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Molly was discharged from the hospital three days later. Sherlock had been back in her room when she awoke from the anesthesia and when he told her what had happened she began to cry. He could tell she blamed herself for what had happened, and he tried to comfort her as best he could but it didn't help. They came home with heavy hearts, and Molly went to their room and laid down in the bed, curling up on her side and crying some more. All Sherlock could do was get in bed beside her, pull her close against him and hold her as she sobbed. It was like that every day and he was at a complete loss as to how to handle it.
She had been home for a week when he woke up to the sunlight streaming in their window. He rolled over onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. He was tired and he was sad, and he just wanted something to go well. When his phone had rang and the hospital said they both would be allowed inside Lydia's room and could reach in and touch her as she slept he felt a wellspring of hope bubble up inside him. He woke Molly up, hoping she would be pleased at the news, but she didn't react at all. She just said it was good and then went back to sleep. He tried again to get her to get up and get ready to go to the hospital an hour later and she sighed a frustrated sigh. When he went to get close to her she rolled over, putting space between them and said for him not to touch her in an angry voice. At that point he simply gave up and went to the hospital himself.
Things got progressively worse as time moved on. She slept all the time and she barely ate. When she was awake she would cry with the slightest provocation. And worst of all she didn't seem to care about anything. She wore the same clothes for days and went long periods of time without showering. He had to beg and plead to get her to go to the hospital. Most days he failed, and he usually got yelled at for his troubles. Some days she ignored him and pretended to still be asleep until he gave up and left. She didn't want to be close and all he wanted to do was try and help her but he knew he was out of his depth right now.
Today was yet another of those days where all she did was sleep. Sherlock watched her sleep, his heart heavy. He didn't know what to do about any of this. Something was wrong. He was sad that Lydia had been born early and they couldn't bring her home and there always seemed to be something that his daughter had to fight to overcome, but he was soldiering on. He had to because Lydia was depending on him. But Molly...she had given up. She would cry and cry until she cried herself to sleep, and then she'd sleep for hours and hours. She'd get angry at him for no reason and she spent as little time at the hospital as she could. It had been over a month since Lydia was born and Molly wasn't getting any better. He knew something was wrong but he didn't know how to bring it up.
He turned and made his way out to the sitting room, getting his coat off the coat rack. He'd tried to talk Molly into going with him today but she'd said no, she couldn't. He didn't want to upset her, didn't want to send her on another crying jag or worse. This was beyond the sadness and stress associated with a premature baby. This was something else. He put his coat on and then pulled his phone out of his pocket, hesitating for a moment before dialing John. He didn't wait for John to speak before he spoke. “I think something's seriously wrong with Molly,” he said as he headed towards the front door.
“I got that feeling myself when I visited last week,” John said quietly. “I think this goes beyond the baby blues my wife had when she gave birth to Timothy. I think Molly might have postpartum depression. Can you get her to her doctor?”
“She doesn't want me to go to the appointments with her anymore,” he said with a sigh, opening up the door and stepping outside. He locked up behind him. “And I think she's putting on a front when she sees her doctor. I don't know what to do, John. If I go behind her back to get her help I don't know what will happen. I don't want to push her away. I don't want to lose her.”
“Are you on your way to the hospital now?” John asked.
“Yes. Lydia's getting better, and my being there is helping. I got to hold her yesterday when her heart rate got too high and it dropped as I talked to her.” He reached over to hail a cab. “She can recognize my voice now and it soothes her.”
“But they'd like Molly to be there too,”' John replied.
“They would. But when she's there she avoids being near Lydia. And it's getting harder and harder to convince her to come with me. She sleeps so much, John, and she's always crying. I never know what to say and what not to say. I'm walking on eggshells at home and I don't know what to do.”
“She needs help, psychiatric help. And maybe you need it too.”
“I'm not depressed,” he said adamantly as a cab pulled up to the curb.
“Not like medications or any of that. You need someone to tell you how to cope with it all, with Molly being sick and a daughter who needs constant care. How to be what they need you to be without losing your mind. I mean, she could probably use therapy more, but I think if you want to have any hope of having a strong relationship with Molly when it's all over you need to know what to expect. Some of it you can learn about from her doctor, if you decide to bring up your concerns to her away from Molly.”
