A/N this is just a little Sherlolly idea that I couldn't get out of my head. It maybe a oneshot or a multi-chapter depending on reviews and stuff. Let me know what you think! XX

Molly Hooper walked down the familiar corridors of St. Bart's hospital. She must have walked the route to Sherlock's lab hundreds of times; she knew it like the back of her hand. Yet today it seemed a hundred times longer and a hundred times shorter all at once. Her bag hung loosely over her shoulder, falling at just past her waist. She tightened her grip on the strap as she approached the double doors that would lead into Sherlock's lab.

Thinking

SH

Molly stopped for a few moments outside of the door as she read the sign, but after pacing back and forth for a while she decided to go in anyway. The door creaked slightly as she crept inside. Sherlock was sat on a stool facing the wall, his elbows resting on the table and his chin placed on his thumbs. His eyes darted back and forth as if he was watching words at a high speed – which he probably was - but there was nothing there.

"Good morning Molly," he said without moving to see her.

"How did you guess?" Molly asked, smiling slightly at the fact that he knew it was her, before remembering that it was Sherlock she was speaking to. This snapped him out of his 'trance' as he sighed at the brain of ordinary people.

"Footsteps," Sherlock replied, "Only you and John know that I am here, well Mycroft probably knows as well, but since he won't come near me that leaves you and John. Now, John's footsteps are much heavier than yours due to him being flatfooted – so that leaves you, Molly, as the only possible solution." He glanced over to look at her, only surveying her for a second before returning to face the wall, Molly knew that he was going back to his 'mind palace' and she really needed to talk to him. Now.

"Listen..." she stammered, preventing Sherlock from blanking her, "I... need to ... to tell you..."

"That you're pregnant and I'm the father" Sherlock cut in before Molly had the chance to finish. Molly stepped back slightly as she gasped in shock. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk a little at the confusion that was surely going through her mind.

"What?!" she all but screeched, her voice higher than normal. She took a moment to compose herself before she started her sentence again. "How did you..."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as he stood and walked over to Molly. He started to circle her as he explained his logic to her.

"You're nervous, as if you don't want to talk about it, as you waited outside that door, for about... 7 and a half minutes. The pacing suggests you were debating on whether to actually talk to me about it or not. You saw the sign but came in anyway, suggesting its urgency and importance. When you did eventually come in you crept like a mouse, unsure of how to act or start to tell me. You're bag is bulkier than normal, but not so much that it is anything big. I can see the corners of whatever it is, it's rectangular, well the box is the content isn't. The fact that the corners are slightly flattened suggests you've had it along time. The contents of the box aren't squished because otherwise the box would be completely flat, it could be some sort of plastic, based on all other facts. You've been acting differently lately, more protective. You haven't worn tight jeans in a while and you're tops are getting less fitted as well. Every Saturday you usually have a glass of wine when you settle to watch TV for the evening – I will never understand what people see it that thing, you always know how it's going to end within the first 2 minutes any way! However, for the past few weeks when I have visited, there has been no wine glass around, and the bottle you had open is collecting a layer of dust. Dust is a marvellous thing. Judging by the build up I'd say it hasn't been open in about 6/7 weeks. Suggesting at maximum your 8/9 weeks pregnant, allowing time of course for the ordinary mind to catch up with the body. Tell me Molly, am I right?" he paused infront of her, looking her in the eye quizzically, catching his wrist behind his back. Molly looked astonished as she was still processing what Sherlock had said.

"Well, yes, but how did you know you were the father?" Molly asked her voice still a little squeaky.

"I assume it's customary to tell the father when this situation happens, and the fact that you were so nervous at telling me. But I can't quite say for sure, having never been in this situation before," he said as he sat on the stool again, this time facing Molly.

"Well, how do you feel about all of this?" Molly asked cautiously, not wanting to push him too far over the edge. Sherlock started to chuckle at how Molly seemed to be tiptoeing around him. "What? Why are you laughing at me?"

"Not just you, it just amuses me how no one seems to know how to act around me." Sherlock hopped of his stool enthusiastically and spun on the spot. Placing his hand over Molly's stomach, "and this is wonderful!" he smiled Molly's lips twitched into a smile as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She had never expected this to happen, at the very least she thought that he would be there but not understand what he was supposed to do. This is more than she could ever hope for.

"I suppose we best tell others then," Sherlock smiled, taking Molly's hand and pulling her towards the door.