As some of you have pointed out, strands of ACD canon are also getting entwined in these later chapters, along with BBC Sherlock, the Regency and Omegaverse. So yes, its quite a colourful yarn I'm weaving!
And thanks so much for the support you are showing this story! Be it through the 'favourite'-ing, the comments, the recs or the art. It means a lot to me and you, dear reader, are the magnet that keeps pulling me back to this fic.
~O~
They had reached Paris without incident, especially as Sherlock had taken several precautions including a disguise for himself. He took on the role of curmudgeonly old man jealously possessive about his young pregnant Omega, which gave him the excuse of insisting on a veiled hat for his mate. John was astonished when he first saw his husband in grey whiskers and a wig and stooping over a cane. He later reflected that he shouldn't have been surprised that Sherlock was as good at disguise as at any other thing he put his mind to. Sherlock had been worried that the crossing the Channel might prove difficult for his pregnant mate but John proved to be stronger than he expected. John was always stronger than he expected, Sherlock thought fondly.
They spent only a night in Paris before Sherlock decided to move on and put as much of a distance as he could between themselves and Moriarty's minions or the Regent's men. Their travels took them from Paris to Brussels. Sherlock insisted on constantly doubling back and forth between locations to cover their tracks. They stayed at nondescript little inns and hotels to avoid detection though Sherlock tried to ensure that John was provided with all basic comforts wherever they went.
John was now heavily pregnant and he could not say that running across the Continent was easy for him. He had grown very big and could not seem to find a restful position to sit or sleep in for any length of time. He was also unable to run or react as fast as he would have liked and he was vexed to think that he might be slowing Sherlock down. However, he was also certain that he would rather be uncomfortable and with Sherlock, than comfortable but worried sick somewhere else. So he did not complain and tried to keep calm as his husband tried to keep them safe and track down their enemies.
The days rolled by slowly and they passed their time in quiet pursuits trying to remain unnoticed on foreign shores. John stayed indoors writing in his journal or reading. Sherlock prowled the streets and waited impatiently for coded messages from Mycroft informing him about the situation in London. There was predictably no trace of Moriarty and Sherlock was sure that he was on the Continent and on their trail. When his Alpha's anxiety increased, John could feel it strum through his veins. The bond between Sherlock and him was becoming stronger and more primal as John's pregnancy neared its final stages. They could sense each other better and couldn't stay apart for more than a couple of hours at a time. John did not know if this was normal or if this was happening because of their circumstances. Sherlock would pace restlessly, his hair springing wildly around his head and his eyes flashing, as he chafed at their self-imposed confinement. John would then quietly draw him close and place Sherlock's head on his breast and his hand on his belly. He had found that it calmed both of them down.
As the winter snows melted away, they moved to Strasbourg for a short while and then onwards to Geneva via Basel. In a small picturesque hamlet in Geneva, they rented a chalet for a few weeks. "The landlord owes me a favour", Sherlock said as John rolled his eyes. The chalet was set on a small incline which provided a wonderful view – from the fresh greenery heralding spring in the hamlet to the pristine white of the snow capped Alps all around. The village was nearby if supplies or a midwife were needed but it was also just far enough to afford them the privacy they required. The chalet's landlord was also a trained physician and that added to Sherlock's peace of mind.
John was tired of staying indoors all the time and wanted to maintain whatever little agility he had left, so Sherlock often took him on leisurely walks through the mountain passes and by the lakes. John loved to sit gazing at the blue waters and feeding the ducks with crumbs. He didn't tell Sherlock but sometimes he liked to pretend that they were there on a holiday and not hiding from their enemies. Sherlock would look at him fondly and rub his belly and kiss his lips softly and promise himself that he would never let anyone hurt John. Though he had become much calmer now that they had come so far unmolested, Sherlock remained constantly on alert. Especially with his pregnant Omega by his side, Sherlock's inner Alpha refused to relax his vigil for an instant and his penetrating eyes scrutinized everything and everyone they happened to pass.
A short distance away from their chalet was the famous local attraction, the Reichenbach Falls. Their landlord urged them to take a look at it and so Sherlock and John made their way there one crisp April morning, slowly walking hand in hand. They followed the swollen green stream and when they emerged from the trees they saw the land sloped downwards before abruptly dropping away and taking the river down with it. From where they stood, they could see the turbulent Falls and the dark abyss into which it plunged. The unrestrained torrent, the deep abyss edged with cruel black rocks and the smoky sheet of spray where the water hit the rocks affected John in a way he could not explain. He cringed in unease, suddenly breathless and panic stricken. A sharp pain raced through his abdomen and he clutched Sherlock's arm. "John! Are you alright? Are you in pain?" Sherlock asked alarmed. The pain passed and John slowly began to breathe freely again. "I'm fine. Let's just go back", he said tiredly, not wanting to spend more time listening to the sound of water crashing onto the rocks.
