Author's Notes: This is the second part of a three-part conclusion.

#####

"I am not going to abandon you and Michael –"

"Abandon? Good god, of course not!" Molly suppressed an eye roll as she stared at Mycroft, who'd responded to her tentative suggestion by planting himself solidly at the bedside, shoulders back, hands fisted in trouser pockets, jaw tense, face expressing … oh, dear. "But neither of us is likely to get much sleep tonight. I just think you should take a little time to clear your mind, get something to eat, then come back refreshed," she said earnestly. Molly was concerned that Mycroft was nearing sensory and sentiment overload. He'd handled Michael's birth – indeed her entire pregnancy - amazingly well, and she wanted to get him away from the hospital for a while to allow his system to rebalance, his sensors to recalibrate. Mycroft wasn't a machine, but he was precisely tuned and likely needed to adjust after the day's events.

When his expression didn't relax, she sighed silently and stretched sideways to hook two fingers under his belt and tug him closer to the bed. "Mycroft … you've been absolutely brilliant today, but please take a break while your parents are visiting. Wouldn't you like to get away, just for a little while, from all the … noise? Go home? Go to the office? Just have Walter drive you around in your lovely sound-proofed car?" Molly raised her palm when his jaw tightened further and his lips parted, obviously with the intent of denying it. "Please? For me?"

###

* An Hour Earlier *

Mycroft had called home and given Violet an update – "… 4:28 pm … she's tired but fine … Molly says he's perfect … approximately seven and a third pounds … fifty-four centimeters … yes, long and skinny … yes, I will … yes, Mummy, I will … yes, of course I will … please may I speak to Dad?"

Right after he rang off, the midwife and aide, Susan and Angela, came to help Molly freshen up, change into her own clothing, and "ambulate." When they'd first arrived, Molly had started to let them put Michael in the bassinet, but then –

"Shall I take him?" Mycroft's gaze lowered to Michael, who had fallen asleep against Molly's breast.

Molly quickly glanced down at the baby and then back up at Mycroft. "Yes, please," she said, restraining her smile so as not to appear too delighted. She quickly adjusted her bra and tucked the blanket more closely around Michael before lifting him toward Mycroft …

… who actually wasn't as unaware of her reaction as he might have appeared. He bent over Molly and carefully positioned Michael's head against his upper arm, scooped the rest of the baby onto his forearm, and gathered him close to his chest. Molly had automatically lifted her chin and closed her eyes when Mycroft leaned closer, and he paused, charmed by her unconscious invitation, then kissed her softly and whispered, "You can relax … I have him."

Molly bit her lip at the tenderness in his voice. "Sit down before I cry all over you," she sniffed, reaching for the box of tissues on the side table.

Mycroft straightened, looking pleased with himself, and started to turn away only to freeze momentarily at the sight of Susan and Angela waiting on the other side of the room. He'd actually forgotten about them and turned back to frown suspiciously - and a bit pink-cheeked - at Molly, who with effort kept her face straight. He very deliberately smoothed his waistcoat with his free hand and straightened his jacket before lowering himself to the chair. Michael stirred, one fist jerkily punching the air, then nuzzled against Mycroft's chest and settled into sleep.

Molly turned her attention to Susan and Angela and put herself in their hands. She'd just as soon not recall that first walk to the ensuite, but by the time she had washed, put on her own nightshirt and dressing gown, and taken a slow walk down the corridor and back and down and back again, she was moving easier and felt better. After the midwife and aide left, Molly grimaced. "This is going to be like having a period that lasts for weeks."

"Hmm?"

"I'll be leaking at the top and the bottom for who knows how long," she said grumpily, then frowned at Mycroft when he huffed a laugh. "It's not funny."

"No, but surely you can't be surprised," he said. "I recall you saying something about a watermelon …"

"Oh, shut up."

Mycroft suppressed a grin as he focused on Michael, whose movements were gaining purpose. "I believe someone else wants your attention."

Molly looked at her boys and gave the big one a forgiving smile. "Give him here."

###

* Now *

"Please? For me?"

Mycroft silently stared at Molly, then his weight shifted forward and she could actually see the tension start to drain out of his body. "All right, my dear. Just for a while." He dropped onto the chair, stretched his legs out and slumped back with a sigh, then yawned and rubbed his face with both hands. He watched the baby, who was staring at Molly as he nursed, seemingly fascinated by the faces she was making at him. "Today's been much harder on you. I don't know how you can be so alert."

"One of the mysteries of motherhood, I suppose." Molly wrinkled her nose at Michael, then smoothed his eyebrows with her forefinger. She lowered her hand with a sigh and looked at Mycroft. "You do know my proper milk hasn't even come in yet? This is still colostrum. I'm bracing myself for my breasts to blow up to the size of udders in the next day or so."

Mycroft gave her a skeptical look, then sat forward, elbows on his knees, hands dangling between his legs, and stretched his neck from side to side.

"Okay, maybe not udder size, but I've read and heard some horror stories," she said, grimacing. "My supply and Michael's demand should synchronize after a while, but I'm expecting some messy times ahead." She tilted her head to consider him more closely. "Honestly, Mycroft, I just hope the ick factor from all this won't put you off me entirely."

Mycroft snorted, then rose and stretched his arms overhead, yawning again. "I'll be back in a few minutes. I need to have a word with Andrew." When Mycroft returned about ten minutes later, Michael was blinking drowsily and Molly appeared close to following his example. "Molly," he said softly, then continued when her eyes opened wider, "let me take Michael." Mycroft took care of changing Michael's diaper, keeping his tally ahead of Molly's. His natural deliberation and thoroughness made him a whiz at ensuring the baby was properly cleaned and dried before putting the fresh diaper on.

They were quiet for a while after that … Mycroft and Michael back in the chair, Molly on her side in the bed watching them, as they waited for the senior Holmeses to arrive. "I don't suppose you'd let me take a photo."

