What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stronger [BBC SHERLOCK - Sherlolly]

TRIGGER WARNING: Miscarriage. I apologize if this upsets you, or you've experienced this yourself.

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Molly Hooper walked around 221B, humming happily. She was content with her life at the moment. She was married to the love of her life with their first child on the way. She was three months pregnant. She didn't think she could feel happier. Molly settled down on the couch with a book. The flat was quiet since Sherlock was solving a case at the moment, and therefore wasn't home. Everything was peaceful.

After thirty minutes of reading, pain suddenly coursed through Molly. She gasped, not ready for it. She had no idea what was happening. She reached for her phone to call Sherlock, and then doubled over in pain again. An idea of what was happening gnawed at her, but she pushed it away.

"No, no, no..." she whispered. She sat, trying to push away the pain, but it only got worse. She finally stood up, and her worse fear was confirmed. Blood stained where she had been sitting on the couch.

Molly was most likely having a miscarriage. 

Molly grabbed her phone, sobbing as she shakily called Sherlock. How was she going to tell him? Would he think it was her fault? If he did, would he want a divorce?

The phone rung a few times before Sherlock picked up. "Molly, I told you to only call me if it was an emergency."

"Sh-Sherlock," Molly choked out.

"Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock suddenly sounded concerned. "Are you okay? Is the baby alright?"

The baby. Molly suddenly started sobbing uncontrollably. She was aware of Sherlock talking to her, trying to get her to tell him what was wrong, but Molly didn't hear him over her grief and shock.

"Molly, I'm coming home right now," Sherlock was saying. "Stay on the phone."

"Sherlock, there's so much blood..." Molly breathed out. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Molly," Sherlock said, now getting scared as he was in a cab, silently praying that what he was thinking wasn't true.

When Sherlock got to 221B, he raced up the stairs. He found Molly curled up on the floor, crying. He deduced what had happened and felt his heart break. He hoped he was wrong, but as soon as he saw the blood on the couch, he knew he wasn't.

"Oh, Molly," Sherlock said, kneeling down next to her. 

"It hurts, Sherlock," Molly let out another sob. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault," Sherlock said, running a hand through her hair. "Can you stand?"

"I don't think so," Molly said. 

"Alright, I'll carry you," Sherlock said. He picked up Molly and carried her downstairs to the cab he had waiting.

"St. Barts hospital, please," Sherlock said. "Hurry."

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Sherlock sat in the waiting room, his face in his hands. He didn't know what to do. Molly had been with the doctor for some time now. He didn't know if that was good or bad. Sherlock hated not knowing. What did know was that Molly had probably had a miscarriage. Finally, a doctor came into the waiting room. He locked eyes with Sherlock, who sat up straighter. The doctor took a deep breath and walked over to him. Sherlock sighed.

"I know," he said when the doctor came over. "I know."

"I'm so sorry," the doctor said, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. For once, Sherlock didn't flinch away from the contact.