Disclaimer – I do not own Sherlock, I am merely borrowing the characters.
AN/ I apologise for all spelling and grammar mistakes. Thank you's are at the bottom. Enjoy :)
With John already living with Mary, and Molly's rent being due shortly due, neither Sherlock nor Molly saw any reason in waiting around before moving in together.
It took no time at all to book the movers and pack her bags and everything was running surprisingly smoothly, with only one slight problem.
Approximately two days before 'the big move' Sherlock whisked away to Holland for a top secret case that required his urgent attention. Sherlock had told Molly that the timing was purely coincidental but Sherlock looked a bit too eager to take the case in Molly's opinion.
After being abandoned by their other halves, Molly and Mary decided that they would be perfectly capable of moving by themselves, and after two stressful days Molly had officially made Baker Street her home.
She had kept the majority of the décor the same, she simply added a few books and removed a few body parts. The one thing Molly did do however, was clean. The kitchen was now a safe place to eat and the amount of thumbs in general had been reduced significantly.
All in all living in Baker Street was surprisingly relaxing, however Molly guessed that may be partly due to fact that Sherlock was still away on his case.
She assumed he was enjoying himself based on the rather random, but comfortingly frequent updates she would receive. They tended to belong in two categories, category one was a straight forward 'I'm alive', whilst category two could only be described as nonsense with famous examples such as 'the gravy boat doesn't hold the truth'. Texts that fell into category two would often be Molly's favourite. She was sure that with context they would be brilliant keen observations, but as she received them separate from any explanation they looked like the ramblings of a mad man.
Molly would reply to Sherlock with updates about her life, the apartment, or the baby, but there was one thing she had purposely not mentioned.
Molly had woken up to her third morning in Baker Street for the first time with a long awaited bump. It was not a 'slight curve' or 'gentle swelling' it was an undeniable bump. She now felt officially and noticeably pregnant.
After checking in the mirror for confirmation and a brief victory dance she had ran down to Mrs Hudson, the only person she knew in the immediate vicinity. It seemed as though Mrs Hudson was just as joyous as Molly herself as they gushed together about the new arrival. It was Mrs Hudson who came up with the idea of keeping it from Sherlock until he could see it in person, she reasoned that reading there was a bump on the screen if a phone and seeing there was a bump with his very own eyes were two completely different things.
Initially Molly had planned to text him and hadn't even thought about waiting, but she could see the logic in what Mrs Hudson was saying. If she texted him, it would be spoiler of sorts and seeing it in person just wouldn't have the same impact.
She thought that if the tables were turned she would want to see it in person, and even though it felt like a lie by omission, Molly decided to be patient and wait for Sherlock to return.
It had been eight days since Sherlock had ran off to Holland, eight peaceful glorious days, when Mycroft decided to destroy it by paying Molly a visit at her new home.
She had had a long shift and was increasingly more exhausted with the pregnancy so she couldn't help but curse the heavens at his unplanned visit. She may have only met the man once (which hadn't exactly gone swimmingly), but Sherlock had told her enough stories for her to know his visit is hardly going to be a friendly catch up.
Mrs Hudson had kindly informed her of her guest the second she got in and she couldn't help but feel the happiness drain out of her with every step she took. Molly felt about Mycroft how most would feel about their dentist, mildly frightened but mostly just wishing the 'check-up' would be over with as little pain as possible.
Walking into her flat she saw him sitting facing the doors, with his umbrella laying across his lap and an untrustworthy smile across his face.
"Hello Ms Hooper." Formal pleasantries came as naturally as breathing to Mycroft Holmes.
"Mr Holmes… Sherlock's in Holland." She hoped for a split second that maybe he was here to see Sherlock and she could avoid him.
"Yes, I know." Molly inwardly sighed at her dream fading away and resigned herself to an undoubtedly awkward conversation.
"Please, sit." It was a polite order but an order nonetheless.
Molly begrudgingly sat and told herself it was because she was tired and not because Mycroft had told her to. She decided to sit opposite him and was briefly reminded of her last job interview.
"I see the pregnancy is progressing nicely." He gestured towards her newly expanded abdomen.
"Yes." It wasn't really a question but she felt the need to answer.
