Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.
AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :)
It became apparent to Molly within the first few weeks of knowing Sherlock Holmes that life with the boffin detective was theatrical to say the least. The more time she spent with him the more she was drawn into the whirlwind that was life with Sherlock Holmes.
One of disadvantages to this was the fact that she neglected people she knew before her life with Sherlock. Old friends had fallen by the waste line, she hadn't even attempted to keep up with world news outside London, and she had ignored her only family, her grandmother.
It was because of this that she decided to spend her first blessed Saturday off to visit her much abandoned grandmother. It took approximately three minutes before she regretted that decision.
She was greeted at the door with a brief lecture on the importance of keeping in contact with relatives, especially elderly ones who might die soon. Before she could even think to apologise, the conversation had swiftly moved on to the dangers of a sloppy skin care routine, as apparently her smile lines were becoming more prominent.
Still, she would rather have her skincare routine be picked to shreds if it meant avoiding the current topic altogether.
"That's not, it's not like that." Molly managed to stutter out defensively. She knew he was bound to come up in conversation, it was her grandmother's new favourite topic, she still hoped she would at least have time to take off her coat before she was interrogated.
"Molly you're living together, you're having a baby and you're trying to tell me that romance has literally nothing to do with it." More emphasis was placed on the word 'nothing' then Molly felt comfortable with.
"Yes." Her tone was confident, but the flush in her cheeks were the telltale sign that she was lying.
"Well then you're deluded." Anne defied whilst holding out her hand to collect Molly's coat to place on the coat rack by the entrance.
"You know I didn't come all the way here so could call me deluded! Besides, we've been over this already." She yelled towards the doorway with a frown on her face.
Which they had, multiple times. Just like her and everyone else in her life.
She often wondered if Sherlock had this much trouble convincing everyone about the nature of their relationship. She highly doubted that John would quiz him so frequently as Mary did her, and she couldn't quite picture Sherlock and Mycroft sitting around braiding each other's hair as they gossiped about their love lives.
She was distracted from the humorous image she was conjuring up in her mind by Anne's return.
"No, you came all the way here so I could tell you the truth and you wouldn't be able to avoid it." She claimed knowingly.
"And what truth would that be?" The very second that Molly had asked the question, she regretted it. Her father had once said that arguing with Anne Hooper was as wise as asking a blind man for directions.
"That it's simply impossible to create a life with someone, live with someone, and spend most of your time with someone and not have any romantic feeling or even-" her voice dropped filled with suggestive tone as she practically whispered-"urges."
"Gran!" If amnesia was optional Molly would very much be using it to ease this entire conversation.
"What? It's true!" Anne shrugged defensively.
"Can we please, please move on, and I'm begging you never say the word urges in front of me again." Hands clasped as though she was praying, she hoped that her grandmother would change the conversation.
Anne simply laughed in response.
"You're the one who made it into a big topic of discussion. All I asked was if you had a plan for your inevitable love affair." Anne's eyes were shinning with amusement.
"Which I don't" Knowing her grandmother had a smart remark prepared she clarified, "Because I don't need one!"
Her grandmother's nod was slow and filled with condescension.
"I don't!"
"Because you have none, nor will you have any romantic feelings towards Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" Sometimes Anne had thought that she would have made an excellent lawyer.
"Exactly! Because I don't have any romantic feelings for Sherlock!" She protested with far less conviction than she was going for.
Just like her father, Molly had always been a terrible liar which Anne was eternally grateful for.
"Never play poker." Anne smiled.
Molly visibly deflated at her grandmothers defeat and hoped that the wide-eyed puppy dog look which had always managed to get her another trip to library would work once again.
"Moving the conversation along," Anne conceded as Molly smiled finally victorious.
"Let's chat about your mother." At multiple points in her life Anne's diplomatic sensitivity had been compared to a bull in a china shop and as she stared at her granddaughters crumpled expression she admitted she could partially see where they were coming from.
Molly loudly groaned at the idea.
She liked to think was an easy-going person, but she had like everyone in this world, a 'do not mention list'. It included two things; number one, any combination of the words Sherlock and romance, and number two, underlined multiple times, her mother. Her grandmother had somehow ploughed through her list in two minutes flat.
