke off, moaning as another contraction started, then finished desperately. "Oooohhh … Michael! I want to name him MICHAEL!"

"That's fine," he quickly replied, shifting his fingers before her grip tightened.

"But he'll get called Mikey!"

"That's all right."

Molly moaned as another contraction started before the previous one eased off.

"Come on, now, Molly. Push." Molly groaned loudly but complied with Christine's urging, and Mycroft felt sweat break out on his forehead over the next fifteen minutes as he could only watch Molly suffer through what seemed to rival actual torture. The breaks between pushing were getting shorter, and she seemed to be tiring. Mycroft shifted where he sat behind her to take more of her weight against his chest, then pressed his fists against her lower back and massaged in tight circles. He could feel her body go rigid as another wave of pain washed over her and she grabbed his thighs and bore down.

In between pants, Molly suddenly burst out with - "And we're going to have another b-b-baby!"

Sharply drawn breaths from the other women covered Mycroft's own. "Molly – "

"Stop pushing for a moment, Molly," Christine said. "You're starting to crown."

"Don't argue!" Molly interrupted Mycroft, almost drowning out Christine's instructions, then moaned.

"I'm not arguing, but you want to talk about that now?" Mycroft glanced at the midwife's interested face and stared at her narrow-eyed until she abruptly lowered hers. "Here?"

"If I can talk about doing this again," she broke off, panting, then moaned low before continuing, "while trying to push a watermelon out of my vagina, then I obviously MEAN it!" Molly's voice had risen as another contraction gripped her.

"Whatever you want," Mycroft quickly assured her, throwing caution to the wind as her desperate grip threatened to cut off feeling to his hands.

"You have to want it, too!"

Mycroft leveled a pained look on the crown of Molly's head for a few moments, then suppressed a groan and dropped his head back to stare at the ceiling. "You expect me to encourage you to have another baby while you're pushing this one out?"

"YES!" Molly's moan started off low, then increased in volume.

"Push now, Molly," Christine's voice was drowned out by Mycroft's.

"For god's sake, Molly … WHATEVER YOU BLOODY WELL WANT!"

Even awash in the painful wave of contractions, Molly's jaw dropped open in astonishment as she twisted to look at her husband. Mycroft never yelled like that, nor had she ever seen him look so frazzled.

A tentative voice broke the shocked silence. "Mr. Holmes –"

"WHAT!" Susan flinched but continued to offer the water-dampened cloth to him. Mycroft took a deep breath, then blew it out before taking the cloth with his free hand. "My apologies." He glanced at the door, which had been pushed open a few inches, and waved his hand dismissively at Andrew. The door shut silently, and Mycroft started to wipe Molly's forehead when Susan spoke again.

"That's for you, Mr. Holmes."

He looked at the midwife, then at the folded square, briefly considered his unaccustomed outburst, and pressed the cool cloth over his eyes for several seconds and dabbed at his brow as Molly's grip began to tighten once again on his other hand. He sighed, then lowered the cloth, flipped it inside out, and pressed the cooler side against Molly's forehead as she bore down. She pushed and strained until she finally leaned harder against him with a tired moan. "I'm sorry, Mycroft, I'm sorry," she muttered.

"You're doing well, Molly," Christine assured her. "His head should be out with the next contraction." She lifted her gaze to Mycroft and pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. "You know, Mycroft, at this point of hard labor, most women are telling their partners they're never having sex again."

Despite her tiredness, Molly huffed a laugh. "I'm not an idiot," she said, chuckling again breathlessly. "Don't let his rather, um, formal exterior fool you." She paused as her breathing deepened with the start of the next contraction. "Mycroft is the most incredible l-l-lover you could –i-im-maaa-gine … ooohhhhh."

"MOLLY!" Mycroft felt the warmth rush upward and knew his ears and face were pink. He closed his eyes to avoid looking at the midwife, who turned from what she was doing to gape at them in shock. Even Christine briefly lifted her head from under the sheet draping Molly's knees to stare at him.

"Way to go, Mycroft," she murmured under her breath, then turned back to the action at hand. "Okay, Molly, push as hard as you can, but stop as soon as I tell you." She leaned forward, hands at the ready. "Go, go, go … push … that's it … doing good, Molly … all right … just a little more … Stop! " She carefully eased Molly's flesh back from around the baby's head, while Molly panted fast and heavily, leaning harder against Mycroft as she waited for the next contraction. A few seconds more, then Molly's breathing deepened and her body tensed again. "All right, push, Molly, push!"

