Month Five

Molly was in her room, trying the new clothes she had just bought. Skinny jeans and tight shirts were not comfortable anymore. At last she had a good reason to wear all the knee length skirts she had bought so long ago and never got to wear them. She looked at herself in the mirror and pulled the shirt up, letting it rest above her belly. The bump was now very visible. It was not just a small bump anymore. Still, even though her clothes did not fit and her belly was bigger every day, she felt more beautiful than ever. The morning sickness was, thankfully, over but her cravings were now intense. Or, were they? She had always been someone who had cravings, so maybe it wasn't the pregnancy after all. One day she had made Sherlock get her white chocolate with hazelnuts in the middle of the night. He had rummaged to a few convenience stores and had finally found what she wanted. They had sat on the couch and shared the chocolate, Sherlock asking questions about the baby and Molly answering the best she could. The funny thing was that Sherlock, when she had mentioned the craving, hadn't tried to dismiss it. He had gotten up, coat and gloves and scarf and left right away, only returning with what she needed. It had made her smile. He was taking it serious. Too serious, in her opinion. She was not ill nor unable to do things, still he had taken charge of a few things in the house and didn't even let her clean or make anything that may get her tired. Mrs. Hudson – Molly was sure it was under Sherlock's command – had taken care of a few things as well. Molly felt guilty for that but, at the same time, she couldn't help but feel special. She had never been treated like that in all her life. Like she mattered. Like she carried something precious. And, to be honest, she did carry the most precious thing in the world. She stroked the belly, making round circles with her fingers, enjoying the touch of her own skin.

Sherlock had left again, in a case. There had been quite a few in the last couple of months. John had showed up more often as well, to help Sherlock and to check on her, make sure she was doing fine. He knew how life with Sherlock could be tough but she really didn't have much to complain about. One day, when John arrived at the apartment earlier than Sherlock they had chatted and Molly had told him about the marriage proposal. John said he knew about it already, Sherlock had talked to him about it. Molly understood then that when John had told Sherlock to do the right thing – and he meant stick up for her, stay with her – Sherlock had misinterpreted everything. That silly man! They had laughed over it. Molly figured out later on also why there was always ice cream on the fridge and all the foot massages. She smiled again. She also worried about Sherlock. His hunger for adrenaline had set him through some dangerous paths once in a while. One time he had been so absorbed in the case that John had come to the apartment to look for him because he didn't answer the phone. When Molly tried with her own cell phone Sherlock picked up promptly, worried that anything had happened to her, since she rarely called. John had heard their conversation before Molly passed him the phone and laughed to himself. Sherlock had definitively changed. If for no one else, at least for Molly.

They had had a few appointments with the doctor and Molly had gone through another ultrasound. The technician said it was possible to see the baby's gender. Sherlock and Molly looked at each other and shook their heads in unison. No, they didn't want to know. They would wait for the birth. It was like a secret, a thrilling surprise, the unknown they were keeping as a present for when the baby was born. Yes, they wanted it that way.

The technician had indulged with their decision, with an understanding smile. Those two made such a nice young couple. He would always hold her hand and, after the initial shock of the first appointment, made many, many questions, eager to understand everything he was seeing and everything that was happening. Little did she know that they were not a common couple at all.

Molly was still looking at her belly in the mirror when a soft knock on the door announced Sherlock's presence in the room. She gave a small jump.

"I didn't hear you enter the apartment."

"You were distracted." He pointed out, looking at her hands over her own belly.

Molly put the shirt down, embarrassed.

"Yes." She admitted.

"You went shopping." He affirmed, looking at the bags on top of her bed and at the clothes on the floor. She hurried to pick them up but he stopped her with a gesture and picked them up himself. He was not good at folding them but he made an attempt.

"Thank you." She said.

She noticed two presents on top of the bed, which he had placed there to pick the clothes from the floor. Sherlock followed her gaze.

"Ah, yes. This is for you."

He gave her the first present, what looked like a box wrapped in red paper. She smiled as a silent 'thank you' and opened it. It was a wooden box, with some letters hand painted on the lid. It said 'Love, Laughter and Sleepless Nights' in a beautiful handwriting. Molly smiled at the truth of that. Sherlock's face mimicked her unconsciously. She opened the box and inside, neatly folded, were baby clothes. Everything was so tiny and cute. A bodysuit with long sleeves, a beautiful knitted sweater, a babygro and a tiny beautiful skirt. On top of it all there was a beautiful pair of soft baby shoes. Molly sat on the bed with the box on her lap and removed the skirt from it.

