*A/N: Hey everyone :) Thank you for continuing to support the story, and I'm sorry that it is so much longer and more drawn out than I had intended. There will be two more chapters plus an epilogue, and then it will be complete. I wrote a very brief and unrelated one shot, and would like to write another short story (which I have some ideas for) if people would be interested.
I hope you enjoy the final chapters, and thank you again for your support.
-HQ21
Joan sat on the edge of Sherlock's bed for a few minutes, watching him as he slept, and reassuring herself that his breathing and vitals appeared to be fine. As she held his hand tenderly in her own, and sat beside him on the comfortable bed, she found her tiredness begin to consume her. Joan was emotionally and physically exhausted, and her body craved the sleep that it so desperately required. But she did not wish to leave him. She could try sleeping on the chair next to the bed, as he had done so often when he came to the library and found her asleep, but she felt that considering her condition it would be too uncomfortable. And she had serious concerns over whether she would be able to get back out of the chair. After a few moments of thought, Joan found herself considering another viable and much more appealing option. She held Sherlock's cool hand in her own, whilst edging forward on the bed, and turning to lie on her right side. Joan drew her legs onto the bed and pushed her body close to his, being careful not to touch his injured arm, as their hands remained clasped together. She rested her head upon his chest and felt the rhythmic beating of his heart against her cheek, before allowing herself to fall into a temporary sleep.
Joan did not know how long she slept for, but she found herself roused from her slumber by a gentle tugging pressure on her hair. It was a sensation she recognised immediately, finding herself awash with memories of Sherlock running his fingers delicately through her hair as they rested together. Her eyes snapped open, and she pushed herself up from the bed, pressing her hands onto the mattress. She was now awake and very alert, and turned towards Sherlock, whose right hand hovered in the air, as he watched her with weary and sanguine eyes.
"Good morning, Watson" he began amiably, his voice slightly low and betraying his tiredness. He was watching her with a wary expression, his eyes darting across her face and body, as she processed the scene before her. She cast a cursory glance at the bandage on his arm, before realising how little room there was on the bed. Conscious of taking up space, and risking accidentally aggravating his injury, Joan moved to get off the bed. "No, no" he murmured, weakly attempting to draw her hand back to his chest, and her body back beside his own. "Stay" he continued, speaking the word as though it were the answer to a question he had just been asked. Joan drew her legs back onto the bed and perched gently on the edge of it, watching him carefully as he appeared to become stronger and more alert.
"How are you feeling?" she asked gently, her voice betraying her tiredness and concern.
"Fine" he breathed, meeting her gaze confidently with his own. Joan observed how much more relaxed his features appeared. He was grimacing with pain when he arrived the afternoon before, with flushed skin and deep lines on his forehead, as his whole body was tense at the unbearable pain he was experiencing. But as she looked at him now, almost all of those features had disappeared. He was still inhaling sharply on occasion, and she felt his body become tense on some occasions. But considering the fact that he had not had any pain relief, she was surprised that he seemed to be managing his discomfort so well."
"How's the pain?" she asked him, watching his face as he lay back against the pillow with closed eyes.
"What pain?" he asked innocently, as his chest rose and fell with deep inhalations.
"The searing, burning and aching pain which is currently affecting your left shoulder" Joan returned, her voice confident and professional. "You had no pain relief, Sherlock. You must be in pain."
"No" he returned, his eyes remaining closed.
"Sherlock-"
"I'm quite alright, Watson" he stated, opening his eyes and watching her as he responded. Joan was maintained his gaze and was silent for a few moments as she ran her eyes over his face and body.
"A bullet tore its way through your shoulder, severing an artery and causing significant blood-loss and injury" she said lightly. "We both know that whatever you are or are not experiencing right now, you are not alright." Sherlock breathed in deeply as his eyes focused intently upon hers. Joan felt his hand increase its gentle hold upon her own, as she continued to run her eyes across his face, chest and arm, searching for any signs of discomfort or distress.
"This is not the first time that I have been in this... particular predicament" he began, lifting his lips into a small smile as he spoke. "The pain is more bearable than it was before. And it is nothing compared to the other bullet wound you operated on a couple of years ago" he continued, before shifting himself in the bed and placing his right hand down upon the mattress as he attempted to pull himself up.
