It's Christmas.
John and Sherlock have new rings on their fingers and wedding pictures on their mantle of John beaming in a tux and Sherlock looking slightly less annoyed than usual. Jack's hair has grown long enough that it's curling again, making her look like a poodle. Alex is pretty sure his kind of girlfriend, Keely, is pregnant with his kid.
'Tis the season.
"You what?" Jack screeches. Alex broke the news in 221B, and in hindsight, that was a bad idea. Jack is loud enough to distract Sherlock from the skin flaps he's examining in the kitchen, and John comes running out of the bedroom with just a towel around his waist, hair still wet from the shower.
"What happened?" he demands, looking between them. "I heard someone yell-is no one hurt?"
"No one is hurt yet," Jack says menacingly, and then wraps her hands around Alex's neck and pretends to choke him as she shakes him back and forth. "What were you thinking, Alex? I raised you better than this!"
Alex gently pries her hands off his neck. "Okay, I'm twenty years old, and you're not my mother. And we used a condom. I don't know what happened."
"Condoms only work eighty-six percent of the time!" Jack's voice is high enough to split eardrums. Alex winces. If he'd known she'd react this poorly, he wouldn't have told her.
John looks between the two of them slowly. "Hang on," he says, holding up a hand to stop them, the other securing his towel around his waist, "Am I hearing this right? Did you get someone pregnant? Is that what happened?"
Alex rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. "There was definitely a positive pregnancy test in her bathroom, conveniently left out for me to see this morning after-you know."
John stares at him. Jack has her hands on her hips, shaking her head back and forth. In the kitchen, Sherlock says, deadpan, "I always wanted grandchildren."
Jack sputters indignantly for a moment before turning on her heel and storming out of the room. Alex looks at John and tries not to laugh when he says, "I work in a gay bar and I'm a full time student. I'm really not ready for fatherhood."
John leaves the room without another word, so Alex goes to sit at the table with Sherlock, carefully avoiding looking at the layers of flesh on the table. Then he sits quietly and waits for Sherlock to look up.
Sherlock has that signature smirk on his mouth when they make eye contact. "Really, Alex, getting a girl pregnant? How heterosexual of you."
"Sorry, Dad," Alex says sarcastically, "I know you wanted me to follow in your footsteps, but this is who I am, and you need to accept that."
Sherlock looks inexplicably fond of him, for a man who supposedly has no soul. "Do you want to be a father?" he asks, in a moment of rare empathy.
Alex shrugs, looking past Sherlock at the cabinets. "I don't think I'm fit to be one," he admits, voice low. "I don't have any experience raising a kid."
"Neither did I when John and I had you," Sherlock quips, "and look how well you turned out."
Alex snorts, but the joke falls a little flat between them. "What do you think I should do?"
"Flee the country and change your name so the mother has no chance of tracking you down," Sherlock replies immediately, and then, gentler, serious, "If you want to be part of the child's life, then you should be. And if you don't, then let the mother know now, and pay your child support."
Alex squints at him. "I've only been seeing her for a few weeks, we're not serious. I'm not ready to marry her."
"Then don't," Sherlock replies, rolling his eyes. "I have no interested in attending another wedding, I've been to so many this year."
"You've been to one," Alex reminds him, feeling himself smile, "and it was your wedding."
Sherlock waves him off, and Alex goes, laughing.
Alex knows it's serious when his phone rings and it's Sabina, because they mostly converse by email these days to save the long distance call fees. He almost doesn't answer, because he knows the barrage that's coming, but then he sighs, because it's Sabina, so he has to answer.
"We used a condom," he says as soon as he picks up the phone, before Sabina can get a word in. Not that it matters. She steamrolls right over him.
"I heard you're being a dumbass," she says, and then, after registering what he said, adds, "Next time, use two condoms."
Alex rolls his eyes and surreptitiously checks his watch. He's got fifteen minutes before his next class. "I don't think that's how condoms work, but okay."
She sounds choked up when she says, "I'm gonna be the godmother, right?"
"No," Alex says flatly, and hangs up the phone before she can reply.
Later, he gets an email from her, the text in all caps. ALEXANDER JOHN RIDER. That's it. Nothing else.