Mycroft looked up, an instinctive "no" on his lips, then paused, studying his wife's hopeful expression. After a few moments, he sighed, resigned. "Fine, but just for us. No sharing by email or texts or any sort of social media."

"I may make a print for Mummy and Dad."

"Fine. Hard copy only."

"Fine," she said, mimicking his clipped tone, but she was thrilled. "Two then – one looking at the camera, one looking at Michael."

Sigh. "Fine."

"Mycroft …"

"I said 'fine.' Go ahead."

"All right," she said, holding her phone up, then she frowned. "Is that Ice Man expression what you want Michael to see when he looks at this someday? It doesn't exactly scream, 'Son, I assure you I expressed the optimum level of enthusiasm at your birth without drifting too far into the murky waters of sentimentality.' Try again." When Mycroft's expression softened with amusement at Molly's version of his voice, she quickly took the photo. "Gotcha!"

Mycroft rolled his eyes and looked down at Michael. "As you will one day learn, son, your mummy can be a bit of a nutter," he murmured, "and occasionally a nuisance as well."

Molly laughed and took another photo while he and the baby were focused on each other, then quickly shoved the phone under her pillows. "There. Done. Thankyouverymuch."

Several soft raps on the door announced the arrival of their visitors. As the door slowly opened, Molly quickly glanced down to make sure she was covered, then smiled brightly and waved them in, pointing exaggeratedly at Mycroft holding the baby.

"What beautiful flowers!" Violet said, briefly pausing by a large vase of white roses, freesias and orchids in the sitting area, then continued across the room. "Awww," she crooned softly as she bent to stare at the sleeping baby, then straightened and gently ran her hand over Mycroft's hair before kissing his forehead. "He's adorable, my dear," she said as she turned toward the bed and stooped to kiss her daughter-in-law's cheek.

"Which one of them?" Molly said, smiling at Mycroft, before looking at Siger on the other side of the bed and patting the mattress. "Have a seat, Dad."

"Both, of course." Violet indicated her side of the bed with a flick of a finger and raised brows.

"Please sit, Mummy." Molly turned back to Siger. "So, Dad, three generations of Holmes men. What do you think?"

"Aw, Molly," he leaned over to kiss her cheek. "You've made this Holmes man very happy."

"So how are you feeling, my darling girl?" Violet straightened the lapel on Molly's dressing gown, then fussed with the bedcovers.

"Sore. A bit tired. Extremely thankful for my husband's wonderful support." He looked up at that, grimacing. "Yes, Mycroft - you've been brilliant." Molly's gaze shifted back to Violet. "And over the moon at having Michael with us."

"All went well?"

"No problems at all - other than the usual hours and hours of painful labor that I'll be sure to recall in excruciating detail if Michael ever turns into a bratty teenager." Her parents-in-law laughed. "No, I'm doing really well. Michael, as you can see, is perfect. Your son, as always, has been an absolute rock … although he's currently in danger of suffering a few hairline cracks. I've finally convinced him to take some quiet time for himself while you're here."

"Oh! That's a good idea, Mycroft," Violet exclaimed. "Yes, do that."

Mycroft leveled a dubious stare on his mother, then shifted his gaze to consider his dad's amused expression, briefly met Molly's equally amused eyes, and turned back to Violet. "Your concern for my mental health is heartening, Mummy. I don't suppose you'd be interested in taking my place here with Michael …?"

Violet huffed. "Well, of course I'm eager to get my hands on my grandson, but I still think it will do you good to have some time to yourself after all the commotion of today." She leaned forward and squeezed Mycroft's knee. "Truly, son, go. We'll be here until you return."

Mycroft's gaze shifted to Molly, then he dropped his gaze to the baby. After a few moments, he lowered his head to press his lips against Michael's forehead, then rose carefully, lifted his chin toward his mother and raised his brows. When Violet moved from the bed to the chair, Mycroft gently placed Michael in her arms, then straightened up, pressing his hands to the small of his back with a low grunt.

Molly noticed the gesture with concern and looked from Violet to Siger. "Mycroft has been a wonderful support emotionally, but he provided great physical support today as well. He literally had to put his back into it."

"I'm fine, my dear." Mycroft stretched his arms overhead and twisted one way then the other. "It's just some tightness I need to work out." He lowered his arms and looked at Molly, whose intent stare carried a reminder of an earlier conversation when she tilted her head a smidgen toward Siger, then toward Violet. Mycroft's chin lifted in acknowledgment, then he turned to his father. "So, Dad … are you going to be Granddad or Grandpa or …?"

When Mycroft and Siger crossed the room to the sofa in the sitting area, Violet shifted Michael so he was lying against her shoulder, settled more comfortably in the chair, and began what felt to Molly like an interrogation about the birth – kindly meant, but the questions kept coming until Michael stirred, which opened a new line of inquiry once Molly began nursing him. She knew Violet was both interested and concerned, so Molly took all the questioning, along with some well-intended advice, in good spirits.

It was half past seven by the time Mycroft left with Walter. Molly had been brought a dinner tray and was picking at it without eating much despite the food being well-prepared.

"Aren't you hungry, dear? You really do need to eat to keep your strength up," Violet said, sitting on the side of the bed again. "Is there something else you'd like? We could order a takeaway."

"Or we could call Mrs. Collingwood and ask her to send something back with Mycroft," Siger suggested, looking up from Michael who was sleeping in his arms. He'd pulled another armchair over from the sitting area. "We had some lovely sausage rolls before we left the house."

"Thank you," Molly said, "but I can eat this." She tried a spoonful of vegetable bean soup, then took a bite of shepherd's pie. "This is actually pretty good." She sat straighter and tucked in, eyeing the apple-walnut dumpling for afters more enthusiastically. There was even a small bar of name-brand chocolate.

"I should hope so," Violet said, "considering what they must be charging for everything here."

"Violet," Siger chided.

