Sunday 8 July – Year 1

Noon

"You...You told me once...That you weren't a hero. There were times when I didn't even think you were human, but let me tell you this. You were the best man, the most human…Human being that I've ever known and no one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, so...There. I was so alone…And I owe you so much. But please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me, don't be…Dead. Would you do that just for me? Just stop it. Stop this."

John lost his composure and started to cry. His shoulders hunched as he let his emotions wash over him. He only let a few tears run down his face before wiping them away.

He straightened up and turned in the direction from which he came. Mrs. Hudson was already in the taxi waiting for him. Soon they made their way to 221B.

"John, cant I offer you a cuppa at least?"

"No that's alright. I should really get back to my flat."

"Alright then. You take care of yourself." She gave him a soft peck on the cheek and exited the taxi.

"Where to mate?" asked the taxi driver.

"The nearest coffee shop."

He felt bad lying to Mrs. Hudson but truth is he just couldn't go back in there. Not now. It had been 3 weeks since Sherlock's suicide and still he felt the same way he did moments afterwards. Every time he closed his eyes he could see Sherlock's flailing body falling off the roof of St. Bart's.

John got out of the cab when it stopped in front of a hole in the wall cafe. Once inside, he ordered a coffee (milk, no sugar) and took a seat far from everyone else.

Mrs. Hudson was still asking him to move back into Baker Street but that was not a possibility at the moment. John had tried being there just days after the fall but all it had done was make him depressed. He would sit in his chair for hours staring at Sherlock's violin willing it to play for him.

He supposed if he ever did finally get the nerve to move back in he could. Last he had heard, Mycroft paid a full year's rent for the flat after hearing of his brother's death. John couldn't imagine why he would do that. He probably didn't have any other place to keep Sherlock's things.

John also didn't want Mrs. Hudson to see what he truly looked like at the moment. His limp was back. He knew it was psychosomatic but no matter how many times John lay in bed telling himself it was psychosomatic, the pain would not go away. John could almost see the pain in Mrs. Hudson's eyes if she ever saw him limping again.

The court case following Sherlock's suicide had been brutal and had only just ended. John had remained his position about Moriarty being real and Sherlock being a genius but it seemed the media had their own ideas. Sherlock's brilliant reputation was gone just like him.

John finished his coffee then took a cab back to his flat. His tiny flat was outside of London but it was all he could afford at the moment. When he arrived he paid the cabby and climbed the flight of stairs to his flat.

He walked over to his door and took out his key. John made to unlock it but the door wasn't locked. Cautiously he opened the door and took a step inside.

The sun was setting which should have made the flat a bit dark but someone had switched the lamps on. In the kitchen his kettle was just coming to a boil. His living room contained a small dining table on one side and a sofa facing the television on the other. On his sofa sat a very alive and very pregnant Irene Adler.

"Hello John," she greeted.

John stood frozen in his spot. Irene was supposed to be dead. Mycroft had told him. His mind quickly processed the information. This was Sherlock's doing.

"So...Sherlock...he...he saved you?" he tentatively asked by way of greeting.

"Yes. He made it so that everyone would think I was dead," she said.

Just then Irene's girlfriend came from the kitchen with a tray of tea and biscuits.

"Please take a seat John," Irene gestured.

John slowly sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from her. Irene's girlfriend exited the flat and left them alone to sip their tea.

"So, " John said to break the silence "I believe congratulations are in order?"

Irene cocked her head to one side and gave him a curious look. She then broke into a knowing smile. "Ohhh my pregnancy. Yes thank you."

Silence again and John had to break the silence again. "You do know that Sherlock is not here."

"Yes. I heard of his suicide a few days ago. I was trying to get in contact with him for the past month. He was still alive when I first tried but I guess he died a week later...how are you holding up? I know how close the two of you were."

There was so much emotion that went into telling people just how he felt about Sherlock's death. It had felt like someone had removed his insides and only left him an empty shell.

Irene took his silence for an answer.

"So what are you doing out of hiding? Is someone after you? Is your unborn child in danger?" he asked.

"No it's nothing like that. The groups that were after me have either been paid off or they're dead thanks to Sherlock. I'm relatively safe for now. No one suspects a pregnant woman." She took a sip of tea before continuing, "The reason I'm here has to do with the original reason I was contacting Sherlock. I tried putting it off but I'm running out of time. Sherlock's death actually might have perfected this plan."

"What plan?"

"The plan to give you my baby."

