This is a follow up to my last fanfic "The way the world moves" But there's really no need to read that before this.
John sat down by the table and watched while his sister poured the steaming hot tea in his cup and served him.
"Do you want lemon or sugar?" she asked and poured herself some before resettling the kettle on the table.
"It's fine." he answered and saw how she put two spoons in his cup anyway before she sat down before him. She rested her hands on the table and observed him with a thin smile.
"I've been sober for a year now." she said proudly and John's eyes widened.
"That's great!" he exclaimed and let out a relieved laugh. "That's... wonderful!" He reached over the table to take her hand but she suddenly pulled back and lowered her gaze to her cup, John frowned and his smile faded. "What's wrong? Has something happened?" Tears were falling down her cheeks but she was still smiling lovingly. "Harry?" She wiped them quickly and sniffled.
"How's life?" she asked suddenly and reached for his hand like her mood had turned. "Is everything fine between you and Sherlock?" John didn't understand, he gave her a slight nod and took a deep breath as he squeezed her hand.
"Yes, everything's fine. But... has something happened?" She let out a quiet sob, but she was still smiling at him, her eyes had gone darker. "Please tell me!" A rock had landed in his belly, and it grew heavier for each second that Harry was quiet. "Harry?" She pressed a cold hand to her lips and sniffled again.
"I'm sorry." she moaned and took a deep breath to calm herself. Something was clearly wrong, and not just anything; something was about to happen, John could tell. Once again she wiped her tears and made herself prepared to break the news.
"I'm sick." she said hoarsely and John frowned.
"What do you mean sick? Is there something I can do?" She let out a restrained laugh behind her tears and shook her head.
"No, John. Not this time." He didn't understand, she breathed again. "I have a tumour." The heavy rock got heavier and he shook his head in disbelief. "It's inoperable."
"Of course it isn't..." he said but was soon interrupted.
"Please John!" she begged him and he bit his lip so he would cry in panic, he swallowed the sobs that wanted to tore through his throat. "It over for me." John let out a shaking breath and shook his head, grasped her hand with both his and leaned close over the table, he opened his mouth to speak but his sister let out a sad giggle. "Don't worry, I have, maybe, two years left."
"But there must be something... I mean... "
"There isn't." she said calmly and John gritted his teeth and stared into the wooden table.
"Oh god!" he groaned and pressed a cold hand over his eyes as the tears started to flow. Harry was dear to him, even if they had their differences, she was the closes family he had. The fact that she would die in such a short time was the hardest knew he had ever been given.
"But John..." she whispered and placed a hand on his head. "John, listen to me." He groaned loudly and looked at him again. "I have a proposition." Her tears were gone, she now seemed eager and joyful, like her death sentence didn't bother her at all.
"What do you mean?" he asked with a sob and reached for the napkin under the cup. She giggled and took both of his hands.
"I know how much you want a child..." The words silenced his sobbing and he stopped breathing. "I have one last wish before I die."
"What are you talking about?" he asked and shook his head.
"I wish to help you." she said happily. "I want to help you and Sherlock conceive a child." John closed his eyes hard and shook his head.
"No, no, I can't ask that of you." he sobbed but Harry held both his hands tightly.
"You're not asking me, I'm asking you." she said. "I don't have long, but I have enough time to feel the miracle of creating life and... I really want to do that for you. You and Sherlock will be great fathers." John bit his lips, he couldn't look at his sister, if he did he knew that his sobbing would be out of control. "Please John, let me do this for you."
It had never been so hard to walk up the stairs to the flat, every step seemed higher somehow, his shoes felt heavier. Not a sound was heard from any of the rooms and he looked around in the mess of papers and beakers to find Sherlock by his desk, eyes concentrated into the microscope.
