Summary:

Sherlock turns to the only person he knows who can at least keep a secret, however, he just happens to be the same person who will have much disdain for Sherlock's entire situation.

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The next morning, Sherlock grinds his teeth as he stands outside the Diogenes Club. The weather seems as dreary as his mood. Despite his brother's severe lack of empathy in non-distressed situations, he knows he at least can keep a secret. You don't work for the government this long without knowing how to hold confidentiality.

Mycroft opens his office and takes in his little brother, knowing immediately something is off. Sherlock grimaces and brushes past him, sauntering into the office and immediately sinking down onto one of the chairs.

"Of the many different faces I have seen on you over the years, this is not one I immediately recognize, though it's just as terrifying. I have an inkling that you're about to drop a bombshell. So, out with it."

Sherlock lets out a breath. "Molly's pregnant."

Mycroft furrows his brow. "Alright, so...this means one of two things then. Either you're annoyed that her presence in the lab will be lacking during her leave, or she's having the child of another man and you're furious, or both."

"Furious? Why would I be furious?"

Mycroft gives him the 'are you serious, we both know what we know' look.

Sherlock sighs and crosses his arm like a petulant child. "There's more to it..."

"More? What more could there be aside from your complicated 'feelings' as proven by our dear psychopathic sister", he mutters in slight disgust.

"This is in confidence; I have your assurance?"

"Sherlock."

"Do. I. Have. Your. Assurance. Mycroft.", he annunciates, getting the point across that it was important.

"Yes, fine. Of course. Now, what is this about?"

Grimacing slightly, he resigns to just blurting it out, figuring it would be easier. "It may be mine."

Mycroft blinks rapidly and seems frozen. "I'm sorry, I thought you just said that the fetus may be yours?"

Sherlock swallows hard. "It's possible, but not probable...I wouldn't get up and arms yet..."

"But clearly you are, or else you wouldn't be here", he replies pointedly.

"I'm just trying to compartmentalize things. If it isn't my child, that means it's Tom's, and as much as I am in no space to be a father, the thought of him being the father enrages me."

"Tom? Ah, the idiot that you told me dressed like you. Damn. Though you must admit, it's a better option than /you/ being a father. Please. There is no need to have that happen and get mother all riled.", he scoffs.

Sherlock ignores the jab that he feels in his gut at that verbal blow and sets his jaw, looking out the window at the drizzling clouds, the rain slowly trickling down the window.

"You're...stewing. What?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Fine, I think it would be better if the child were mine. At least she wouldn't have to deal with that misogynistic arsehole. Look, he had told her that he wanted her to be a stay at home mother when they had children after they got married, so that he could be the breadwinner like 'men are supposed to be', and she could raise the children the way 'traditional women are supposed to'. Molly loves her career, and she would never give that up, not for any man. I don't want that idiot in her life again, and I know that she doesn't want to have to deal with him. That's why she broke off her engagement to him originally, which she should have stuck with." He gets up and paces a bit, looking out the window and down to the pavement.

Mycroft scoffs but looks slightly amused. "You know that wasn't the only reason? That was just her breaking point."

Sherlock whirls around. "What do you know?"

"You cannot possibly be that thick, brother mine."

"I don't-...", he looks confused.

An amused look crosses Mycroft's face again. "You didn't happen to notice that she broke off her engagement to him when you two had been back in each other's good graces? After you had come back into her life from exile a better version, albeit only a bit, of the colder man you used to be? I'm just confused because I thought she broke it off with him well over a year ago. And then Sherrinford happened fairly recently, and she was upset at you. I guess I'm just a bit confused by the timeline..."

"Are you asking me when I had relations with her?"

"In the spirit of calculating the age of the fetus..."

"It was...close enough together where it wouldn't matter. She had broken off the engagement over a year ago, but he had still wormed his way back into her life, an off and on again thing... telling her he was sorry that he came off the wrong way and that he still wanted a chance and all that shit. And since I had broken her trust yet again with the drugs and the whole Magnussen and then Smith debacle, I guess she was vulnerable and she needed someone because as we are usually each other's confidantes, she was beyond pissed at me. Rightfully so. But that gave him a window and he used that to manipulate her into...being with him again, I suppose", he sighs. "Anyway, he eventually told her that they still weren't right for each other and left to take some business executive job in the States. He's an absolute rat, Mycroft."

"Alright, so after Culverton, and before Sherrinford", he muses, partially to himself.

"Yes", Sherlock mutters. "I had been released from the hospital and John and Molly had been taking turns watching me so I wouldn't have the urge to go back on the sweeties. After a while, they made some mutual decision that I could be trusted with myself again for the most part, except one night I was gasping for more after a tough case. John had to go to the clinic on an emergency and he would have gone right home to relieve the babysitter for Rosie after and the knowledge that I had time to get away with it was too much, so I texted Molly and she told me that I could stay at hers."

