Molly watched as Sherlock sat tapping his fingers on the edge of his chair at Baker Street while she sat opposite him like one of his clients. He cricked his head from side to side, rolled it forward and then lifted his chin. His eyes went round and blinked at her a couple times as if clearing his thoughts. Finally, he took a deep breath.
"Alright, I am ready."
Molly clasped her hands on her lap. All day she had waited for an answer to a question she never wanted to ask. Now that she was about to learn Sherlock's reasons for abusing her trust, she just wanted to plug her ears with her fingers and pretend she had never actually uncovered his scheme.
"Wh-why did you interfere with my birth control?"
He narrowed his eyes. "Which incident are we speaking about? The emergency contraception I stole or the monthly pills I sabotaged that you never actually took?"
She resisted throwing a cushion at him. "Oh, I don't know. How about you explain both of them?"
He breathed out through his nose. "I suppose they were driven by the same motivations. However, I will say that my theft of your morning after pills was unplanned . . . for whatever that's worth."
She wrinkled her nose and wiggled her head. "Um, yeah, not much."
He rolled his eyes. "I am not sure why you are so upset actually. You have given every indication that you would not be averse to becoming pregnant . . . by me that is . . ."
Molly's face flamed. "That's beside the point. S-stop deflecting!"
Sherlock pressed his fingers together. The way he looked at her with such intensity heated her blood. She wriggled in her seat and averted her eyes shyly. She heard him sigh.
"I have told you about my brother and his, um, ability to predict things," he said slowly. "Well, in fact, one of his favorite pastimes when we were children was to taunt me with revelations about my future. You see, he anticipated events before they happened. He told me the day my dog Redbeard was going to die a year before it came to pass. He knew I was going to suffer a drug addiction as an adult. He predicted I would be friends with a man named John and that we would solve crimes together. He mapped out my whole life and so far, everything he's told me has happened just as he said it would."
Sherlock looked down at his shirt and picked a phantom hair off. He flicked his fingers nonchalantly but his voice was tense all the same.
She gulped down a lump in her throat. "Yes, I understand that Sherrinford is quite the piece of work but what does this have to do with what you did to me?"
Sherlock pursed his lips briefly before he looked away. "He said I would . . . that I would never have children, or a family, or anything that normal people ever experience because . . . well, because I am not normal."
Molly could see and hear the little boy who had been told those awful musings in the way his eyes cast downwards and his voice quavered. Oh, if she had been there when Sherrinford had said those terrible things, she would have given him a cuff across the back of the head and then reassured Sherlock.
She blinked back tears. "And what w-were you trying to do then? Prove him wrong?"
He did not lift his eyes. His fingers curled into his palms. "Ahem, I suppose . . . in a way."
Molly inhaled a sharp breath. Every little bit he added to his confession made her heart feel as if it were shriveling up like a dried piece of fruit.
"Why did you choose me?"
He met her eyes then. "Erm, well, you seemed like the most suitable candidate. You were readily available and trustworthy. If I was able to sire a child, I wanted him or her to have an intelligent mother so you checked that box. What else? Oh, yes, you . . . like? . . . me and are attracted to me so that made things easier," He squinted his eyes as he thought and shook his head. "It is so tedious to develop new relationships, especially the sort that would enable procreation . . ."
Molly was almost hyperventilating as she sat and listened to Sherlock coolly recount his analysis in how he came to the conclusion she should be the mother of his potential offspring. Her face felt frozen. In fact, ice crept through her bloodstream and made her tremble with its chill. Her voice was oddly flat when she spoke.
"Why didn't you just ask me, Sherlock? Why deny me the choice?"
He laughed nervously. His voice seemed completely disconnected as if he was lost in his own thoughts. "Well, I didn't know if it would work or not and I didn't want to have to make a commitment. . . hmm . . . I do not know if that's the right word . . .perhaps that I didn't want to make 'assurances' is more apt . . ."
Molly didn't wait to let him finish his ruminations. She shakily rose to her feet. She clutched at her breast. She was shattered. She wanted to reach in and massage her strained heart just to soothe the ache setting in.
"So, I-I was an experiment."
His eyes snapped up and widened. His lips parted and his chin went back.
"Molly, perhaps I have not explained myself well . . . but you asked me about something very specific . . . "
Tears slipped from her eyes and ran down her cheeks. She turned partially away. Before she could stop it, a sob welled up and erupted from her chest.
"How could you?" She cried. "How could you do that to me?"
Sherlock jumped up. She staggered backwards to distance herself from him. He kept shaking his head.
"There was no correct way to try, Molly. He's always right. Always! No matter what my course, he's always right. And see, now I've lost you anyways."
Molly panted as her breaths quickly cycled. She felt lightheaded. "S-stop it. Just stop it."
He stepped forward but she moved away again. She couldn't believe it. Everything everyone had warned her about had been absolutely true. Tremors wracked her body. Her legs felt like jelly. Then, she couldn't stand anymore. She slumped down to the floor.
"Don't touch me," she whispered as he rushed to her side.
"Let me help you. You are in distress. I think I may have worded this badly because you have misunderstood . . ."
Molly felt dizzy. "I-I understand p-perfectly."
The room around her swirled. She attempted to stand up but crumpled. Next thing she knew, Sherlock scooped her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest. She closed her eyes and breathed in his heady scent. She sobbed. Leave it to Sherlock to rip out her heart but then leave her wanting more.
"Let me go," she said weakly.
His gruff response fanned the hairs on the top of her head. "Never."