Author's Note:

Short chapter. No Johnlock but you do get some brotherly interaction and even see some of Mrs. Hudson. My thanks to everyone who has been reviewing!

"Sherlock, dear?" Mrs. Hudson knocked on the door but didn't move to open it. "A-Are you alright? I heard... You're brother is here. I'm going to assume the bell still isn't working." There was a shuffle of movement behind the door.

"Sherlock, I'm coming in!" Mycroft's voice echoed through the flat and he opened the door a crack, squeezing in and having the decency to shut the door before Mrs. Hudson saw anything. He didn't even bother to glance at Sherlock, merely placed a large box near the entrance of the kitchen and placed several other bags on top of it. "Men have been deployed, we've already caught two. They're being questioned. Clothes and a crib. Bottles, formula, diapers, the like." He finally glanced up at Sherlock and narrowed his eyes. "You two really can't stop, can you? You're going to have to slow down when the child gets here."

Sherlock had his pants redone and was about to clean up the mess when there was knocking and then his brother burst in. He nodded slightly at Mycroft's words, as he eyed the new baby stuff. He smirked and shrugged at the last thing said to him. "John started it," he muttered and then came over to investigate the box of things. Things would have to stay in the box until he found a place for everything. He hadn't expected Mycroft to be so thorough, so quickly on the baby front or Moriarty front. He supposed there was a reason his older brother practically ran the British Government.

"Yes. Quite. Sure he did." Mycroft smiled gently and glanced at his younger brother. "I've talked to father," he stated with a small glance around the flat. "He has requested to not be at the wedding." Despite the fact that this wasn't his wedding, Mycroft was clearly slightly hurt. "But Mum has already gotten a lot of things together. A place for the ceremony. Clothes," his voice trailed off nervous. "She would like to meet with you tomorrow. She wants to see pictures of John. She even requested video chatting with him."

"Good, he wasn't going to be invited anyway," Sherlock growled, his eyes narrowing at the thought of his dad. Even when he wasn't there to annoy him, it was still possible. He smiled slightly though, happy that at least his mother was excited for him. Not that he was really surprised. "Yes, I was planning on seeing her tomorrow anyway. So, that will work. I'll go at tea time. Mother does so love sitting down and talking over tea, more so than you love cake." He glanced up to Mycroft with a smirk. "I'll see if I can arrange a video chat with John. I'm sure he won't mind, but I'll discuss it with him first anyway."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "The diet, Sherlock. It's going great, in case you haven't noticed," he replied. A smirk lit up his features, it was proud and something that was clearly only an older brother could have. "You should see the tuxedos Mummy has picked out for you both, dear brother." It was clear he was trying not to laugh. "I'm sure you'll look dashing." He moved to sit in John's usual chair, nodding for his brother to sit across from him. "Care to talk? You will soon have a small child in your life, Sherlock. I have a feeling another Watson might be a bit to handle."

"Tuxedos? No, no, no, no, no! I am not wearing a tuxedo." Sherlock pouted as he sat back down in his usual chair. He glanced up to Mycroft and shrugged. "How hard can it be? Feed it, change a diaper or two, and put it to bed." Hamish finally came out of the kitchen, growled at Mycroft as it passed and then jumped up onto Sherlock's lap and laid down. He pet the cat on the head, and it issued a rumbling purr.

"Oh yes you are, Sherlock. Yours is black, John's is white. It's quite adorable, really. Mummy is so excited." Mycroft folded his hands in his lap as he studied the cat in Sherlock's lap with distaste. "I have also talked to Sarah who is willing to stay here at the flat for a few weeks after Amy is born to help you. She could use the help, as well. If that's alright with you, that is?" He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and read a text message with a bored expression before slipping it back into the inside of his jacket. "I will be willing to help, as will Mummy. We've got quite a plan put together."

Sherlock pouted once more and muttered, "I don't want to wear tuxedo." He made a face at the mention of Sarah staying at the flat. "I'll do fine on my own. I don't need her help." This time he rolled his eyes. "Do you two really think I can't do this by myself? You're acting as if I'm a child who needs looking after as well. I can do research, buy books, whatever. Like I said, it can't be that hard to figure out. Stupid people take care of children every day. I'm sure I'm more than qualified to do it."

"You are wearing a tuxedo, Sherlock. It's what Mummy wants." Mycroft straightened in his chair and studied Sherlock for a long moment. It was true that Sherlock was a genius, he wouldn't hesitate to say that. The problem with Sherlock was that dealing with humans, especially newborns, probably wasn't his area. "I hate to tell you that you don't really have a choice." He paused and nodded to assure himself this was the right decision, "But you don't really have a choice. Sarah needs the help just as much as you need the training. It's beneficial for you both."