Mycroft leaned into Molly's back, helping her bend forward as she bore down, groaning from her gut, then let out a choked-off scream as the baby's head was born. "That's it! Here he comes! Now hold just a moment," Christine said as the shoulders slowly emerged, then quickly gave Molly an injection in her thigh. "All right, go, go, push!" Christine's laugh and Molly's triumphant groan accompanied the baby's arrival as with Christine's gentle guidance the rest of him slid out in one fell swoop. He announced his presence with an outraged squawk, then cried lustily. Christine cooed back, "Ooh, who's a lovely boy, then," as she adjusted the umbilical cord and briefly held him up so Mycroft and Molly could see him. Their first quick impression was long and skinny, pink and wrinkled, and absolutely beautiful … although "beautiful" may have been more Molly's impression than Mycroft's. "A bit squashed" also crossed Mycroft's mind, but he'd retained sufficient control of his senses to keep that to himself.

"I don't think we need to worry about his lungs," Mycroft said, hugging an exhausted Molly as she collapsed against him. Still panting, she twisted until her eyes met his and tears welled up and began to overflow.

"Mycroft … we have a son." For just a moment, the rest of the room seemed to disappear. Molly's breath caught when she saw the moist sheen to Mycroft's eyes, then their corners crinkled and he gave her the sweetest smile she'd ever seen. She swallowed a sob, staring at Mycroft in wonder, and was lifting her fingers toward his lips when Susan cleared her throat and broke the spell.

Molly brushed her thumb over Mycroft's cheek, then turned her head toward the "business" end of the bed and watched as Susan gently dried the baby, wrapped him in a dry towel, and pulled a soft cap over his head. Molly opened her gown, and Susan carefully placed him, stomach down, cord still attached and pulsing, against Molly's bare skin. The baby lay flat at first, blinking occasionally, and Mycroft reached to rub a gentle finger across his forehead, causing the delicate skin to crease in a frown. Molly continued to have contractions as her body prepared to expel the placenta, but was almost unaware of the pain as she stared, transfixed, while the baby became acquainted with the world. After a few minutes of lying there, blinking, he started moving his hands and kicking his feet. When his fist eventually found his mouth, he began to salivate around his fingers and within moments his feet gained traction against Molly's stomach and he started pushing himself higher up her body in increments, briefly resting between each effort. Mycroft squeezed Molly's hand tighter when the baby's searching fingers finally brushed over her nipple and his jerky movements became more focused. Within seconds, he was rooting, mouth wide, his goal so close.

"Let him latch on to you himself if he can," Susan said, watching carefully. "He's doing well. That's it … his head should be tilted back and chin against your breast when he … ah, there he goes ..." Susan turned to Molly when she drew a sharp breath. "Is it hurting?"

"No, not hurting – just strange," Molly said, then glanced up at Mycroft with a smile at the audible sounds of the baby's suckling. "He seems to be taking to it like a pro."

"You're both doing really well, Molly – all three of you," Christine corrected herself, smiling at Mycroft, then began massaging Molly's lower stomach. "The baby should let go shortly, but don't worry – he'll be ready to nurse again in a few minutes." She smiled when the baby indeed released Molly's nipple, then she carefully took hold of the umbilical cord and began steadily pulling on it. "This may hurt a bit, Molly."

Molly nodded in acknowledgment but stayed focused on the baby. He was pushing himself toward her nipple again. Molly's fingers tightened on Mycroft's hand and she moaned when a strong contraction started. Mycroft leaned farther over her shoulder and pressed closer against her back. After half a minute, the twisting, pulling pain abruptly eased.

"Good girl," Christine said, looking up to smile at them. "It looks like the placenta came out intact." She and Susan dealt with the practical matters, then Christine examined Molly closely. "You've lost some blood, but no more than is normal. The great news is you don't need any stitches."

The midwife gently turned the baby to get at the cord, then carefully clamped it near the baby's belly and several inches farther along. "Mr. Holmes?" Susan's voice broke the brief silence. "Do you want to cut the cord?"