"What about her?" She said with enough attitude to make a moody teenager flinch.
"Have you told her about the baby?" Molly's reaction had sent a flicker of doubt within Anne. She knew that Molly was still sensitive about this particular topic, but she hoped with everything that was happening in her life at this moment that Molly might have let some of it go.
"No."
This was clearly not the case.
"Were you going to?"Anne began to try to avoid Molly's surprisingly intimidating glare by staring intently into her tea.
"I didn't tell her when I got into Uni, I didn't tell her when I graduated, and I didn't tell her I moved to London." It wasn't an answer, but it was all that Molly offered.
They sat in silence for a few moments.
"Do you think I should?" Molly hated how lost she sounded.
"Well, your father told me I was going to be a grandmother and we hadn't spoken in over twenty years at the time, perhaps it's common courtesy."
They quietened down once again.
"I only ask because I need to know if I should stock the house full of wooden stakes and silver crosses." Anne spoke with such sincerity that Molly couldn't help but laugh.
She was sure that no one alive resented her mother more than Molly, but her grandmother was a very close second.
Feeling that she had gotten all of the serious topics out of the way Anne decided to move the conversation along to happier thoughts such as her great-great grandchild and her rotten cousin finally kicking the bucket.
Sitting with a barely touched tea Molly watched her grandmother's animated face as she began to retell the story of how the kind gentleman at her club thought she was 'at most early sixties'.
"He just couldn't believe it when I told him I was nearing eighty." She giggled youthfully over her biscuit tray. She realised it was a mixture of guilt, obligation, but mostly genuine care that had made her visit her Gran.
Molly smiled as made a mental note to visit her more often.
Sitting on the return train alone as the beautiful scenery blurred past Molly began to reflect on the meeting she had with her grandmother.
To say that her mother was a sore topic for Molly would be quite an understatement.
Still bitter, still hurt despite how old she was now, the near hatred she felt for the woman she barely knew was practically a knee jerk reaction.
She thought that perhaps if she was a better person she might be able to let her resentment go and she still had hope one day she might, but unfortunately today was not that day.
The idea of telling her about the pregnancy had been a vague plan on her to-do list initially, but as days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months she slowly, but surely had managed to forget. She realised that until today she hadn't genuinely thought about telling her mother. But the more she thought about it the more she considered the idea, perhaps her grandmother was right, perhaps it was common courtesy.
The only problem aside from the emotional distress of contacting her mother, was actually finding a way to contact her mother. She had been given a phone number to contact her for emergencies only which she had saved as a simple 'E.M.' as it felt too odd to put anything resembling mother in the name in the contact information.
The main problem of using this was that number was at least ten years old and who knew if it would work. She supposed if Mycroft was really all that he and his brother made out, then he might be able to help with the search. She resolved that if neither of them could track her down, she would feel free with the thought that she did everything she could.
With a plan in her mind she decided to move onto sore topic number two-Sherlock Holmes, more specifically her feelings for Sherlock Holmes.
A few days had passed since her revelations of her feelings and she had up until now, decided to pay it no mind. To ignore what was happening and hoped that the issue would resolve itself. Upon reflection she truly saw that ignorance was bliss.
Maybe her grandmother was right once again and she should be at the very least prepared. The main issue was where to start? She couldn't tell him, just imagining the awkwardness made her uncomfortable. But unlike Sherlock she couldn't just not feel it, there wasn't exactly an off switch for these things.
The more she thought about it, the more she could only see one option available to her, to move on. Maybe if she accepted how she felt, squished it deep, deep down so it didn't interfere, then she might eventually be able to move on. Accept, suppress and move on. To her it sounded like a winner.
After all falling in love with Sherlock didn't seem like a very bright thing to do.
The man was the very definition of emotional unavailability. He could be distant to say the least and he was in a very committed relationship to his work.
But he was brilliant, and although he failed to see it, he was good, she had no doubt of that.