"If everything goes to plan Sherlock is expected back in three days I'm sure you'll be glad to hear." There was something about the way that he had said it that made her feel like she was being insulted.
"Yes." She wasn't lying, as peaceful as her first week in Baker Street had been she was beginning to miss Sherlock's company, and had even resulted in talking to the skull far more often then she would like.
"I can see that 221b is to your liking." Mycroft was aiming for innocence, but it was as though his voice had been dipped in sugar.
"Why are you here?" Maybe she was getting more confident around Mycroft, maybe she was becoming a less patient person, or maybe she was so tired that she wasn't entirely aware at what was coming out of her mouth. All she knew was that she desperately wanted whatever was going to happen to be over and done with.
If Mycroft was taken aback by Molly abruptness he hid it well.
"I'm not one to beat around the bush-"
"-you also aren't the one to visit Sherlock's pregnant… roommates." She watched as Mycroft's smile doubled at her word choice.
Mycroft cleared his throat to regain his composure, it was at times like these he wanted to damn his brother for bringing him down to the lives of the goldfish.
"Whilst I'm not the type to beat around the bush, my intentions for visiting you involve what I assume to be particularly sensitive topics, and in the past I have found that pointless small talk often helps in these situations."
Molly lent back in her chair and nodded at Mycroft to continue. She felt a twinge of unexplained fear running through her at what Mycroft was going to say.
"I would like to begin by saying that I have no doubt about the fact that you are going to make a fine mother. I believe that you have the affection and patience that is typically requires to raise a Holmes child." He said with such sincerity that Molly was genuinely flattered.
"Thank you."
"My trouble with this situation, as it almost always is, is with my little brother. Quite simply, I do not believe my brother is capable of raising a child."
Seeing Molly's reaction he raised his hand in hope in would stop her from talking.
"Ms Hooper, please let me explain. I believe that whilst his intentions are in an unseemingly good place, Sherlock is doing wrong by leading you into false pretences."
"I-I don't think that that's any of your business." Molly was suddenly breathless as she felt a mix of anger and panic rise in her.
"Ms Hooper I don't mean to tell you what to do, I am simply warning that no situation with Sherlock will ever be permanent and to think it is, is a dangerous game that you will lose." Mycroft paused for effect.
"No. He- it's-"She desperately wanted to scream, to fight Sherlock's corner, to call Mycroft every curse word under the sun and then kick him out of here, but the words fell flat on her tongue.
Mycroft reached his hand over and gently placed it on hers in a rare sign of physical human interaction.
"Molly. People like Sherlock aren't built for children. But you and I know that better than anyone else." He looked imploringly at her to make sure the meaning was not lost.
Molly looked at him sharply.
"You must see the similarities-" Mycroft tried to reason.
Molly ripped out her hand from underneath his.
"How?" She had been so careful not to be associated with her, Molly had to question how Mycroft had found out.
"I'm sure Sherlock has eluded to the nature of my job. I have always had an interest in the people my brother associates with and you swiftly became important enough to warrant a background check. I must admit I was cautious after learning your lineage, but despite the circumstances I believe you are a 'good' person. And I stand by what I said earlier, I truly believe that you will make a good mother."
Mycroft sighed over what was to be said next.
"In a perfect world Sherlock would be able to play happy families or at least have the guts to tell you this himself. Unfortunately my brother has always thought there was nothing he cannot do and it has always been my job to help those caught in the crossfire. Molly, please trust me when I say he will get bored of you. He will get bored of this child."
Molly looked down averting his gaze.
"I am suddenly very tired, could you kindly see yourself out?" She would later recoil over how small her voice sounded.
He felt that he had driven the point home long enough for the time being and therefore complied with her wish.
"Of course." He smiled sadly and stood.
Walking towards the exit Mycroft stopped and handed her a small white card.
Initially it looked as though the business card was blank, but upon inspection Molly noticed how on one side were the letters 'MH' in small black font, whilst the reverse held an eleven digit number.
"For emergencies."
Molly was momentarily confused and looked up to question him.
"Despite my general disdain for children, I do believe in the continuation of the Holmes bloodline and this child may be our only hope." The tone of his voice had returned to its usual firmness once again.