"I said, would you be so kind and bring me my note book?" Even it he heard the question he couldn't answer him, not a sound would leave his mouth. The silence made the detective lift his head and see John standing in the doorway, arms by his sides and eyes empty. "John?" Then John did something unexpected, he raised his hands to his face and an awful sob slipped over his lips, Sherlock nearly panicked by the sight, he had never seen him do anything like this. The experiment before him was suddenly unimportant and he tossed himself across the room to get to John as quick as he could. He embraced him and John pinned himself to his shirt, hiding his face into the crock of his neck wile crying. "What happened?" he asked and cradled his head. There was a long moment in silence except Johns awful sobbing. Sherlock just held him close, trying to read him but he wasn't familiar with human emotions. He knew that he had been at his sister's because he had told him, he could smell tea, Harry's perfume and sorted out that they had been holding each other, just like they were now. John's face was swollen, he had cried earlier so he had been sad for a long time now, but what was the cause of it all? "Something's wrong with Harry." he eventually guessed and John hiccuped by the crying.
"Yes." he sobbed and nodded, he could't talk in long sentences so he would gladly let Sherlock dig his way to the problem.
"Is she sick?" Sherlock continued and he nodded again. Then there was another long moment of silence and the detective didn't want to ask his last question but he had to, even if he knew what the answer would be. "Is she dying?" His husband fell apart in his arms in crying and Sherlock held him tightly, rocking him back and forth. "I'm so sorry." There were many times that he had used that sentence as a lie, but not this time. Seeing his beloved suffer that much truly pained him, he wanted to help but what could he do? All that came mind was this, just holding him, stroking his back, be there for him. "How long does the have?" John took a breath deep enough to hurt his lungs and the smell of Sherlock started to calm him. The cab ride here had been awful, sitting in the back, holding himself sane from crashing down in tears, he was so glad to be home.
"Two years." he stammered and sniffled, the sobbing started to fade away. "If she's lucky. It's a brain tumour, it will grow until it's to big and then... " He silenced himself and bit his bottom lip hard enough to taste blood. The detective sensed that there was more, there was something else so far away from sorrow, he could tell by John's sudden stop of crying that he had something important to tell him. "I need to ask you something."
"I know." he said calmly. "Ask me." John closed his eyes and smiled to the crock of his neck. Was his husband so smart that he'd already figured it out.
"Do you know what it is?" he asked and lifted his head to wipe his own tears. Sherlock eased the pressure of his hug and looked down on him.
"I have no idea." he said and shook his head. "Please, tell me." The doctor sniffled and without thinking he started to straighten his husbands clothes.
"Harry has a final wish." he started and saw how he lost Sherlock with just those words.
"Is there something we can do?" he asked and tilted his head to the side, still holding John closely so he could fell every heartbeat from him, but John shook his head.
"No, it's the other way around." Sherlock didn't understand. "There's something she wants to do for us." Sherlock swallowed hard and cleared his throat shortly after, he started to scramble all the pieces of informations to understand what John meant but he was lost. "Do you remember our first real date?" Now he was definitely lost.
"Sorry." he said. "Are we talking about something else now?" John closed his eyes hard and shook his head again.
"No, this is important. Do you remember what you asked me when we left Angelo's?" Of course he did, he remembered everything. And suddenly, pieces started to fall into place. "It's time to start speculating for real." His stomach turned and he didn't know how to react to these news. Harry wanted to be their surrogate-mother. John saw how Sherlock disappeared into his pondering, staring into nothingness with blue-green eyes. "I know that this comes as a chock but... " Sherlock's pondering was done.
"Let's do it." he said and John froze in his arms.
"No, Sherlock. You can't just come to conclusion like that. This is a huge decision!" But the detective's mind had already sorted everything out.
"It's perfect!" he shouted happily and released John to walk around the room as he always did when he had solved something. "This is our only chance to conceive a child related to us both, I'll be the father and your sister can carry the child. When he's born he will be the perfect mix between us both! Oh! This is brilliant! Fantastic! Oh John!" he laughed. "This is perfect!" He spun around on the carpet and saw all this like a marvellous experiment and opportunity. A child would be conceived and brought into the world and both his fathers would be genetically related to it. "Oh this will be so much fun!" He turned to his husband to embrace him again when he saw how the doctor's eyes had turned many shades darker and he quickly regretted his words. He bit his lips and shook his head. "I am so sorry." he whispered and curled his hands into fists. "I am... oh my goodness..." He turned his back to John and pulled his hair by the roots.
