Summary:

Sherlock and Molly remain unsure where they stand, but deep conversation leads to breakfast, which leads to a very important phone call.

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The feel of fingers trailing down his chest makes Sherlock smile softly, coming out of his soft slumber again as he feels the warmth of a body next to his. His mind tells him to get up and leave like last time, but his heart tells him that the best thing to do is lean into the feeling, so in spite of his mind, he turns towards Molly and pulls her into his arms as he looks down and meets her eyes.

Molly blushes and pulls her hand away from his chest out of habit. "I-"

"Don't say you're sorry", he rumbles tenderly.

She stares up at him silently, unsure of what to say, her eyes searching for what he's thinking as if it would be written on his face in ink.

Sherlock takes a breath and leans down, wanting to kiss her lips, but instead kissing her forehead, knowing that if he kissed her again it would lead to the same result.

"I don't know what to say then", she whispers.

Swallowing hard, Sherlock silently holds her to his chest in a hug, skin on skin, the moment lasting more than a beat.

"I don't either...for a change."

Laying her head over his heart, she nods slowly and takes comfort in his warmth, however fleeting it may be. That's when Sherlock gently takes her hand and places it back on his chest, his hand remaining on top of hers.

A chunk of time passes by, and Sherlock speaks first. "Whatever this is, whatever we've gotten ourselves into...please know that it isn't disposable to me. That it means something. Time with you, our conversations. It all means something. And I know that I'm not any ordinary man; I'm difficult, arrogant, and under everything, extremely unsure of myself most of the time. But I'm sure of this and I just hope you can believe me."

"I do", she murmurs. "Believe you, I mean. Y'know why?", she says softly, looking up at him.

He returns her gaze and shakes his head a bit.

"Because I feel it. When we have comfortable conversation, when we hug, when you trust me to help you out of difficult situations...", she takes a deep breath. "...and when we...make love. I feel it. So you don't need to say anything because I already know. And I want you to know that while I may be worried about many things, I'm not worried about the fact that you aren't certain about this. It would be extremely odd if you were certain, because that's not who you are, and it never has been. You think things through, you fight your heart with your mind and then in the end you weigh everything and then make your decision. Then however difficult that decision is, you go through with it knowing it's the right one because you've made sure. Because it means something."

Sherlock's eyes soften as he looks down at her, feeling his heart racing in his chest, just under her fingertips. "I-"

"Don't say you're sorry", she smiles softly and kisses his cheek gently. "I'm not. Despite our unique situation, I probably should be. But I'm not, because as you said...it means something. It's not disposable regardless of the outcome."

He swallows the lump in his throat as he watches her slip out of bed, holding the sheet around her pregnant form, and he can't help but think of how beautiful she is. Molly tosses him a cute smile as she makes her way to the loo and closes the door, her shower running moments later.

Slipping out of bed himself, he pulls on his underwear and grabs one of Molly's father's old tees from the bottom of her dresser (where he knows from previous visits she keeps them for him), then makes his way to her kitchen, shaking off the feeling of dread he feels from it's look. He turns on her coffeemaker and finds a box of frozen waffles in her freezer, popping a few into the toaster.

He can't help but feel odd at how domesticated this is, but he figures that if the child turns out to be his, regardless of the probability, he will have to visit some days if he wants to get to know him or her. His minds questions if that's really best for the child or for Molly for that matter, but he shakes it away quickly. He already knows the answer, but with each passing day, he can't help but know that if his child called him anything other than their father, he would burst from the hurt. Perhaps this was the worst idea in the world, the emotional context that Eurus had warned him of, but at some point along this past week, he realized that maybe he wants more gratification from life than the threat of death looming at every corner. Why can't happiness be his gratification? It may come with some domestication, but what if that's a risk he's willing to take for a small child that he may have helped create?"

Molly chuckles as she watches how still Sherlock becomes when he's in his mind palace, though she has never caught him in such a position, leaning back on her counter, seemingly staring creepily into space. She rolls her eyes fondly and tosses the burned waffles from the toaster, replacing them with fresh ones and pouring coffee into two mugs. Her heart pangs a bit, wishing this could last forever but she knows that a decision is looming, and knowing him, it most likely won't include her or the child, if only for their own safety as he had mentioned. Yes, his job is dangerous, but how could he not want to know his own child, if it is, though it probably isn't...but he is so amazing with Rosie...", her thoughts trail off as the toaster dings.

That suddenly wakes Sherlock from his thought coma as well, since he furrows his brow and asks her when she entered the room.

"About ten minutes ago", she giggles softly.

"Oh...I must have dipped into my mind palace."

"You did, I'd know that look anywhere by now."

He smirks a bit and walks over, taking his mug of coffee. "Thank you."

"No need, you brewed it, I only poured it", she teases.

He chuckles and blows on the steam. She can't help but think it's something so simple, but he makes it look so sensual. Similar to when he smokes, not that she agrees with that when he does.

"I assume you replaced the waffles."

"Yeah, they were a bit toasty", she smirks.

"Sorry", he pulls a face and continues to gently blow and sip on his coffee. "It's perfect."

"Black, two sugars. Unfortunately for you, you won't get too far if you go upstairs here."

He blushes as he is reminded of an incident that had happened the day he met John, about a year or so after he met Molly. He was extremely rude and dismissive of her back then.

Groaning he glances at her. "I was a prick."

"Yeah, you were. Luckily, you've gotten better. Most days", she teases.

He chuckles and plates their waffles, grabbing the syrup. "Agreed."

They have an amicable breakfast, Sherlock in pajamas and Molly in her robe, her hair still damp from the shower.

Just as she is dressing, her phone rings. Sherlock glances at it as he places his coffee mug in the dishwasher and recognizes the number from the clinic they visited. "Molly!?"

She doesn't hear him and he leans against her island, steadying himself as he shakily picks up the phone, hoping she doesn't get upset at him as he slides the answer button.

"Molly Hooper's phone", he mumbles, his entire being filling with anxiety.

"Hello, this is Doctor Lahey from the Central London Clinic. May I speak with Miss Hooper please?"

"She's not available right now, but um, I can get her..."

"Molly!"

Molly is tossing her hair up in a ponytail when she (slightly) waddles down her hallway in one of her brightly colored sweaters. "Alright, alright, I'm coming, what's wrong?"

"Um...phone", he says quietly, holding it towards her. "It's the clinic..."

Her face goes pale, and she walks over to him, her hands shaking. It's a scary picture, reminiscent of what he saw on the screen while stuck in Sherrinford as she also leans on the counter a bit.

"H-Hello?"

"Hello, is this Miss Hooper?"

"Yes...uh, yes, it is."

"This is Doctor Lahey. I have the results of the paternity test for you."

Molly sniffles and takes a shaky breath. "Alright then...tell me, Doctor."