***A/N: Hi everyone, thank you for your continued support, and sorry again for the delay.
This latest chapter is slightly heartbreaking, and for that I am sorry. But I feel that this is something that Joan in particular would wish to consider/address. Her selfless nature and awareness of the needs and vulnerabilities of others makes her an incredibly emotionally aware individual, and I feel that this particular sequence of events is something that she would at least consider. But if you do not agree please let me know. I find this element of the story a constant challenge to write, as predicting their reactions and thoughts in this respect is never easy.
Thanks again,
HQ21
Joan fell into a deep sleep against Sherlock, as the reassuring tapping of his finger and the familiar beat of their baby's heart allowed her a short time of uninterrupted and un-threatened solace. After a few minutes had passed, and Sherlock was certain that she had entered a deep sleep, he slowly lifted his phone from his breast pocket and scrolled through his contacts list, before placing a call and holding the phone to his ear. He adjusted himself slightly on the bed, drawing Joan close to him as she slept, and watching her carefully to ensure she remained asleep and at ease. After just two rings, the person on the other end answered, and Sherlock addressed them in a low, calm tone.
"Alfonso? Sherlock Holmes" he began, lowering his eyes to watch Joan as she slept, before lifting them once more when he was convinced that his tone would not awaken her. "Would it be possible for you to go to the brownstone, collect some of Miss Watson's clothing, and bring them to the hospital?" he asked gently, running his hand gently up her forearm as she slept. As soon as he had spoken his words he realised his omission, and the tense and worried voice of Alfonso began asking questions relating to Joan's well-being; questions which, at that precise moment in time, Sherlock found himself uncertain of how to answer. "Miss Watson had a fall at the brownstone, and is being kept in overnight for monitoring" Sherlock answered, his voice low and even, as he sought to reassure his friend. "She lost consciousness and is currently resting, but I assure you that she is quite alright" he stated calmly, lowering his eyes to survey her tired and sleeping body. "Yes, of course, thank you. If you could drop them off at the reception desk at the front of the building I would be most grateful. I would come to meet you but I... I wish to remain with Miss Watson" Sherlock stated, his hand continuing to run up her arm in a comforting manner. As he did so, he considered Alfredo, and also sought to comfort and reassure him. "I must warn you though, Alfredo, should you breach propriety whilst in Miss Watson's bedroom collecting her clothes, she will certainly realise the fact, and it will be you who will require a hospital bed, and a much longer stay" he remarked, levity entering his tone in a way he hoped would placate Alfonso, and re-direct him from asking any more questions. "Thank you, yes. Of course. I will keep you updated."
Sherlock hung up the phone and placed it back into his pocket, and finding himself completely lost in the silence of the room. Joan's light and gentle breathing only just broke the silence, and began to give some thought to their most recent conversation, and its implications. His deductions about her not informing him of her pregnancy when she had first discovered it had been correct which, although he would never admit so to Watson, filled him with guilt. That she felt the need to place her own fears secondary to his well-being pained him, but he was grateful that they had been able to have the conversation that was so necessary and so needed by them both. He was also relieved to find Watson resting once more, as it was a sure sign of her emotional and physical recovery. As he pondered this he pulled her slightly closer to him, causing one of her arms to rise and fall down his chest as she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, her breath light and warm against his bare skin. They remained in that position for several hours, with Sherlock holding her carefully to him whilst she slept. Doctors and nurses came to check on her, and a young woman he recognised from the reception desk brought up a small carry-case filled with two or three outfits for Joan, as well as a pair of her more modest heels.
When she awoke a few hours later, Joan seemed more alert and awake, but bore a forlorn and pained expression which Sherlock struggled to understand. After their previous conversation, he felt certain that his partner would feel relieved, at not having to keep her pregnancy to herself, and at the knowledge that she had his complete and unwavering support. And yet, there was something in her expression, and in her eyes, that revealed she was experiencing emotions and thoughts far from relieving and reassuring. In fact, Joan Watson appeared to be repressing more pain and turmoil than she had revealed just a few hours before. Before he could ask her if she was alright, her eyes fell upon the open carry-case containing her clothes, which had been placed on the chair which had been previously occupied by Sherlock. She focused on it for a few moments, and was surprised and grateful to Sherlock for making the arrangement. But as soon as she had expressed her gratitude, her eyes widened and she paled noticeably.