“But when she finds out she'll feel I've betrayed her,” he replied as he got into the cab. He paused in his conversation with John to give the driver the address to St. Bart's and then when he was settled again he went back to it. “I just...I don't want her to do anything drastic, and that's what I worry about. I want her to find joy in something so that she isn't so despondent all the time. I'd prefer if it was Lydia or me, but I'd even be happy if it was her upcoming job at the university. Anything at this point would give me hope that we can get through this, because I'm quickly losing that.”
“You need to take those concerns to her OB/GYN and tell her. Maybe she can frame it in a way that doesn't show you had sought her out. I think she'll be tactful and sincere but I think if she's a good doctor she must realize something is wrong. Molly isn't that good an actress to pull off acting completely normal all the time, especially if she doesn't care much about anything because of the postpartum depression. Just find her doctor and share your concerns and see what can happen, what she can suggest for Molly to do, and what she can suggest for you to do.”
“All right,” he said. “Thank you, John.”
“Can I come see Lydia soon?” he asked. “Or at least drop off the bear that my wife picked up for her. I'm not asking to hold her or anything like that.”
“Briefly, I think,” Sherlock said. “They're trying to keep it to just family, but if I ask Mycroft maybe he can pull some strings since Molly isn't up for coming. I know Mrs. Hudson wants to come, and Donovan and Lestrade have mentioned they would like to as well. And it would make things easier if all of you could. I can't spend hours there with just Lydia and the nurses much longer.”
“See what you can do and call me back later, after you've spent time with her. Give her a hug from my family, or as best a hug as you're able.”
“I'll hold her very close,” he said. “I'll talk to you soon, John.”
“All right. Bye, Sherlock.
“Goodbye,” Sherlock said before hanging up. He turned his attention to the scenery that passed by him as the cab made its way to the hospital. He thought he had spent a lot of time at St. Bart's before but it was nothing to how often he was there now. He got out of the cab once it pulled up and paid the driver and then made his way to his daughter's room. He opened the door and saw a familiar face. “Dr. Edinger,” he said. “I wasn't expecting you.”
Molly's doctor nodded. “I can tell Molly's lying to me. I came here to talk to the nurses and they said you would be coming in, and probably without Molly. I figured that way we could talk and see what we need to do to help Molly.” She looked at the notepad in her hand. “You've come here every day and stayed for ten to twelve hours, often ignoring food unless some nurse takes pity on you and brings you something from the cafeteria. Molly's here for an hour when she is here, and she's only come once or twice a week since she got discharged.”
“Yes. I try and convince her to come but she snaps at me, yells at me, then starts crying and runs off to our room to cry herself to sleep. She doesn't care about Lydia or much else, I think. Right now I think it's been five days since she's taken a shower and three days since she's changed clothes. She was supposed to start her teaching job last month but because the baby was born early they're letting her take this semester off. But she should be preparing for the four classes she'll teach in the fall and she's doing nothing. She has no energy and no drive, which is unlike her.”
“Has she shown any signs she wants to be close to you? To have sexual relations with you?” she asked.
He shook his head. “She let me be close for a few days after she came home but now she pushes me away. Some nights she demands I sleep on the sofa because she wants nothing to do with me. I do it because if I tried to argue she would turn it around so everything is all my fault and I get very tired of that.”
Dr. Edinger was quiet for a moment. “I think the case is very strong that she has a severe case of postpartum depression.”
“My friend John thought much the same,” he said. Dr. Edinger raised an eyebrow. “He's a doctor, though not an OB/GYN.”
“Well, she needs to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, but I know someone who is quite good with treating this illness. It might take some time, but hopefully Molly can get back to normal before it turns into something like postpartum psychosis. It's harder to come back from that, and it's a more dangerous condition.”
“I just want her back to how she had been,” he said quietly.
“Have patience, Sherlock,” Dr. Edinger said with a smile. “I'll do everything I can do to get her to the psychiatrist I think would help her best, and we'll see what happens. I know you're already being strong, but you need to be prepared for this to take months, even with treatment.”
“I can't do this alone,” he said.