John froze. Was he hearing correctly? "What? Give me your baby. Why would I take your baby? Give him to his father."

"The baby's father is dead."

John sat in silence while he tried processing the information. Irene just sat watching him work it out in his mind.

"Are you telling me Sherlock's the father?" John asked as his jaw dropped. He knew he would regret asking that question.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she smiled.

John felt a mixture of hurt, pain, jealousy, and betrayal all at once.

Sherlock had slept with Irene.

He had loved her.

He procreated with her. It wasn't a game.

And apparently she had loved him too. A woman in her profession doesn't have unprotected sex with just anyone.

"If you're wondering how I could have let this-" she pointed to her stomach "-happen. It was his first time and we're both risk takers so we just let the odds play themselves out. Apparently we lost." She gave a small chuckle.

John was breathing heavily now. How could they be so irresponsible? How could Sherlock have lost his virginity to her? He felt a pang of jealousy.

Months ago Irene had said that John had been in love with Sherlock. It was only now after he was dead and a visit to his therapist that John understood that he had loved the man. To see Irene pregnant was the only confirmation he needed to know that Sherlock must not have thought of him the same way.

"So you came to tell me that you're pregnant with Sherlock's child? And you're sure it's his?"

"I did a paternity test already. Plus he's the only one I've had unprotected sex with. And no I'm not just here to tell you. I'm here to offer you to be Hamish's father."

"Hamish? So you know you're having a boy?"

"No I didn't want to find out but I assumed you'd want to name the baby something along those lines seeing as you presented the idea."

John knew what she was talking about but there was another pressing issue at the moment. "Me. A father?"

"Yes. You seem the most logical choice. If Sherlock were alive, he wouldn't want a baby around. In my line of work, I can't afford to be a mother. I have no family. I'm sure Sherlock's family doesn't want me dropping a grandchild on their laps. You are the only logical choice. It's either you or I drop the baby off at an orphanage which I am still open to."

John sat frozen in his spot. He had thought of being a father some day. His 40th birthday had passed a week ago. He wasn't getting any younger. Maybe this would be his chance to finally become one. But to Sherlock's child? "Do you even think I'd be qualified?"

Irene gave a soft chuckle. "You raised the original Sherlock Holmes. I think you can manage the early years."

Then she pulled out some forms from her purse and laid them on the coffee table. "Come on we're going to be late."

"Late for what?"

"My doctor's appointment of course."

5:50pm

Irene's town car carried them through the streets of London. She had a private doctor since not many people knew she was alive.

John was still feeling slightly dazed from the conversation earlier. He tried picturing a miniature Sherlock Holmes but the image only caused him pain.

"Hayleigh"

John turned to look at Irene looking confused. "Sorry..."

"Hayleigh. In case the baby turns out to be a girl, you can name her Hayleigh," she said.

"Right... I don't remember agreeing to anything."

"You're honestly going to let me send my unborn child to an orphanage?" she asked.

"Look... I don't know...right now I'm in no state to be a father. Financially, emotionally, psychologically..." he pointed to the cane in his hand.

"Well you have almost 5 full months to change all of that. By the last week of November I should have given birth."

John just let the words wash over him and Irene let him sit in silence.

The town car pulled into an alleyway and the driver got out and opened the door for him while Irene's girlfriend went and did the same for her. He followed Irene through a door in one of the brick buildings surrounding them. Inside the building was a small and bleach white clinic with very few patients. The patients looked like gang members looking to get medical attention without drawing attention to themselves.

Irene's appointment was at 6 and they had arrived just in time. The nurse waved them back into the patient's room.

Inside was rather bare. It just contained an examining bed, a counter with a sink, and an ultrasound machine in the corner.

They waited in silence while John took a seat in a stool and Irene lay down on the examining bed. The doctor came in and greeted them both.

"I was wondering when the father of the baby was going to come along," teased the doctor.

"Oh he's not the father," said Irene. "At least not yet," she smiled in John's direction.

"Right. Well then. I'll get the ultrasound machine ready. Also, do you want to know the sex of the baby?" The doctor looked at John for the answer to that question.

"Umm... sure?" he tentatively answered.

John wasn't sure if the sex of the baby was going to make a difference on his decision or not.

The doctor set up the machine and soon enough they were looking at a baby. The picture wasn't clear at first but soon John could just make out the picture of the baby's head.

He fought back tears of joy and sadness. Sadness that Sherlock had died before he could get a chance to see this and joy at the life that had come from his suicide.