"Gooday Ms Hooper."
"Bye." She said so quietly she wasn't entirely sure he even heard her.
Once she heard the door click behind her she exhaled and slumped in her chair, realising just how tense she was.
Every fibre of her being wanted to hate Mycroft and she supposes that she does. Because how dare be so arrogant, so rude. How dare he be so presumptuous as to tell her her 'future'. Most of all she hates him for bringing up everything she has been trying to avoid for the past few months. Of course she sees the similarities she may not be as smart as him but she isn't that stupid. She had been keeping those two worlds apart with all of her strength and Mycroft Holmes had just crushed them together in the space of ten minutes.
He just came and validated every fear she has had in the cold dark night, when she couldn't stop her mind from making those links. Somewhere, deep down, she knows that everyone who is witnessing this eventual car crash has the same fears as she and Mycroft does. She remembers John's original reaction, and how Mary hugs her when she is a bit tipsy, even Mrs Hudson gives her a look sometimes so filled with pity.
But Molly was fine because she was ignoring it, all of it. It was being held together with fragile arguments and wasn't the best solution by any means but it was working. It was like icing a burnt cake, it doesn't make the cake taste any better but it makes the cake look like its going to taste better.
It had been working for the majority of her life and if Mycroft hadn't chosen to visit she would probably be working still. But Mycroft had chosen to visit so now she was faced with a decision. Does she keep on ignoring her ticking time bomb, or does she confront her fears? She knows the logical choice, the one that leads to stability and inner peace, the one that she knows she should choose, so she picks the other although she refuses to believe it.
She argues that she isn't 'ignoring' anything, but rather having faith in Sherlock and isn't that the right thing to do?
Besides she had always aimed to be one of those people who lived in the 'moment' and Sherlock in this very moment was being supportive, and considerate so it was that she would believe.
Despite this feeble logic she doesn't throw away Mycroft's business card but places it in a drawer filled with other 'pointless' objects such as her passport.
Three days later Sherlock had returned just as Mycroft had predicted. Shortly after landing back in England John planned to see his soon to be wife, whilst Sherlock decided to pay the lab, and a certain pathologist a visit.
Walking in to his second favourite place he saw Molly sitting behind her desk looking intently at her work. Although he would never admit or express it, Sherlock would be lying if he claimed that Molly's replies didn't very mildly sooth him.
"Molly. You've had a productive week with Mary I see."
Molly looked up slightly startled by his presence before smiling widely.
"Sherlock! Hello, and yes I have. You've had a productive week with the Dutch royal family I see." She had been in the supermarket when she spotted the headline "Dutch Prince Death Hoax" and thought it had Sherlock written all over it.
"It was far less scandalous then the newspapers had made it out to be, it was a simple insurance scam on a large scale." Feeling that he had been away from his ongoing experiments long enough, Sherlock removed his gloves and coat and decided to get on with it.
They worked in a comfortable silence for the next twenty or so minutes before Molly took a much needed break.
"Have you been to Baker Street?"
The speed of his work never faltered despite the question.
"Hmm, yes." He continued to look down.
"And?" Molly was finding it oddly therapeutic watching his hands move from one petri dish to another.
"…and." His voice deepened in confusion.
"What did you think?" She had assumed that he may have some adjustments to her additions such as the new pillows or that cute plant by the window.
"Oh, yes! Urm looks wonderful." He looked up briefly for the first time during this conversation to give Molly a quick smile before returning to his work.
Molly was momentarily struck by how much she missed him, she even missed his obvious and poorly constructed lies.
"Oh that's good. Glad you like it. I was a bit worried to be honest." If he were still paying attention to Molly he would have noticed the slightly evil smile that was currently on her face.
"Mmm." He clearly wasn't listening but was just making noise to make sure she wasn't offended so Molly decided to make the most of it.
"Mary was absolutely convinced that you'd be really mad because of the new cat litter." The trick was to keep her voice exactly the same to make sure he wasn't suspicious.
"Mmm"
"And then I broke your violin."
"Mmm."
"And then I binned all of your experiments."
"Mm, yes." He thought that by mixing it up slightly she wouldn't notice he wasn't listening.