"Watson?" he asked gently, drawing her from him to examine her closer.
"You haven't moved" she whispered tiredly, before pushing herself up into a sitting position, holding her legs to her and watching Sherlock with a wary expression. "Did someone bring those here?" Sherlock watched her for a moment, his eyes running over her flushed face and frightened features, as he sought to assess what it was that was causing her such distress.
"Shortly after you fell asleep I called Alfredo, and requested that he bring some of your things to the hospital" Sherlock stated in a gentle and simple manner. Before he could speak further, Joan interrupted him.
"Does he know?" she asked, her voice low and faltering slightly.
"No" Sherlock replied instantly. "I told him that you had a fall at the brownstone, and are being monitored at the hospital due to having fallen unconscious. Which, technically, was not a lie." Joan nodded slightly, and appeared somewhat comforted by the news, which puzzled Sherlock. "I had him drop the bag off at reception, instead of telling him you were in the Maternity Ward."
"Yes" she responded, lightly chewing the side of her bottom lip as he spoke. "Thanks".
"I would not tell anyone of your condition without discussing it with you, Watson" Sherlock spoke gently, causing Joan to turn slightly towards him. "And we will not do so until you are quite ready." Joan gave Sherlock a sad smile, before pushing her hands down on the bed and slowly placing her legs over the edge.
"Watson?" he asked, moving from the bed and standing firmly upon the ground as she attempted to do the same. "What are you doing?"
"Getting dressed" she said simply, holding on to the side of the bed as she lowered herself carefully to the ground. She felt tired and dizzy, and the sensation of standing up made her head spin slightly. She could feel Sherlock's hands on her waist, and was vaguely aware of the sound of his voice in the background, but she found that her efforts to stand and move across the room meant that her mind was attempting to block out everything else in the room. "I'm okay" she said simply, attempting to sound bright and confident.
"You're tired and unsteady on your feet" Sherlock replied gently, as he placed one hand on her waist and the other in her own hand, as he attempted to lead her back towards the bed. "Sit down, rest-"
"I've rested enough" she replied pleasantly, extricating her hand from his as she slowly made her way towards the chair, running her fingers through the bag and drawing out several pieces of clothing. Sherlock watched her for a few moments, his eyes narrowing in confusion as she began to dress herself. She seemed fairly steady on her feet, and was not struggling at all with dressing herself. But he did not understand her rush. She had just been through a terrifying and painful ordeal, and would certainly be feeling tired, sore and shaken, despite being well rested. He had hoped that their conversation would give her physical and emotional reassurance and empowerment, but he did not believe that it would lead to her wishing to leave the hospital so quickly.
"Watson, stop" Sherlock requested gently, agitation and concern clear in his voice. His clear unease made Joan stop immediately, before pulling her shirt over her stomach and hips, and turning to face him with a blank expression. "What are you doing?"
"I'm fine" she answered, easing herself into the chair and pulling on her boots as she spoke. Sherlock noticed that she had avoided his question entirely, but before he could pose another, she continued to speak. "Everything is alright now, there is no danger to the-" she paused, pulling her boot on and zipping it up at the side before continuing. "My blood pressure and heart rate are normal, I've slept and been hooked up to an IV for the last fifteen hours. I'm fine."
"You are still recovering" Sherlock interjected, taking a few steps towards her and watching as she put on her second boot. "You need to rest, Watson. As a former doctor-".
"I can rest at home" she answered amiably, lifting her face to meet his and giving him a small, reassuring smile. "I would never do anything to risk the well-being of..." she paused once more, her warm eyes growing wide and fearful once more, before regaining their former tired glow. "I would not leave if it were dangerous for me to do so. Resting at home would be much better for all of us" she continued, running her hands down her thighs before rising from her seat. She attempted to pick up the bag, but Sherlock pulled it up first, holding it over his shoulder before she could lift it. He watched her for a few moments more, and she could feel his analytical gaze passing over her body. "It's okay" she stated warmly, crossing her arms in front of her. "I just want to go home."
Sherlock pondered this for a few moments, running his mind over her previous arguments. He knew that she would be able to rest better at home, and that, medically, she was out of immediate danger. He also knew that she was a former medical professional, and would not do anything to jeopardise the health or well-being of their child. And, more than anything else, he trusted her judgement. Completely and without question.