Molly took a sip of water, then looked at her mother-in-law. "It's best not to think about that, Mummy. Mycroft wanted me to come here and I was happy enough to agree since he rarely makes such requests." She picked up her fork again, then paused. "The maternity care has been outstanding. I don't know if it's worth all the additional cost, but it's what Mycroft wanted so …" She ate some more shepherd's pie, then dropped her fork in surprise when the door suddenly opened and another visitor strode in, trailed by a nurse's aide who was obviously trying to stop him.

"Sir! You can't just –"

"It's all right, Angela," Molly said, soothingly, "he's my brother-in-law." She smiled until Angela left, then turned a frown on Sherlock. "So? You've decided you're interested in your nephew after all?" She squawked inelegantly when Sherlock marched toward the bed and swooped down to give her a noisy kiss on the forehead, almost overturning her dinner tray in the process. "Get off! What's got into you?"

Sherlock bowed extravagantly, then perched on the side of the bed, causing his mother to move to the chair. "Familial devotion, sister dear," he said, reaching out to pluck the chocolate bar off the tray. "You're aware of the concept?"

"Give me that!" Molly slapped his arm. "I want that chocolate!"

"Children, children," Violet chided, getting up to cuff Sherlock's ear and take back the candy. "What a fine example for Michael!"

"Michael? Is that what you're calling him?"

"And what may I ask is wrong with Michael?" Molly's breasts rose in indignation.

"The name lacks a certain flair," he quipped, pulling a foot onto the bed.

"Get your dirty shoe off the bed at once," Violet ordered, then turned toward Siger in exasperation. "Would you do something about your son?"

Siger returned her look calmly. "I'd rather deal with my grandson. He at least offers some hope for the next generation."

Molly looked from one of them to the other, then stared at Michael. "Oh my god. He's another Holmes boy." She raised her eyes to Siger's. "No offense, Dad."

"Believe me, darling girl, none taken."

By the time Mycroft returned an hour later, the children had been sorted, the infant was asleep in the arms of his uncle, and the grandparents had retreated to the second bedroom for a few minutes of much needed peace.

"Hard luck, Molly – he's come back."

Mycroft noted his son's sleeping form while ignoring Sherlock's jibe and strode across the room to the far side of the bed. He rested his hand on Molly's shoulder, fingertips brushing bare skin, and his eyes warmed as they met hers. "Did he run the parents off?"

"Only to the other bedroom," Molly said, raising her hand to cover his. Her lips curved, then she glanced at Sherlock. "He's been a bit not good." She ignored Sherlock's snort and stared up at Mycroft, questioning him silently. Better?

Better. Mycroft smiled briefly, then slipped his hand from under hers and dropped into the chair Siger had placed on that side of the bed. He studied Sherlock for several moments, then looked back at Molly, satisfied that his brother was on as even a keel as he ever was. "Do I need to eject him?"

Molly glanced at Sherlock and sighed dramatically. "Oh, let him stay. I'd hate to disturb Michael."

Sherlock scoffed, then fixed his eyes on Mycroft, who was staring at him just as deliberately. Molly eventually cleared her throat to interrupt whatever silent communication the brothers were having, and they both turned to look at her. "You could at least argue out loud so I don't have to try to deduce what you're saying."

Mycroft's eyes crinkled at the corners. "You didn't miss anything of importance, my dear. Sherlock simply assured me I'm a bloody autocrat and control freak and I confirmed he's a complete and unmitigated arse. Wasn't that the crux of the conversation, little brother?"

"You forgot the part where I also called you a -"

"Here come Mummy and Dad," Molly interrupted brightly when the bedroom door opened.

Violet and Siger left soon after and took Sherlock with them. Once they were alone, Mycroft sat on the bed and leaned over Michael to give Molly a soft, slow kiss, which gradually deepened as he took his time with it. He finally pulled back, then smoothed a few stray hairs off her forehead. "I love you, Molly."

Molly stared at him, flush-cheeked and wide-eyed. "What brought that on?"

"It's been too long since I said it," Mycroft said with a smile, then he flipped the blanket away from Michael's right foot and brought the sole to his lips. The baby's suckling paused for a moment before returning to its slow, even rhythm.

"I love you, too," Molly said softly, running her fingers through his hair. She nestled deeper into her pillows when he sat up to remove his jacket and toe his shoes off, then swung his legs onto the bed and stretched out on his side, an arm folded under his head. "There's plenty of room for me to shift over."

"This is fine for now," he said, then unexpectedly placed his hand on Molly's stomach.

"Don't," she protested. "My belly's blubbery and looks like a giant deflated balloon."

He raised up onto his elbow. "I'll have to see that."

"No, you won't."

"It can wait until we get home." He lay back down, then smiled to himself at Molly's muttered "you won't."

Michael was asleep at Molly's breast and she was lightly dozing, holding Mycroft's hand, when the night-duty midwife came in after a brief knock on the door. Margaret took an abrupt step back when Mycroft went from reclining to standing in one swift move, looking like he was braced for a fight. His shoulders dropped and his hands relaxed after a moment, but Margaret didn't feel that reassured.

"Mr. Holmes? I'm Margaret Whitmeyer, one of the midwives. I need to check on Mrs. Holmes and the baby."

Mycroft turned away to put on his shoes, then leaned over Molly and touched her shoulder. "Molly?" When her lids fluttered open, he continued, "The midwife's here." Mycroft sat in the chair and picked up a newspaper while Margaret introduced herself to Molly and took Michael from her. He glanced their way from time to time to see if he could be of any assistance, but finally buried his face in the paper when he heard what they were discussing. There were some details he'd just as soon avoid.

