{Part 3!}
Upon hearing footsteps on the landing, Sherlock looked up from his ever growing amoebae. He didn't turn around. He wouldn't let anyone live with the knowledge, but truth be told, he was anxious.
Who would believe that the great consulting detective was shy?
"Look. I need to explain my emotional situation to you. This is not my best suit. Please be patient with me... dear. I do believe that there is something wrong with me. Whenever you're around, my heart races. It's not just the murders. I think that I... There is a possibility that I... I might have feelings... I have feelings of a romantic kind for... For you, perhaps... I am quite new to this whole love thing... Will you give me a chance, my dear J-" Sherlock turned around abruptly at the sound of breaking china.
John stood on the landing, mouth wide open in disbelief. Sherlock's ivory features flushed scarlet. "No, not you!" He all but shrieked. "I thought you were... Someone else!" "Oh, Sherley!" A heavily pregnant Jim Moriarty dropped from the ceiling (who knew what he was doing up there... Ehehehehe...) Sherlock's already pink cheeks bloomed like summer roses(?). Moriarty beamed. "James..." Sherlock muttered, face burning. Moriarty threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, kissing him passionately. John watched in horror. He rubbed his neck awkwardly, unsure of how to respond to the situation. He decided to busy himself with tea, bustling about clanking teacups noisily.
When he came back in, Sherlock was still bright red, though the two consultants had separated. There was something shiny around his neck... John sighed. "Sherlock, what the hell is that?" The detective glared at him, stowing the silver chain beneath his shirt. Moriarty smirked gleefully. "Oh, important news!" He said, seriously. He placed a hand to his swollen belly gingerly. "Something's different... Aeryn-Finn has been growing, fast. The symptoms and processes are far too advanced for four months. If I didn't know how developed the pregnancy was, I'd say seven or eight months..." John was interested now, although he found the way Moriarty referred to the baby as "Aeryn-Finn", as though the master criminal hadn't quite decided, supremely annoying.
"Biological catalyst." Sherlock remarked coolly. John reluctantly agreed to examine the "patient".
It was true; Moriarty appeared closer to eight months than the four he'd spent pregnant. John sat back up. "Moriarty-" "Jim." The criminal insisted. "Jim, then. Try swimming, rather than running. You're heavily pregnant, developed at around eight months. You could give birth at any time, don't overexert yourself, take a break from planning murders, or whatever it is you do all day." John sighed reluctantly, running his hands through his greying hair. "And I suppose..." He gulped nervously. "Stay here until you give birth. You'll be safe here. Just... Don't explode any more tables... Or anything else..."
Jim smirked. "Of course not."
Pause.
"And what does Sherlock have around his neck?"
Both consultants blushed. "Oh, would you look at the time?" Sherlock laughed nervously.
"I have to go and... Um... Shower..." Moriarty said unsubtly. "Yes! So do I!" Sherlock leaped up from the table, dragging Moriarty with him.
John rolled his eyes. He would solve this mystery... Sherlock wasn't the only one with half a brain...
{Review! By the way, thank you very much, Vidgealz C Valvatore, your reviews make me ridiculously happy! I will correct that spelling mistake as soon as I find it, hehe!}