Alex sends back, Of course you're going to be the godmother, dumbass, and Sabina's reply is a string of sparkling heart emojis.
He goes to Nina for advice, since she's only one with any actual children or child rearing experience, and Wolf intercedes him at the front door, Alex about to knock and Wolf on his way out. They stop, stare at each other, and finally, after a long moment, Wolf says in his gruff voice, "Heard you knocked a girl up."
He says it like it embarasses him, and Alex grins at him with all his teeth. "Seemed to work pretty well for you."
Wolf squints at him like he can't tell if Alex is being sarcastic or not, and then he says, "You should have used protection," before walking away. Alex watches him for a minute, and then he goes inside and their son, Geoffrey, is screaming and running around in just his underwear with marker all over him, and Nina is crying with her head down on the kitchen table.
"Um," Alex says, looking back over his shoulder like Wolf is going to come back and fix everything, "is, uh, everything okay?"
Nina's shoulders shake with the force of her tears, and when she looks up, she warbles out something that sounds suspiciously like, "You should have used protection!" and Alex heaves an exasperated sigh.
"I did!" he exclaims, and then, "Why isn't Wolf helping you? Why is Geoffrey naked?"
This only serves to make Nina cry harder, and Alex slowly backs out the door and tracks Wolf down to send him home despite the older man's protests that he was not, in fact, running away because his wife was crying and his child was throwing a fit.
For all the adults Alex spends his time with, it sure feels like he's the only responsible one.
Yassen is the worst.
Alex comes home from class exhausted and planning on napping for an hour before work, and finds Yassen in his bedroom, setting up a crib.
Alex blinks. "How the hell did you find out?" he demands. "Who told you?"
Yassen spares him a brief glance. "Will Miss Starbright continue living in your guest room after the baby is born, or do you plan on converting it into a nursery?"
"I used protection!" Alex shouts, and storms out of the room. "If anyone even cares! I used protection!"
He's at Scotland Yard to collect Sherlock, because they're supposed to be getting lunch but Sherlock was delayed in the morgue, when Lestrade stops him at the front desk on his way out.
"I heard congratulations are in order," he says, and from anyone else-Sally or Anderson-it would have been smirking and sarcastic, but Lestrade is smiling genuinely, looking like a proud grandfather. "If you ever need advice or help, the wife is an expert."
He's whistling on his way out.
Alex calls Keely on his way home from the bar, which is honestly crossing into booty call territory, so of course Keely picks up on the first ring.
"Hey!" she greets warmly. "How's it going, handsome?"
She's got a high, chirpy voice, and Alex would be annoyed by it if it were anyone else but something about Keely makes it more bearable. Probaby her long legs and perky tits, if he's being honest, but there's something to be said for her easy going personality and quick wit.
"Hey." Alex always feels a little out of his depth when they talk, because Keely is effortlessly sexy and honestly, the last time he tried to date anyone was Sabina, when he was fourteen. He's hooked up with a few girls, but that's easy; girls who are just looking to hook up just want him to compliment them, buy them drinks, and go down on them in bar bathrooms. With Keely, Alex actually has to put in effort, and apparently he's not as suave now as he was when he was seducing Sabina at fourteen (which is a little nausea-inducing to recall now that she's legally his sister).
"I was hoping we could meet," Alex says, "I really want to talk to you."
"My door's always open," Keely replies, and he can hear the smile in her voice. "I'm not there right now, but you can head up, you know where the spare key is. I'll be there in like twenty minutes."
So Alex lets himself into her apartment and shuffles through the kitchenette and living room, past her roommate, who always looks at Alex like she's hoping he'll just drop dead right in front of her eyes, and he makes himself comfortable on Keely's bed. Well, comfortable is a relative term; Alex sits stiff as a board at the foot of Keely's bed and feels entirely out of place amid the pink walls and pink comforter in his usual work attire of snug black jeans and a black v-neck.
Keely gets back twenty minutes later, which is thirty minutes later than she said she'd be, and she breezes in with her blonde hair in a messy ponytail, wearing little black athletic shorts and a form fitting Manchester United t-shirt.