Twenty minutes later, when it sounded as if they were about to finish, Mycroft sat up straighter and lowered the paper. Molly saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned toward him, brows raised. Her lips quirked when the midwife started offering breastfeeding advice. As she talked about the "let down," Margaret's gaze followed Molly's, and Mycroft couldn't retreat behind the paper again without feeling like a craven coward. He rose from the chair and casually strolled around the bed to join them, hands in his trouser pockets … the very picture of a modern man completely at ease with discussing lactation issues. Molly dutifully suppressed an eye roll and turned back to Margaret.

#####

At six o'clock the next morning, after yet another "quick check" by a staff member, Mycroft got a shower and dressed in a fresh suit before taking a fussy Michael from Molly for a nappy change. When they were settled in the chair and the baby seemed content with life once again, Mycroft looked at Molly. "If after this morning's visit Ms. Kayser says there are no medical reasons for you and Michael to stay another night, I agree with you about going home today. You'll have more than enough people prepared to keep you from overdoing things – by force if necessary, knowing my mother."

As expected, neither of them had been able to sleep. Not only did Michael need frequent feeding, but various nursing staff kept checking on them throughout the night. Not every interruption involved actual personal interaction, but while Molly may have been able to doze through the door silently opening and closing, it put Mycroft's nerves on edge to have strangers popping their heads in unexpectedly. She was somewhat surprised that he hadn't erected a barricade across the door by three a.m.

"You should go to the office this morning - hold on," she insisted when he started to refuse, "I'm sure there'll be no reason why Michael and I can't go home this afternoon, so this morning will likely be a case of biding our time. Christine, Susan and others will be coming to check on our progress, but you know we're both doing well. If you'll go to the office, I'll get some visitors out of the way." She stopped and blew out a long breath. "That sounded terrible, but I do want to let some of our friends see the baby and would just as soon get them in and out today if they're available. They could meet Michael and have a quick visit with me without feeling the need to stay for very long, and you could avoid having to make small talk after a night with no sleep." She gave him a hard stare under her brows. "But I will be inviting some people to the house within the next month, which likely means in the evenings or on weekends for those who work."

Mycroft settled lower on his spine and stretched his legs out, then crossed his ankles. "I'll go to the office for a while then, but I expect you to call if there's anything I need to know about or if there's anything I can do for you." He raised his brows until Molly nodded. "Who will you ask to come?"

"The Watsons, Mike Stamford, Meena … Greg Lestrade if he seems interested," she said, ticking them off on her fingers. "Maybe you could let Anthea take a break and come over?"

"Would you like Anthea to come for lunch? I could order in something you'd like better than what the hospital offers."

"If that suits Anthea, it sounds good to me," Molly said, brightening at the thought of both seeing her friend and having a tastier lunch. "Thank you, Mycroft."

Mycroft leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes. Molly shifted to her side and lay quietly for a while, enjoying the companionable silence. But then her thoughts started wandering and she considered the bombshell she'd set off while delivering Michael and wondered when she ought to raise the subject again, but then again it wasn't as if there was any hurry to talk about it, all things considered -

"You might as well ask me whatever it is," Mycroft said, without opening his eyes. When Molly didn't say anything, he raised his lids partway and peered at her without lifting his head. "What's got you in a tizzy?"

"I'm not," Molly huffed.

"Good," he said, closing his eyes again, and waited. Three, two, one …

"Mycroft …"

"Hmm?"

"About what I said yesterday … um, you know, about another baby –"

"The only surprise about your raising that issue was the timing and location," Mycroft said, lips curving as he recalled the moment, then he huffed a laugh. "Only you, my love, would talk about having a second baby while birthing the first."

"So you have no problem with …?"

Mycroft opened his eyes and sat straighter, glancing down at Michael before meeting Molly's eyes. "I have no problem with the idea of our having another child as long as your health wouldn't be an issue." He raised his brows. "You weren't thinking of trying again soon, were you? I believe additional risks are involved for both mother and child from pregnancies being spaced too closely."

"There are, but people have children closely spaced all the time without any problems. There are also added risks involved as the mother's age increases." Molly shook her head and stretched her hand toward Mycroft, waiting until he leaned forward to clasp it. "We don't have to consider any of that now. I'm not wanting to get pregnant again soon. I just wanted to know that you'd be open to the idea." She smiled and let go of his hand. "Although …"

"Although what," he frowned.

"Breastfeeding is supposed to delay the restart of ovulation, maybe as long as six months, but there's no guarantee. Women can get pregnant within months of giving birth, so we'll have to consider contraception methods."

He groaned. "Dear lord, we have to worry about that now?"

"Not now, but in six weeks or so."

"Fine," he huffed, "but can't we just enjoy having Michael for a while?"

"Fine, consider the matter shelved for now." Molly's lips curved as she stared at the ceiling. Oh how the mighty hath fallen.

#####

"Sir?" Anthea shot up from her chair, alarmed to see Mycroft walk into the office. "What's wrong? Has something happened?"

He stopped beside the desk and stared fixedly at her, face and eyes impassive. After a moment, he asked evenly, "Do you believe you've failed to do your job properly in some regard?"

Anthea quickly glanced at her laptop and mobile and the hot line, then faced him again and said coolly, "No, sir."

He might have lifted his chin a fraction in acknowledgment before continuing into his office and shutting the door, but Anthea wasn't certain. She dropped into her chair, feeling shaky, then got up after a couple of minutes and headed for the kitchenette.

Mycroft was typing on his laptop when Anthea came in after a brief knock on the door, placed a cup of tea near his hand, and took her place in front of his desk. She answered emails on her phone for about ten minutes, then couldn't take the suspense any longer and lowered it to her lap. "Sir?"

"Hmm?"

"Why are you here?" When he raised expressionless eyes to hers, she quickly continued, "I thought you were going to stay with Molly while she was in hospital. She's still there, isn't she? Everything's all right with the baby, isn't it?" She bit her lip to stop talking, but then added, "Oh … congratulations, sir!"

Mycroft studied Anthea for a few moments, then pulled the cup and saucer closer and took a sip of tea. "Ten minutes," he said.

