DEAREST, chapter 4

A fanfiction by Hrlyqin

XXX

"What about Hugo?"

"60% of all bouncers in London are named Hugo." Sherlock said boredly.

"Hmmm...Sharon? I've always thought Sharon was lovely."

"Sounds like a naughty school teacher to me."

"Calvin?"

"Good idea. Millions of fashionable Brits will have your child's name on their arse."

"Juliet?" she suggested almost feebly.

"Because no one named Juliet ever did anything to upset their parents when they were a teenager."

"Fine." she told him firmly. "I don't know why I asked you anyway. I wish Mycroft were here."

"Unfortunately, he followed that trail of doughnuts right in to my trap." he fired back at her. In truth, Mycroft was overseeing the installation of some very sensitive security measures in Molly's new house today that he had to be present for. Which was why Sherlock had called and changed the appointment to this morning. He would never admit his curiosity about today's exam but he didn't plan on missing it.

Molly made a groaning noise and put her hand over her now rounded stomach. Sherlock gave her a pointed look that somehow conveyed interest without concern.

"Kicking again." she grimaced.

"Well since the fetus is now 18 gestational weeks old, kicking is a healthy developmental sign that the pregnancy is progressing..." He stopped speaking in shock and horror when Molly abducted his hand and put it on her belly. He felt a little waving motion (like the water hitting you in a bath) and yanked his appendage back, glaring at her.

"That was uncalled for." he hissed.

In the doctor's office as they prepared, Sherlock had his revenge by asking about Down Syndrome and spina bifida. Dr. Connor had to politely cut him off by asking him to leave while Molly changed, and then only let him back in when it was time to start. He got himself resettled while the doctor was spreading goo on her belly.

"How have you been feeling, Molly?" the doctor asked.

"Not sleeping a lot." she answered. "It's been kicking me senseless."

"Well, you're about 20 weeks in, so kicking is a healthy developmental sign that the pregnancy is progressing normally." she informed her, and Molly shot Sherlock a glare. "OK, are we ready?"

The doctor began the ultrasound, rubbing the wand over Molly. Sherlock was silent and watching the images on the monitor intently while Dr. Connor narrated.

"Fetus length is good. It looks like our earlier due date estimate was right. Heart looks good and strong. Brain is coming along nicely. Everything looks normal."

Those were absolutely the best words she could have said to her. No cleft palate or two heads or cloven hooves. In her excitement, Molly kidnapped Sherlock's hand again but he was too absorbed to even notice. She was still grasping it firmly when the doctor made the final pronouncement.

"Congratulations Molly. It's a boy."

Molly could hardly wait to call Mycroft after they left the office. She was surprised when Sherlock informed her that he was in fact at her house, but sure enough when the taxi pulled up, there was Mycroft's car. They found him in the kitchen speaking to someone Molly didn't know. A workman maybe? In any case, he cut his conversation short and immediately focused his attention on her when she came in.

"Molly." He held her hands and kissed both her cheeks. "Well, don't keep me in suspense."

"Boy."

He squeezed her hands and then her entire body. "A boy. A son. Wonderful." He did genuinely look happy, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, Molly could see that. His mind was really someplace else and she tried not to take it personally, even as he turned her by the shoulders and handed her off to the stranger.

"Molly, this is Sebastian Barron. He comes highly recommended. I've had him put in some little security extras to keep you safe. Why don't you let him show you around?"

Molly let herself be pulled away and it wasn't until she was well out of earshot that Sherlock started speaking. The first words out of his mouth were a scathing imitation of Mycroft's excitement. "Ooh, a boy. A son. Mummy would be so happy." He rolled his eyes. When Mycroft didn't respond to his baiting, Sherlock went over to the refrigerator and began surveying its contents, just to have something to do as he spoke. "You're no fun anymore. Have I told you that lately?"

"I have a lead." he replied.

"Yes, I had figured as much. Are you going to share?"

"An agent of mine turned up some information about a man named Aiden Beecher. We think this may be Moriarty's original identity."

"I'm not interested in his past, Mycroft. It's his future that concerns me more."

"Don't be so narrow minded. His past is the key to understanding him, figuring out his connections, his allies, his hiding places. It's the first step to everything."

Sherlock frowned. He hated it when Mycroft was right. "So what do we know about Beecher?"

"Father was IRA, involved in any number of violent political actions. Not much is known about the mother except that she was raped and murdered in the late 80's by a group of men on holiday from Germany. For various reasons, they were never charged although the police were fairly certain of their guilt. Within a decade, all four of the men plus two associates of theirs died in a spectacularly violent fashion."

"That's where he began." Sherlock said, thinking of Carl Powers.

"I believe it might be yes. I may need to do some traveling soon, to follow up on this. I would need you to keep after Molly. Unless you would rather come along." he offered.

"No, I can't leave John that vulnerable."

Mycroft thought that would be his answer.

xxxxxx

He had agreed to meet his agent later that night at her hotel room. He would never get over how easy it was to disguise espionage as a torrid sexual affair. Surely enough, he got several looks as he rode up the elevator and knocked on her door.

Violet Kessler was a good agent for many reasons. She was clever, she found improvisation easy and she had proven herself trustworthy on many occasions. But her best quality of all was that she looked nothing like a government spy at all. She looked like she owned a cupcake bakery or nannied for a rich couple. Hers was not a face of intrigue and subterfuge.

But it was just a veneer. Mycroft had barely shut the door before she was pushing files, police reports and surveillance photos at him.

"Violet, please. Give me a moment to digest." He begged her, sitting on the bed and beginning to review the intel. While he read, she fixed them drinks at the minibar and sat down next to him, although she did not speak until he had finished reading.

"So, did I do good?" she asked.

"No, but you certainly did well." he corrected. "There were three other agents on this and they turned up nothing."

"I bet they were all men too, that's why."

He chose not to think too carefully about that. "I want you to follow up on the connections in Australia and the continent. Try to find another tight spot he's been in and see where he fled to before. I also am going to need more detailed information on these men from Galway. You're certain he was involved in orchestrating their crimes?"

She nodded. "But they never said a word about him. Did 7 years of hard labour each when they could have sung their way to freedom."

"The fact that they didn't is probably why they are still alive."

She took the file and selected one of ths pictures. "I'll start with this one. His wife just left him. He likes young and I can pass for 16 or 17. Think I'll go say hello."

Again, Mycroft tried to ignore the ramifications of that but found he couldn't. "No. On second thought, I want you in America. I'll go to Galway myself."

She laughed. "Are you going to be my Dad too now? Is fatherhood catching?"

"I'm only trying to look out for you."

Without saying a word, she moved his umbrella first, and then the files, pushing everything off the bed. Then her busy fingers started working on his tie.

"Violet,"

"I thought you wanted to look out for me, Mycroft. I thought you wanted to take care of me." she said as she released the tie and tossed it away.

"Yes but at this moment," he was cut off again as her tiny mouth kissed his.

"Don't worry. I won't tell that assistant of yours if you don't."

AN: You've read this far- you get a cookie! Please drop me a review and let me know what you think. Always thanks to Roxanne-Michal. Keep reading!