Mycroft continued to stare at the baby for a moment, then blinked several times and looked at Molly. At her nod, he carefully edged from behind her and adjusted the pillows to support her head and back, took the scissors from Susan, and made the cut where she indicated, then carefully maneuvered back into place behind Molly.

Susan put some drops in the baby's eyes, then quickly turned him onto his stomach. He started sucking on his fingers again. "Go ahead, Molly. See if he'll nurse again. He needs that colostrum." Within moments, the baby was trying to latch on. It took several attempts before he attached properly this time, but he was soon nursing again.

Christine stood and came to stand beside the bed as she pulled off her gloves. "Susan is going to clean you up a bit, and then we'll leave the two of you to bond with the baby for a while. Susan needs to record his weight and measurements, but there's no real rush." Less than ten minutes later, the door closed behind them, and the new family was left alone.

For a while, the only sound came from the baby's suckling, then Molly leaned her head against Mycroft's shoulder and released a long breath. "I can't believe it, I can't believe we have a baby," she said, looking up at him moist-eyed. "I know that sounds stupid, but when I think ... Just two years ago, I'd never have imagined we would ever become more than friends."

"Nor I," he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, "but I hadn't considered that you could be so indelicate as to proposition me."

"Mycroft Holmes! I most certainly did not! It was you who … who -"

"Rattled you so much that you dropped the tea tray," he said drily as a flicker of amusement crossed his face.

"Yes, well … just don't go rewriting history," she said, flushing. "It was you –"

"You're right, my dear," he agreed, deadpan, "and I claim full credit for everything that's happened since then."

Molly snorted, then tilted her head back toward the baby, who had released her nipple and was blinking drowsily. "Dark blue eyes, dark auburn hair," she said, lightly rubbing a finger over his nape. "I hope both last." She twisted again to meet her husband's eyes. "I'd be happy if he's the mirror image of you."

Mycroft's lip quirked. "Whereas I hope his nose, at the very least, is more yours than mine." His eyes lowered to the baby and he smiled when the tiny eyelids finally fluttered closed and stayed that way. "I'm sure Mummy will immediately deduce the source of each of his features."

Molly started to sit up, then winced and relaxed against him again. "Mycroft, you need to call them."

"I will," he said, draping both arms around Molly's shoulders and sliding his hands under the baby's bottom as he straightened his legs along the outside of hers. "The midwife will be back soon. I'll call then."

"The baby," Molly said. "We keep calling him 'the baby.' I know what I said – sorry, what I yelled at you - and it's true. I'd like to call him Michael, but I don't want his name to be a continual irritant for you. Some people would inevitably call him Mikey, and I know how much you dislike that nickname."

Mycroft lifted a hand and rubbed his forehead, then sighed. "It became annoying once I was an adult, but as a child I knew it was meant affectionately." He grimaced. "Now, I'm not so sure."

"Mummy still means it affectionately, but she's promised me to stop calling you that." Molly ran a finger over the baby's cheek, then turned her face to rub her cheek against Mycroft's chest. "Still, I'm sorry for bringing it up again. Let's go with Matthew as planned."

"No, if you prefer Michael, that's fine with me." Mycroft raised a hand to cup the back of the baby's head and brush his thumb around the whorls of a tiny ear. "I mean it, Molly." He cocked his head to look at her and raised his brows. "So he's Michael Stephen Hooper Holmes, right?"

"Such a big name for such a tiny person," she said, smiling warmly at Mycroft before bending closer to the baby, who had just opened his eyes again. "Michael?" She whispered, then looked up when Susan came back in after a brief knock, pushing a rolling bassinet in front of her. A nurse's aide followed behind with another cart.

"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes, this is Angela. She's going to help me weigh and measure the baby."

Mycroft and Molly nodded at Angela, then he ran a finger over the baby's clenched fist. "Michael," he said. "His name is Michael."

Susan smiled as she bent to take the baby from Molly. "Hello, Michael." The two women spoke quietly to each other as they worked, then Susan said, "Look at his long legs, Angela."

Molly tilted her head and her eyes met Mycroft's. "Just like his daddy's," she murmured, then smiled slowly at the pleased expression Mycroft couldn't quite hide and nestled her head in the crook of his neck.