“Do you have friends who can help?” Sherlock nodded. “Give me their names and I'll find a way to get them allowed to come here and spend time with Lydia. And if nothing else your brother can use his pull with the board to make it happen. But let me see what I can do first.” She handed him the notepad and the pen. “Write their names down.” He nodded as he took them and wrote down his friends’ names. He handed the pad and pen back, and the doctor looked it over. “Dr. Watson has privileges here, so he can come now and no nurse will disagree. I'll see what I can do about the others.” She reached over to Sherlock and set a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Have faith. Soon she'll be back to normal.”
“I hope so,” he said with a sigh. Dr. Edinger let go of his shoulder and left the room, and he turned to the incubator that held his daughter. The nurses had decorated it, made it special for Lydia, and he appreciated it. The nurse monitoring her smiled up at him. “May I hold her again?” he asked.
She nodded. “Change into the outfit and you can. She did remarkably well when you held her yesterday, better than we had expected. So her doctor has said you can hold her as often as you want, as long as you don't dislodge the tubes.”
“All right,” he said, nodding. He went to the shelf in the room and grabbed one of the sets of scrubs that were there before going into the washroom to change into it. It didn't take him long, and then he stepped back out. He moved over to the incubator and the nurse opened it before lifting Lydia up. “Hello, Lydia,” he said quietly as the nurse put her in his arms. She was still so very tiny, even though he could see with his own two eyes she was putting on weight. He waited till she was finished being made ready to move to the rocking chair, but finally the two of them moved to it with the nurse right beside them.
“She's having a good day today,” the nurse said with a smile.
“That's good,” he said with a nod, not taking his eyes off the infant in his arms. Lydia started to stir and fuss slightly, and as soon as she did Sherlock began to sing quietly. He knew that he didn't sound half as good as Molly did while singing this song, but ever since the morning he had caught her singing it in the kitchen all that time ago he'd had her sing it frequently. He knew the words and the melody and he attempted to sing it for their daughter. Soon enough she quieted down, and he risked a glance at the monitor to see everything was normal. “Is she going to need any more surgeries?” he asked the nurse.
“We hope not,” she said. “But you'd have to ask her doctor.”
“Is he here today?”
“He is. Would you like me to get him to come here?”
Sherlock nodded. “I would. It's been a week since we spoke last.”
“I'll call him soon for you,” she said. “Lydia is such a fighter. I think when she finally goes home everyone here is going to miss her, but we'll be happy for her.”
“I'll be happy when she can come home, too,” he said quietly, looking back down at her.
The nurse was quiet for a moment. “It gets easier, you know. Living with someone who has postpartum depression. It just takes time and patience.”
“Do you know someone who had it?” he asked.
“My daughter. Her husband couldn't cope on his own so I took time away from work to help him. Once I persuaded her to get help for it it got easier. But Dr. Edinger was right. It's going to take time.” She paused. “Most of us here at this hospital love Molly. She was friendly to everyone and she always had a kind word or a warm smile when you needed one. We've missed her since she left, and when she had Lydia we had hoped she'd be here more and we could support her, be there for her the way she had been there for us. But since we can't we'll do that for you. Everyone here will give you as much support as we can so you don't feel like you're doing it all on your own.”
He looked up at her with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” he said, quietly and sincerely.
“I'll make sure someone brings up some lunch and supper for you today. You'll have to eat it at the nurses’ station, but we'll get you something. If you don't take care of yourself you'll do Lydia no good.” She gave him a grin. “You know, there are a lot of people here who like you, too. You aren't nearly as unpleasant as you used to be.”
He chuckled slightly. “I've made a concerted effort to change over the last few years.”
“Well, we all appreciate it. I'm going to call Dr. Lewis and tell him you want to speak with him, and I'll also tell the other nurses to bring you up some food at noon. Or do you want to eat later?”
“Noon is fine,” he said with a nod. “Thank you...”
“Caroline,” she said, her smile widening.
“Thank you, Caroline,” he said.
“You're very welcome. I'll be back in a few minutes.” She turned at that point and left the room, and he turned his full attention back to his daughter. At least he knew that someone else was on his side, that someone else could see Molly desperately needed help. That made him feel that maybe, if he was lucky, he would get through this.