Disclaimer: I own nothing
Molly stood in the bathroom, staring down at the pregnancy test in her hand. She hadn't even considered the possibility that she was pregnant until she had missed a certain regular occurrence the previous week. The nausea of the past several mornings had become impossible to ignore, however, and so she had finally bought a proper test. Now she stood, trembling as she realized the connotation of the inconspicuous stick in her hand. Part of her was overjoyed, as she herself certainly wanted children, but her gut clenched with fear as she wondered how Sherlock would react. Despite having been happily married for over a year, Molly and Sherlock had never discussed having kids.
As the sweet, tender strains of violin music snuck under the bathroom door, Molly slumped against the wall. She drew a shaky breath, imagining the worst. She wondered if her temperamental husband would greet the prospect of a child, or regret it.
Worst of all, she feared that he would reject her and the baby as an impediment to his preferred lifestyle. Molly didn't know what to do, and certainly didn't know how to breach the subject with Sherlock, but she couldn't hide in the bathroom forever. The man who timed every action of each person he knew would get suspicious. As if on cue, the violin music ceased. Seconds later, Sherlock knocked on the door.
"Molly, are you alright?" His voice came muffled through the door.
Molly panicked, throwing the test towards the trash bin as she turned to the mirror to straighten her hair.
"Y-Yes, I'm just fine! I'm about to go out, actually," she said as she grabbed the sink handle, turning on the water to wash her shaking hands. When she opened the door, she was met by Sherlock's intense and unconvinced stare.
"Are you sure?" he said with concern.
Molly glanced at him, meeting his eyes for a mere instant before her gaze darted away. "Of course," she insisted as she stepped towards the kitchen, "Why wouldn't I be?"
Sherlock's stare followed her into the kitchen, but the rest of him stood unmoving before the bathroom door. When she disappeared from sight, his gaze shifted to the bathroom, instantly locking onto the small stick which Molly had unknowingly tossed just a few inches short of the trash bin. He walked in and picked up the test, staring at the minuscule but life-changing plus sign in shock. He froze in place, immobile as a statue as his brain buffered. Somewhere in his mind, he distantly heard the echo of Molly calling out that she was leaving for work and would be back later. The hands on the clock had moved quite a bit before he finally began to move again. When he did, it was as sudden and violent as though he had been shocked. He dashed into the main room to grab his phone.
John, I need you. -SH
It's a matter of utmost urgency. Come at once, regardless of convenience. -SH
What is it this time, Sherlock?
No time to explain. Just come to 221B NOW. -SH
Fine.
When John arrived, it was to find Sherlock pacing insatiably across the floor. The doctor sighed, and crossed the room to sit in his chair.
"Alright, Sherlock, I'm here," he said with an unmistakable impatience in his voice, "Now, are you going to tell me what's wrong, or are you going to keep trying to wear a trail into that poor old carpet."
Sherlock snapped out of his stupor, dropping down into his own chair.
"Molly is pregnant."
John's face broke from concern into a wide grin as he exclaimed, "Well that's great! Congratulations!" His face softened as he looked at his old friend, who sat in a defensive hunch.
"Are you not happy about that?"
Sherlock looked up to meet his eyes. "Of course I'm happy," he practically yelled, his voice then softening into a much gentler tone, "It's just that… I don't know how to be a father."
John sighed as he looked at the usually imperturbable Sherlock brought to such a desperate state.
"Have you talked to Molly, or did you figure this out through your usual annoying deductions?"
Sherlock nodded his head, too wrapped up in his thoughts to respond to John's quip, "I found her pregnancy test in the bathroom this morning."
"Sherlock, listen, she's probably just as afraid as you are," John replied, leaning forward in his chair and clasping his hands, "You need to talk to her about this."
The tall man jolted up from his slumped position. "She's afraid…?" His eyes hardened into their customarily determined look. "I need to bring her home now." With that, he sprang to his feet, and grabbed his coat as he took off towards the door.
John blinked as he took a moment to process his friend's sudden determination. "Sherlock, no!" He called as he quickly rose from his seat and moved to restrain the detective, "You need to let her do her work and calm down about this, and you need to do the same."