There were many times that John had been able to look past Sherlock's unsympathetic outbursts, but this time it was impossible.
"How can you be so cold sometimes?" he asked him, his voice had gone lower by the awful anger tearing him apart from the inside. "How can someone like you who is so intelligent, be so bloody ignorant?" It was hard for John not to hate himself, but he knew that Sherlock was right about some of the things. This way, their child would be related to them both. Sherlock could be the father. But he was wrong about that this was brilliant. Fantastic. Fun.
"I'm so sorry John." Sherlock whispered and turned at his husband who had sunken in his position, still tensed with every limb hurting and hand curled up until his nails dug into his palms, Sherlock knew one thing that could. help. "Do you want to punch me?" John smirked, almost evil and lifted his head.
"Oh, I would love to right now." he growled and bit down hard. Sherlock understood him perfectly and leaned forward a bit, he deserved ti be beat up this time.
"I'll let you." he said and closed his eyes hard, the next second he heard John walking over the room and he made himself prepared for a punch, but John embraced him and placed a deep kiss upon his lips. This was not what he had expected and his eyes flew open to make sure that this really happened. John ended the kiss and buried his face into his neck again.
"You might be a real git sometimes, but I would never beat you." he sighed.
"I don't understand..." Sherlock stammered, quite chocked by the sudden turn in John's temperament. "You're not mad?"
"Oh, I am furious." John said sharply. "But you just said yes to having a baby. I can't stay mad at you for long after agreeing to something like that. I might just be able to look past this." This was confusing. Sherlock cleared his throat and wound his arms around him. "But you do know what this means, right. It's not something you can just say yes to and then regret in the future. If this succeeds, our child isn't an experiment."
"I know." Sherlock said. It felt like a lie but he hoped it wasn't, he wanted a child with John, but he couldn't imagine himself as a father. He was a horrible people person, and that was the reason to why he didn't have many friends. But his love for John would make him do anything for him, and John wanted a child and he wanted it with him. How could he ever say no to that? "Let's do it."
Harry didn't need more than one donation from Sherlock to get pregnant. Two weeks after the decision was made the test came back positive and that's when the Sherlock started to panic. What had he agreed to, really? Nine month from now they would bring home a little boy or a girl to Baker Street and Sherlock felt lightheaded when John had told him. How the hell would he, the sociopath, take care of a child? He could hardly take care of himself. But, it was to late to stop it now, he was stuck. He decided to keep this secret from his husband and tried to mirror his emotions on a level that seemed most "sociopathic" to keep John in the dark of his fears. He tried not to think about it to much, after all, nothing would happen for nine month. But his try to stay out of the subject was impossible, after all, furnitures needed to be bought, the flat needed to be childproofed, John's old bedroom needed to be renovated. And mrs Hudson just wouldn't shut up about it! Why did they tell her so early?
Even if he never said it to John, he was relieved that Harry didn't live with them. There had been talk about it and Sherlock had just been sitting there, digging his nails into his thighs when John offered the top room to her, mentally screaming. But luckily enough, Harry was going to spend her last days with her girlfriend Clara. John told her to at lest quit her job, that they would pay anything, it was the least they could do for her. Now Sherlock didn't need to worry about being disturbed by a lesser mind in the middle of experimenting and thinking, he never told John that either.
They visited her, time to time, and she visited them. Just tea and biscuits, sometimes dinners. Every time they met John always found it hard to handle the situation. He tried to be as happy as he could when they met, for her sake, he didn't want her to spend her last months with a depressed brother. He liked to visit her alone more than visiting her with Sherlock. The environment was always a little more positive without him around since his husband easily got annoyed by Harry for her lesser mind, he never told Sherlock that, luckily enough, Harry was to "stupid" to understand when Sherlock did that to her. Maybe it was for the best. At lest Sherlock did something for her he didn't do for many others, he tried to be nice.
I hope you enjoyed this. Please leave a review, they make me happy. Next chapter will be up soon.