This had reminded her of the conversation the other day that as she said had sealed her fate. She felt like that evening she saw another side of him, one that seemed to appear whenever someone mentioned the baby. He became more attentive, alert and there was almost a softness to him, yet underneath he was still Sherlock. She reflected that it wasn't that he wasn't replacing or even changing who he was, he was adding to himself, evolving.
She saw it the first time he saw the bump, she saw it when he told her he was trying to be better, sometimes she swore she saw it when he would watch her from the corner of his eye. She couldn't quite put her finger on what she was seeing, she found it impossible to describe, but she could see it so clearly as though it were imprinted in her memory.
He was evolving for them, for their baby. With this thought she became certain that the best plan of action was aiming to move on. Instead of focusing on her relationship with Sherlock she should focus on their relationship with their child. Instead of letting her hopeless romantic nature blind her to the bigger picture like she would have before she met him, she should focus on their child. She should evolve, just like Sherlock.
So, accept it, suppress it, and move on. She thought it was simple enough to do.
Meanwhile Sherlock was dealing with some inner turmoil of his own, namely why his unborn child hated him.
After the first kick in the lab with John, the baby seemed to have gotten a knack for the whole kicking business. It was hardly the start of a kicking marathon, but Molly had informed him that she could still feel the flutters across her skin fairly regularly.
Mrs. Hudson was the second person two days after John to feel the baby kick, and not even an hour later Mary had become the third. Even Lestrade had somehow wandered into St. Bart's at the perfect time, which angered Sherlock to no end.
His over the top frustration was amazing and highly entertaining to every around. Especially John, who felt the need to brag every time he felt something,
It seemed the baby was quite the show off, kicking most frequently when Molly had company as if it were waiting for an audience.
The baby also had a skill for selecting times to perform when the one person who had yet to feel it, wasn't around. This was made even more impressive by the fact that Molly spent almost the entirety of her day with him.
He felt personally slighted by the child who, despite never having actually met Sherlock, he clearly already had a vendetta against. As the number of people who had felt the baby kicking grew, his worry that he would somehow never experience it increased.
His overemotional conclusion defied all logic and reasoning. If he could view this situation with his usual sound mind he would know it was purely a game of chance, but for some reason he was finding it difficult to look past the emotion. It was something he was finding harder and harder these past few months.
As it turns out, Sherlock needn't have worried about never feeling the kick as a few days into her 18 week of pregnancy, Sherlock finally felt the baby kicking.
The evening after an excruciatingly long shift, Molly had been sleeping peacefully when she was woken by a text from Sherlock, claiming to have solved the latest case.
Having done the autopsy on Mr. Flannigan the day previously she was curious as to what had actually happened.
Deciding she couldn't wait for John's upcoming blog, plus the current pressure she was feeling in her bladder, she gave up on the idea of sleep and began walking towards the living room.
The case had been quite an exciting one, consuming Sherlock's every waking moment for the past three days. She guessed that Sherlock would need a bit of food before he collapsed into necessary sleep and quickly rustled a sandwich and a few biscuits hoping it might tide him over untill the morning.
Sitting opposite the door, food laid out in front of her, she could feel her eyes begin close on their own accord. Just before she slumped back to dreamland a familiar fluttering sensation woke her.
For the past few days feeling the baby kick had come with a tiny feeling of uneasiness. It wasn't that she didn't love the feeling. It was just she knew that Sherlock hadn't felt it, well it seemed like everyone knew that! She was just worried he was starting to take it personally.
She knew it sounded silly, he was a man of science he must surely know that it was pure chance when the baby moved, but sometimes when she saw his frustration she worried. And then there was that time when Mary had told Sherlock that Lestrade had felt it, his eyes had narrowed to an almost comical degree.
It was because of this self-proclaimed irrational worry she decided to send him a quick text. It was just a quick update of her own that the baby was currently kicking and if he could get home sooner he might just catch it.
He was hardly about to run home, but she thought he might appreciate the heads up. Sometimes the baby would kick so gently and just once that she would barely register what had happened, other times the baby would kick for minutes at a time, she eagerly hoped that right now was one of the later situations. Without purposely intending to, she began to urge the baby to keep going, but she recognised that the kicks were becoming fewer and further between.