"A skirt?" She asked, looking at Sherlock and smiling.

"Lucky guess." He said simply, shrugging.

Molly took the clothes from the box, one by one. For some reason, she hadn't yet bought any clothes for the baby. A mistake, probably. It was time to start doing it but she had been so absorbed on the pregnancy itself and on the changes in her body that she didn't realise there were just a few four months to go. She tried not to panic. She would have time for everything.

After looking through the clothes she put them back in the box and closed the lid, like she was holding a treasure. That had been the nicest thing Sherlock had done the last few months, and that was to say a lot, since he had been acting in a way Molly would never have guessed he would.

"I need to buy other things for the baby." Molly said, looking at him. "I don't have anything. A bed, the stroller, more clothes… I have nothing." She looked around the room. "I need to make this more beautiful for him or her."

"Maybe you can take next week off to do it. I am sure your boss won't oppose to it. You have been working more than you should."

Sherlock had repeated this sentence more than once since she got pregnant, but this time he was right. They would not die at the hospital if she did take one week off to take care of those things. Then she could really focus on it and do it properly, without running. Yes, she would talk to Mr. Green about it.

Sherlock sat next to her and gave her the second present. It was square shaped and smooth but flat. Molly could guess when she held it that it was a book. She ripped the paper and looked at the cover. 'Baby names' was the title. Molly looked at Sherlock.

"I thought we might get to think about it. A name is important. And maybe we should go for something more common."

"What do you mean?" she asked, without understanding his comment.

"Well, Mycroft suggested I named the baby after him. LIke that would happen." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "So maybe… well, our parents gave us quite strange names."

"I like your name." She said. "It's different."

"Yes, too different." He stared at her. "Unless… I am sorry; maybe you had a name in mind? I just thought the books would be a good idea if you didn't."

"No, I have no idea, to be honest. I have thought about it but I really don't know. There are so many possibilities."

"Well, you can start choosing now." He said and got up. "I am going to make some tea. Would you like some?"

Molly nodded and Sherlock went downstairs. She followed a bit after, not without opening the wooden box again and feeling the baby clothes on her fingers.

Sherlock had made the tea and had placed hers on the table next to her chair. He was playing his violin when Molly came down the stairs and sat at the chair, taking a sip of the tea. It was perfect and she really needed it. It made her feel warm. Or maybe the feeling inside was just because of all he had done, the gifts he had brought her and his general attitudes towards her. Either way, Molly was pleased.

She opened the book rummaging through the names and Sherlock, observing it, lowered the sound of the violin a little.

"Okay, let's see what we have here…." She searched through the pages carefully, reading the names and the meanings. "There are a few original names here." She pointed, smiling and remembering Sherlock's words about strange names. "Alchemy." She looked up and Sherlock stopped playing, a worried expression in his face. "What? You like chemistry and…"

"No." he said, very serious.

"Okay, then." Molly said, supressing a smile. He didn't realise she was teasing him. "Aithley? It means born in a garden."

"Maybe you should skip the A's." Sherlock suggested and went back to his violin.

Molly didn't say anything for a while, she just read the pages and enjoyed her tea until it was finished.

"Lewis." She read. "I like it. It sounds nice."

"If it's a boy." Sherlock said.

"Yes, if it's a boy."

"Well, maybe we should look for a name that fits both boys and girls, and then we can choose accordingly." He said, wisely.

"Okay." Molly agreed.

The hours passed and the sun set, hiding to be replaced by the moon. It became a bit chilli in the apartment and Molly grabbed a blanket, covering herself with it. She never thought choosing a name could be that difficult. There was not a name she liked all that much, but it was important to choose well, as that would be his or her name for all their lives. Sherlock had continued to play. It was wonderful how he would get so absorbed in the violin, that time would go by and he wouldn't even notice nor get tired. He would stretch his fingers sometimes but he would never stop. Molly put the book down and stroke her belly with soft movements, rising her shirt again. She liked to hold it as if she was holding her baby, protecting it. The music Sherlock was playing was low, slow and sad. He was dragging the notes and they were long and beautiful. Molly felt a kick. She gasped.

Sherlock stopped playing, coming closer and kneeling next to her.

"Are you okay? Is everything okay?"