Mycroft gives him an ashamed look.

"Don't judge her, or me...you don't know the exact circumstances of that night."

"Then enlighten me."

"This is so not something I wanted to discuss with you."

"And yet you need someone to tell who won't get riled over it, so on with it."

"Anyway, I went over, and it was fine, it was good. I felt...like a commoner almost. We just watched telly and we talked. We had a really good conversation about varying subjects, and it was stimulating, and...normal. I found myself respecting her even more than I already did. She told me about Tom leaving her yet again and for good this time, about how he was a snake. I told her about Smith and how much I despised people like him, how I felt out of my depth there, despite acting selfishly myself sometimes. We talked about our pasts, or what I thought mine was at the time...I was completely sober, she was completely sober. It was just nice to be understood, and she felt the same. I don't know...next thing we know, things happened, and it wasn't repulsive or anything that I thought it was or remembered it to be."

"From your extremely limited University experience", he smirks a bit.

"Shut up", he bites back.

Sighing in frustration, he runs a hand through his curls and continues. "But no it felt...liberating, I guess. I don't regret it at all, neither did she, but we came to a mutual understanding that it was a one-off. That we never meant for any of it to happen, because honestly, we shocked ourselves...and that was that. It wasn't awkward or sad or anything the next morning. We were still comfortable around each other. I think that's what surprised me. I thought she would be a lot more upset about the outcome. About my entire outlook on dating remaining the same."

"Why because you're so irresistible?", he snorts. "You just said, she knows you. She's an intelligent woman, I'm sure she knew what the result was going to be on your end."

"I suppose", Sherlock mumbles.

"So that's what the context was...during Sherrinford. What you two shared and what was being silently discussed as you believed you were trying to save her life through the phone."

"Yes", he says softly.

"And the confession? I know that Eurus forced your hand, or well, Ms. Hooper's hand, but turning it back on you, I must admit, that was slightly shocking."

"Because she knew I'd say it if she asked me to...especially if we were in danger. She knew it wasn't fair of me to demand that of her after what we shared and how we decided to leave things. She was right. The whole situation was unfair; I always knew she had feelings for me, of course, I knew. But I wasn't using her the night we fell into bed, and honest to God, it just happened. I know that she knows that too. But Eurus did that because I am protective of her, and she means a lot to me, I won't deny that. She is my emotional context, a weakness. This is why I'm scared of this child being mine. More opportunities for bad people to use them to get to me."

"You still haven't answered the underlying question, brother mine."

"Because I don't know how to. I know how I feel, but you can't call it that with what I need for myself and for her...it's not fair to call it that when I can't...can't be more than what we already are."

"But if it weren't for safety? Then what?"

"Then I would possibly, /possibly/, be inclined to label it as such. I would /possibly/ entertain the idea of us as maybe something meaningful. But it is a matter of safety, so I can't."

"It's already meaningful if you're having this discussion with me of all people."

Sherlock groans and sighs. "One night just made everything too complicated and suddenly my nice, neat boxes that I separate things into are muddled on her side, and it's frustrating. Spinning out of control, and I don't know what's coming."

"Well, we now know you never paid attention in health class."

"Mycroft", Sherlock snaps a bit, gritting his teeth.

"Is it just possible, that you're upset right now because you really do want more than a one-off and you're just plain terrified of all the possibilities? That's how it seems."

"No. I can tame myself. I'm only concerned about the child."

"Mhh. Well, it will be well looked after. She has an incredible job with substantial pay, a good home. It will be fine, no matter the paternity."

"She wouldn't keep the baby from Tom, no matter how much she dislikes him...he'd have the right to know."

"That would be their business then, Sherlock. Neither of you will be a truly active father figure I'd imagine, so it doesn't mean much, no matter the outcome."

Sherlock balls his fists and releases them over and over a few times. "Only for their safety. You've seen how many times John has been targeted just for being my friend. How Mary died...how I try my best to never be seen in public around Rosie anymore. Can you imagine if it got out that I had a child?"

He stops pacing and turns to Mycroft again, who can tell he's waging an internal battle and is very upset at the notion.

"If the child happens to be yours, we will go from there and we can get governmental protections in place. However, let's not jump to conclusions before you know for certain."

Nodding, he runs a hand down his face and moves towards the door.

"Where are you going now?"

"To talk with Molly."

"Right, well. Keep me updated."

"Mhh", he grunts in response, rushing out the door to hail a cab to Molly's place.