"Ten minutes, sir?"

"You have ten minutes during which I will answer personal questions. I'm here because that's what Molly wanted. If all goes as well as we expect with their follow-up visits this morning, Molly and Michael will be ready to go home this afternoon. If it suits you, Molly would like you to have lunch with her and meet the baby. I'll be having the meal sent in so you'd need to let me know what you want." He paused, brows raised. "Nine minutes. What else?"

"Michael's a lovely name. What's the rest of it?"

"Michael Stephen Hooper Holmes." Raised brow.

"Um, and how are you, sir?"

A crease appeared between Mycroft's brows, and he didn't answer immediately. Anthea bit her lip again, wishing she hadn't asked. "I'm sorry … I didn't mean to –"

"No …," he said, slowly. "It's all right. I was considering how to respond." His eyes met hers and she saw a bit of warmth there. "You're Molly's friend and I'm going to answer that Anthea." He paused again. "I'm relieved. Relieved and grateful." He picked up his pen and slowly rolled it between his fingers and thumb before placing the pen back on his desk and carefully aligning it with the edge of his laptop. After a moment, he looked at her again. "And determined to be worthy of the precious gift Molly has bestowed on me."

Anthea looked away, blinking against the unexpected sting of tears. She saw Mycroft turn back to his laptop from the corner of her eye and pressed her lips together for several moments before facing forward again and lifting her phone.

#####

"I'll be glad for Lizzie to meet Michael when you all come to the house in a couple of weeks," Molly said, watching Mary hold the baby, who had been fed and changed just before the Watsons arrived and had so far slept through their visit. "I hope our children will be good friends, although it will take a while for Michael to be old enough to be interesting to Lizzie."

Mary looked up from Michael with a smile. "No, she'll be happy to meet a real live baby. We just can't let her get hold of him. Lizzie tends to carry her dolls upside down and/or along the floor behind her."

Molly laughed. "I find it hard to believe she's old enough to be walking around carrying baby dolls anywhere. I know she's two, but I still think of her as a baby."

Mary looked at John. "John doesn't want to admit she's not a baby anymore either." They'd pulled the two bedside chairs together and John was leaning over the arm of his, carefully studying Michael.

"John," Molly said. "Why are you looking at Michael like that?"

John glanced up at Molly, looking embarrassed. "It's difficult to believe Mycroft Holmes has a baby. I keep expecting Michael to open his eyes and start issuing orders."

"John!" Mary looked at Molly apologetically. "Forgive him, Molly. He's spent too much time around Sherlock."

"Oh, that's nothing. Last night, Sherlock asked me if I'd ever seen The Omen." Molly's eyes met Mary's and they burst out laughing.

John just studied Michael even more intently.

#####

Molly talked to Mike Stamford on the phone, but he was tied up with lectures in addition to his usual work load so couldn't take a break to visit. Greg was in the field on a case and didn't think he could get free before Molly would be leaving for home. Meena had a sinus infection so didn't need to be around Molly or the baby, so they made plans for her to come to the house once she was well.

In between having breakfast, seeing Mycroft off to the office, the Watsons' visit, the phone calls with Mike, Greg and Meena, calls from her parents-in-law and Mrs. Collingwood, the follow-up examinations by the obstetrician and midwife, and a supervised shower, change of clothes and another walk up and down the corridor, Molly's morning was spent feeding Michael, changing Michael, and watching Michael sleep … and Molly was content. Tired, but content.

Mycroft called at half past eleven, wanting to know how the check-ups went and confirming that Anthea was coming to lunch.

"Christine said we're both doing great and she has no problem with us leaving this afternoon since we'll have plenty of support at home. Of course, we're to call her immediately if blah, blah, blah."

"I hope you paid attention to that blah, blah, blah."

"Of course I did," Molly rolled her eyes at the phone. "It was the standard stuff about bleeding, elimination … do you really want me to go into detail?"

"Blah, blah, blah would have been sufficient," he said drily.

Molly laughed. This light-hearted Mycroft was one of her secret treasures.

"Walter's going to pick up your lunch. I was thinking about ordering a selection from The Dorchester - appetizer, fish, meat, cheese, dessert? Does that appeal?"

"Unless Anthea wants it, don't get fish. Oh, please order her some wine if she wants it."

"She'll be working after lunch, Molly."

"Does a glass or two of wine affect your ability to work?"

"Hmm, I'll ask her. Anything else?"

"Would you like to join us?"

"That would rather put the kibosh on your girl-talk."

"I assure you we won't be wasting our visit on so-called girl-talk."

"I'm relieved to know you won't be talking about me," he said, drily.

"It's rather cocky to consider that girl-talk means I'd be talking about you."

"My apologies," he said, lightly.

"Besides, talking about you with my friends would …"

"Would what," he asked after a moment.

"… make them extremely envious," she whispered.

Silence for a moment, then Mycroft cleared his throat. "I need to get your lunch ordered," he said in a more business-like tone. "As it is, one o'clock may be the earliest we'll get it there."

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, teasingly. "Thank you, darling. I'll see you later." Molly rung off, then glanced down at Michael in her arms and gave him a goofy smile when she saw his eyes were open. "Your daddy would deny it, but he enters into the spirit of flirting quite nicely when the moment is right."

#####

Her midwife came by just before noon for another quick check on Molly's and Michael's progress and deemed both of them to be model patients. Susan was going off duty at two and gave Molly some tips for caring for the baby's cord stump and for her own more delicate parts. Molly shuddered at the term "cracked nipples" and vowed to follow all recommendations to the letter to avoid the condition.

Anthea called just before one o'clock to say she and Walter had picked up lunch and were on their way. Molly finished feeding Michael and had him changed and herself freshened up just before Anthea knocked and pushed the door open far enough to peek around its edge. "All right for Walter to come in?" Molly was sitting on the sofa, holding Michael, and started to shift forward. "Don't move. We'll come to you."