"But I told her how much you've matured over the past few weeks."
Sherlock was nodding when it became apparent that everything that Molly had just said clicked.
"Wait what?" He looked at her so quickly that even his hair bounced.
Molly burst out laughing and managed to squeeze out 'I'm kidding' in between her giggles. When she calmed down she saw that Sherlock was staring at her clearly not finding this as funny as she was which of course made her laugh even more.
"Calm down drama queen. They're in your room, I even covered them so they wouldn't react to the new environment." Molly really enjoyed having the upper hand with Sherlock and thought she should be playing with him more often.
"Thank you." Once he knew his precious experiments were safe Sherlock saw why Molly might find humour in her little 'prank'. He also appreciated that not many people knew to cover the experiments and began commending himself on his choice of roommate.
"No worries, so how was the case?" Now that he was actually paying attention to her she asked about the case, despite what Sherlock had made out the paper really did make it sound fascinating.
She supposed it was her fault for asking really, but after the third 'surprising' reveal that it was the gardener, and the long conversations largely in Russian (which he had somehow forgotten to translate into English), Molly was beginning to drift off. In a semi-hypnotic state she managed to move over to her corpse of the day, Mr Minas and asses the contents of his stomach.
Just when she was deciding if a tuna filled cake would be delicious or disgusting the talking from the corner abruptly stopped.
She looked up in confusion and saw that his mouth was slightly open suggesting that he stopped mid word.
"Sherlock?" His face was without expression and his eyes were glazed over.
"Yes." His eyes were focused in her general area.
Walking slowly closer to him Molly began to realise that his eyes were solely focused on her small yet newly existent bump.
With the stress of moving and the whole Mycroft incident Molly had completely forgotten that Sherlock had never actually seen or even knew of the bump.
"That's...new." He breathed, still entirely transfixed.
She couldn't stop the small chuckle that came out at the flabbergasted detective.
"Have you..." He attempted to clear his throat and despite being fully hydrated he doesn't remember the last time his throat felt this dry.
"Have you felt it kick?" Despite swallowing and coughing multiple times Sherlock's voice still came out unexplainably raspy.
"Not yet. But soon." Molly couldn't stop staring at Sherlock's lowered eyes. He was lightly flushed and breathing much louder than usual but it was his wide eyes that Molly would remember.
"Of course." He nodded hoping that it made him look more self-assured.
She watched him, as he watched her, never looking away from the bump, and in an unexpected rush of confidence she walked over to him.
"Give me your hand." She held out her own.
Gently he raised his right hand which she placed over the bump before covering with her hand directly on top.
Standing this close to him she saw his expression fill with curiosity and excitement as his fingers twitched underneath her own. He gave off a sense of bursting energy as though he was filled with electricity, but he remained completely stationary simply staring. She was sure he had moved to another world, and that everything around them had faded. Watching as his eyes lit up she could feel the plucking of her heart strings.
He truly looked like a kid on Christmas.
"Cool huh?" It wasn't the smartest statement but she found it summed up the situation perfectly.
"…yeah." Sherlock exhaled loudly.
If she were a woman of logic then she would have listened to Mycroft because she know that there is a possibility that he will get bored. But Molly is not a woman of logic and right now at this very second as molly looked into his eyes filled childish wonder, all thoughts of the past, meddling brothers and being forgotten had disappeared and she found that she couldn't care less.
AN/ I hope you enjoyed reading chapter seven. Within it there are a couple things that aren't supposed to make sense quite yet so don't worry if it got a bit confusing at times because all will be revealed.
This chapter was supposed to go up Friday but I had some real difficulties with the final editing, but fingers crossed chapter eight should be on time next Friday!
I would like to now thank the beautiful and wonderful and magnificent people who reviewed the last chapter who are:
Superwholockianwriter175 / MizJoely / Bucky5 / Renaissancebooklover108 / k22-89 / AJP910 / MisunderstoodSociopath / applejacks0808 / emedealer / Jime221 / Llyly / Allytsuki / Bubbly Girl13 / and InMollysWildestDreams :D
All of your reviews were so lovely and kind they really motivated me throughout this chapter.
See you next Friday