It's a bit of a Shorty today. Sorry for the wait: I am terribly busy with school…! Forgive me, and please review. Perhaps they will give me inspiration and time :) Happy reading!
It didn't take long for Lestrade to understand something was amiss. Sheryl and John hadn't showed up at the Yard for a good month now, and Lestrade's texts were never answered. So when his shift had ended one day, he lifted his coat from the peg and hailed a cab to 221B.
Mrs. Hudson opened the door for him and greeted him like a long-lost son. Lestrade smiled; only Mrs. Hudson could make a man feel welcome. He wasn't so sure about Sheryl though. He climbed the stairs and opened the door towards the living room. John was reading a newspaper, Sheryl was typing away on her laptop.
Lestrade coughed and John smiled up at him. "Hi, Greg! Good to see you. Want a cuppa?"
The DI nodded and sat down in the spare chair. He looked at Sheryl intently; his gaze gliding over her body. Sheryl looked up and her eyes met his immediately. She narrowed her eyes as if to say what are you looking at? Greg smiled bravely and asked her seriously: "are you okay?"
"Yep, sure, never been better, have I John?" she coldly answered. John who was busy in the kitchen didn't answer, but only threw her a worried look, which didn't get lost on the DI.
"Is that true? You haven't been at the Yard for over four weeks, Sheryl. Even Anderson starts missing you, sort of."
Sheryl sniggered and turned back to her laptop. "Well, I have some other things on my mind right now."
The DI lifted an eyebrow and looked at John who handed him the cup of tea silently. Suddenly Sheryl closed the lid of the laptop violently and almost ran towards her bedroom. With a worried look in his eyes the DI glanced at John. John sighed and took a gulp from his tea. He then put down the cup in the saucer and looked at the DI.
"She's not okay, I'm afraid," the blogger said sadly.
The DI rolled his eyes. "I figured that one out, yes. What's wrong with her?"
The doctor answered: "Sheryl and I went to a party, a murderer was supposed to be there too. We had a great time, until Sheryl decided to go after the gang on her own. I went home, and waited for her to return. She even texted me she was fine. But when she came back she looked ravished and went for a shower immediately. Two weeks ago, her brother pointed it out to m: Sheryl has been raped and is pregnant now."
The DI gulped for air, making a choking sound. John swallowed hard. "I know, Greg. It's horrible." John suddenly looked lost and his shoulders lowered under the feeling of guilt.
The DI got to his feet and asked: "is it okay if I check on her?"
John nodded. "Somehow she doesn't listen to me. She hardly eats, hardly sleeps… she's just lying there all day. We really need her on a case to divert her thoughts. Hopefully you can help us out here."
The silver-haired DI nodded and walked towards Sheryl's bedroom. He softly knocked on her door and swung it silently open when he didn't receive an answer. He closed the door behind him, blocking out the world.
"Sheryl?" the DI asked the darkness. The curtains were drawn closely shut, not a single light-ray penetrated inside the room.
She didn't answer him, so the DI groped towards the bed, and sat down on it. He felt her body warmth and smiled. "John told you, didn't he?" she suddenly asked.
The DI nodded, realised she couldn't she see that, and answered hesitantly: "yes he did."
It was quiet for some time.
"Do you want to keep it?" he asked at last.
"Abortion isn't an option. From what I have read on the internet it's quite traumatizing. I can't keep a baby in this flat, not with my job and the experiments and such."
"Are you considering adoption then?" he suggested.
She didn't answer in words, but he felt her nodding.
"Sheryl? I have some cases I really need your help on. Would you care to help me? Perhaps it's a good way to adjust to this… news."
"It could be dangerous. I don't think I can focus enough."
The DI's hand found Sheryl's cold one in the dark and squeezed it gently. "We're all here to help. I think nothing will make you feel better than scolding the good old forensics."
"He's not that good," Sheryl replied, a ghost of a smile in her voice.
The next day, early in the morning, the doors at the Yard swung open, and Sheryl, followed by John, entered the room. They walked straight towards Lestrade's office and went inside.
When the three of them exited again, Anderson was waiting for them. "Well, have you lost your way?"
"Oh, sorry Anderson. I didn't know you missed me." Sheryl's demeanor was cold, but John could tell she loved being back here. "I'm sorry to break your heart, Anderson, but I have a case to solve. Bye-bye, lover boy!" and with her usual dramatic manner she left the building: her coat a bit swirling, her high heels ticking on the floor.
The days grew to weeks during the cases the pair worked on. Somehow Lestrade always had some cases for Sheryl to focus on. Her pregnancy began to show, but neither Anderson nor Donovan made nasty remarks. Apparently, Lestrade had filled them in on the news and threatened to kill them if they ever said anything.
John had a busy time. He had to make sure Sheryl ate and slept regularly, and that wasn't easy. One morning, she was three months in her pregnancy, when John came down and noticed the plate with cooled food standing beside her at the kitchen table, he couldn't stand it anymore.
"Sheryl!" he yelled, causing her to jump and turn around.
"What, John?" she asked angrily.
"Why haven't you eaten? You are already too light, and you don't sleep..! I'm sick and tired of this! I promised I you and Mycroft and Lestrade that I would take care of you, but you could cooperate as well! Let me say this to you one more time," he said, stressing the last three words.
"When a woman is pregnant, it's important for her to eat and sleep regularly, otherwise the baby will be an unhealthy one. Now I don't care whether you want to keep it or not, you are going to take good care of you, or I'll alert your brother."
Sheryl just looked at her best friend and sighed turning back to her experiments. John slammed his flat hand on the table. "Sheryl, for goodness sake: listen to me!" he shouted. "Work? Fine! But not at your and your baby's cost."
When she didn't react, he said softly: "I'm talking to a wall. Fine! I'm off to work; you sit here and ruin your life."
He walked downstairs and slammed the door shut behind him.
Sheryl stared over her microscope at the kitchen wall. Slowly, her head dropped and her shoulders started to shake. If there was anyone with her in the room, that person could have heard soft, sobbing noises. But Sheryl was on her own now, and finally, after almost three months, she allowed herself a small amount of grief and emotions. A silent tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another one. She didn't even trouble wiping them away.