"Very well" he replied, offering her his arm. She accepted it, and they walked slowly from the room, towards the main desk in the Maternity Ward where Joan signed the discharge papers, and then out of the building. Sherlock hailed a cab, and fifteen minutes later the couple found themselves back at their haven, the brownstone.
As he opened the door for Watson, Sherlock continued thinking over the concerns he had about her current state. Physically and emotionally she seemed to be almost completely recovered. But he saw the fear and the sadness in her eyes in the hospital room, and noticed the unmistakably terrified expression she wore upon waking in his arms. He suspected that she had been only partly asleep for some time, and that some thought or fear had been tormenting her. He hoped that, now they had returned to the safety and sanctity of the brownstone, she would open up to him once more.
Joan walked through the doorway and towards the living room as Sherlock placed the bag upon the ground and hung up his coat and scarf. When he walked into the living room he found Joan on her knees near the spot where he had found her, using her hands to draw some of the broken shards of glass into a neat pile.
"Watson" he stated instantly, standing over her as he spoke.
"Is this honey?" she asked, turning her head towards him, before glancing back towards the ground. Her eyes narrowed in confusion as she surveyed the shattered glass before her, but it took her less than a moment to figure out what had happened. "You dropped it when you found me" she whispered, keeping her gaze focused upon the shards of glass. Sherlock stared at her for a moment, watching as she drew some more of the glass into the neat pile she had formed.
"Watson, please-" he began, reaching down and placing one hand on her lower back, and using the other to hold her free hand and draw her to her feet. "I will clean it up in a moment" he stated simply, leading her towards the red couch. "Please do not trouble yourself."
"It's no trouble, Sherlock" she replied kindly, squeezing his hand warmly with her own. "I'm not like the glass, you know. I won't break."
"You very nearly did" he responded instantly, his hand trembling slightly in hers.
"Sherlock-"
"I'll make us some tea, and then clean up the mess on the floor. Please, try to sit still, and not begin any tasks which could require us to make another hospital visit" he stated warmly, his attempts at levity not being quite as successful as he had hoped.
Sherlock returned with the tea a few minutes later, and was pleased to find that Watson had not moved from her position on the couch. She was sat in the corner of it, one leg beneath her as the other draped elegantly over the edge of the couch. Her head was tilted back very slightly, and her eyes were wide and warm. As he sat down beside her and handed her a cup of tea, it became clear to him that he had interrupted some thought pattern or internal dilemma which she was battling, and which he was desperate for her to share. Before he could address her, he felt her shift on the couch slightly, and noticed that she had turned her head to face him. She placed the cup of tea on the table in front of them, before edging herself closer to him. Sherlock's eyes widened as he watched her slow movements, and his gaze resting upon her warm yet sad eyes as she met his own. Sherlock watched as Joan's right hand rose and she cupped his cheek with her hand, drawing her thumb delicately across his skin, before pulling herself forwards and kissing him adoringly upon the lips. Sherlock closed his eyes and placed his free hand upon her cheek, drawing her into the kiss which he immediately returned. After a few moments Sherlock opened his eyes and allowed his fingers to rest beneath Joan's chin, as he drew himself back slightly from her face, and stared into the depths of her eyes.
"Will you tell me what's wrong?" he asked gently.
Joan blinked, before slowly removing her hand from his face, and watching him with a kind yet unsettled expression. She shifted slightly in her seat, clasping her hands together in her lap and turning to face him directly.
"We need to talk about... this" she said hesitantly, her face awash with emotion.
"About the baby?" Sherlock asked gently, as he watched her carefully, and noticed several signs of discomfort on her part as he spoke.
"I know we started to talk about everything at the hospital, but we need to discuss everything" she continued, her voice low and gentle. Sherlock watched her for a few moments, and found himself feeling confused by her statement. She had seemed to relieved when they had discussed the baby, and agreed that they both wished to keep it. And yet now, as she sat just inches from him, her expression was one of fear and uncertainty, and her voice betrayed the turmoil that she was inwardly battling. Whatever it was that she was struggling with, he was determined to help her with it. He had promised himself and her that he would, and he had resolved to keep this.