It had been barely five minutes from when she sent the text that Sherlock had finally come bursting through the door.
Before she could even register his arrival, he was suddenly kneeling in front of her with his hands flat against the bump. As his hands became flat against the bump the baby took that as a signal to start moving again and relief flooded through Molly.
She couldn't quite make out his expression, but she didn't mind as she was enjoying picturing it. They sat in a calm silence for just under a minute before the baby stopped kicking.
She reached around his hands to the hem of her pyjama shirt to raise it a few inches. She hoped that if the baby were to start kicking again it would be stronger underneath his hands. She did this silently hoping that she wouldn't spoil the moment.
He seemed to understand what she was doing without explanation as he lifted his hands before gently placing them back in the same position. The movement caused Molly to flinch slightly making him look at her in mild confusion for the first time since he had come home.
"Your hands are cold." she offered as an explanation, which he quickly nodded to.
The baby decided to reward them both a short while later with a repeat performance. Molly felt joy as she looked upon Sherlock as he watched the bump.
As his hands and eyes tilted with the direction of the baby, she finally got to see the look she had been picturing earlier that same day. She realised that whilst she hadn't forgotten a single detail, it was far more beautiful to see real life.
She could almost feel the plan slipping from her mind.
They sat, in what could best be described as their own little universe, for a few more moments before getting distracted by a panting figures arrival in the corner. Molly looked up to see a baffled, and out of breath John staring back at her, as Sherlock's head dropped slightly.
"Hi?" she brightly questioned.
Sherlock exhaled as loudly as humanly possible as he spun round to face his friend.
"Everything's fine." His voice oozed exasperation.
"Ok." John drew out the word longer than necessary Sherlock thought, as he watched a sly smile cross John's face.
"Bye." It was more of a demand than anything else, but John complied nonetheless.
"What was that about?" Molly was completely and utterly lost as she watched John's hasty retreat from their apartment.
"Nothing." Sherlock replied.
And just like that they were alone once again. Molly expected Sherlock to go back to his exploration of the baby, but she was pleasantly surprised as his eyes remained fixed on her. She could feel her heart rate quicken as she looked down at him. In the back of her mind a voice reminded that she had never actually seen this look before, certainly not as closely as she was now. It was almost identical to 'the look' but she knew that it was not quite the same.
They remained, eyes locked on each other for a few more seconds as Molly desperately tried to decipher this look.
Molly ended up being the one to break away first, deciding that it was best to stop now before she did something stupid like lean forward. She found that a change of topic was what they needed, and thought that the safest conversation would be about work.
"So, who killed Mr. Flannigan?" Her eyes were wide in a forced cheeriness, but the curiosity in her voice was sincere. She had assumed that once the case was brought up the look on Sherlock's face would disappear, but it merely faded as he moved and began to tell her about his day.
Accept it, suppress it, and move on. That was the plan, but sometimes she didn't think it was so bad to be in love with Sherlock Holmes.
Later that same evening, the future Mr and Mrs Watson lay together as John retold the latest case he had aptly named 'The Tale of Two Virgo's'.
It had become a tradition that the evening after almost every case, John would explain the case to Mary before writing the blog entry the following morning.
"The next thing I know he's shooting at us, lord knows where he got the gun from. Anyway, you've got me running to trying to get some cover on the left, Sherlock's coming from the right holding what can only be described as a big stick, bullets flying between us, a silent clown wailing in the corner, and then suddenly, silence."
"What happened next?" Mary looked like a child caught up in their favourite show as excitement danced in her eyes.
It was no secret that John was a marvellous story teller, anyone who reads the blogs could tell you that, but Mary found that it was far more exciting to be told the story in person.
"Turns out Flannigan and O'Bryan were two peas in pod because, before Flannigan was shot by O'Bryan, he had actually been slowly poisoning him. His heart had been severely weakened heart which, combined with the excitement of killing again had been too much for his heart, and it just gave out."
Mary eyes were open wide in confusion and amazement.
"Just think, if they had actually been honest with each other, they'd both be alive." John shook his head.
