Sherlock's Unnecessary Experiment
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
Prompt: Pen and paper.
It started with Sherlock asking Molly for a pen and paper. As she went to the kitchen to grab the notebook and pen he was using earlier in the day, she glanced at him. He was sitting quite still at her desk, staring at the clean surface.
She handed him the pen and paper, and he smiled at her before taking it and staring at it instead of the desk. For a few evenings after that, Molly caught Sherlock staring at the paper with the pen in his hand, poised as if he were going to write, but frozen instead. Sometimes it was at her desk, sometimes it was at his microscope in the kitchen, and once she found him lying on the couch, prepared to write but not moving.
She didn't ask him about it; Sherlock could occasionally get a little frumpy when he was bothered while in his Mind Palace. And after almost two weeks, Molly noticed the notebook and pen tucked away amongst some of the medical texts he pulled off the shelf.
One Month Later…
Molly noticed Sherlock acting odd again.
He started taking care of Toby. And it wasn't like he abhorred the cat; they got along well, especially after the loving feline was used to his new home in Baker Street. But Molly noticed one early morning as she was getting ready to leave for St. Bart's, Toby already had a half a bowl of cat food with a few of the kibbles on the floor as if he already ate, fresh water, and a small saucer with remnants of milk in it. Sherlock was already gone for the morning, working on a case with John for Lestrade. Molly only assumed that the cat had been bothering Sherlock while he was trying to work in his Mind Palace.
Four days of Sherlock feeding and even cleaning Toby's cat box had Molly curious. On the evening of the fourth day, after Molly was home from St. Bart's and was freshly showered and in her pajamas, she found Sherlock lying in his pajamas on the couch, his fingers pressed together.
"Can we cuddle?" Molly asked, standing over him. Sherlock grunted his assent and shifted his legs apart. Molly took the opportunity to lay with him on the couch, resting her head on his chest. Almost immediately, his hands were in her mostly dry hair, twirling the locks.
"You have a question?" he asked softly.
Molly giggled, nuzzling his chest. "I've just noticed that you've been feeding Toby in the mornings…"
"I'm already awake by then and he's insufferable when he's hungry."
Molly bit her lip, knowing full well that wasn't the entire truth. Just yesterday, Sherlock had been fast asleep beside her when she woke up in the morning, but Toby was already fed and cared for. Her husband had woken up before her to feed the cat and clean his cat box. If Molly didn't trust Sherlock with her precious Toby, she would have been worried that her cat was being experimented on.
Two Weeks Later…
"Okay. Keys, grocery list, wallet and purse…" Molly murmured to herself, checking to make sure she had everything she needed for her trip to Tesco. Confident that she was ready, she stepped out of her bedroom, ready for the day. She was wearing her ideal outfit for shopping in somewhat chilly weather; a comfortable pair of trainers, jeans, and a plain black jumper.
"Molly?"
"Yes Sherlock?" Molly asked, turning to the sitting room. Sherlock was sitting with his legs crossed in his chair, looking immaculate in his black trousers and button down.
"May I accompany you to Tesco?"
"Umm…sure? I'm just doing the shopping for a week. It won't be much fun."
Sherlock jumped to his feet, a small smirk donning his features. "Don't be silly Molly. Deducing people while they shop is more fun than sitting around here playing with Toby."
Two Months Later…
Doctor Molly Hooper Holmes was not a Consulting Detective, but she was very observant. With the aid of her own pen and paper, Molly began documenting Sherlock's odd behavior over the course of three months.
1. Cleaning and caring for Toby in the mornings before I leave for work.
2. Grocery shopping three weeks in a row, by himself!
3. Keeping the grocery lists.—Working on some sort of graph on his computer. Possibly compiling data
on what we typically shop for weekly?
4. Cleaned the flat AND has kept it clean.
5. Started cooking supper a few days a week.
6. THREW AWAY ALL THE EXPERIMENTS IN THE KITCHEN?!
It was only after the sixth item appeared on her list that she began to get worried. But she didn't know how to broach the subject with him, so she did the next best thing.
While at St. Bart's one day, she asked John to join her on her lunch break.
"John, I know I sound crazy, but hear me out, okay?"
John Watson stared at the rarely frazzled pathologist as she stared into her cuppa. "Is everything alright?"
"It's Sherlock."
John leaned forward, his brow creased in concern. "What's wrong?" He could only imagine all of the health issues that could plague the Consulting Detective who rarely went to the doctor. "Is he sick?"
"No, no." Molly shook her head, chewing on her bottom lip. John watched as she pulled a folded piece of paper out of her lab coat pocket and pushed it towards him. She couldn't look at him as she said, "I've just been noticing…odd behavior over the past three months…and I'm concerned."