"Sherlock, what are you- no, no" Joan stated, easing herself off the bed before walking to Sherlock's side and attempting to get him to lie down again. "You must be still, Sherlock" she directed, before pulling his pillows up as Sherlock successfully got himself into a sitting position, holding his left arm tightly to his body as he managed to sit up against the back of the bed. Joan sighed tiredly as he did so, before slowly easing herself off the bed and standing by his side. She placed her hands gently upon his injured arm, checking the area around the bandage for any signs of bleeding or bruising. Sherlock watched her as she did so, he always found it interesting to watch her whilst she worked. She always wore a look of deep concentration when she worked, especially on medical issues. But this time he saw something different about her, a different expression upon her face. A small, nervousness playing upon her lips, a slight frown, and a look of sadness in her eyes.
"Watson?" he asked in such a gentle tone that Joan's attention was immediately diverted from his injury to his face. He did not say anything else, but simply watched her expectantly as she looked at him with sad, tired eyes. Before she could speak, Sherlock understood. "I apologise" he stated simply, watching as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Given your current condition, I'd imagine that rushing in here with a bullet wound and heavy bleeding after having Alfredo lock the place down must have been... difficult" he stated, attempting to phrase his thoughts. "I thought you were in danger, so I came back. I though the shooter was the woman who has attacked you previously and threatened your life, so I returned as soon as I was able do. Despite the gaping hole in my shoulder." Joan's eyes widened slightly, and she exhaled slowly before addressing him.
"I understand that" she breathed, speaking in a quiet, gentle voice. "But why didn't you go straight to the hospital after calling Alfredo?" Sherlock stared at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing with confusion as he attempted to understand her words.
"I needed to make sure that you would be alright" he explained simply. Joan considered him for a moment, before realising that he seemed completely at a loss as to why she was concerned. She moved closer to the bed and perched lightly on the edge, watching him with a warm expression as she did so.
"You made sure I would be alright when you phoned Alfredo" she began gently, as Sherlock continued to wear a confused expression. "The only person who was in danger at that moment was you. You were shot, Sherlock. I'm amazed that you were able to get back here without collapsing or bleeding out or-"
"Watson-"
"-or even dying" she continued, removing her eyes from him for a moment. Sherlock stiffened slightly, and could feel his chest tighten. Not through fear, of course. The possibility of him own mortality was not what was causing him to feel so uncomfortable. It was the look on Joan's face, her concern her distress. He didn't completely understand why she seemed so upset with him for returning to her. And his failure to understand it was causing his mind to race and his head to ache.
"I needed to make sure that you were safe. Both of you." He returned simply, his eyes falling onto Joan's abdomen as he spoke. Joan watched as his features relaxed slightly and his expression softened. As she considered this, she began to understand exactly why he had acted as he did. If she had been in Sherlock's situation, having been shot by a someone who may have posed a risk to both him and their baby, she would have done the same thing. Unquestionably. Every time. Joan nodded slowly in response, and Sherlock's eyes rose slightly as he detected the movement. Despite this seeming to have been resolved, Joan still wore a look of concern and sadness upon her face. "What is it, Watson?" he asked gently, staring at her as his hand found hers, causing her features to relax slightly.
"Alfredo knows" she said simply.
"Alfredo knows what?"
"About the baby" she replied, lifting her head to face him directly. Sherlock was silent for a few moments, her words running through his mind and mingling with the memories he had of Alfredo in recent days.
"Are you quite certain?"
"Yes" she began simply. "It was some of the things he said, and did, and saw."
"Such as?"
"I don't know if you remember, but when you came in I rushed towards you. You collapsed and I attempted to hold you upright. Alfredo ran towards us and said I couldn't do that 'in my', and then he broke off" she began. "And after I operated on you he suggested I rest, saying how tired I must be and assuring me that he would watch over you." She went quiet for a moment, and Sherlock watched as her eyes adopted a serene and pensive expression.
"Did something else happen to make you think he is aware of your pregnancy?" he asked gently. Joan smiled slightly, before tilting her head back and turning to face him.