"Hey," she says, beaming, and swoops in to kiss Alex, a slow, easy kiss. It's a little embarrassing how distracted he gets by it, caught up in her curves and the sweet taste of her lips as she climbs into his lap and starts fumbling with his fly. Sometimes they go on dates or just watch movies and they don't fool around, but more often it's like this, where Keely just eases into it with little to no preamble. She doesn't like to beat around the bush, and Alex is more than happy to accommodate her.
Well. Most of the time.
Keely is wet under his fingers and naked where she hovers above him, Alex down to his boxers with her hand inside them, when she pants, "You got something?" and Alex stills because no, he does not have a condom with him, and also, that reminds him of why he's here in the first place.
She has to be some kind of sex witch. That is the only logical explanation for why Alex stops thinking with his head and starts thinking with his dick every time they're in the same room.
"Hey," he says, tangling his wet fingers in her hair, "Hey, hey. I actually did have something to talk to you about."
Keely laughs breathlessly and whispers, "Right now?" and swivels her hips where she's ready and open above him to make her point.
Alex groans. "Yes," he sighs, and takes her by the swell of her hips to set her down on the bed next to him. She looks uncomfortable but still amused, and she gathers her sheets up around her breasts to look down at him when he flops down on his back.
"What's up?" she asks, running her fingers through his hair, and Alex decides to just get it over with.
He blurts out, "I saw the pregnancy test on your counter last week," and wonders genuinely if there is a disconnect in his brain because there is no reason he should be this fucking ridiculous around Keely.
Keely pauses, the smile freezing on her face, and then she clutches the sheet a little tighter around her chest.
"Okay," she says, a nervous laugh threading into her voice, "This is the part where I say you weren't supposed to see that, but, uh, you were. I didn't know how to tell you so I just left it out. I thought I'd scared you off! You haven't called me since you saw it."
"I had to think about it," Alex says, reasonably, and then because he feels like it needs to be restated, "We did use a condom."
Keely snorts. By all means, it shouldn't be sexy, but Keely finds a way.
"Yeah, but I've been off the pill for a while because it's caused emotional issues for me, and condoms aren't one hundred percent effective." She's smiling a little when she says, "You said you had to think about it. What are you thinking?"
"That I'm way too young to be a father," Alex replies, which makes her laugh. "But I want to be here for the baby. I know we're not serious right now, but a baby changes things for us, right?"
Keely blinks. Then, still with that amused quirk to her lips, "Alex, you're sweet, but I'm not even sure you're the father." Like this isn't hard enough to process on its own, she tosses her hair over the shoulder and adds, "Besides, I'm only twenty-two. I'm not even ready to be a mum, much less get married or whatever you're thinking."
Alex stares at her. "I might not be the father?"
Keely laughs. "Alex, you said yourself we're not serious. You're not the only boy I'm seeing right now."
"I'm not the father?" Alex repeats, because it's really all he can focus on right now. Keely raises her brow and smiles patiently.
"I'm not sure yet, Alex," she laughs. "I'm going in on Tuesday to find out how far along I am and we're going to talk about a paternity test while I'm there. You're welcome to come if you like."
Alex thinks about it, and while part of him is ready to be relieved that it's not his kid and walk away right now, the other part says that if it is his kid, he'd regret not being there for this. So he says, "Okay, I'll come," and then Keely kisses him and says, "We were in the middle of something, weren't we?" and they end up stealing a condom from her roommate.
Alex shows up at the hospital on Tuesday and finds Keely in the waiting room, watching two men fight on the other side of the room. He slides into the seat beside her and before he can greet her, she says flatly, "If you go over there and join that shouting match right now, I will send all of you home and never tell you who the father is."
Then, louder, specifically for the two men to hear her, she yells, "Come on, boys, put your dicks away-that's why we're in this mess to begin with!"
Alex stares at them as they both blush. "They're the other-others?"
So smooth, Alex. Other others. Keely seriously turns his brain to mush.
But she just smiles patiently and says, "Mickey and Josh. Josh is my ex, who I stopped seeing shortly before I met you, and Mickey's in my history class. I thought I should round out all my bases." She leans closer and whispers, "You're my favorite," before the two men sit on her other side and glare across her at Alex.
Not that they're exactly competition, but they kind of are, and Alex didn't even know he was competing until three days ago.