Anthea was carrying large restaurant bags in both hands and held the door open for Walter, who sidled by her carrying a large insulated box and raised his brows at Molly. "Here, Walter. We can use the sofa table." Walter set the box on the floor and looked at the baby. "Thank you, Walter." She glanced down at Michael, who still appeared content. "Um, would you like to hold him?"

Walter looked at Anthea, who followed him to the sitting area and dropped onto the sofa beside Molly, setting her bags on the table. "Go ahead, Walter." Anthea leaned closer to Molly and said, "Walter dotes on his nephews and niece, so he has some experience with handling babies." She reached to tuck the blanket away from Michael's face. "Oh, Molly … he's adorable."

Molly smiled at Anthea, then shifted Michael higher to cup her hand under his head as she lifted him toward Walter. "Have a seat," she said. Instead of joining them on the sofa, Walter sat in one of the chairs by the bed. Molly glanced at Anthea and raised a brow.

"He probably doesn't want to act too familiar with the boss's wife," Anthea murmured.

"What do you think of Michael, Walter?"

"He's a lovely boy, Mrs. Holmes," he replied, smiling shyly. "He has a look of Mr. Holmes."

"I think so," Molly said, then laughed softly. "Mycroft says he hopes the baby favors me, but I think he's secretly pleased. I just hope Michael's eye and hair color stay as they are."

Anthea scooted forward and started emptying the bags. She took a bottle of white wine, a bottle of sparkling water, and two wine glasses from one, croissants and Echiré from another. The restaurant had sent china, cutlery, and linen serviettes, which didn't shock Molly as much as it would have in her pre-Mycroft days. Anthea took the lid off the insulated box and kept pulling out food container after food container until Molly gasped. "Good lord, Anthea! What all did Mycroft order?"

"Chocolate gateau, lemon tart, several cheeses, chicken quenelles, fillet of beef, roasted loin of veal, macaroni au gratin, raw vegetables, cooked vegetables." Molly tilted her head toward Walter and raised a brow. "No - we also picked up orders for Walter and Mycroft." Anthea's eyes suddenly widened. "Oi, Walter ... you better get back to the office with Sir's lunch!"

Within five minutes, Walter had left and Molly had rolled the bassinet to the sitting area and tentatively placed Michael in it. She stood beside it for a while, expecting him to start crying, but instead he blinked drowsily for several minutes, then went to sleep. Molly turned to Anthea and dropped her jaw dramatically, jerking her thumb toward the baby. "He actually went to sleep," she said quietly, then started toward the ensuite. "I need to wash my hands." Anthea took her turn when Molly got back, then they tucked into lunch.

"Oh my god, I can feel my bum expanding already," Molly moaned. "How do you stay so slim eating like this?"

Anthea swallowed a sip of wine. "Are you mad? I never eat like this!"

"You and Mycroft don't order out …?"

"Most of the time he has a sandwich or salad at his desk – and that's usually because I order him something when I pick up my lunch," she said. "If we're out of the office and eat at a restaurant, he orders a salad or fish or something light." She stopped to try a bite of veal. "Oh, mmmm." She swallowed, then, "Surely you knew that?"

"He never ate much when we used to go to afternoon tea regularly, but he eats well on the weekends now. He's not always home for dinner during the week, but when he is, he usually eats enough that I don't nag him about it." Molly put her fork down and refilled her glass with water. "I thought I'd convinced him to stop worrying about dieting."

"I don't know if he's really dieting or he's simply found a way of eating that keeps his weight in check," Anthea said. "Eating light when he's on his own so he can enjoy his food when he's with you. That's a nice thought, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Molly said, poking at the pasta on her plate. "Anthea ..."

"What."

"Is Mycroft different at the office than he was before we, um – "

"Got together?"

"Oh god," Molly moaned. "I told Mycroft I wouldn't be talking about him, but here we are."

"I won't tell if you don't," Anthea said, grinning mischievously. "We're not discussing state secrets … or your sex life."

"Anthea!" Molly flushed. "As if I would."

Anthea laughed. "As to your question, he hasn't changed in any way that I can see. He's still the same Ice Man we underlings all love and fear, except …"

"Except?"

"I can usually tell when he's talked to you," she said, pursing her lips, then took another sip of wine. "I'd say he talked to you just after half past eleven today."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I went to his office at a quarter to twelve and there was a lighter … aura, for want of a better word. Plus, there's something in his expression … I can't explain it, but when I see it, I always think,' he's been talking to Molly'." She raised her brows. "So, were you talking to him about that time?"

"Ye-e-e-s-s," Molly said slowly.

Anthea took a bite of pasta, chewed it slowly, and then wiped some cream sauce off her lips. "Mycroft is different when you're around or you've been around him," she said, drawing a leg under her as she turned on the sofa to face her friend. "Someone who isn't as familiar with him as I am might not notice, but he's more, um, alive? More human? I don't know exactly how to describe it, but it's as if the air is buzzing. He acts the same and he looks just as cool as ever on the outside, but it's as if a powerful engine is idling on the inside and changing the atmosphere of the room. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, thank you," Molly said, flushing again. "We should probably change the subject now." She shoved half a croissant in her mouth, then almost choked trying to chew and swallow it. Anthea gave her a hard rap between the shoulders when she coughed. "Stop – I'm all right." Molly took a long swallow of water, then met Anthea's eyes. "Shut up, Anthea."

"I didn't say anything," Anthea said and bit off half a raw carrot with a snap of her teeth.

Molly snorted, then shifted forward on the sofa when she heard Michael make a mewling noise. He was awake, looking very cross, and began to cry softly when Molly checked his diaper. "Excuse us, Anthea. He needs a fresh nappy." Molly carried him to the changing table and took care of business, then sat in a chair by the bed. "I hope this isn't putting you off your lunch, but he needs to nurse." Molly adjusted her clothing and covered Michael with a light blanket.