"Odd behavior as in…?" John asked, taking the paper and unfolding it. Almost immediately after reading the list, he sighed, but had a huge grin on his face. "He's such an idiot."
"What? You know what this means?" Molly asked, finally looking him in the eye.
John slouched in his seat and couldn't help but sigh heavily. "I can promise you this is nothing bad." He shook the paper, before folding it and sliding it across the table. "But you need to ask him about it."
Molly's brow furrowed, and she had a distinct feeling that her husband's best friend knew more about her husband's behavior than what he was letting on. But she sighed. If Sherlock was safe and sane, and John wasn't really worried about him, then she shouldn't have to worry.
It was only two nights after her lunch with John that she found Sherlock pacing the length of the living room, his violin in playing position but his bow hanging limply at his side. "Sherlock?"
"Thinking!" he snapped, his eyes not meeting hers. Molly jumped back, not used to Sherlock's attitude. He wasn't normally this short with her, not since before they were married a year and a half ago.
"Okay…" she said, her voice cracking. She shook her head and then went straight to their bedroom. She deposited her bag and grabbed her pajamas. A hot shower was long overdue for the day.
When she was washing her hair, she heard the bathroom door open and close. As she was rinsing the shampoo out, the curtain pulled back slightly. "That was a bit not good," Sherlock murmured softly. Molly opened her eyes and looked at her husband. He was staring at her apologetically. "I apologize," he added.
"It's alright. You had a bit of a day, yeah?"
Sherlock huffed and nodded his head. "After your shower…can I—can we talk? I have something I wish to discuss with you."
"Of course. Give me a mo."
It took Molly only ten minutes to finish her shower and get dressed. Then she made her way to the couch, where she dropped down heavily. Sherlock was standing at the window, playing his violin absentmindedly, but when Molly sat down, he rested his violin and bow in his chair and made his way to Molly, picking up the familiar notebook and pen from her desk. He sat down beside her on the couch and took a deep breath, clutching the notebook in his hands.
Molly waited for him to speak.
"I've been doing an experiment. And I believe my hypothesis was proven correct, and I have the data here." He shoved the notebook in Molly's direction but he wouldn't meet her eyes. She took it wordlessly and watched his fingers as they tapped out rhythms on his knees. "I've been taking care of Toby without prompt in the mornings and evenings for three months now. I've proven that I am capable of cooking a few meals, and with a bit more practice and possibly a cookbook or two, I have deduced that I can be more than adequate in the kitchen. I can do the shopping. I have saved all of the grocery lists you've made and charted what brands of food you prefer to purchase. I do not conduct experiments in the flat anymore. I disposed of all the hazardous materials in the flat, properly, and Mrs. Hudson assisted me in scrubbing 221B from top to bottom, and I would like to add that I have kept it that way over the past few weeks. I've been practicing different methods of holding my temper, which is quite difficult when I have to work with Anderson all the time, but I've managed. I've saved almost fifteen thousand pounds, not including what I have of my trust fund that Mycroft keeps a tight hold of, which is more than enough money, I think. I've also researched proper child rearing techniques because I will not be like my father—"
Before Sherlock could say anything else, Molly launched across the couch and clamped her hand over his mouth. Her mind was reeling and she just needed a few seconds of silence to gather her thoughts. Sherlock's eyebrows shot up high in alarm, but he didn't try to say anything.
They stayed that way for several long moments before Molly finally said, "A-are you suggesting we—ummm—have a family? I mean, have a baby?"
"Yes." He tried to say; her hand was still clamped over his mouth.
"And you've done all these things to prove that you are a capable father?" She moved her hand to his cheek, gently caressing his skin with her thumb.
"Yes."
Tears clouded her vision as she said shakily, "And you thought that I had—have such little faith in you that you felt it was necessary to prove it to me?"
He clutched her hand to his face and whispered, "I'm not cut out to be a father, but I want to be, desperately."
"You idiot," she gasped, shaking her head. She wiped the tears from her eyes and then moved closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "Of course I want to have a baby with you. And you're perfect father material because you're already trying."
Sherlock exhaled heavily. Molly nuzzled her face against his neck. He dropped her hand, only to drag her into his lap and hold her tightly.
"Can we try right now?"
Molly couldn't help but giggle. "I have to stop taking my birth control before I can get pregnant."
"Well, we'll need plenty of practice having unprotected sex," Sherlock said firmly, before standing up, keeping Molly's body close to his own.
She laughed all the way to their bedroom.
Fin.
BB/N: Thank you for reading, leaving reviews, or adding this to your favorites! :)