"Alright" Sherlock replied gently, causing Joan to turn and face him immediately, her wide eyes watching him with caution. "We will discuss absolutely everything it is that is troubling you, and we will resolve it, Watson. Of that I assure you."
Joan offered him a weak smile, before pressing her lips together and turning to face the fireplace for a moment. Sherlock watched as she stared to the side, and noted how her glance moved to the armchair, the floor, and then back to the fire.
"I too have fond memories of those locations" Sherlock stated in a low, kind tone. Joan suppressed a small laugh, and her sad eyes warmed momentarily, before a shadow of darkness passed over them once more. She turned her head to face Sherlock once more, and he could tell by her expression that whatever it was she was battling, it was destroying her.
"At the hospital" Joan began, her voice low and slightly shaken. She breathed in deeply in an attempt to compose herself. She was relatively successful, and sounded much calmer and more confident when she next spoke. "At the hospital we... we discussed my... my condition. And we both seemed to agree that we wished to continue with the pregnancy" she began, pausing and looking towards him for a reaction. His eyes ran across her face quickly, before he nodded in agreement.
"We did" Sherlock began warmly. "And I assured you that I would support you and our child, and that we would discuss the matter completely, and decide upon the best course of action together." Joan watched him for a few moments, before nodding slightly, and parting her lips to speak.
"That's what I was hoping to talk to you about" she said in a low, gentle voice.
"Of course" he responded instantly, wary of how difficult she seemed to be finding their present discussion. "Please" he began, encouraging her to continue.
"When I woke up and saw you, I... I was overcome with gratitude that... that everything was alright with the-" she paused, lowering her eyes slightly, before turning back towards him. "And I was so relieved that you weren't angry or averse to the situation. But I think we let our relief and our gratitude cloud our judgement." Joan choked slightly at the last sentence, and turned her head to the side as she exhaled a deep, shaky breath. Sherlock's eyes ran across her body, before he edged himself closer to her, and lifted one of her trembling hands into his own. She felt the warmth from his touch radiate throughout her entire body, and for just a moment she experienced a moment of comfort and reassurance. But then she turned back towards him, looked deep into his wide and curious eyes, and hated herself for what she was about to put him through.
"I think that... we need to talk, honestly and, and openly, about what happens next" she began, lifting her eyes to meet his own. Although he seemed slightly confused, Sherlock nodded in response, and squeezed her hand encouragingly once more. "This is something that we... we can just embark on because we want to, or because we think we can make the necessary changes to our lives which will allow another person to enter it. It isn't about making changes to allow the entrance of someone new, but about changing everything to revolve around that person, and what they need. What is best for them."
"I understand" Sherlock replied, remaining perfectly still as Joan continued to speak.
"The principal goal of a parent is to provide the child with the happiest, most loving and stable environment possible. Somewhere that they can grow, be nurtured and thrive" Joan stated, her voice low and calm as she spoke. "And I..." she began, her voice breaking slightly as her eyes welled up with tears. "I don't think that place is with us."
Sherlock was silent for a few moments, and Joan felt his hand tremble slightly as it rested upon her own.
"What are you saying?" he asked in a husky yet gentle manner. Joan's eyes brimmed with tears, and she turned to the side as she blinked them back. She exhaled one single, long shaky breath, before turning back to face him with a guilty resolution burning upon her features.
"I'm saying that we-" she broke off once more, as tears began to spill down her cheeks. Joan removed her hands from Sherlock's and wiped the tears away immediately, before shifting uncomfortably on the couch.
"Watson, it's alright-" Sherlock began kindly, edging slightly towards her. As he did so Joan moved back slightly, and clasped her hands firmly in her lap. Sensing her discomfort and unease, Sherlock paused instantly, moving back so that he was a respectful distance from her. He remained completely silent as he waited patiently for her to continue.
"We both love the... we... we love the-"
"Baby" Sherlock offered, his voice low and gentle as he spoke the word. He looked back towards Joan and noticed that her eyes were brimming with tears once more. He did not wish to distress her, but their current situation was very confusing, and she was clearly struggling with their present conversation. "You can say it, Watson" he stated in a calm and gentle manner, watching as her lip began to tremble. Joan lowered her head and wrapped her arms across herself, refusing to meet his gaze. They sat like this, quietly and perfectly still, for several moments, until Joan inhaled deeply and lifted her head to face Sherlock. She knew that this was something they needed to discuss, and she had been considering how difficult it was and would be for the past few hours. But somehow, sitting with him, speaking the words, and having the conversation, was more painful to her than anything she could possibly have imagined. And she knew it would be the same for him too, which pained her even more.