"Not at all, but I've had enough," Anthea said. "Now I want a nap, but instead I need to get back to work. What do you want to do with all this food?"

"Do you want to take some of it back with you? You have a fridge at the office. You could take the food home."

"I'm definitely taking my share of the puddings for later, but I don't want anything else."

"I'll offer it to the staff. I don't think the food looks picked over, do you? All we did was serve our plates and keep the rest of it covered."

"It all looks fine. You do want your cake and tart, don't you?"

"Oh yes, though I really shouldn't."

"Splurge, Molly, splurge! You've just created a whole new person. You deserve to enjoy the extra calories."

#####

Mycroft returned at three o'clock, carrying the baby's car seat. After giving Molly a quick kiss on the lips and Michael one on the forehead, he left to arrange the details of their discharge. He returned with two staff members who went over their discharge instructions and presented them with written versions, along with a variety of leaflets on postnatal topics, in a leather binder. Postnatal appointments were scheduled for Molly and Michael, then they were free to leave.

Molly fed Michael while Mycroft gathered their things together, then he changed the baby while Molly visited the loo. Christine stopped by as they were about to leave, having just finished delivering another baby, and signaled for the aide to bring a wheelchair. Molly protested, but Christine told her to save her energy. "You're going to need it, Molly." She shook both their hands and went quickly down the corridor, on to another case.

Molly watched Mycroft place Michael in the carrier and adjust the head huggers properly, then sat in the wheelchair and asked Angela to hand her the vase of flowers. Angela put their bags and a tote bag of baby products and supplies from the hospital on a cart, which another aide took charge of, and then their little entourage was off.

Walter straightened away from the car and stared when Mycroft, looking his usual elegantly suited self, came out the hospital door, infant carrier in hand. He never imagined witnessing such a sight and thought most people who were acquainted with Mycroft to any extent wouldn't believe even the proof of their own eyes. Walter quickly opened the rear door and looked on eagerly as his boss lifted and angled the carrier onto the backseat.

"Thank you, Walter," Mycroft said, as he leaned into the car and maneuvered the car seat into place before buckling the belt.

When Walter looked up, he saw Molly come out of the hospital. Mycroft's eyes met Walter's and he pointed a finger toward the baby, then quickly crossed the pavement, exchanged a few words with the staff members, and took charge of the wheelchair. Once at the car, he helped Molly lower herself onto a pillow he placed on the seat beside the carrier, then, at her request, put the flowers on the floor so she could brace the vase between her feet. The aide with the cart had followed them and Walter transferred the bags to the boot. Molly smiled and waved at Angela and Carl before Mycroft shut the door and rounded the boot to get in on the other side.

As Walter carefully entered the traffic, Molly and Mycroft rested a hand on opposite sides of the baby carrier. Their eyes held for several moments, then they settled more comfortably on the seat, looked at Michael sleeping peacefully between them, and smiled. When the car turned through their gate ten minutes later, Mycroft straightened and adjusted his tie. "You have a welcoming committee, my dear."

Molly sat up and looked out the window, smiling when she saw Siger, Violet and Mrs. Collingwood waiting on the front doorstep. "That's sweet of them. They must have been waiting by the door to have come out just when the gate chime signaled."

Mycroft's eyes met Walter's in the rearview mirror. "I think they had a scout." Molly looked at Mycroft, then followed his gaze to Walter.

"They asked me to let them know," Walter said, a bit sheepishly.

"Thank you, Walter," Molly said, decisively. "I appreciate it."

When the car drew to a halt before the front step, Siger hurried to open the door. "Welcome home, darling girl. You'll have to forgive our eagerness, but we've been looking forward to this all day."

Molly handed Violet the vase of flowers, then got out of the car very carefully with Siger's assistance. Mycroft exited from the other side with Michael, who stirred at the commotion and opened his eyes, only to frown at the bright afternoon sunlight filtering through the trees. Molly took Siger's arm and they started toward the front steps, but stopped at Mycroft's "wait a minute." Mycroft asked Siger to take the infant carrier, then slipped his arm around Molly's back, stooped to slide the other under her knees and lifted her into his arms.

"Mycroft! I'm too heavy for this!"

"You're not supposed to use the stairs yet," he said briskly, managing the three steps into the house without any sign of effort. "And you're not too heavy," he added, gently placing Molly back on her feet. She leaned against him for a moment, lips curving as she held his gaze and fingered the edge of his jacket's lapel until he covered her hand with his and tilted his head toward the others who were still on the threshold, waiting to come in. Mrs. Collingwood was paying no attention to the younger couple since she was busy leaning over the carrier and cooing at the baby. Siger and Violet, however, were smiling, obviously delighted by the private moment they'd witnessed.

Molly flushed and took a step away from Mycroft. "Sorry, I felt a bit light-headed for a second." She took his offered arm and they led the way down the hall as the others came in behind them.

Mycroft's hand covered Molly's where it was resting on his arm. "Do you want to go up now?"

Molly waited for Siger to catch up, then checked on Michael, who was awake but so far seemed happy enough. "What I'd really like is a cup of tea. The midwife assured me a cup or two per day should be all right."

"To the sitting room then," Mycroft said. "Mrs. C?"

"Ten minutes, Mr. Mycroft."

Once Molly was settled on the sofa, she turned to Violet, who was hovering around Siger and the baby. "Mummy, would you mind taking Michael to the kitchen? Let Mrs. C give him a quick cuddle before he starts fussing?" She looked at Mycroft while Violet lifted the baby from the carrier. "I know she'll have plenty of time to hold Michael later, but she's been waiting with us for a long time." As Violet left the room, Molly called after her. "Thanks, Mummy!"