John did not feel any more pain that day and the landlord checked him and assured them that he was well and could expect to deliver in another week or at most two. Sherlock curled up with him in bed and they lay talking about their future, deciding on names for their child and pretending that Moriarty's capture and their safe return home was fact rather than desperate hope.
~O~
The next morning, Sherlock got on to his horse and left for the village to check on whether there was any message waiting for him from Mycroft. As he stood at the window watching Sherlock ride away, John felt a pang in his chest that seemed to spread across his swollen abdomen before subsiding. He felt restless and worried though he couldn't say why, so he tried to soothe himself by rubbing slow circles over his belly. When he was disturbed by a knock at the door more than hour later, he was still feeling incredibly anxious. A large man stood outside, having clearly arrived in the coach that stood some distance away in the yard.
"Are you John Watson?" he asked.
"What is it?" John asked breathlessly.
"I'm carrying a message for John Watson", he said truculently.
"I'm John Watson", John replied irritably, "What is the message?"
"Your husband awaits you near the stream sir. The Reichenbach. He has asked that you collect your belongings and then I will take you there in me coach. He is injured but he has asked you not to worry", he intoned. "You should probably carry some bandages though", he added as an afterthought as John stood looking up at him in panic.
"What? What has happened to him? Is he… Who are you?" John asked.
"My name is Moran, sir. Coachman. Your husband has paid me to take you to him. You can check for yourself how badly hurt he is. Was standing on his own two feet when I left him", the lout answered. "Now are you coming or not?"
John didn't know what to make of it. What had happened to Sherlock? What could Sherlock have found that was threatening their stay in the chalet? Why hadn't he come for John himself? Could it be a trap laid by their enemies? He looked around for the landlord but was told by the help that he had been called away by a patient in the hamlet. Finally, the thought of Sherlock lying somewhere wounded and helpless, decided John. He packed their meager belongings, some first aid supplies, quickly scribbled a note to the landlord and left the chalet tucking his gun into his waistband.
His heart pounded in his chest and his breath came in short gasps as the coach rumbled its way over the uneven tracks. He tried to reach out to Sherlock over their bond trying to sense how he was but in his disturbed state all he could pick up was anxiety and fear and he didn't know if it came from him or from his husband. The coach rolled to a halt and John saw they had reached the spot where Sherlock and he had been the day before. The roar of the Reichenbach Falls filled his ears and added to his tumult. As Moran helped him step out, he felt a stab of pain course through him. A man stood at some distance away, almost at the edge of the waterfall, with his back to him. There was no sign of Sherlock.
The man slowly turned and John saw with horror that it was James Moriarty. The dark hair was slicked back and the menacing grin was in place as he twirled a cane and walked toward John. "So good of you to join me, John. I have been expecting you for some time", he said grinning evilly. The coach had begun to move away and John realized too late that he was trapped. "Where is Sherlock?" he said pulling out his gun and pointing it at Moriarty.
"Tsk, tsk. Do put away the gun, John. Is this how you greet an old friend?" Moriarty smirked walking closer.
"Don't. Don't come any closer… or I'll shoot", John said trying to sound braver than he felt. There was a strange feeling in his belly and he could feel a cold sweat break out on his forehead. It took him all his strength to keep his hand and voice steady.
Moriarty took a few more steps towards him and made an expression of astonishment. "Oh! And you are so pregnant John! Sherlock must have fucked you well for you to grow so big after just one Heat", he said conversationally. John's inner Omega cringed and he could feel his face burning.
"Shut up, you bastard! Come any closer and I'll take your head off!" he ground out.
Moriarty continued as if he hadn't heard him at all. "You look even more delicious than when we last met. Pregnancy really suits you… The glowing complexion, the big round belly, the growing mounds on your chest… Tell me are they full of milk yet?"
"Shut your filthy mouth!" John screamed and fired a shot in the air hoping to scare the man. The recoil throbbed through his arm and travelled down his shoulders, the sound ricocheting wildly around them. He looked around desperately but there was no one nearby. The rolling land stretched around them edged by a dark copse of cedars on his right and the booming water crashing on the rocks below to his left.
Moriarty licked his lips and ran his eyes down his body. "You would taste sooo good right now. Especially with your juices running down your leg…"
John looked down in horror and realized that his breeches were stained and quickly getting wetter. His waters had broken. Before he could look up, Moriarty had smacked the cane over his hand and knocked the gun away. John cried out in pain and tears stung his eyes. Moriarty slowly unsheathed the rapier he had hidden within his cane and pointed its tip to John's stomach. His smile was gone and only the cold dead gaze in his eyes remained. "Don't even think about moving. I will carve you and your child up and make you into shoes."
John whimpered and clutched his belly as a small contraction coursed through him. "Where's… where's Sherlock?" he gasped.
"That is what I am hoping to find out, my dear. Let me explain, in case it wasn't clear to your tiny Omega brain – this is a trap and you are the bait. Just like at the Carl Fountains." Moriarty smiled insanely, his small teeth looking sharp and pointed. "Except that this time I am not willing to be distracted."