John was finally getting used to the idea of Sherlock being back in Baker Street. He smiled to himself, finally feeling as though his life was reaching equilibrium. He leaned back into his recliner and stared out of the window. The sun was shining, something that had not occurred in weeks, and a pleasant breeze wafted through the window, as a warm front came in.
"OBVIOUSLY!" shouted Sherlock Holmes, startling John from his daydream.
John turned to his former flat mate and watched the detective run to the other side of the room in just a few strides. Sherlock reached down and picked out what looked like a receipt from a pile of papers. John waited patiently for Sherlock to give the explanation that led to his major breakthrough, a patience that still stuck with him even after two years.
"Obvious, John," the detective muttered as he scanned through the receipt, "we were just looking at the wrong aspect." He flattened the receipt before John, "We were looking at what was on the receipt, but we should have been looking at the receipt itself. Mr. Marber claimed he was had not visited the camp site for two days. However, if you observe the receipt that was found in his pocket when he was brought into custody, you can clearly see what, John?"
John opened his mouth to answer but was cut off, "Ash, John. The ash that is found in campfires."
"You don't know for certain it's ash until the lab tests it." John protested.
"We both know it's ash." Sherlock pouted as he put the receipt into a plastic baggie and handed it to John, "Take it to the lab to prove I'm right."
John rolled his eyes as the detective over annunciated his last two words.
"Can't Sherlock I've got to run."
"I expect it not to be fast." Sherlock muttered.
"Mary and I have a date at Sheldon's." John said, ignoring Sherlock.
"Sounds like I am really missing out." Sherlock sighed as he flopped himself onto the couch, "Still bring the sample, since you're the one so keen on proving it's ash."
"Don't mind me just following the law," John scoffed as he rose from the chair and grabbed his jacket, "Now if you're a good boy, maybe I'll bring home a doggie bag for you."
"No, Garlic please." Sherlock yawned as he draped an arm over his eyes, "Oh, and extra bread."
As John made his way to the door, Sherlock's phone rang. John picked up the pace hoping Sherlock would not ask him to get his phone for him, a task Sherlock was incapable of.
"John." Sherlock called, not moving from his place on the couch.
John, groaned as he turned around and headed back inside the flat.
"Answer it, and tell them I am not here."
"That's what voicemail is for Sherlock," said John as he reached for the phone on the table, "The number looks American."
Sherlock sprang up and snatched the phone, bringing it to his face. "From New York, how odd."
He smirked at John, and raised an eyebrow as he answered it, locking eyes with John.
"Hello. Yes. Yes." Sherlock's eyes widened, "Dead? How? When? A what?"
John was amused by the lengthy pauses between questions, and the blank stare in Sherlock's eyes. He smiled as he turned his back to Sherlock and headed towards the door. Although he was curious to what left Sherlock baffled, for the great detective was hardly left speechless, he did have a reservation to catch.
"John, wait." Sherlock called. There was a slight rasp to his voice.
John sighed and lent against the wall, waiting for the conversation to be over.
"Are you sure? No one else? Can you fax over these forms? Same number. Right. Tuesday. Bye then."
"What was that about." John asked looking at his watch.
"American Child Protective Services." He said as he leaned into the couch. "Apparently I have a child."
John let out a loud laugh, "Funny, Sherlock. It really is but I promised Mary this one."
"I am serious John. I met a young woman in New York less than a year ago. There was a short affair, and it ended quickly and quietly. There was no mess."
"Sherlock," John sighed, "I am flattered you want my company, but I need to go."
"Apparently she got pregnant, and delivered a child 12 hours ago. Katherine, the woman, did not make it, but the child did."
"And this 'child' is yours?" John laughed, "You believe that."
"Katherine hemorrhaged, later that night, but put on the birth certificate that I was the father. She hadn't had any relations, a year before me, so why would she have one so soon after." He got up and began to pace, "Perhaps I gave her the confidence to branch out….. But she was always busy, we only worked out because we were working the same case, with the same odd hours….. Maybe she met another detective on her next case…. But, no. She said that she was taking it slow after that case…. Did she already know she was pregnant at that point? Timing would be right…"
As Sherlock babbled on John stared at the wall. "Sherlock, how can you care for a child. A baby at that."
Sherlock stared at him and paused with his rambling. He exhaled deeply. " The baby can't be mine, every precaution was made. Someone with social services is flying out on Tuesday with the baby, and we can have proper tests made."
"Alright Sherlock, but what if the baby is yours." John sighed rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"We'll have to raise it." Sherlock said picking up his violin.
"WE!?" John shouted, " There is no WE there is just YOU. YOU who got a girl pregnant."
"You are going to let me raise a baby on my own?" Sherlock asked, slightly bemused.
"I feel like I am raising a bloody teenager." John muttered and he swung open the door.
Sherlock began to strum at the violin and turned his back to John, "Don't forget the doggie bag."
John slammed the door behind him, and made his way down the steps. Equilibrium my ass.