Molly sighed and leaned her head against Mycroft's upper arm. He glanced at his father before lifting his arm to slip it around Molly's back and pull her against his chest. "You must be exhausted, my dear," he said, unthinkingly pressing a kiss to the crown of her head, then froze, feeling the tips of his ears tingle. He knew they must be pink and - damn it, his father wasn't going to make a big deal of Mycroft showing a little concern for his wife ..., but then Molly rested her hand on Mycroft's chest, and he felt the warmth spread to his cheeks.

Siger suppressed a smile as he reached for the newspaper, which he'd already read, and buried his face in it to give his boy a bit of privacy.

#####

Violet held Michael while they were having tea. Molly had finished her first cup and refused any more, so settled back on the sofa to chat with the others while they enjoyed a refill. She yawned behind her hand and Violet offered to take care of the baby while Molly took a nap.

"That's kind of you, Mummy, but he'll be wanting to nurse again soon," she said, suppressing another yawn. "When he finishes, I'll try to take a cat nap." She smiled, then raised her brows. "That reminds me, how's Toby doing in his new living quarters?" Over the last month of Molly's pregnancy, Mrs. Collingwood had started taking Toby home with her at night. The arrangement seemed to suit both of them and had since become full-time.

"Don't feel abandoned, dear, but he's really taken to staying with Mrs. C," Violet said. "She certainly likes the company, and I think Toby actually prefers her smaller house. It's cozier, I imagine."

"Toby has always liked to tuck himself into small, enclosed places and hide under furniture."

"I understand he's already taken possession of the window seat in her sitting room and likes to sit on the kitchen sill when she's in her kitchen," Violet said.

"Poor Toby," Molly said, frowning. "I wasn't giving him as much attention as he was used to. Still, he seems happy, and I know it's better for him not to have free access to the baby." She drew a deep breath, then looked at Mycroft. "I'd like to get settled upstairs before Michael wakes."

Mycroft set his cup down and helped Molly up, then looked at his parents. "Would you take care of Michael until I come back?"

"I could bring him –" Violet said, shifting forward on the sofa.

"Thank you, Mummy, but would you keep him down here until I return for him?"

"All right, dear," she said, looking curious.

Molly looked at Mycroft curiously as well, but she was suddenly extremely tired and figured he had a reason so didn't ask. "I'll see you later," she called over her shoulder as they left the room. She tightened her hold on his arm as they slowly crossed the hall toward the stairs, then shied away when he stopped and started to pick her up. "I can walk if we go slowly."

"You're not supposed to use the stairs," he said, stooping to lift her into his arms, then he hitched her higher. "Besides, you like it when I carry you. You're just concerned about my back."

Molly slid her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek as he started up the stairs. "If you injure your back from carrying me around, I promise to give you absolute hell about it for a very long time." She pressed her face against his neck and didn't raise her head until he'd carried her through the door to their room and continued past the bed without stopping. "What are you –" She broke off with a gasp as Mycroft lowered her onto a, onto … She ran her hands over the deeply tufted upholstery on the Victorian chaise longue that had somehow materialized in what had previously been an open area in front of their windows. "Where – when – how did you get this here?"

"I ordered it a few weeks ago and had it delivered this morning," he said. "I thought this would give you a comfortable place to put your feet up while you nurse Michael. The natural light will also be good for reading or –"

Molly grabbed his hand and tugged him down to sit by her. "You are so thoughtful," she said, then slipped her hands behind his head and pulled him to her for a lingering kiss. She leaned back and first fingered the silk damask upholstery in a smooth ivory on textured ivory floral pattern and then the decorative satin and silk cushions and soft chenille throw in muted pastels. "This is a wonderful surprise, Mycroft, but it's very girly. It doesn't exactly fit the décor."

"Do you like it?"

"I love it!"

"Then it fits," he said, as he rose to his feet. "I better go get Michael."

Molly gasped, looking at the closed door. "Oh god, go! He's probably crying by now." When Mycroft left the room, Molly toed her shoes off and stretched as she lay against the arched backrest. After a few moments, she sat up and carefully made her way to Mycroft's bathroom to wash her hands. He'd left the hall door open and she could hear them returning since Michael was making little protesting cries. Molly returned to the chaise longue and was unbuttoning her dress when Mycroft came through the door and brought him to her. "Shhhh, it's all right, shhhh …," she said softly, "… here you go." Michael continued to cry fretfully and it took several attempts before he latched on properly, but then it was as if his cries had been turned off with a switch, and peace returned.

Mycroft stood beside them for a few minutes, then took off his jacket and waistcoat and went into his dressing room. Molly looked up when he came to the door and leaned against the jamb, removing his cufflinks. "I'm going to take a shower," he said as he tugged his shirttail free. "You should try to have a nap when Michael goes to sleep." He unbuttoned his shirt slowly, watching them, then left the shirt hanging open and walked over to sit on the edge of the chaise. "You're going to be feeding him around the clock for days. Are you sure you want to take this on? If you expressed your milk and used bottles as well as nursing him, other people could help feed him and make it less demanding on you."

"I want to do it, Mycroft," she insisted, bending to kiss the top of Michael's head. "Feeding him won't be so time-consuming after the first week or so. He'll start nursing longer and with more time in between feeds." She looked up at Mycroft and bit her lip. "I want to be the one to feed him. If anything, I'm being selfish."

"No, you just want the best for Michael," he said, then gave her a kiss and rose to his feet. "I won't be long, then I'll take care of him and you can go to bed for a while."

"Go ahead then, give me a thrill," she said, widening her eyes. When he frowned in confusion, she grinned. "Flash me some skin." Mycroft sighed in exasperation, but shrugged the shirt off on his way back to the dressing room. "Woo-hoo!" She looked at Michael with raised brows and mouth pursed in an exaggerated "O". "Your daddy is deliciously sexy, Michael."

"I heard that!" Mycroft called as he went through the dressing room door. "Don't start filling his head with such nonsense."

"All he hears is mwha, mwha, mwha," Molly called back. "He doesn't understand words!" She grinned at the baby, well-satisfied with Mycroft's response.