"When I fixed your artery and stitched your shoulder, we had to move you onto your side so I could examine the exit wound" she explained, watching Sherlock as she spoke. He nodded once, and waited patiently for her to continue. "You began to regain consciousness. You flailed and moved your arms around, and I moved forward to try to secure you and prevent you from hurting yourself" she continued, as Sherlock watched her whilst attempting to remember the events she was describing. "As it was happening you moved your arm back towards me, and rested it on my stomach. Your hand ran down my abdomen for a few seconds, and then you relaxed completely and allowed me to finish working on you." Sherlock's eyes were wide and reflective, and his expression was more wary and alert than it had been since he had regained consciousness. He could not remember those events, which interested him a great deal. But before he could consider them in depth, he was brought back to reality with the realisation of the implication of Joan's words.
"Alright" he began, watching her carefully as he spoke. "I believe you are right, Watson. It is highly likely that Alfredo has been able to discern your condition."
"I'm sure of it. It was the way he was looking at me as he spoke. He had the same tender, protective and concerned look in his eyes that you and my mother often have when we speak" she began. "I don't know whether to be worried or relieved."
"Quite frankly I'm astounded he did not notice sooner" Sherlock began lightly, his tone rousing Joan's interest. "Clearly his deductive skills require much work. Perhaps I could offer him some of the training I bestowed upon you, in return for more late-night exploits involving car security systems." Joan gave Sherlock a wry warning glance, which he returned with a reassuring look. "It's quite alright, Watson. Alfredo can be trusted completely. I was aware, of course, as I am sure you were too, that him discovering your condition was almost inevitable. I just imagine that we had some more time."
"Time is something we are quickly running out of" she returned. "And we need to talk to Alfredo, explain everything to him. After everything he's done for us both, we owe him that."
"Of course" Sherlock agreed. "Would you like to discuss the matter with him now?"
"Sure" she returned, easing herself off the bed and walking towards the door. Before she placed her hand on the handle, the sound of his voice calling her name caused her to turn back to face him.
"Watson" he had called gently. As she turned on the spot and faced him with her tired yet expressive eyes, Sherlock ran his own across her body. "Are you both alright?" Joan watched him for a moment, her expression registering her concern. For a second she thought he was asking about her and Alfredo, but the look in his eyes and the attention he was paying to her abdomen quickly revealed precisely what he was referring to. She smiled slightly, before removing her hand from the door handle and taking a few steps back to her recuperating partner. His eyes rose to meet hers as she approached the bed, placing her hand on top of his own. Before he could respond, he felt her guide his hand towards her, and place it upon her abdomen. He immediately felt the familiar sensation of gentle kicks against his open palm, which caused his features to soften and his expression to relax, as his mind temporarily forgot about his pain and discomfort.
"You tell me" she whispered, watching him with curiosity as he moved his hand delicately across her abdomen with the baby's kicks. They were both to enraptured in the tender moments that they were sharing with their child, that neither of them heard the door gently creak open behind them.
"Miss Watson-" began Alfredo, calling gently to her as he opened the door. Joan turned on the spot, causing Sherlock's hand to fall quickly from her abdomen. He mourned the loss of the precious contact instantly, but his attentions were soon drawn to the wide-eyed and almost amusing expression on the face of Alfredo, who had witnessed part of the previous scene.
"Alfredo" Sherlock began amiably, as his bewildered sponsor glanced curiously from himself to Joan. "It appears we have much to discuss."
Ten minutes later Sherlock and Joan had fully apprised Alfredo of the details of her pregnancy, the reasons for concealing it, and what would happen to the baby after it was born. Although they both explained that it was for the baby's own safety and well-being, Alfredo could tell by the pained eyes of both of his associates that it was a subject which troubled and saddened them both. Therefore, he chose not to question them at length on it. After a few questions which were understandable and expected, Alfredo nodded in understanding and assured them both of his complete and unwavering support, and his confidence.
"Thank you, Alfredo" Joan stated gently. "I know that we are asking a lot of you."
"Not at all, Miss Watson" he returned kindly, offering her a small smile as he responded. "So, what happens now?"
"I'm afraid that we must move to another location as soon as possible" Sherlock began, causing Joan to turn on the spot. "Our location may have been compromised, Watson" he continued gently. "If it was Lennard who shot me outside Mathers' apartment, it is possible she followed me from here."
