Before he knew it, Isabelle was a teenager, full of teenage rebellion. She'd cut her long hair into a stylish bob, started going by 'Izzy' and secretly gotten her naval pierced, thinking that Sherlock wouldn't pick up on it. He had. Immediately. And yet, he never had the heart to confront her about it. Let her live out her rebellion, he thought, he had people watching her, she was safe, and if he'd had the chance to rebel, he may not have turned to drugs.
Izzy was, thankfully, not as much like Sherlock as he'd feared she'd be. She had Molly's social skills and his intelligence and was quite a nice little package of a person. She was kind and sweet, and adored her father, despite his obvious bluntness. She even found a soft spot for Mycroft, despite Sherlock's name calling about his idiot brother.
Sherlock watched her with a smile as she headed out of the door for her prom, dressed in the loveliest shade of blue he thought he'd ever seen. Being a father had softened him, and he wasn't entirely sure it was a bad thing. After she'd gone, he moved into his bedroom and lay down on the bed, brushing his fingers over Molly's pillow as he pulled his face into it. It had been 16 years since she'd slept on it, and the smell must have faded, yet Sherlock could still smell her shampoo as though she'd slept on it a few hours ago. He closed his eyes, burying his face deep in the pillow.
"Sherlock.. baby.. wake up.." he opened his eyes and sat up. There was no mistaking that voice and he shuddered slightly. He looked her in the eye, his blue meeting her deep brown. He could feel his eyes widening as he took in her face, his fingers reaching out and brushing through her hair.
"H-how are you here?" he asked with a frown "Am I dead?"
"For a while, I thought you were.." she laughed softly, handing him a sandwich "You came in from a case, went to bed and passed out for five days.. Why are you shaking?"
The detective looked down at his hands and frowned. It had all seemed real, so real, he'd felt every day, every heartbreaking minute of his life without Molly. Continuing to scan her body, he noticed the large bump of her abdomen.
"You-you were dead"
"I.. it must have been a dream, you.. you died."
"I died?" she frowned, her eyes widening as Sherlock dropped the sandwich onto the bed and pulled her into the most Earth shattering kiss she'd ever felt. She felt him pushing her down onto the bed, kissing every inch of her face. "Sherlock, your sandwich.." she laughed as she pulled back a little, looking up at him.
"I don't care about a sandwich... You're still here.." he smiled, looking down at her.
"I'll always be here.. Will you eat something.. you're worrying me."
Sherlock looked down at the newborn baby with a smile.
"I think we should name her Isabelle."
"You hated that name when I mentioned it last time.." Molly smiled at him from her spot on the sofa. Oh she was glad to be home, she'd hated hospitals and, despite the pain from her caesarian scar, she felt much more comfortable at 221b Baker Street.
"I changed my mind.." he sat down beside her, shuffling the baby into one arm while wrapping his other around Molly. He planted a soft kiss against her temple and took a mental picture of that very moment. "It's grown on me.."
Molly looked down at their baby girl and nodded. "Alright.. Isabelle it is."
"I love you, Molly" Sherlock said softly after a few minutes of silence. Molly tore her eyes from the sleeping baby in his arms and looked up at him.
"I love you too, Sherlock"
So there you have it. I do apologise for any tears you cried due to my writing (because of the storyline or, you know, the actual writing.). I do appreciate each and every one of you that read it and huge thanks to Zora Arian, Rocking the Redhead and MorbidbyDefault who's lovely reviews kept me going, and the latter of whom actually persuaded me to write this in the first place.
Much love guys. Sherlolly forever xx