Molly smiled widely, eyes opened, looking at him.

"It kicked!"

She put her hand on the place she had felt the baby move, waiting for another kick. Sherlock was looking at the belly, an worried expression but, at the same time, in awe.

Molly felt it again, a bit softer this time.

"Here." She said, holding his hand in hers and placing it over her belly. It was warm. Sherlock felt her skin and waited. Nothing happened.

"It's not kicking anymore." He said.

"Wait." Molly made pressure on his hand and they stayed like that for a few minutes, waiting. Nothing.

Molly shook her head.

"No, I guess that was it."

She smiled. That was the best feeling in the world. She had felt her baby move inside her. For some reason and even if she had seen the ultrasound, it made her feel like that was even more real.

Sherlock removed his had from her belly, slowly. He shrugged.

"I am sure you will feel it next time." Molly said, looking at his desolate face.

Sherlock looked around.

"Come." He said, extending his hand to her. "There's something I want to show you. Bring the blanket."

Molly got up, with the blanket on her hand and followed him. He went out of the living room in the direction of the stairs that led to the street, but instead of going down he looked at the ceiling. He then grabbed a handle that was there and opened a little door that was commonly used as attic's entrance. Molly had never noticed that before. He then pulled a wooden ladder down. It was in good conditions, though Molly had never seen him use it.

"Do you think you can go up?" He asked.

Molly was sure she could. It seemed okay for her. She started going up the stairs and Sherlock followed, making sure he was ready to hold her in case she lost her balance.

When Molly reached the top she could see the whole city around her. It was a bit dark up there but Sherlock, that had gone back down after making sure her climb was safe, had brought a few candles with him. He had brought a second blanket and a few pillows as well and placed it all on the floor. He helped Molly sit down and started to light the candles. Up there the lights from the streets were not so visible and Sherlock sat next to her, covering her with the blanket she had brought. He pointed up.

"Look."

Looking up, Molly saw all the stars shinning bright above them. Many, so many, stars she was not able to see when in a lower place because the city lights overshadowed everything. It was beautiful.

"This is lovely." She said. "I didn't know you had this here."

"Well, nobody uses it, really. I am not very fond of stargazing, but I noticed the small passage on the ceiling. Mrs. Hudson makes sure the ladder and the door are kept in a good condition. I thought you might like it. And I can test how much my knowledge improved after reading your book."

"You didn't read it all, did you?" Molly asked, closing her eyes a little.

Sherlock smirked and shook his head. Molly started to laugh and the sound echoed around them. It was pure, honest. A true laughter.

"That's Orion there." She pointed out a constellation. "He's known as the mighty hunter. It's my favourite."

"Why?" Sherlock asked, following the direction her finger had pointed.

Molly shrugged.

"I don't know. You don't really need a reason to like things. Sometimes you just like them." And she added. "It's formed by seven main stars. He was a warrior."

Molly reclined herself on the floor, looking at the stars without adding anything else. She was a little tired.

"Robyn." Sherlock mumbled, as Molly's eyes were about to close.

"What?" She asked, looking at him, sitting next to her, looking at a point she could not see.

"We could call her Robyn. It means bright, shiny. Like a star is." He looked at her. "And if it's a boy, we can change a letter and call him Robin. It's also the name of a warrior, like Orion."

Molly stared into his eyes and realised he hadn't just bought the book. He had read it. He had thought about it. And he had made his choice, even if he had let her do hers. She searched for his hand and held it. It was a little cold.

"You can have the blanket too." She said, making room for him. He lied down next to her and covered himself, looking at the stars far away again. "You had thought about it, haven't you?" She asked, knowing the answer.

He nodded.

"Yes. I have. I like how this particular name sounds, it's different without being weird, but I wasn't sure you would like it." He admitted.

Molly smiled and said the name, playing with the way it sounded now.

"Robyn, Robyn, Robyn." She paused. "I like it." She whispered.

She closed her eyes and got closer to him. It felt natural now, after all they had shared. Sherlock smiled and let her fall asleep, tucking her in, with the skies clear and bright as his own mind felt at that moment.

He woke her up after a few hours, they had to go inside and she needed to sleep, as she had to work the next day.

Molly got into her own bed as Sherlock started to play the violin again downstairs. He would not be going to bed so soon. After a while the movements inside her belly started again and she understood that also Robyn liked to hear the father playing.