Sherlock has been working on a case for a couple of days and just when he finishes one night, he decides to visit Molly. They finally have a small but important conversation about the baby. How will Sherlock handle a vital and necessary ultimatum?
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Sherlock huffs in the chilled night air as John grabs a cab home from NSY after they had watched Lestrade book yet another perp. He has yet to tell John about the bombshell, and keeping the secret is stressful, but he supposes that Molly felt a lot worse keeping the secret of his death for two years, so he owes her the privacy. Especially since he hasn't decided how to handle the news of him being the father.
Hailing his own cab, he is about to give the cabbie his Baker Street address, but Molly's address comes out of his mouth. Sitting back, he shrugs to himself and decides that he should see how she and the baby are doing anyway, as it's been a few days since he saw her in person.
Moments later, he rings her doorbell. He can smell dinner cooking from the stoop and his mouth waters; Molly's cooking is amazing, especially pasta. If that is her spaghetti sauce like he thinks it is, he really hopes she offers him some.
Molly opens the door and looks surprised. "Sherlock."
"Hi."
"Hi?"
"May I come in?"
"Yes, of course. Um, is something wrong, are you hurt?"
"No...do I need a reason to see the mother of my child?"
"Ah, so you're here to check on the baby. Still safe inside my uterus, you'll be glad to hear", she jokes badly.
"Not just the baby, I wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a few days, so I thought I'd pop by and check on you."
"Oh. Um, well that's sweet of you."
"So I notice you're...you're doing okay."
"Yep..."
They stand in awkward silence or a bit before Molly clears her throat. "Uh, would you like some spaghetti and meatballs? They are still warm, I was just eating, want to join me?"
"God yes. Thank you. I've been on this case for a couple days, so I haven't eaten much. You know how good your cooking is", he chuckles.
She smiles cutely and blushes. "Thanks, I'll get you some."
"No, no it's fine. You sit and get off your feet, I'll help myself. I know how plates work", he smirks.
"If you insist", she shrugs and returns to her seat, eating hungrily.
Sherlock grabs a plate and sits next to her, eating hungrily as well. "This is so good."
"You've said", she chuckles softly.
"So when's the next appointment?"
"You want to go?"
"Well, yes? It is my child too. Unless you're uncomfortable having me there, of course."
"No, I'm not. You took me the last time, I just-...are you sure you want to get so attached?", she whispers.
Sherlock swallows the lump in his throat then shoves a forkful of pasta in his mouth to give him more time to respond.
"Undetermined?"
He nods sheepishly and looks at her. "I want what is best. But I keep thinking that what if what is best, is in fact, me not being around. Think about it. All of the dangerous enemies I probably have, how easy a target you or my child would be if it becomes public knowledge that it's my child. Wouldn't the child be safer with me at a protective, intermittent distance?"
Molly sighs and gets up to clear her dishes, looking annoyed, but also hurt.
"Molly...talk to me. If I said something bad..."
"There is no such thing as an intermittent father Sherlock, that's called a deadbeat Dad. You're either all in or all out. I won't allow them to see you and love you and rely on you just for you to leave them broken when you leave. There is no in-between in parenting unless you want an emotionally fucked up kid. I'm the prime example. Of course, it was more than just neglect in my case, but I digress. Not only is there no in-between, but it's not like I have the choice to be all in or all out too. This is my child, and I am the mother, and I am having them. That automatically makes me all in, but yet you helped create them too and you get to sit there and just ponder whether you want to walk away and leave it all to me? I-I knew that you would, but it doesn't make it hurt any less", her eyes well with tears and leans on the counter, the dishrag in her hand, looking distressed.
He quickly gets up and goes to her side, worried.
"I am fine", she mutters, moving away from him.
"This isn't about want, Molly. It is about safety."
"Oh, so if it were about want, you'd want to be all in?"
He swallows and his eyes move downcast.
"That's what I thought."
"I am not a good man, you know all of my indiscretions, all of my vices, all of my horrible qualities."
"I do. I also know that this child, /our/ child, has your DNA too. They could be more like you than me, and that is just a simple truth. Which means we need to be vigilant in parenting, and if they have a mind like yours...how am I supposed to parent them alone without your input and guidance? Only you know how you were as a kid, how they could be."
Sherlock's face turns to fear as he realizes the truth in what she said; it had completely slipped his mind. What if the baby does turns out to be as difficult as he was...is? She has a point.
"You need to make a choice, and soon. I refuse to keep getting my hopes up and then down and then up again. I want to get off the rollercoaster. I can see that your heart cares, but you're battling your mind and all of the worst-case scenarios. But what if /just maybe/ none of those come to pass and you give up on a chance to know your child who could be an amazing little human in their own right? Genius or no."
He runs a hand through his curls and heaves a sigh of distress. "Until I make a decision, I want to be in the know. I want to be at the appointments. I...I want to make sure you are both doing alright. That's all. You don't owe me anything else, I simply want to know you're both okay and about our child."
Molly looks down and wrings her hands, nodding silently.
"I came here because...I honestly missed all the time I had been spending with you. Cases had been light, and it was quite nice to feel ordinary for a while."
She is silent as she goes over and wipes down the table. He can see her eyes glistening with tears.
"Did I mess up again? You know you should take the things I say with a grain of salt. I meant no insult..."
"That's why you come here and spend time with me? I'm so mind-numbingly ordinary and boring that you destress automatically?"
"What? No. Me feeling ordinary is a good thing. I feel more connected to you- no I-...you're not just ordinary to me, Molly. What I meant is that I really, truly, thoroughly enjoy spending time with you, and when I wasn't here, I felt myself missing the safety and comfort you and your home bring me."
She looks up and him and sniffles, wiping her tears. "You mean that?"
"Every word. I swear to you."
He goes over and she hugs him as best she can, crying. "I'm sorry, it's hormones", she sob-hiccups.
"It's alright, I understand. You should get ready for bed. I'll leave you be for the rest of the night."
"Sherlock?", she asks, peering up at him cutely.
"Yes, Molly?"
"You can stay. I mean if you want to...you could. You're already here and your flat is draftier..."
He smiles softly, stroking her cheek tenderly. "Do you want me to?"
Her eyes flutter closed gently, and she whispers, "yes..."
"Then I'll stay."
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Molly adjusts herself with her baby bump and sighs against the pillow as Sherlock slips into her bed.
"Would you be more comfortable left alone, or can I hold you?"
"Please hold me...", she blushes deeply.
"Of course", he murmurs, scooting over to her and wrapping his arms around her, one hand resting on her bump protectively. "Get some sleep while you can, I assume it will only get more difficult.
"Mhh", she mumbles leaning into his warmth, her eyes closed as sleep takes her into its realm swiftly.
Sherlock stays up and watches over her, observing her sleep for a few hours before eventually, he too succumbs to slumber.