221B BAKER STREET - BEDROOM

"That's it Molly, one more push. You can do it," Mary Watson's reassuring words reached Molly through the exhausting haze of childbirth.

"Ohhhhh... Awwww... Ahhhhh..."

Sherlock's right hand was completely numb thanks to the tight grip Molly had on it, but that didn't stop him moving swiftly to support his wife's back with his left arm as the final contraction caused her to go from a horizontal position to a semi vertical one.

Not long after their child was announcing its presence to everyone in the room.

"It's a girl," Mary informed the new parents, as she wrapped her up in a blanket before handing her back to her mother. "Have you decided on a name for her?"

Molly nodded. "Victoria Margaret," she responded softly.

Mary made her way to the door, turning back she smiled as she observed the once cold hearted detective, still in his nightshirt, climb onto the bed and take his wife in his arms, cradling her protectively as she cradled their daughter.

Neither could take their eyes off the tiny scrap of humanity they had created together.

Sherlock was vaguely aware of Mary leaving the room. He needed to thank her for coming so quickly when Molly went into labour early. But for now he was content to stay right where he was, cataloguing and committing to memory every single detail about his baby daughter, while knowing Mary would forgive his tardiness.

He was brought out of his revere when Molly made an unexpected suggestion. "If our next child is a boy, I think we should name him John."

Sherlock paled at the mere suggestion. Not because he didn't want more children, but because after witnessing Molly going through all she had in delivering Victoria, he didn't want to put her through it all over again.

But it was clear that Molly appeared to have immediately forgotten all the pain and effort she'd gone through bringing their daughter into the world.

As he watched his wife's contented expression as Victoria began to suckle eagerly at Molly's breast, he didn't have the heart to argue with her. The same could not be said for her choice of name for their future son. "Why does it have to be John?"

"Well if he hadn't been so accurate in his write up of The Ricoletti Case, we may never have found ourselves where we are now," his wife pointed out.

Sherlock acknowledged that she had a point, not that he'd ever admit as much to Watson. But that was a discussion for another day.

Because all that mattered right now, as they settled more comfortably in their bed and closed their eyes, was that they had found each other and their lives had become infinitely better for it.