Sherlock's lips puckered. "Fine, but I won't like it." Why did he suddenly not have a choice about what happened in his flat? The child wasn't even related to them, what did they care? "Why does everyone feel the need to interfere with my life? I'm an adult. I can do things without other people's permission, especially in my own flat. If I really need help, I can always ask Mrs. Hudson. I don't want or need people fussing over me. You know I hate that. Yet every time something comes along that you think I can't deal with, it is exactly what happens."

"I know you can deal with it, Sherlock. That isn't really the point." Mycroft leaned forward, his gaze on Sherlock stern. "But you are marrying John and that child is his, which by default makes this little girl yours as well. Seeing as John is fighting a war in Afghanistan and can't exactly be here for the first few months of his daughter's life, Sarah has politely requested that you and I, even Mrs. Hudson, help take care of the infant." He folded his hands under his chin with a sigh. Sometimes dealing with his brother was difficult. "It isn't fussing over you. This isn't about you anymore. It's about your future husband and the child you will be raising with him."

Damn it. He was Sherlock Holmes and he didn't need help from anyone. He didn't want to continue the conversation so he changed the subject. "Do you know of a big empty building I could rent out? Preferably two to three stories high." Tomorrow before tea time with his mother, he planned on finding books on parenting and other miscellaneous baby books and hopefully find a suitable place for an office.

Mycroft sat back into his chair with a defeated sigh, his eyes roaming the room instead of resting on Sherlock. "I do. One isn't too far from here. I will text you the address once I am back home," he stated with a hint of anger. "I'm glad you're taking this seriously, though. You're being extremely responsible. It's good." He glanced back at the entrance to the flat. "Have you told Mrs. Hudson yet? I'm sure she'd love to know about the little child."

Sherlock nodded once. "That'd be great." He continued to pet Hamish on the head, who hadn't stopped purring. "No, not yet. I was texting with John when I got home so I didn't have time." He gave a small smirk. "I did plan on telling her though." He decided to shift the conversation off himself and onto his older brother. "Things better with Lestrade then?"

Mycroft's body tensed instantly at the question, his eyes slightly narrowed as he turned toward his brother. This wasn't about his personal life. This was about Sherlock's. "Quite," he spat, his lips curved in a tight and forced smile. "And with that I fear I must be going. Leave you to your wonderful news sharing after you clean up a bit." His eyes studied Sherlock's body for a long moment. "I shall see you tomorrow, dear brother. I'm giving you a ride to Mum's to make sure you are there on time."

Sherlock smirked slightly, knowing full well he had struck a nerve and that it would end with his older brother leaving. "Tomorrow then," he said, as he set down Hamish on the floor and stood up from the chair. The cat growled and found its way to Sherlock's shoulder immediately. "You act like you haven't seen me in a year." He frowned at his choice of words. A year. That was how long John would be gone from his life. Three months had already gone by and he had another nine long months to go.

"Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson brushed past Mycroft as he left, a smile on her face as she entered the flat. "Oh, dear, I just wanted to see you. I heard about everything." She moved forward in the flat and gave him the best hug she could while avoiding the cat. "I wanted to invite you down stairs for a cuppa, if you would be interested. You could tell me all about your little trip to Afghanistan." She glanced at the necklace hanging around Sherlock's with a bit of pride, her eyes studying the silver ring intently.

With a blink, Sherlock looked up as Mrs. Hudson came in. He gave her small smile and returned the hug. "Quite a bit happened. Probably best discussed over a cup of tea. Maybe something to eat as well?" He was hungry after not eating for several days. John would certainly not be happy with him. He could hear the army doctor's voice chiding him and telling him to eat and to take care of himself. He followed his landlady down the stairs automatically, absently petting at the cat on his shoulder.

"Not your housekeeper, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied over her shoulder as she entered the kitchen. Despite her words she put together a small meal for Sherlock: left over roast beef and corn on a plate. "Sit, Sherlock, I can't wait to hear how everything was!" She poured them each a cup of tea and sat down at the table with a warm smile, taking a sip. It wasn't often that Sherlock was willing to sit and talk about something other than the cases he worked. Mrs. Hudson was excited to hear about how his life had been changing since John had moved in.

