Authors Note: And here we are again! This is the official beginning to the sequel of Wanted: Criminal Dynasty. I realize that the time line may be confusing to some people, so I'm going to give a guide on where we are presently.
Timeline: It is currently July of 2108. Sherlock Holmes and Beth Lestrade dated from April 2107 till April 2108, at which time Beth discovered her pregnancy. They were married shortly after and have been in wedded bliss for about three months now, having been united in May sometime. At the end of this chapter, Beth is beginning her 18th week of pregnancy (4 ½ Months With Child). And don't forget, there's another woman pregnant as well; Annabelle Wilson is 6 weeks pregnant with her child, and yes, there will be a meet up (or two) between the camps of good and evil.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Watson, or James Moriarty. They belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. I do not own Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade. She belongs to DIC. I DO however own Annabelle Wilson and whatever children are procured from these pregnancies and the characters that will be created there in! This story is not being made for profit!
This Little Child of Mine
"You're putting me on what?"
Inspector Elizabeth Lestrade's eyes flashed dangerously, and it shouldn't have been the desire of anyone to be on the receiving end of such a look, but there was Chief Inspector Charles Grayson of New Scotland Yard, sitting in his comfortable chair in his private office, doing exactly that.
"Lestrade, you're four months pregnant! You're going int' your second trimester, an' bein' that I 'ave a wife an' children, I know how tha's gonna go! Not to mention the fact tha' you're starting t' show your weight…" Grayson tapped a few keys on his flat face desk computer without glancing up at the increasingly irate woman in front of him. "Pretty soon your feet are gonna start hurtin', your back'll be killin' ya, you'll want all different kinds a'food, an' if all that wasn't bad enough, I give it another month before ya start draggin' out your ionizer an' threatenin' people t' get in your way!" The Chief Inspector risked a quick look up, taking in his subordinate's obviously very heated glare, but his mind was made up.
"I might drag out that ionizer now," she muttered through gritted teeth, crossing her arms angrily. "Whose idea was this anyways?"
Wisely, Grayson did not answer that question. After all, he was married and as much as he complained about Holmes' rather eccentric personality and modes of operation, he now felt an odd kinship with the other man that he couldn't explain. He remembered what his own father used to say about situations like this: We men need to stick together in times like this, son! No matter how you feel about the other guy, feeding him to his lion of a wife is just wrong. as Grayson stole another peek at the inspectors' stance and all around seething disposition, he was compelled to describe her as more of a praying mantis prepared to sup on her mate than a lioness.
"Look, Lestrade; it's only a temporary desk job, and it's not like you don't 'ave mounds o' reports that're waiting for your retellin' and filing." Grayson sighed and got up from his chair, walking around the desk and standing in front of what he considered to be his best inspector. "Trust me Beth; in a few weeks, you're gonna be thankin' me for this."
Lestrade snorted. "I'm not so sure it's you I have to thank for this, Chief." A flick of his eyes down and to the left was all it took to confirm Beth's suspicions. She clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Alright. Fine. But if you and my dear husband wouldn't mind letting me know when you're going to start making my decisions for me…" she left it there as she stalked out of the office in a huff, making a bee line for what most supposed was a desk underneath the mountain of books (she was the only one that actually read anything on paper) food supplement wrappers, and various data pads. She glanced at the chronometer atop her computer monitor. It was only 1430, but she'd had more than enough fun at the office for one day. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lestrade punched out two and a half hours early on her own free will and headed for the elevators without so much as shouting a good bye to those she passed, which was quite unlike her.
Oh yes, she and the man were going to be having quite the nice little chat when she got home. How dare he contact Grayson behind her back and tell him to assign her desk duties? Had the world's greatest detective lost his marbles? Was he suddenly not playing with a full deck? Not that he ever wasplaying with a full deck to begin with…
A small voice insideher head suggested it was possible that she was over reacting, but such a thought was the absolute last thing Lestrade wanted to entertain. She wanted justice, dammit! Normally, she loved Holmes' Victorian Decorum; oftentimes she found it funny, pleasing, and charming, but this time…this time, she didn't find his sly move to be any of the above.
The elevator released her into the cruiser holding bay and she stalked towards her vehicle, fishing her identity key out of the pockets of her uniform and pressing the security button to deactivate the alarm system. Most of her friends at NSY found it hysterical that she used the security system on her cruiser in the police parking bay, but Lestrade wasn't about to take any chances. She knew what the criminal element was capable of in New London, and the last thing she needed was to come down to the holding bay and find her cruiser missing because one of the security officers had decided to take a nap in the guard booth…
Lifting open the hatch, Lestrade slid into the seat and closed up the cruiser. Turning everything on, she lightly activated the thrusters and switched to manual piloting. After the conversation she'd just had, she was going to need to feel some kind of control. That was the very thought on her mind as she shot out of the holding bay and into the aerial traffic of New London,steering the cruiser towards Baker Street, and home.