Sherlock paused as he considered the good doctor's advice, and saw its logic.. "Okay. I'll wait until she gets home."
"Good," said John, sighing in relief. Sherlock returned his coat to the hook and went back to his chair to sit down. An instant later, he was deep in his mind palace, far away from the reach of human contact.
"Right then," John said, mostly to himself, "I guess I'm no longer needed."
Grabbing his jacket, he went outside to hail a cab.
"Sherlock… first a husband and now a father," he chuckled quietly and smiled, imagining the many calls for assistance and advice that were to come.
Three hours later, Molly came home to find Sherlock still in his mind palace. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and walked over to place her hand on his shoulder.
"Sherlock, love?" she said, steeling herself for the conversation she had been dreading all day.
Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace, instantly rising from the chair to hug her tightly.
"Hello, my darling," he said, before doing the most unexpected thing possible. He dropped to his knees and kissed her belly, speaking to it in an uncharacteristically soft and gentle voice, "Hello, my little bee, I'm your daddy."
Molly stood in shock as she tried to process Sherlock's words. She wondered how he knew that she was pregnant, but then remembered that hiding secrets from Sherlock rarely worked for very long. Tears began to slide down Molly's cheeks as she choked on her words.
"You're not mad?" She asked, her eyes shining with joy.
In an instant, Sherlock was back on his feet. "Of course not," he said in surprise, "No, Molly, I'm so happy." He kissed her tenderly, tears in his eyes as well, "I'm so very happy."
Molly released a small laugh, all of her fear and apprehension melting away. She looked into Sherlock's face, which had erupted into a wide grin.
"I love you, Molly," Sherlock whispered.
"I love you, too," she whispered back, as they stared into eachother's eyes.
"A baby, Molly!" he said as he let her go and jumped about the small room in ungraceful but exuberant spins. "A BABY! I'm going to be a dad!"
Suddenly, he stopped short, and spun around to face her, panic building in the back of his widening eyes. "We have to baby-proof the entire flat!"
Molly chuckled, "Sherlock–"
He seemed to not hear her as he dashed around surveilling the room. "I'll convert 221C into a laboratory to keep the chemicals and body parts away from the baby."
"Sherlock!"
"I'm sure that Mrs. Hudson won't mind. Of course, you'll have to stay home for the remainder of your pregnancy–"
"SHERLOCK!"
"What? Yes? Are you alright?"
"Yes, Sherlock, I'm fine," Molly said exasperatedly, "but you're getting too far ahead of yourself. I'm only two weeks pregnant, and I have no intention to stop working until the third trimester!"
"Even at two weeks… I still think you should stay home with me," he said, his eyes full of stubborn concern and pleading.
"Ugh," Molly sighed, looking at his irrepressibly desperate face, "Fine. I will ask Mike if I can have shorter shifts, but I am NOT going to give up work completely this early."
Sherlock smiled in proud triumph as Molly rolled her eyes.
He took her hand and dragged her onto the sofa, gently lifting her feet onto the coffee table.
"Do you need anything?" Sherlock asked her as he paused beside her.
"Maybe tea?" Molly replied as she visibly relaxed on the sofa.
Smiling, Sherlock nodded his head, "Okay, I'll put a kettle on."
A few minutes later, he emerged from the kitchen with two cups of tea. After dropping off one cup on the coffee table, and gently placing the other in Molly's hands, he walked to his desk and grabbed his computer. He carried it over to the sofa and sat down beside Molly. As she sat in a contemplative silence, savoring her tea, Sherlock typed and read with his eyes flying back and forth over the words on the page. After a few minutes, Sherlock began to speak with no warning.
"From week 1 to week 12 of your pregnancy, you will experience extreme fatigue, nausea with or without vomiting, cravings or distaste for certain foods, mood swings, headaches, and heartburn–"
"Sherlock," Molly interrupted, as he listed all the symptoms she was already experiencing, "I already know all of this, darling. I am a doctor, you know."
Without even looking up from his laptop, Sherlock responded, "Yes, you are, Molly, but you primarily work with dead people."
He did look up, however, at the offended stiffening and glare of the rather hormonal medical examiner.
Just as the tension reached a pitch, an annoyed but merry voice rang out from the doorway.