"We can't be certain that it was Maria who shot you" Joan countered. "And until we know we won't know whether she knows about this place, so-"
"Actually, she does" Alfredo interceded, the memory of the surveillance footage he had been reviewing returning to him after having been distracted by the revelations regarding Joan's pregnancy. "I took a look at the footage outside the building like you asked me to" Alfredo began, pointing to Sherlock as he spoke. "And the woman, Maria Lennard, was here a few hours before you got shot." Joan was frozen on the spot, and her heart was beating so loud and so quickly that she was certain it was audible. She blinked herself out of her panicked thoughts and turned to face Sherlock, who was watching Alfredo with a wary yet controlled expression.
"We must leave at once" he stated simply, tossing aside his blankets with right hand.
"Whoa, hang on a sec-" Joan began, turning back towards Sherlock and raising a hand as she spoke. "We can't move you now, you need to recuperate. Any unnecessary movement now could aggravate your injury, meaning that I would have to operate on you again-"
"- which would be rather difficult to do if you had a bullet in your cranium" Sherlock returned, his tone low and slightly more abrupt than he had intended. Joan's muscles tightened and she tensed slightly as she watched her partner on the bed, as Alfredo considered the uncomfortable silence which had befallen the room. "Forgive me, Watson" Sherlock mumbled tiredly, running his fingers over the bridge of his nose. "But it is far more dangerous for us all to remain. I will not allow you and our child to be placed in danger because of my recuperation" he explained, pronouncing the final word with clear scepticism. Joan considered his words and understood his argument. She also felt fairly certain that he had not intended to respond to her in such a brash and almost harsh manner. He was in pain and clearly concerned about the well-being of her and the baby, so his tone was understandable. But that didn't make it any easier to hear.
"I'll pack the essential supplies from the other rooms, if you would help me, Alfredo?" she began, putting one hand on her hip as she spoke. Alfredo nodded immediately, before turning on the spot and walking out of the room. "When I'm done I'll come back, check your injury and take a look at what medical supplies we have and need. We'll need to make a pit-stop before going to-" she paused for a moment, turning towards Sherlock as she spoke. "Where are we going?"
"We will go to a safe house I have which is modest but very comfortable" he began, watching her closely as he attempted to ascertain how she was feeling after he had spoken to her previously. "It is the one I took Irene to once. It is out of the way, well-equipped and very secure." Joan nodded in agreement.
"Alright" she said gently, turning towards him and offering him a reassuring look. "But please stay on this bed whilst Alfredo and I pack, okay? You aggravate your injury you can do your own stitches." Sherlock's expression softened slightly, and a light smile played on his lips.
"You would almost certainly have to redo them" he returned wryly, relieved to find that she appeared to be less nervous and more relaxed. All this upheaval and danger was not good for a woman in the late stages of pregnancy, or their child. He had not meant to sound ill-tempered or domineering, he simply wished to ensure their safety. But he did not wish to cause her any additional distress in the process.
"Mmm" she agreed, nodding. Joan took a few steps towards him, glanced down at his arm, and placed her hands beneath it. "Can you lift your arm for me?" she asked gently. Sherlock complied, wincing and inhaling sharply as he did so. There was no bleeding, no signs of inflammation or infection, and the pain seemed to be what she would expect, given the circumstances. "Alright" she stated simply. "I'm gonna go and help Alfredo. I'll be back soon, alright?" Sherlock nodded in understanding as Joan walked from him and towards the door, pausing and turning back to him once more. "If you could avoid getting any life-threatening injuries which require surgical attention during my brief absence, I would be very grateful" she stated lightly, watching him with a teasing expression as she passed through the door.
Sherlock, Joan and Alfredo arrived at Sherlock's safe house less than an hour later. Despite his reluctance, Joan insisted that Sherlock remained seated and still whilst she and Alfredo unpacked their belongings and set up the rooms. However, knowing that her partner would not remain still for long, and feeling guilty that he was only doing so out of his own sense of guilt, she set up the laptops first and encouraged him to look over the CCTV footage to see if there was anything that they had missed. Sherlock complied willingly, spending hours going over the CCTV footage, only removing his eyes from the screen when Joan insisted on changing his bandage. After she did so, Sherlock immediately pushed back his chair and stood before her, his body remaining just inches from hers as he looked down upon his weary partner with concern.