"If that's not karma, I don't know what is." She claimed.
They became quiet as they reflected on the story when John suddenly remembered how his day had ended.
"There was one more odd event of the evening." He said with subtle meaning.
"With the case?" she couldn't quite imagine the case getting odder, but she never doubted the madness that managed to follow her fiancé, like a moth to a flame.
"No, actually it was with Sherlock." John had a small smile on his face while Mary's curiosity was bubbling.
Mary knew that John wasn't always the most observant person, so for him to admit that something odd had happened to the already odd man, it must be very odd indeed.
John cleared his throat as he recollected the evening.
"Once the case was over we decided to go back to 221b first. We were stuck in a mild bit of traffic when Sherlock gets a text. Nothing too unusual about that I know but, I have honesty never seen him jump out of a cab quicker. I mean one minute sitting in this taxi, calming down from the adrenaline high from the case, the next thing I know he's stopping the cab and running off." John waved his hands away to gesture Sherlock's sudden departure before continuing.
"I'm left paying the cabbie and chasing after him. As you can imagine my minds running a mile a minute, it wasn't 'till he ran past Tesco's round the corner that I realise he's running home. I'm thinking maybe something's happened to Molly, the baby, maybe Ms. Hudson's had too many soothers!"
At the time John had all sorts of crazy ideas swimming in his head about what would make Sherlock run and he'd be lying if Mary's name hadn't popped up a few times. He consciously chose not to tell Mary this, deciding instead to move closer to her and put those thoughts in a dark box in the back of his mind.
"So I run into 221b, heart racing, and what do I see? No hurricane, no gunshots just a perfectly fine Sherlock, kneeling across from a perfectly fine Molly, looking every bit like a kid in Disney world."
Mary chuckled at the image and looked at John to go on.
"I'm guessing, and I have to guess because he gave no explanation when I got there, just an annoyed glance, I'm guessing that she texted him that the baby was kicking and that's the bizarre scene I stumbled onto." He smiled in fondness at the memory whilst Mary breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank God he finally felt it though! I thought he was going to have an aneurysm when I told him about Lestrade."
John laughed at the memory.
"Wait, how far away were you when he stopped the cab?"
"I'd say at least a mile away."
"A mile? Sherlock jumped out the taxi and ran a mile?" The story seemed so out of character she was taking a while to process it.
"Yep." He popped the 'p' and spoke with odd pride.
"He ran?" Even if she wanted to she couldn't stop the gushy smile spreading across her face.
"As fast as I've ever seen him. With his gangly legs it was quite hard to keep up."
"If I didn't know any better I'd swear he was making 'emotional attachments' or something equally as ordinary." She attempted the best Mycroft impression she could muster up and even managed to shudder at the word 'ordinary'.
"Well, we'd best not tell him. He'd be horrified at the idea." John chuckled.
"It can be our little secret" Mary yawned.
As Mary drifted off to sleep he attempted to remember how life was before she was in it. He supposed that it couldn't be as empty as he pictures it, as he wouldn't have known what he was missing, but he knew for a fact that it would be empty without her now.
His world was chaotic, surreal and sometimes hard to comprehend, but she was his realisation of what truly matters in life, and he was starting to wonder if Sherlock was realising it too.
AN/ Guess whose back! I hoped you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. A lot of people were asking to see Sherlock feel the baby, so I hoped you were happy with how it turned out :)
I am honestly sorry about how long this update has taken! My life has been a blur of moving countries, broken laptops, job changes and other boring yet stressful events! On the plus side it seems to have calmed down so hopefully I can write more!
Moving onto easily the best part of this little note! A big big big thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 8, you are all the best and this chapter is your chapter because it honestly wouldn't have been written without you!
reader / AJP910 / Rocking the Redhead / Bucky5 / Icecat62 / Deductions-of-Sherlolly / LadydeBalliol / Renaissancebooklover108 / MizJoely / Jime221 / angellicious02 / Katanafleet / kessilover / Sweet Sarcasm and two Guests :D
As always all reviews are loved and cherished.
Hopefully see you soon.x