"When you love someone" she began, running her hand gently down her arm, as Sherlock watched her with empathy and concern. "We were thinking of ways that we could fit the baby into our life, as if the baby was secondary to our current existence, but..." she began, pausing slightly as she considered her words. "But it's not" she continued, lifting her eyes to meet Sherlock's, which she found to be staring at her with fear and concern. "With our lives, who we are and what we do, we aren't able to provide the kind of environment, the kind of life, that the baby deserves. That a child requires."
Sherlock was silent for a moment, and watched her with concern as she spoke, before addressing the issue himself. "I understand your concerns, Watson. But I assure you, we will make the changes we need to in order to facilitate-"
"This isn't a career change or... or a move across the country" Joan spoke gently. "It's a life. It's another person, an innocent person who is going to be brought into the life that we have designed for ourselves. A life with danger, threats and the very real possibility of one of us being-" she paused once more, breathing in slowly before continuing to speak. She could see that Sherlock was becoming distressed and deeply unsettled by what she was saying, just as she knew that he would be considering every single word that she had said since their arrival at the brownstone. She knew that what she was saying was difficult to hear, and the last thing he wanted to discuss, but their child's life was more important than their own comfort. "Think about the last two and a half years" she began gently. "You've been shot, pursued by a homicidal ex, attacked by a suspect. I've been kidnapped twice, attacked on several occasions, and been the focus of a serial killer."
"We overcame all of those things, Watson. We are dealing with them and we are working through them" Sherlock began, his voice low and deeply unsettled.
"Because we have to" she reasoned simply. "We have to because they are the expected consequences of doing what we do. How can we subject an innocent person to that? Someone who it is our responsibility to care for? To look after?"
"We will" Sherlock stated, his eyes wide and his features and movements betraying his clear agitation. "We will find a way to do so, Watson. We just need some time to discuss the matter and think it through. We do not need to rush into-"
"What we want must be secondary to what it best for the child" Joan responded, in a low yet kind tone, in a desperate attempt to comfort Sherlock, who she could see was struggling with the issue. "Sherlock, it's a baby."
"It's our baby" he returned, his voice husky and slightly choked as he spoke. Sherlock lowered his head at his response, narrowing his eyes as he considered her words. He understood what she was saying. He knew that their lifestyle and their work put them in danger. But they had friends and family members, they had the police force, they were supported and they were protected. They could protect their child too.
"I know this is hard" Joan continued, the broken and tearful intonation of the words causing Sherlock to raise his head to meet her gaze. Her eyes were wide and tearful, and she was desperately trying to maintain her composure. But with each painful syllable and frightening thought, she came closer and closer to the terrifying realisation that they were not able to keep their child out of the harm and danger associated with their own lives. And that realisation crushed her. "But we need to prioritise the baby's well-being-"
"We will" Sherlock returned, his wide eyes watching her as she looked at him with sadness and fear.
"If we were, we wouldn't be having this conversation." She returned gently, her voice almost a whisper.
"What are you saying?" Sherlock asked gently, as he began to tap his fingers upon his thigh. He was feeling very confused and powerless, two things which he loathed to experience. He knew that there was logic and reason to what she was saying, but he was pushing those things aside, and focusing solely on her words and their implications. The rational part of his mind was telling him to listen to her, to consider her reasoning. But he was thinking with a very different part of his mind, a part which forbade logic and reason, and that permitted only love and the deepest, most natural desires.
"I'm saying that we... we need to make a really, really difficult decision" Joan continued, her voice choking at the final word as her eyes brimmed with tears once more. Sherlock felt deeply saddened by the pain she was experiencing, and the fact that he was unable to alleviate it. As he thought of her words, he found his mind stopping at one thing. At a possibility he had feared, and something he knew Joan did too.