"It has been quite a trying day, my dear Watson" he said gently, placing his right hand lightly on her forearm. "Please rest. I will continue to look over the footage as you do so." Joan was about to argue, but before she could she heard the approaching footsteps of Alfredo.
"He's right, Miss Watson" he stated tentatively. "You and the baby need a break. Holmes will look over the footage, I'll unpack and set up the new cameras around this building." Joan nodded politely towards him. It was a good, sound plan, and she did feel incredibly tired. Before she could assent, she felt Sherlock's hand move across her arm and towards her waist. He draped his uninjured arm across her and gently led her through the rooms and towards the large bed, which was incredibly inviting. As they reached the bed Joan heard Alfredo's footsteps disappear towards the front door, where he was setting up the first of his cameras.
"Will you rest, Watson?" he asked gently, in a kinder and more genial manner than was his custom.
"Yeah" she replied tiredly. Before she could take another step towards the bed, she felt Sherlock's arm tug her gently towards him. She complied, turning on the spot and facing him. His hand moved across her back and held her close to him, so that her abdomen was pressed against his own. Joan placed her head on his chest and sighed contently at the contact, as Sherlock's left had moved up and found a place on her abdomen. As expected, the baby began to kick immediately. Joan smiled against Sherlock's shirt, as he rose his right hand soothingly up her back.
"It's going to be quite alright, Watson" he whispered, before placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead. She opened her eyes immediately, before tilting her head upwards to face him. She offered him a small smile and a nod, before turning on the spot and allowing him to guide her to the bed. She sat on the edge and kicked off her low-heeled boots before easing herself beneath the covers and lying on her side. In the past month or so she found that finding a comfortable position to sleep in was increasingly difficult, but her right side was often her preference.
"If your arm hurts or if you start to bleed, you must wake me, alright?" she mumbled tiredly.
"Of course" he returned, holding his arm to him and turning on the spot.
"Sherlock" she stated warningly, causing him to turn on the spot to face his weary partner. "I mean it. We need to monitor your arm."
"I will wake you if I am required to, Watson. But only in an emergency. In your absence, I'm sure that Alfredo will make an adequate night nurse." Joan smiled lightly at this, before finding her eyes closing themselves against her will, as she allowed herself to be drawn back into the pillows.
The trio remained in the property for four weeks. During the first week Sherlock undertook only light work, busying himself by watching the surveillance footage from the cameras surrounding the library. After two or three days he left the building and met with Gregson at the precinct. Gregson informed him that Greta Mathers made a phone call to an untraceable disposable cell phone less than a ninety seconds after they left her apartment. A surveillance team had been placed on Mathers, and had been following her closely since the incident. CCTV footage from the parking lot and surrounding building was being sourced, but many of the buildings were derelict and the footage either non-existent or damaged, with only two local shops providing them with passable footage. The bullet that struck Sherlock had been located, but ballistics had not been able to link it to a weapon in any active or former cases. Sherlock relayed this information to Joan who, unbeknownst to him, had already enlisted the assistance of Everyone in obtaining CCTV footage from the local area which police had been unable to obtain. She would not tell Sherlock the terms of her agreement with Everyone, or what she had to give them in return for the information she required. He suspected, and hoped, that it did not involve indecent photographs. The investigation continued for a further three weeks, with Sherlock and Lestrade following the physical leads whilst Joan worked on obtaining and analysing data, footage and information on both Lennard and Mathers. The investigation appeared to have reached yet another standstill until, shortly after Joan entered the thirty-sixth week of her pregnancy, Sherlock received a phone call.
"Watson!" he called, walking briskly towards her. She removed her glasses and placed them on the table, diverting her attention from her laptop as she stared curiously at her animated partner. "We have a possible sighting of Maria Lennard caught on CCTV footage. Apparently, the woman in question met with another person, a lady fitting the description of Mrs Mathers."
"Great" she breathed. "Where's the footage?"
"Captain Gregson has it at the precinct, I'm going to meet with him presently" Sherlock stated, his features alight. "The footage is only three hours old, Watson. It is the most plausible lead we have had since her escape."
