So here is the last chapter :)

I don't own Sherlock.

Four months later and Liz had moved out of 221b, as had John. However, a lot of her belongings still remained in the flat that she hadn't sorted through yet and probably still wouldn't until after the baby was born.

John had moved in with Sarah and the two of them were quite happy living together in Sarah's flat, he and Liz still remained close friends and he visited often as did Mrs Hudson on occasion. Mycroft was as interfering as ever but she couldn't deny feeling some gratitude towards the elder Holmes brother. He had been a huge support after Sherlock's death and had taken care of all the paperwork and administrations that needed to be dealt with.

It was now 2:36 in the afternoon and today Liz had decided on decorating the second bedroom as a nursery. Pale pink.

She was going to have a girl, a daughter in little over a month and almost everything was ready except her room. There was so much stuff babies needed that half of it Liz hadn't even thought about until recently; clothes, bibs, nappies, dummies, bottles, blankets, a crib, a pram then there was the mobile thing that hung over the cot, bottle warmers, changing mats, top and tail bowl, sleeping suits and then when she grew into a toddler she'd need toys and more clothes… It was all so daunting to Liz but at least it was all bought now, all she needed to do was finish off painting the nursery and everything would be finished.

Oh! And she needed a name. Liz still hadn't thought of one yet much to Mycroft's intolerance, Sherlock's mother wanted her to be named after her but Liz didn't fancy naming their daughter Violet. No offence but she would prefer for her to have a more regular name and one that particularly wasn't named after a flower.

Liz groaned. She had just finished the last wall and her back was protesting profoundly, she carefully got down off the step ladder and placed the paint roller back in the tray. She could have paid for someone to do it but seen as she had been idle for the past few months she could think of nothing better to do.

She really was quite big now. It was difficult to do the simplest of tasks that she would of otherwise found easy such as picking up the television remote, bending to reach under the sink – shaving had become particularly difficult.

With a huff she smoothed a stray piece of hair away from her face, smudging paint across her forehead as she did and walked to the kitchen, intending to brew herself a much needed coffee.

She was wearing a large blue shirt, one of Sherlock's many years ago and one of the few things she had brought with her that had belonged to him. A pair of black leggings that made her arse look massive but who cared, they were comfortable. Her hair, arms and face were speckled with paint as well as on her clothes; she was in dire need of a shower but it would have to wait – coffee was more important.

She'd just poured herself a steaming mug when the door knocked loudly downstairs. Great. Just what I need. She thought. She found herself getting more irritated easily as well, the slightest thing would make her want to laugh or cry and the effect it was having on her body was exhausting.

Liz angrily slammed the cup down on the counter and made for the stairs, mentally preparing a scolding for whoever was on the other side. The door knocked again, this time more urgently but she couldn't waddle down the stairs any quicker.

''Calm down, I'm coming!'' she called, trying to keep the irritation at a minimum. Who could possibly be calling at this time?

She reached the hallway, grabbed hold of the handle and yanked the door open, ''no need to be so impat…ient'' the word died on her lips.

At first she thought she must have been hallucinating or something because Sherlock Holmes was stood on her doorstep, wearing his long black coat and blue scarf with that proud look on his face.

She promptly slapped him.

''I still don't understand why you felt the need to try and inflict injury on me'' he said, flexing his jaw and rubbing his hand over the stinging flesh.

Liz merely glared at him from where she was sat, ''I still don't understand why you felt the need to fake your own death then let me believe you were dead for months'' her voice had steadily risen in their discussion. He'd already explained everything that happened on the rooftop with Moriarty, what would have happened if he didn't jump...

''I've told you, it was the only way''

Liz remained silent. She was tired and annoyed – two things that didn't mix well, especially when you were nearing your eighth month of pregnancy.

When Sherlock had appeared on her doorstep an hour ago, she hadn't known what to do, what to feel, how to react… Slapping him had been her first instinct upon seeing him after all this time.

He'd left her by herself for months, pregnant and very much alone believing that she had become a widow at the age of 32; she was certainly not going to get over the fact that he was very much alive anytime soon.

''What changed?'' she said quietly,

''I beg your pardon?''

''What made you come back?''

He glanced around the flat, taking in his surroundings and what had been hers for the past months, it was about the same size as 221b, light, airy, she hadn't decorated in here yet though– the current wallpaper wasn't her taste and it had clearly been up longer than she had been living here, years even. ''what made you leave Baker street? It was-,''

''Sherlock, you're not answering me''

He turned to look her in the eye, the corners of his lips tugging upwards in a smile, ''I thought that would have been obvious'' she remained still, suddenly feeling exposed as his gaze raked over her body. ''A girl'' he said after inspecting the pink paint smudged across her forehead and dotted across her skin, the smile slowly spreading wider across his face.

''Yeah…'' she's fighting the urge to either hug him or hit him… Again. When all comes to all she hugs him – tightly, and doesn't ever want to let go. She wants to tell him off for leaving her all this time, she wants to slap him for putting her through all that grief and misery but most of all she wants to love him. To make love to him, over and over for all the time they've lost.

There's no Lee, there's no Moriarty.

''Don't ever leave me like that again…'' her voice is muffled by his shoulder and it's difficult because of her growing stomach but she clings to him anyway.

Sherlock smooth's a hand over her tied up hair and presses his lips firmly to her head, ''I won't''

The weeks go by and they move back into Baker Street. Mrs Hudson is delighted, 'oh to have a baby in the house!' she had squealed.

They invite John to move back in but he politely declines, things are going so well with Sarah that they decided on purchasing their own flat, somewhere for them together. And anyway, space was going to be one thing they would need in 221b with a new baby.

Mycroft is as intrusive as ever but he means well, he visits more often, much to the dismay of Sherlock but what with him continuing with cases and pissing off the police, Liz enjoys the company.

''Do you regret it?'' he asks one night, he's sat upright on the sofa and she's lay across his lap. It was her due date four days ago and she can't wait for the whole bloody thing to be over with.

''No,'' she says hoarsely, her eyes are still closed and she shifts as their baby stirs inside her. ''I know I couldn't have managed the last time, I didn't want to believe it but now…'' she can't find the words but he knows what she means, ''I'm glad. Pity you missed out on the morning sickness though'' she adds with a smirk, but it's immediately wiped off her face at his next words;

''We'll, you never know… I might stick around the next time'' she can't tell if he's joking so snaps her eyes open to see him looking down at her with a smug grin plastered across his face and he starts to shake with laughter at the look of horror she is displaying.

''I don't think so, I'd appreciate it if there wasn't a next time thankyou very much'' she gritted out but she's smiling too.

That night they go to bed early, they show how much they love each other and the following morning her waters brake.

When their daughter is born they call her Lucy.

Well, there it is! Hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. It would mean a lot if you could take a moment to review – First completed story ever!

Thanks to those who have stuck with me, favourited/alerted/reviewed, would never have continued if you didn't.

_ Aimee :D