"Oh, Sherlock, you'd best say you're sorry right away!"
The tactless detective spun his head around in surprise to see Mary Watson watching them with an expression of amusement.
"How long have you been standing there?" he asked in a bothered tone, momentarily forgetting his own affront in his annoyance over being caught off-guard.
"Long enough to know you messed up, you daft pillock!" she replied as she walked in and hugged Molly, who had stood to greet her. The two women shared an empathetic smile, and then Mary sat Molly down before turning to Sherlock to say, "Now say you're sorry, you twat!"
The normally unapologetic detective was on his knees in an instant before his wife.
"Molly, I'm so sorry," he said, with unmistakably genuine regret in his voice.
Looking at his usually stoic face, contorted by pathos and contrition, Molly couldn't help but burst into laughter. Mary soon joined her, while Sherlock looked on in confusion.
"What's so funny?" he asked indignantly.
Gasping for air between bursts of laughter, Molly managed to say, "She– She called you a 'daft pillock!'"
She doubled over again into more laughter than ever, clutching her stomach in the hilarity.
Sherlock sat back on his ankles, sulking as the two women laughed at his expense.
"It's not that funny," he muttered grumpily.
Molly took pity on him and suppressed her chortles as she took his face in her hands. "Sherlock, look at me," she said, his dark eyes obediently rising to meet hers, "Stop pouting."
"I am not pouting!" he replied in high dudgeon.
"Yes, you are," Molly insisted, her eyebrows rising in warning, "now stop it."
Sherlock's gaze shifted away and down, and Molly bent down to plant a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. When she pulled away, his eyes were closed and his face wore a contented smile.
"That's better," Molly said.
Opening his eyes, Sherlock asked, "So you accept my apology?"
"Of course, Love," came the answer, accompanied by a tender kiss.
"Aww, you two are so cute together!" Mary cooed, making Molly jump, as she had nearly forgotten the other woman's presence. Sherlock, meanwhile, grumbled something about not being cute in the least, before muttering something only slightly more intelligible about tea and making a cuppa. As he rose and went into the kitchen, Molly began to quietly giggle again.
"Oh, no, Mary," she jokingly mocked, "I think you may have insulted his intellect!"
"Oh nooooo!" Mary replied, trying to muffle her laughter by stuffing a pillow into her face.
As her glittering eyes danced over the rim of the pillow, Molly regained her composure.
"Anyway, Mary… As you know, I'm pregnant, and, well," she smiled at her friend, "This baby will need godparents, and I think Sherlock will agree that there is no one else whom we would rather ask to be godparents than you and John.
"Yes, oh my word, yes!" Mary responded, the pillow back on her lap, and her eyes shining with emotion, "We'd be honored!"
"Thank you so much!" Molly replied, and the two women hugged, both of their eyes a bit wet with tears.
"Mary, let's call John to come over and celebrate," Molly said, receiving an agreeing nod in reply.
"Sherlock!" his wife called, as he promptly entered the room carrying a tea tray and four mugs, "John is–"
"I know," interrupted the preemptive detective, "Shall I order in?"
Molly nodded.
"Angelo's?" she asked, as she reclined on the sofa.
While Sherlock phoned Angelo's, Mary stepped into the stairwell to phone John. After he finished the order, Sherlock laid down on the sofa with Molly, resting his head on her lap.
"You okay?" he whispered.
"I'm fine, just tired is all," she replied as she ran her fingers through his messy hair. Sherlock closed his eyes and quietly hummed to himself, although the sound could be mistaken for purring. Molly smiled as she mentally compared him to a giant kitten.
Mary was still on the phone with John when she peeked her head back into the flat and saw them on the sofa.
"I know, he– John, I'm going to have to let you go. … Yes, everything's fine, I'll text you in a moment. Love you, too. Bye."
Mary hung up the phone, and took a picture of the contented couple on the couch. She texted the picture to John with the comment, "let's celebrate on another date, and let Mummy and Daddy Holmes rest. They're going to need it."
With that, Mary departed for her own husband and daughter, leaving the expecting couple sleeping on the couch.
A/N: I will be posting further chapters as they are finished