"Do you mean that you wish to have an ab-"
"No" Joan replied instantly, confidence and resolution clear in her tone. Sherlock relaxed visibly, but only for a moment, before glancing towards her tearful eyes and frightened expression. "We do have another option. Something that we haven't really discussed yet, but that I think it's important we talk about."
"Adoption" Sherlock said simply, his eyes resting on the ground by Watson's side. His eyes were wide and unblinking, and he nodded slightly as he spoke the word. He understood her consideration of this option, and he knew that there was both logic and reason for them considering it. But that did not change the fact that it was something which he was afraid of, and something which he knew would cause Joan an infinite amount of pain. The thought that the only option she had to protect their child was to place them in the home of someone else.
"Yes" Joan breathed, choking slightly as she spoke. "With our contacts we could find a family who would... who would be able to-" Joan clasped a hand to her mouth and turned to the side, attempting to stifle the sobs as Sherlock's eyes ran over her trembling body. After a couple of moments, he could not take it any more. He stood from the couch and walked to her side, kneeling in front of her and placing one hand on her cheek and the other on her hand, squeezing it reassuringly as he gently called her name.
"Watson, Watson" he soothed, pulling her towards him as he knelt before her, pressing her tightly to him so that she felt every ounce of his reassurance and comfort. After a few seconds her sobbing abated, and she slowly extricated herself from his grasp. She wiped away her tears as he continued to kneel before her, watching her with a frightened and wide-eyed expression. "Watson, I know that this will not be easy. And I know that everything you have said, all of your worries and concerns, they are legitimate. But we overcame all of those obstacles, we have overcome everything that we have been faced with. Our partnership has enabled us to-"
"This is bigger than us" she spoke gently, placing her hand gently upon his cheek. He was watching her with the same wide eyes that she felt staring at her as she lay in the hospital bed, and his agitation and discomfort was clear for anyone to see. She did not wish to hurt him, but they had to discuss this, sooner rather than later. "It's the greatest elusion" she continued, breathing in as she attempted to compose herself. "Believing that we are able to protect our child from the very things we cannot protect ourselves from. We get through it, Sherlock, you're right. But we so easily could not. There may be a time in the future where one or both of us don't. And even when we do, it comes at such a price" she continued, running her fingers down his cheek as he stared into the depths of her eyes. "Is it really a price we can justify expecting our child to have to pay?"
"We have options, Watson, there... there are things we can do. We just need some time to consider what the best course of action is."
"We don't have time, Sherlock" she mumbled. "The baby will be here in six or seven months. That is not enough time to remove ourselves from the dangers associated with what we do."
"No" he replied simply, holding Joan's hand tightly as he spoke. "Watson, I... I will not allow you to martyr yourself. I know how much you want this child."
"I want our child to live a life without constant fear and danger. To be free from the tainted world that we have opened the door to, and insist on exploring on a daily basis" Joan was speaking in a kind and gentle manner, but could see how distressed and pained Sherlock was by her words. "The baby is innocent, Sherlock. How can we justify dragging him or her into the danger and corruption of our lives?"
"It can be" Sherlock stated resolutely, as he continued to stare into her eyes. "I could stop, we could stop."
"Stop what?"
"Consulting" he said, his voice rising as he spoke. "We could stop what we do, move away, change our names. As you have said, we have contacts. We have options, Watson."
"It's too late" she smiled sadly. "We are already deeply placed within this world. There is no way we can extricate ourselves from it completely. There is only one way to ensure our child's safety. We have... we have to let the baby be raised by people who will give them a more safe, stable and nurturing environment than we are capable of providing." Sherlock stared at Joan with wide, unblinking eyes for several moments. His features were overcome by pain and anguish, and he was trembling before her. She had never seen him look so distressed, so frightened and so uncertain of what to do. And the guilt at seeing him like this tore her apart.
"No" he choked, before removing his hand from hers and pushing himself up from the ground. Joan was surprised by this action, and watched him with a confused stare as her hand fell motionlessly to her side. "No" he whispered in a tone choked with emotion, before turning on the spot and walking from the room. Joan found herself unable to move or speak, and simply remained completely still, her eyes wide and filling with tears, as she heard the familiar sound of the front door slamming shut. She blinked herself from her thoughts at this loud and startling sound, before finding her eyes drifting to the other side of the room. For the next few minutes, her attention completely befell the shattered glass and sticky residue of the broken honey jar.