Chapter Four

Sherlock came back to the flat after stopping at Tesco's under the doctor and Molly's suggestion. She was home later than she usually got home, which she didn't mind. What she was concerned about when she stepped into the flat was that John had already come home. He was standing in the kitchen, looking through the fridge, finding the milk carton empty again. He sighed as he noticed Sherlock walking in.

"I just bought this a week ago," said John, holding the milk carton up. "Do you really have to use it for experiments?"

"Only ones that involve milk," Sherlock replied. "Besides, you drink it, too. In your coffee, in your cereal. I'm not the only one to blame."

"So what? Milk should last more than a week, Sherlock."

"According to you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to relieve myself." Sherlock put her bag down and walked nonchalantly into the bathroom, trying to hide the pregnancy test behind her without him seeing. Although she successfully hid it without him noticing, there was the matter of the second one. Sherlock had purchased two tests, under some advice from Internet resources, and had one hidden in her brown satchel. She couldn't hide both of them, so she'd have to think of a way to sneak the other one into the bathroom while John wasn't aware.

John, however, was concerned. Sherlock's bag had been idly thrown onto the sofa, open, revealing the top of the had never seen that box before, nor was able to read the front, still covered in the bag. John wasn't as much of a snoop as his roommate, but he was definitely curious. If any man knows anything, it's that no one looks through a woman's things without their permission. Of course, no one said anything about taking their shoe and tossing it at their female roommate's bag so a mysterious box could fall out and be revealed. And that's exactly what John did. Childish of him, sure. Desperate of him, absolutely. Stupid of him, possibly, but he succeeded in knocking the bag over, the box sliding onto the floor. He almost cheered in excitement, but didn't want Sherlock to notice. He kept himself collected as he calmly walked over to pick the bag up and place it back on the sofa. He turned around to pick up the box. The first thought of what he saw was confusing. Why would Sherlock have a pregnancy test box in her bag? Suppose it was for an experiment? What kind of experiment would she need a pregnancy test for? It was a bit odd that he didn't concern himself with the fact that Sherlock might be pregnant, but when it hit him, he shook his head. Impossible. She couldn't be pregnant. Then he assumed she was concerned because of what John had deduced back in the cab a few days ago after she threw up at the crime scene.

He walked up to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Hey, Sherlock?" he called from the hall. "You know, I was just kidding when I said you might be pregnant." There was no response, just a moment of silence. "You don't have to worry," he continued, "you're probably just sick, you know? Maybe you should take some antibiotics? Maybe they'd help..." There was still silence. "Sherlock? Hey, are you alright?"

Sherlock was standing there in the bathroom, frozen, breathless. For once, she felt scared, her heart stuck in her throat. She tied to swallow it down again. She couldn't speak, nor find the words to say as she looked down at the little pink plus sign that had appeared on the test.