Revelations and Intentions
I am so glad Sherlock is back on TV. I have missed the interactions between these two characters so much. So much I have decided to write my first fanfic in a long time about them.
Whilst we wait for the next episode after that bombshell on New Years Day, here is a nice warming cup of delight to devour.
Summary: Subtlety was never his strong point.
—
Molly shut the door to 221B with a prompt barge from her shoulder, one arm loaded with shopping as she locks the door with her free one. She inhales the warmth of the building, glad to turn her back to the cold November evening. She was wrapped up in a soft yellow waterproof coat, layered on top of a deep maroon jumper and a black and white scarf.
She climbed the stairs slowly, her body aching from the stress she had placed on it over the past week. It had been a relentless week at work. Winter was never dull if you work in a morgue. When she finally reached the open door leading into the flat, she immediately saw Sherlock sat at his desk. She leans against the doorframe and rubs her lower back where it was still aching. She observes him silently. His elbows firmly placed on the solid surface, his fingers pressed together and his eyes were shut.
"Good evening Sher-"
"You're pregnant."
Her brain scrambles to process the two simple words he spoke to her. She stares at him blankly, her pupils dilate in shock at his revelation. His position remains the same and his eyes are still firmly closed. Part of her hopes he was making some sort of an attempt at a joke, but she knows him better than that. She knows he has probably been sat there for the better part of a few hours waiting for her to return so he could drop this bombshell on her.
"I have been gathering evidence and from the data I have acquired it can lead to only one conclusion. You are pregnant."
He opens his eyes and looks straight at her as he spoke the last part of that sentence. She felt completely exposed under his gaze and her brain still couldn't think of a single word to say.
"Firstly, your period is lighter. You usually use around 20 tampons on your average cycle. I noticed only 7 tampons taken from the box. Therefore what you experienced clearly wasn't a period, most likely it was implantation bleeding."
"Sherlock, how do-"
She snapped out of her blank fortress. She knew she should never underestimate his precision when it came to data collection. Before she could finish her sentence he interrupted her.
"Secondly, your breasts. I noticed when you were dressing for work last Thursday you winced when you were fixing your bra. You have been cursing under your breath about wearing a bra since that first incident. That and your recent Google search history for 'sore breast relief' is a vital piece of evidence."
"Search history? Sherlock -"
"You've also taken 3 afternoon naps in the past 10 days. You have not napped once since I've known you or throughout our cohabitation. Therefore you must be experiencing some increased tiredness. Another key piece of evidence."
Molly was speechless once again. Sherlock stands from his desk and comes to a stop in front of her. He was dressed immaculately as always. From his shiny black brogues to his black fitted suit.
"And finally." He spoke, as he removed the shopping bags from her right hand. His long masculine fingers gently caress her small and delicate ones as he transfers the bags from her hands to the floor.
"I can now see you have back ache. It usually only takes you 24 seconds to reach the flat from the front door. It took you 56 seconds tonight. That and I can tell by the way you are holding the small of your back and there is a distinct look of discomfort in your expression."
She was still speechless. His steely blue eyes boring right into her own.
"I hazard a guess at six weeks from conception."
"Sherlock, I had no idea." She spoke breathlessly. She places her hands onto his chest as she averts his gaze. Her eyes could burn holes in the light blue cotton shirt she was now staring so intently at. She was speaking the truth. She assumed her period was just lighter this time due to her diet being fairly poor the past few weeks. As for the napping and sore breasts, she put that down to tiredness and back to back 12 hour shifts.
She was snapped from her thoughts when she felt his index finger gently caress the side of her cheek before lifting her head to meet his gaze once more.
"I do believe this is when people would say congratulations." His expression was energising and he was smiling from cheek to cheek. She couldn't resist then and she flung her arms around his neck and silently releases a small laugh into his shoulder. He returns the embrace as they hold each other for a short while.
A baby.
She feels nothing but delirious happiness in this moment. She hopes he files this memory away into his mind palace tonight.
"You do know we aren't just normal people and we never will be Sherlock. I mean since when does the father ever tell the mother she's expecting." He glances down at her from where her head is resting upon his chest.
"I can think of several reasons-"
"Don't ruin this perfect moment Mr Holmes." It was her turn to interrupt him now.
"Do you think we should do a pregnancy test, just to be sure?" She lifts her head from her spot on his chest to look at him face to face. Her hands still firmly wrapped around his neck.
"No need. I'm one hundred percent certain of the result. Plus we have a doctors appointment booked at nine fifteen on Monday morning so we can register you with the best midwife in London. I have also made arrangements with your boss when you left work this evening. No more 12 hour shifts from now on. You are going part-time for the next three months. When you're five months along we can evaluate if you still feel comfortable working. Although, it would be my desire for you to go on maternity leave as soon as possible. I do not like the idea of you working in an environment with dangerous substances and chemicals. I highly doubt they are good for the development of our child."
She looks at him adoringly and she can feel herself welling up. She turns her head to blink back the tears. She then notices a few cardboard boxes on the coffee table labelled 'Work Equipment'. He follows her gaze to the boxes and smiles.
"I am not taking any chances. No more experiments of a scientific nature for work or pleasure are to be undertaken in this flat. I have also had the courtesy to order a new fridge. I don't think its use over the years for holding organs and bodily parts and fluids make it suitable for our current situation. I believe the saying is 'what you eat the baby eats'. We should expect the delivery on Tuesday between twelve and two."
She starts to cry and a look of confusion clouds over his face. He moves his hands to cup her face and wipe her tears.
"Did I say something bad? We can keep the fridge if you really want to." She let out a choked laugh and proceeds to run her fingers into his dark curly mane.
"No Sherlock. You said everything I could want to hear and more." She softly spoke. His expression relaxes instantly and he presses his forehead against hers.
There were so many thoughts, feelings and doubts whizzing around her mind. So many things she wanted to talk about but there was so much noise in her head she struggled to isolate a single thought.
"You know, I think this might just be my favourite case to date." He broke the comfortable silence, still smiling, foreheads still softly pressed together. His hands reaching to stroke her loose wavy hair. He leans in to her and kisses her longingly. She knew then that she had nothing to worry about.
He pulls away slowly from her lips, noses barely touching. He moves his hands softly down her face, ghosting past her breasts to her temporarily flat abdomen. She closes her eyes and smiles, moving her hands to join his.
She knew subtlety and words was never his strong point. His intentions and actions had always spoken louder about his love for her. Now they would shout and scream of his love for their child.
Their family.
—
I hope you enjoyed this.
I always assumed if Sherlock could deduce John and Mary were expecting, he would easily know if his own partner was pregnant.
I also like to think that in this situation he probably doesn't handle telling Molly in the most 'romantic' way, but then this is Sherlock. His actions will always speak louder, lovelier and less offensively than his words. Apart from his best man's speech, of course.
Reviews are always welcome.