A nurse ushers the four of them into a back room to wait on the doctor, a distinctive smirk curling on her lips as she counts the number of guys with Keely. No one else seems to notice her amusement; Josh and Mickey continue to bicker, although they seem to have ganged up on Alex as their common enemy, and Alex lets Keely slide her hand into his and whisper things like "I hope it's yours," even though he hopes it's not his, because his family is a huge mess without adding a baby and the baby's sex witch mom.
Not that Keely being a sex witch is really a problem. Well, not for anyone except Alex, at least. And Josh and Mickey, apparently.
Finally, the doctor comes in. He's an older gentleman with white hair and a bushy mustache, and he snaps his gloves obnoxiously against his wrists and jokes, "My, so many fathers in one room. It's just like that new movie! Bridget Jones, wasn't it?"
Keely laughs and says, "It should have been Patrick Dempsey, Bridget was robbed!"
The reference goes over Alex's head, and the other two men are too busy glaring at the room at large to pay attention.
So the doctor does his scanning and the ultra sound and some more complicated doctor-looking things that Alex has never seen before, and then the doctor looks at Keely and says with a smile, "Seven weeks sound about right to you?"
Keely blinks. Alex does the mental math, and then fist pumps the air. "It's not mine," he says, deadpan, relieved. He and Keely have only been screwing around for six weeks. "Thank fuck."
"Oh," one of the others-Mickey or Josh, Alex isn't sure-says, relaxing. "Dude, congrats."
He offers his fist and Alex bumps it, then stands, and lazily salutes Keely. "Thanks for the scare," he says, "and all the sex, which was cool. But I'm out."
"That's fair," Keely says, nodding, but Alex is already out the door.
In Alex's flat that night, Jack sets dinner out on the table, and in a rare moment of quiet, John and Sherlock come to eat, Sherlock drumming his fingers and antsy without a case, John complaining about the new Head Nurse at the hospital, and how her attitude and arrogance is causing technical errors in the general practitioners' offices.
"I don't know, Alex," Jack says, ruffling his hair as she takes a seat next to him, "I'm a little sad we're not going to have a baby running around underfoot."
Alex glares at her. "Bollocks," he accuses. "You were overjoyed when you got the news."
"I, for one," John pipes in, "am very glad we're not going to be having an infant to care for. Alex is so much work as is, we really can't take on another child."
"Fuck off," Alex laughs, and Sherlock stops poking at the lasagna on his plate long enough to say, "I wanted a grandchild," and then everyone is laughing.
Alex has a stupidly warm feeling in his stomach, all affectionate and soft, as he surveys his family around him at the table. He considers all his family that aren't here, too, Sabina nine hours behind them in the States, Lestrade probably staying late at the office, Wolf and Nina settling in with Geoffrey for the night, Yassen somewhere in the world exacting his own kind of justice, all of them concerned for Alex and the child they'd thought was his. Even Mary is probably rolling over in her grave, everyone exhaling this collective sigh of when you're ready for kids, so are we.
He never thought he could have this after everything MI6 took from him. He never thought he could be this happy again.
A family. A home. Aren't they the same thing by now?
AN: The very last installment. I bet you never thought I'd actually finish it, much less so soon after the most recent installment.
But. Y'all. I think I posted the first installment of this in early 2015 and it's almost 2018. That's almost three years of my life dedicated to this weird little crossover. Let me just say, as much as you never thought I'd finish it, oh boy neither fucking did I.
All of the titles were from various poems by Warsan Shire, my favorite poet, and you should definitely look her up and discover that all of the titles that seem happy and carefree really are not ("you can't make homes out of human beings, someone should have already told you that"). The entire series was dedicated to Terri (emptythoughts on FF), and me finally finishing it is basically her early Christmas present.
This being said, while the series is over, the verse is not! While I no longer have any full-length fics planned, I do have some ideas for a compilation of small ficlets in non-chronological order that would take place during the course of the series and after, and I may also have some "What If?" aus planned where certain things never happened, or events occurred differently than they did in this timeline (ie, a version where Alex found Moriarty instead of Sherlock, if I can ever find the right tone for it). So, be on the lookout!
I can't thank you guys enough for reading this and sticking with me for this long. You made all of it worth it (: