I've seen so many of these I thought I would give myself a try at it. When Sherlock 'dies' he and Molly had one night together before he disappeared. One night, filled with sex, and love, and promises... only it takes a turn. And it's Molly's job to make sure that their son or daughter is taken care of. (Won't be doing the night of.) PART 1
"I have a video of you going into the shop, buying a stick, and going back home. Obviously you and my brother did more than just sleep when I let him stay in your home that night Dr. Hooper. Care to share the results... or shall I have someone sneak in and go through any trash you have available to you." Molly moved aside, letting in the blunt Uncle to her unborn child.
"Pregnant. Confirmed with a blood analysis while at work. I didn't realize you were watching me as well." Molly said and moved to get her now empty tea mug. "Would you like a cup? I haven't been able to keep down most things, even water, but tea always helps." She sighed as she got into the kitchen, letting Mycroft enter in his own time.
"It has only been 6 weeks, what are you plans?" Mycroft asked her as she unbuttoned his coat and took a seat.
"I don't know. I know talking to Sherlock about this is out of the question." She paused as she poured the water, concentrating as well as hoping that he might say something about trying.
"Yes, I am afraid. This is all up to you." Mycroft said and as she set a new mug and a variation of teas in front of him she sat as well and just looked at him.
"You might not be his closets friend or anything like that Mycroft... but you know how he would react in any scenario. If or when he comes back... how would he react to all my options."
"And what are you considering as options?" He asked after a couple tense moments.
"Either... I give birth to him or her and give them up for adoption... or I keep it. I don't believe in ending a life once it really has started." She told him and he nodded and worked his jaw.
"I wish I could tell you that he would be overjoyed. Or that he would be right in every day. But the truth is there are too many variables. I don't know what he will encounter or how long it will be for him. He has his head set on this mission. He might come back more broken than I have ever anticipated, or he might be just fine." Mycroft watched her take in the news, watched her right hand unconsciously move to rub her stomach.
"And if... if he were to come back tomorrow, how do you think he would want to continue?" She asked, looking him in the eye now. Waiting for his truthful answer.
"If he were to talk in through that door right now Dr. Hooper, he would leave all the decisions to you. As I am doing. We might be stuck in our ways, but we would never tell a woman what to do with her own body." He told her and she just nodded and gulped.
"But would he be happy? Would he try and be a father?" Molly asked him, gulping again as she wondered how should would do this all by herself.
"I think, in his own way, Sherlock would be happy. He would try to be a father... but let me ask you this Dr. Hooper. Would you want a drug addict with a knack for causing and attracting dangerous people to be the father of your son publicly? Or would you rather chance it?"
That was all Molly needed to hear. She had a lot of thinking to do. Thinking about how she would go about this. She had 9 more months to think about the adoption and the birth. However, it took just two ultrasounds of listening to the heartbeat to make up her mind. This baby was hers, and she would raise him alone.
She gives birth alone in the room, only a curse to hold her hand and tell her that she was doing good. Mycroft comes by after, almost as soon as the boy is done with his third feeding. Molly had just cleaned up and burped him before he knocked gently and pushed open the door.
"Come in." She told him and he smiled softly as he came towards the bed.
"I am sorry. I didn't think about how alone you would be." Mycroft looked around the room. No flowers, no family or friends. She was just like him at this time of year. Utterly alone.
"It's fine. I had a nurse here." She told him and sat up. "Would you like to meet him?"
"A boy?" He asked looking at the white onesie he was in before walking closer. Mycroft's mind was reeling back to the first time he saw Sherlock as a baby, and even then he had a protectiveness deep inside that he now felt for this little human in his mothers arms.
"Yes. I haven't thought of a name, but he is a boy." Molly offered him up, shocked to see Mycroft conform his body around the baby so naturally.
"Have you made up your mind if he is going to be a Holmes?" Mycroft asked softly, wanting to be a little more informed if he could.
"He will be a Hooper until Sherlock learns about this. He is still alive right?" She gave a light laugh, but he could hear the desperation of knowing in her tone.
"Yes, alive and well undercover." He told her, starting to sway the boy. "He is a fine mix of you both."
"Funny, as soon as he was placed on my chest I was looking for signs of Sherlock, and all I could see was the lips. He also doesn't look like me. Just the hair color and face shape, but that may melt away with age." She told him and he just smiled, as much as Mycroft was capable of anyways before handing the boy back.
"Any names you have thought of beforehand?" She sighed and started to rub over the little fingers as her son slept.
"I was thinking about Jason, or Marcus." She waited for a reaction, but when she got none... she had to ask. "What do you think I should name him. And be honest." She pointed at him and he sighed.
"For once.. I can understand why some people call their children Jr. He does look so much like him when Sherlock was a baby." Mycroft put his hands behind his back, the sign that he didn't want to discuss it anymore.
"How about William or Scott then?"
"Scott sounds perfect." He told her and she smiled as she looked down at her little boy. She dreamt a lot of how Sherlock would meet him. About how old Scotty would be when he did meet his father, and it became more and mover apparent that he was just like his father in the intellectual way. Mycroft did take him for a weekend every month. Showing him how to use his brain, something he told Molly their uncle had done with each other them while they were growing up.
And when Sherlock came back, just after his second birthday, it was a shock, and she didn't know how to tell him. So she just didn't. He never brought up their night together, and she never had Scotty with her in the lab so he didn't know. He no longer used her place as a bolt hole.
It wasn't until three months after he was back did she call out of work on an important case. Scotty had fallen ill with Chicken Pox and the childminder had kids of her own that had never had them, she needed to be relieved.
Mycroft had already been there, visiting. He often did that and while he thought Molly didn't know, she could always tell when he had been in the house. There was way less cookies, things were very clean, and Scotty was always using new words. She never thought anything of what would happen if Sherlock ever caught her with Mycroft and Scotty, but it was never going to be easy.
Especially when Sherlock turned up at her door, wanting to know why Mycroft and Anthea's car was outside, wanting to know why there was a crying sound coming from inside.
She had let him in, no excuses, no up front explanation, she just wanted him to see. She let him walk into the house, let him walk up to a crying Scotty in his brothers arms, hoping he had enough sense not to start yelling with a toddler in the room.
"Whose child is it?" Sherlock asked looking at the baby covered in spots, crying his head off.
"Mine." Molly said behind him and he cut her a look before focusing on Mycroft.
"You mean ours." Sherlock saw the confirmation in Mycroft's face.
"No." Molly corrected and moved to step between them.
"He is mine-"
"No Sherlock. He is mine. He might be your offspring but he is my son. You and I had one night, and I know why you left. I don't blame you any more than I can blame Mycroft for not being able to reach you. But you have been back, and not once have we talked about what happened that night, or our feelings, you just skipped right over that. So... no. He is mine." Molly held out her hands for her son and turned back to him.
"You didn't tell me. You didn't talk to me anymore than I talked to you-"
"I am not the one that left Sherlock. I shouldn't have to pour my entire heart out to you again. I can't. I won't." Molly shook her head, moving to calm down Scotty and leaving Sherlock and Mycroft in the den.
"And you never told me? John never told me?"
"John Watson doesn't know. He left her alone just as you did."
"Alone?"
"Yes. Alone. She gave birth to that boy alone, with only a nurse at her side. She refuses and sends back any money I try to give her. Even tried to just wire it into her account so she wouldn't notice, but of course, she has alerts." Mycroft sighed and moved to sit down again, letting his little brother move about freely.
"Why didn't you tell me when I came back."
"As I recall, the only worry and question you had while you were getting ready to go back into London was of John Watson. Nothing of Molly Hooper." Mycroft challenged and this time Sherlock glared.
"And you didn't think to warn me?"
"Why would I brother mine? Molly and I had been at an understanding. I would not tell you anything about Scotty-"
"Scotty?" Sherlock asked his eyes snapping the way of the crying baby sounds in another room.
"Yes. Scott Marcus Hooper." Mycroft saw the flash of pain in his brothers eyes as he mentioned the last name.
"And you have been there." Sherlock whispered as he stood again.
"Yes. I take care of him once a month for just a weekend. He is a bright boy. Very articulate. Loves classical music. Already knows his ABC's."
"Why are you telling me this?" Sherlock asked. Snapping out of a deeply hurt reaction.
"So you know how bright your son-"
"He is not my son. As Molly said. He is merely my offspring." Sherlock moved to the door, opening it and just before he walked out he heard a giggle. There had been no more crying, and Molly had gotten their son- her son to giggle.
Sherlock's departure had not only surprised Molly, but hurt her deeply. She smiled at her son, loving him even more that she can still smile as she hurt. He was calm now, a cool rag on his chest and some itch cream rubbing over the few bumps he had.
It took him less than a week to get better, even Mycroft was impressed. He took him out that weekend, letting Molly take the night shift for once. Hoping to get away from sherlock using the lab, but just as her hope was rising for a nice clean weekend, Sherlock, Lestrade, and John walked through the door, wanting to see a dead body someone had called in to Sherlock that it wasn't what it seemed.
Someone was playing a game and he was ready to play. Yet, he was not ready to be face to face with Molly Hooper.
"Hey Molly. Long time no see." John moved to give her a hug and she just seemed as uncomfortable as she could get.
"Yeah." She nodded, giving him a small smile before moving to get the body out now that he backed away. "It looks like Mike did this a couple days ago. What kind of test shall I re run?" She had put her professional face on as she turned to Sherlock now.
"We won't need you Molly. Go home to Scott." He waved at her dismissively and she ground her teeth.
"He is with your brother for their weekend. I am working the night shift, so if you want someone else to do it, you will have to come back in 7 hours." She moved to put the man and his chart back when she heard whispered questions.
"Who is Scott and why he is with Mycroft?" John asked Sherlock and he looked at Molly putting the body back.
"My offspring, her son." Sherlock moved to leave and he caught their shocked faces. "Come on."
"No!" John shouted before he turned to Molly.
"You're joking." Lestrade found his voice, looking at Molly before Sherlock. "How old is he?" Lestrade asked and Sherlock waited by the door.
"2 years, 7 months." Molly called out before signing off that she had taken the body out and moving to sit at her desk.
"That means-"
"Yeah." Molly cut out the vulgar behavior and language before they could start it.
"You have a son and you didn't even tell me?" John asked Sherlock and he crossed his arms.
"According to Molly he is not my son, just my offspring. Apparently big brother is filling in as the father figure."
"Don't you start insulting your brother. He offered to help. He was the only one that ever cared to check in on me after your death Sherlock. He was the only one who cared that I was pregnant. John dropped me as a friend the moment the funeral was over. He did the same to Mrs. Hudson. And you Lestrade, you didn't care one way or another. You saw me before maternity leave. Never asked if it was a boy or girl, whose it was, or anything. You simply ignored me. At least Sherlock had the right to be surprised. Now... tell me what test you need done so I can do it, or leave." She told the two men who hadn't moved away.
"Just a toxicology, a deep one. Any and all poisons, even small amounts that might make his liver or kidneys' fail." John blurted out and Molly nodded.
Sherlock had moved to pace, John and Lestrade both waiting silently, when one started to yawn and the room filled with too much tension, they both made excused for going to get coffee, leaving Sherlock to wait for the results.
"Why didn't you tell me when I came to see you in the locker room?" Sherlock asked, the deafening silence now broken.
"It's not like you stayed for hours and hours to tell me about your time away. You just came to tell me that you were back, and that you were going to visit Lestrade. Then you never came back to talk to me about what happened. You didn't even mention it." Molly told him as she clicked on the print icon so the tests that were done could just print right out.
"If you had brought it up we would have talked. I had just assumed you didn't like waiting-"
"Of course I didn't like waiting Sherlock. I also like talking about what happens in my life, but you never asked. And what was I supposed to say when I saw you? Sherlock! Great! Your back! Our son just turned 2 and his name is Scott-"
"You didn't say anything. How was I supposed to know what to ask? I didn't want to deduce you when I came back. I took one look at you and saw the happy glow. And I knew it wasn't from me. So I left our past in the past. You didn't flirt with me anymore. You didn't blush when I commented on anything you were wearing... and yes I did notice the changes to your body, that I can now associate with having Scott, but at the time... I just thought that I messed with my memories." Sherlock walked closer to her, before turning and pacing again.
"It's not like you stuck around the day you found out. You left." Molly accused and he turned back to her.
"You told me that he wasn't my son. That in itself was a sign saying to leave and not to come back. You didn't want him around me. I claimed him as my son and you said no. I knew I would have no chance of seeing him."
"You didn't try to stay. Mycroft didn't kick you out. I didn't kick you out. Whatever thoughts you had... they were your own. And yes, he is my son and your offspring because you never held him. You have never fed him and burped him or took him to the hospital. You never picked him up when he fell and you-"
"I didn't get the chance did I Molly! I wasn't here! There wasn't any sharing of information! I left and came back with no knowledge and you are here, blaming me for never holding him, while you knew I didn't know. You didn't try to tell me! You didn't let Mycroft tell me! I was the one left in the dark. Mycroft is the one who gets to play with him and teach him things. And what do I get? I get to know that he shares my DNA."
"You could have had more if you had stayed that day-"
"The day I found out I had a 2 year old son that my brother was helping raise while no one told me about him? How would you feel if someone did that to you Molly? You would feel just as I did. Betrayed, replaced, and above all... not good enough. So before you tell me that I could have done something different, just realize that you made me feel like I wasn't good enough. You wouldn't even let me call him my son." Sherlock watched Molly take in his words, realize what had gone through his head before she turned away, ashamed.
"Mycroft is dropping him off tomorrow at 10 in the morning. We can redo the entire day. If you do not show up Sherlock… because you think some case is more important than meeting your son... he will no longer be yours. You have once chance. And I am not saying that you need to stay until he goes down for his nap. I want you to sit with him. Learn about him. It takes 15 minutes. You are either there or you aren't." Molly told him a she moved to collect all the pages with the new tests on it. "He was poisoned with Belladonna. He had taken a sleeping pill, which is why it was ruled a suicide." She told him and before she could get an answer from him about tomorrow he was saying that he had to go, running through the halls calling for John.
The next couple hours she was catching up on paper work, and when 7am hit she got to go home. She went home, set her alarm for 9:30 and when that went off she got up, took a quick shower before getting dressed and going to start breakfast. At 5 till she heard a knock at her door, and since Mycroft had a key, she was hoping she knew who it was.
Only to open the door to a familiar Sherlock, with a very unfamiliar expression. "What?" She asked and crossed her arms. If he had come all the way here to tell her that he needed to do something else then she would quit Barts and go somewhere else.
"I went to the shops this morning... looking for something to give him and I- I didn't know what to get him. Then I wondered if I should even get him a gift because if he gets conditioned in a way that-"
"He doesn't need presents Sherlock. Just come in. Sit. Relax. Mycroft will be here in less than 4 minutes on the dot, and breakfast will be done as well." Molly left him to head into the kitchen. She heard the door open and a shout for her came as she started to into the den.
"Hi Mommy." Scotty walked over, arms up and ready for a big hug.
"Hello lovely. Did you have fun with Uncle this weekend?" She asked and gave his cheek a smooch.
"Yes. But he said it had to be cut short." He looked over his shoulder to Uncle Mycroft and narrowed his eyes. "But he didn't say why." He complained and then his eyes, his amazing blue green eyes landed on Sherlock and he tilted his head. "That's the Frankenstein guy right mommy?"
"Then what?" Molly asked setting him down and getting on his level.
"You know... Frankenstein. Uncle Mike read it to me the past weekend. About a guy who was dead, and someone else fixed him up and brought him back to life. That man was the one all over the Tele about coming back from the dead." A 2 year old should not be hearing about Frankenstein.
"Kind of. Come and say hello." She grabbed his hand, pulling him closer. She took the seat beside Sherlock, pulling Scotty onto her lap and making him face Sherlock. "Tell him your name."
"My name is Scotty. You're Frankenstein right?" He leaned way forward, trying to crawl into his lap. Sherlock took him gently and smiled at the boy.
"Well, my name is Sherlock. I am Mycroft's brother." He told him and Scotty tilted his head.
"Does that make you another Uncle... or my father?" Sherlock had looked from Molly to Mycroft before back to Scott and gulped.
"Your dad."
"My dad is Frankenstein?" He asked and his hands went to Sherlocks neck. "Where are your bolts? How many body parts are yours and how many are from other people?"
"Mycroft, can I see you in the kitchen so you can help me with the breakfast." Molly asked, having enough of hearing her son talk like he had not only read Frankenstein, but seen a drawing.
"Of course." Mycroft looked down to his nephew, keeping in the scowl. He knew he was going to be reprimanded like a school boy, but in hindsight, he had known it was wrong to read him that book at bed time.