Well. It would appear that I may have two universes going now. GO ME! *head on desk a-la Greg Lestrade in "Many Happy Returns"* This one is based around Lestrolly/Mollstrade, whichever the preferred name for the ship is. As with Eurstrade, I will strive to make the stories within the universe consistent as far as continuity, etc, but there will probably be a few mistakes at some point. As there will likely not be the huge time span that Eurstrade has, it will probably be a lot easier for me to keep track!
"Tick tock tick tock tick tock…"
Sherlock recited the annoying words like an irritating younger sibling until Greg stopped and leveled a glare at him.
The two men had just left Molly's lab after dropping in on her for a case they were close to wrapping up, Sherlock having left them alone to give them a few moments of privacy before he and Greg were on their way.
"What are you on about?" Greg finally said, mildly annoyed.
"That's the sound of your wife's biological clock, Gregory. It's tick tocking away…" Sherlock said. "Tick tock tick tock," he whispered, turning to start walking.
Lestrade sighed, mentally counting to ten. "What exactly does Molly's biological clock have to do with you, or anything for that matter?"
"Well… it's just that you've been together for nearly two years and married for eleven months. She's not getting any younger you know. If you could observe your way out of a paper bag you would have noticed how she is with Rosie. Clearly she would like to have one of her own."
"Oh. Clearly, hey? Are you bloody insane?" Greg said, rolling his eyes. "No, wait. You're not insane, I forgot. You're a high functioning sociopath. My mistake."
"Well, you have been listening then, I'm mildly impressed, Lestrade." Sherlock grinned at him. "Anyway, we're to meet John at Baker Street with our findings, he should be home from the clinic shortly before we arrive. By the way, I have also noticed how you are with Rosie. You're a natural with children, I'm surprised you haven't had any of your own yet at your age."
"What the hell does my age have to do with anything?" Greg was swiftly surpassing mildly annoyed. Sherlock grinned inwardly.
"Well, it's just that once a man reaches a certain age, his phisiology…" Sherlock prodded.
"Oh, BOLLOCKS, there is nothing wrong with my... phisiology as you so delicately put it." Greg threw his hands up in surrender to his growing annoyance at Sherlock's persistent prodding of personal matters. "I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you… no, wait, I'm NOT having this conversation with you. Not NOW, not EVER!" Greg hated how Sherlock knew exactly which buttons to push. Admittedly, Greg could push Sherlock's buttons too, but usually when he did, he was only trying to find the "mute".
Sherlock seemed to ignore the effect he was having on Greg's patience. "Well, you must admit, Greg, the pitter patter of little Lestrade feet would be rather pleasant, wouldn't it? Someone to carry on your name, your genes, Molly's genes… what a shame it would be if such a handsome couple were to end their genealogical line with your generation. What a lovely, beautiful girl, or a strapping, handsome lad..."
Greg stopped walking again, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. "Why are you so determined that Molly and I should have a baby? There's nothing in it for you, you have no vested interest in it, other than maybe nappy duty now and then, and that's certainly nothing to strive for." Greg paused a moment, then spoke again, his tone more than a little bit suspicious. "Has she said something to you?"
Sherlock paused, gazing up at the stars, thinking. Finally, he turned his face down to look at his friend. "Not said, exactly," he replied. "But equally important, how do YOU feel about it?"
"Oh, you're worried about how I feel about all this all of a sudden? How bloody noble," Greg chuckled humourlessly. Taking a deep breath, reminding himself to take much of what Sherlock said while considering the source, and that as a rule, Sherlock truly meant well. "I think having a family with Molly would be lovely. More than lovely, in fact. With Jill, it was never the right time so we kept putting it off. Finally, she was going through the change, and that was all she wrote. Never figured on having a second chance at that. Guess I've just been adjusting to being happy with someone who understands my crazy life and loves me in spite of it."
Sherlock smiled. Now they were getting somewhere.
"She more than understands it, Greg. She lives it herself. That's why you're so compatible. You're not like me," he said. "I'm clever, but you're wise. I'm self-absorbed, you're not. You would have a lot to offer to a child. So would Molly, it's easy enough to see in Rosie. I live with the little one, I definitely see Molly's influence in her."
Greg thought about that. Sherlock had a point, there was no denying that, but there was just something about his friend's persistence that was bothering him. Not in an annoying way, but rather, in a way that was telling him that he needed to look further into this, because there was more to it than what met the eye.
Sherlock's phone pinged, pulling both men out of their thoughts. Checking his texts, Sherlock said, "Well, John is running late. Said we might as well wait at St. Bart's, he'll stop by before he heads home to save you time."
Greg nodded. They hadn't gotten far anyway, they'd mostly stopped and started, not really having gotten more than a few hundred yards past the main entrance.
The two men walked slowly in silence, Greg deep in thought that was quickly turning wistful, and Sherlock, as usual, busy on his phone.
You can tell him now. SH
Tell who what? MH-L
Tell Grant. SH
It's GREG, and tell my husband about what? MH-L
YOU know. Pitter patter pitter patter. SH
What are you talking about? MH-L
Don't be daft. You're a doctor. SH
OMFG. MH-L
Pee on a stick or something. You'll see I'm right. SH
How could you possibly know that? MH-L
I'm Sherlock Holmes. Congratulations Molly. =D SH