Irene looked at John and smiled. She looked at ease for a woman whose child was on display.

The doctor talked them through the ultrasound, "If you look right there you can just make out the baby's foot... and... If we look right here...congratulations you're having a boy."

At that point John could no longer hold back his tears. He let two tears stream down his cheeks before wiping it all away.

"It's a baby Hamish, John" said Irene as she squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

Irene's doctor ran a few more tests to check that everything came back normal, which they did. Then she and John were on their way out the door both hobbling – John with his cane and Irene with her pregnant stomach. They climbed back into the town car and they were soon on their way.

John's head was buzzing. Only this morning he had been mentally preparing to revisit Sherlock's grave and now he was trying to decide what to say to Irene's offer.

He didn't even notice when the car stopped in front of a restaurant until Irene's driver was once again opening his door. John grabbed his cane and followed Irene into the restaurant. The hostess seated them to a private table and served them water.

Irene took a sip of water before she spoke. "So have you thought more about what you want to do?"

"I have but I still don't know what I'm going to do," said John.

"You don't have to decide today. I left the forms at your flat so if you want to go through with it, you can sign them, send them to me and then I will contact you to tell you what we need to do next. I'll wait 2 months. If I don't hear from you by that time, I'll assume your answer is no," she said as easy as making a business transaction.

John and Irene sat quietly when the waiter came back and took their order.

When the waiter left John spoke, "I guess I'll consider it..."

"Good. That's all I wanted. I'm sure baby Hamish will be very happy with you," she smiled.

An image of John holding a small boy in his arms suddenly came to mind. The boy had pale skin and dark curls – John quickly shook his head. This is Irene's doing he thought.

John looked at her. She had a wicked smile on her face. She knew what game she was playing at. Making sure John could see himself with a baby Hamish would only sway his decision.

"That's not fair," he said.

"Not fair is to let an innocent child be abandoned when you could have done something-"

"So now it's my fault!" John could feel the anger rising in his body "I wasn't the irresponsible one here."

"I understand you're angry. Sherlock and I let our egos get the best of us which is why I need your help." She paused as John froze at her words. "Yes. I need your help. Sherlock and I have more similarities than differences. Our egos are our downfall. We both don't feel human emotion as well as others. I misbehave to make my way in the world. Sherlock destroyed himself with drugs just to keep his mind from over taking him... and now we procreated? You are the only person I know who could actually handle such a child. I know it's a lot to ask but if I choose to put him in an orphanage-" she stopped as her voice suddenly became constricted "I fear he will die in the streets..." she broke off. It was the first time John had actually seen her show some emotion towards her child.

Soon the food arrived and they began to eat. Luckily the topic changed to how Sherlock had managed to save her. She told him about the terrorist cell in Karachi that had captured her 2 months after being released by the British government. On the day of her beheading, she had gone out and kneeled before her executioner. She sent Sherlock a final text message then waited to feel the cold steel of the sword on her neck. Instead she heard Sherlock's cell phone ring and her executioner looked at her with grey-blue eyes and told her to run. Then he turned and fought the tribesmen. Irene had stayed frozen for a moment but when the tribe leader came to steal her away, she had disarmed him and held him hostage. Everyone halted as she, the tribe leader, and Sherlock backed out of the warehouse they had held her in. The 3 of them piled into a jeep that Sherlock had brought with him and they made their way into the desert. After driving for miles they stopped and left the tribe leader in the middle of the desert.

"...After that he and I went to the nearby city under false identities and... We spent the night..." John didn't need a translation for what that meant and luckily Irene did not spell it out for him. "...And that was the last time I saw him. I went into hiding. He sent me a list of places to move about. I did as he told me and I managed to stay alive. It was in April that I discovered I was pregnant."

"And you only tried contacting him a month ago?" John asked.

"I didn't want to risk my safety, the baby's, or Sherlock's."

"Funny little makeshift family the 3 of you have," John scoffed.

There was silence again as they finished their meals.

"I'll pay for dinner John. I do you this favor and hopefully you will do me another."

"I think paying for this dinner is cheaper than what you're asking of me."

They left the restaurant and Irene's town car dropped him off outside his flat.

"John, I hope you consider everything I've said today. I've never been this truthful to anyone. I'd like to know my efforts made some difference."

John nodded and gave his goodbye. He stood out on the curb and watched Irene with her pregnant stomach disappear. He didn't go inside until the car had turned the corner.