"Call me when you know something, okay?" she requested. Sherlock nodded in response, before turning on the spot and leaving the building. A few moments later Alfredo entered the room and approached Joan, who continuing to look into the personal correspondences of Greta Mathers.
"What's goin' on?" Alfredo asked.
"Possible lead on Maria's current whereabouts, and something which could prove that she and Mathers are in contact" Joan stated, turning to face him as she spoke. "Sherlock's meeting with Gregson now."
"So this could almost be over?" he asked cautiously.
"I hope so" she returned, her warm eyes revealing her tiredness. Alfredo knew that recommending rest to her was useless, so he did not attempt it.
"I'm gonna be out front if you need me, okay? One of the cameras is down or malfunctioning or something. Call me if you need me."
"I will, thank you" she returned, before putting her glasses back on and continuing to watch the footage. Alfredo nodded in response, before walking from the room and heading to the front of the building to check on the camera. As he reached the front door, he was just in time to see Sherlock walked briskly around a corner towards a cab rank on the other side of the block. Alfredo turned towards the camera that required fixing, and narrowed his eyes in confusion as he caught sight of the one next to it, which had also been recently damaged. It wasn't like this a couple minutes ago Alfredo thought.
Sherlock arrived at the precinct twenty minutes later, heading straight for Gregson's office. The Captain was sitting behind his desk, but he rose immediately upon seeing Sherlock, summoning him into the office. Detective Bell was by Gregson's side, his attention leaving the screen for only a moment to nod at Sherlock in acknowledgement.
"We got this just fifteen minutes before I called you" Gregson explained, moving out of the way so that Sherlock could sit down and view the footage. "This footage is from a small cafe down town. To the right of the cafe is an alleyway which, as you can see-" he began, skipping the footage a few seconds before pausing it as two figures emerged from the alleyway. "Appears to have hosted a rendezvous between two women fitting the profiles of Lennard and Mathers." Sherlock studied the figures intently for several moments, before nodding in agreement with Gregson. Although the images were slightly grainy, there was little doubt in his mind that the people shown in the footage were Lennard and Mathers.
"I'd say you are right, Captain. These are the women in question, and I-" Sherlock paused for a moment, his eyes resting on a street sign on the far left of the footage. He pushed the chair forward and placed his hands on the laptop, trying to enhance the image to read the street name.
"Holmes?" Gregson began, perplexed. "Holmes what is it?"
Sherlock ignored the Captain's question and continued enhancing the footage until he was able to read the street sign, which revealed the location of the footage. The covert meeting was at a location less than three blocks from the safe house which currently housed Joan and Alfredo.
"Holmes!" called Gregson, which Sherlock ignored once more, pulling his phone from his pocket and calling Alfredo.
"Pick up" Sherlock hissed into the phone, rising from the chair as it rang three times without answer. "Alfredo, pick up!"
The sound of Alfredo's ringtone in the distance drew Joan's attention from her work. She leaned back tiredly in her chair and stretched her arms as she stifled a yawn. She reached for a file on the desk, flipping it open and glancing into it. Before she finished reading the first couple of lines, she realised that she could still hear Alfredo's phone ringing. She shut the file and eased herself out of the chair, standing before the desk and facing the place where the sound was coming from, and continuing. Alfredo always answered on the second or third ring, sometimes the fourth if he was busy. But his phone was ringing incessantly without being picked up, when she knew that he was only a short distance away working on one of the cameras. Joan took a couple of steps forwards and tilted her head to once side.
"Alfredo?" she called, receiving nothing but a further ring of the phone in response. Joan felt uneasy, but knew that she needed to continue forwards. She swallowed hard before taking a few more steps towards the sound of the ringing phone, but before she could reach the doorway, the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard, and the ringing of the phone continued, becoming louder and louder. Joan's eyes widened and she felt her chest tighten. They footprints were almost certainly not Alfredo's. Before she could react, the door at the other end of the room opened quickly, and a figure passed through and took a few steps into the room, standing tall and facing Joan.
"Miss Watson" came the familiar voice of Maria Lennard, who was standing just ten feet from her, with Alfredo's phone held tightly in her left hand. She smiled at Joan, before raising the phone to her face and hurling it into the corner of the room, where it smashed against a wall. "It's been too long."