As soon as the plate of food was in front of him, Sherlock began eating it. He took a few mouthfuls before speaking. "We just spent time in the room. Talked about a lot of things. Discovered a few new things about each other." He gave a sly smirk. "Things were intense for awhile, John got called away and a bunch of stuff that would only make you worry happened." He shrugged. "John's going to be a father. His tour got extended another three months, so he won't be back for nine months now. We plan on getting married about a week after he is back. You are invited of course." Once he finished speaking, he ate the rest of the food on his plate and finally started drinking the cup of tea.

Everything was spoken like it was off of a grocery list. Mrs. Hudson narrowed her eyes before covering her mouth with her hands, reacting to the most important news first. "J-John? He's going to be a father?" Her shoulders lifted and she let out an excited little noise from the back of her throat. Her body relaxed slightly when she played the rest of the news in her head. "But another nine months? That's quite rude, isn't it? Can they do that? Oh, Sherlock, are you alright?" Her head shook and she finally flashed a sly smirk in Sherlock's direction. "I hope you kept him down. By the way your last night here was with him I'll have to leave the flat on the wedding night. You got yourself a loud one, Sherlock." She laughed heartily and took another sip out of her tea.

"Well, I'd agree it is rude but nothing can be done about it now." Sherlock decided not to mention the part about his dad at all. It would only upset her. "I'll be fine. There are a lot of things to take care of so, it will give me time to do so." It was then he realized he probably wouldn't have time to work on a case, not properly anyway. Never in his life would he have thought there would be too much going on at once. He would certainly keep busy over the next few months. After a few thoughtful sips of his tea he smirked at Mrs. Hudson once more. "Indeed. He can't seem to help himself."

Mrs. Hudson lightly clapped her hands together, smiling widely. "Does this mean I get to see you and John in tuxedos? Oh, I bet your Mum has some of the best clothing picked out for you two. This is going to be great." Her tea was promptly forgotten as she leaned across the table. "The child, then? Are we going to have a boy or a girl?" She grinned excitedly. It was amazing to see how much the man in front of her had changed, willing to start changing things in his life to let John in. She looked at him like a proud mother.

Blech. Tuxedos. "Yes, mother insists that we do," Sherlock replied morosely. He wished he could share everyone else's enthusiasm over the baby. He wasn't upset necessarily but he wasn't as excited about it as everyone else seemed to be it either. "A girl. They've picked out a name already. Amy Sandoval. Mycroft came over to drop off necessary baby supplies. I'll need to rearrange the flat a bit before I do anything with them though."

"Amy Sandoval Watson," Mrs. Hudson muttered with a nod. That was a good, strong name. When she glanced at Sherlock again the glee in her eyes died down. "Except you aren't as excited as everybody," she whispered with some regret. "Sherlock, I'm sorry." One hand reached across the table to rest lightly on top of Sherlock's. "Have you talked to John about this?"

Sherlock gave a small shrug."It'll just take me a little longer to get used to the idea, I think." He then shook his head slightly at the question and took a sip of tea before giving a verbal reply. "No. John has enough to worry about right now. No need to add to it." So, much in his life was going to change now. All because of a one night stand. He tried not to think of it like that but he couldn't help it. He was still struggling with coming to terms with it.

"I understand you want to protect John and make sure he stays focused," Mrs. Hudson paused and smiled at Sherlock, "But at some point he needs to know. You can't build a healthy relationship by burying things." After patting Sherlock's hand she stood up and sighed. "I'm going to bed dear, you best do the same. You look exhausted." She moved to Sherlock's side of the table, placed a kiss on his forehead, and left the kitchen.

Sleep? There was no time to sleep with so much else to do. Sherlock left the kitchen quietly, and went back upstairs. He decided to take a long hot shower first. He didn't really use it to clean up, merely let the water spray down on him, as he leaned into it, one hand on the wall for support. When he finally got out, the water had turned rather cold. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, noting the scars on his chest and stomach from when he'd had surgery. The scars were lighter now, but they would never completely fade. His stomach was red and blotchy from the burn, he imagined his hand looked about the same. There was also an ugly looking purple bruise on his left pectoral from where he had been kicked.

Despite all the physical wounds, Sherlock was feeling rather beaten down by the psychological ones. He sighed at his thoughts and redressed. For a moment, he just stood in the living room and took it all in. This would be the last time the flat would ever look like this. It would forever be altered, changed. There was no looking back, only forward. He went from room to room, systematically cleaning each out. Except his bedroom. He would do that closer to the due date. It was almost dawn when he had finished his task, and he sat down in his chair to finally rest. He closed his eyes, intending to only take a brief respite but ended up falling asleep.