Oh the roof she would bring down upon his head! Her fingers gripped the flight controls as she maneuvered the cruiser down and into another lane of traffic, her normally impatient nature having increased tenfold as of late. Yes, some of it was due to the hormones surging throughout her body, but at the moment, it was the fault of a rather maddening detective that seemed to think he knewhow she should handle her own pregnancy better than she did!
For instance, her condition certainly had no bearing on whether or not she could still handle barrel rolls in mid air! Her stomach hardly lurched as she performed one to dive out of another lane of traffic and onto an exit that would lead her to Holmes's flat. Her mouth smirked slightly as she evened out and continued over the roof tops of various apartments and shops, until she found the one she was looking for. Roughly, Beth settled the cruiser on the pavement below and powered down the vehicle, hopping out immediately afterwards and placing the security system in the ready position. Stealing a glance up at the window, she endeavored to see if her husband was home, but couldn't see anyone sitting in the chair placed next to the glass.
Fine. If he wasn't home, she'd stew in her own anger.
Her feet hit the steps hard, and Beth was positive that if Holmes or Watson were there, they could hear her from the farthest rooms in the apartment.
"Sherlock Holmes!" Her voice thundered throughout the flat as she opened the door and slammed it shut behind her. Looking around she didn't see any sign of him, but as she glanced to her left, she saw his trademark deer stalker and Inverness cape hanging exactly the way they had been when she'd left for work that morning. He was hard pressed to go anywhere without those two items, and it led her to believe that Holmes hadn't been out of the house all day.
Or that he wanted to get out of the house as quickly as possible. Clicking her tongue, she stomped over to the closet and ripped the door open. Sure enough, the trench coat she'd bought him for their anniversary was no longer there. Beth literally growled, shoving the door shut. Donning a gift he hadn't worn since she'd gotten for him was not going to save him, not matter what he thought.
"Ah, Inspector Lestrade!"
Watson's familiar and friendly voice echoed into the living room and for a moment, the woman's anger was abated, though only for a moment. The good doctor came out of the kitchen, carrying with him a tray of tea and crumpets as he had taken to doing when the inspector was usually scheduled to come home.
When the inspector was usually scheduled to come home…
Almost instantly, Beth found her fury again as she sidled up to Watson, who placed the tray on the table in front of the settee. "Watson."
"Do have a cup of tea, Inspector, you seem rather frazzled today."
"Watson."
"Perhaps some of these biscuit; have you eaten yet?"
"Where is he?" Beth's smile was tight as she sat on the sofa and crossed her legs, but this motion only reminded her of the baby growing inside, which in turn served her brain to recollect why she was home at ten to three on a weekday afternoon.
"Holmes? I haven't the faintest."
"Your lying hasn't improved with time, Watson."
"No doubt you are angry with Holmes making a request to the Chief Inspector in regards to your current work portfolio."
"Well yeah, I am a little piss-wait a second, you knew he was gonna do that?" Lestrade's mouth was agape as she stared at the compudroid, who merely shrugged as he poured her a cup of steaming hot tea and handed it to her. Not knowing what else to do, she took it, heaving a great sigh as her back leaned against the soft cushions of the couch. "So, I guess you can tell me what possessed him to make such a ridiculous move then, huh?"
"No possession other than his unyielding love for you and the concern any soon-to-be father would feel for the health and wellbeing of his wife and child."
Lestrade actually felt a few pangs of guilt begin to stab her at her heart, not to mention the exhaustion starting to prick at her feet, and her mind floated to what Grayson had said in his office earlier that day. She shook herself back into the conversation. "Okay, fine. So I've been feeling a little more tired than usual and maybe I haven't been as active, but that doesn't mean Holmes gets to call my boss behind my back and run my life!" She leaned forward and placed the tea cup on the table with more force than meant, and some of the liquid spilt out and onto her hand, making her hiss at the slight burning sensation. Watson only looked on, knowing that the hurt was superficial. It was her pride that was smarting most, presently. She took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself before speaking again.
"Where's he at anyways?"
"Holmes?" Watson smiled. "Wisely, he stepped out, almost immediately after speaking with the Chief Inspector. I believe his exact words were, 'I shall allow Beth some time to acclimatize to her new position before I see her tonight'".
"Well, that was swellof him," Beth grumbled, settling back against the sofa and slumping slightly. "I thought being married was supposed to be all about communication and honesty and all that mumbo jumbo."
"Quite right, Inspector Lestrade. However, I also believe marriage is about staying alive; I have the feeling that if Holmes had come out of the kitchen rather than myself just now, he would have seen the beginnings of a very rough evening ahead of him."
Well, Lestrade couldn't deny that. She'd had half a mind to take the man's head right off his shoulders. Not literally of course, but enough so that he would never thinking of doing something like this ever again, in any lifetime.
"When will he be home?"
"Later this evening, I'd expect. I believe he said something earlier this morning about perusing furniture for the child's nursery."
"This morning?" Lestrade frowned. "But he was awake all night! What was he still doing up this morning, he should have been sleeping!" She stood up in a huff and paced the floor, hands on her hips and more frustrated now than she had been when she'd first come home. "He expects me to sit behind a desk for the next five months because I show a little fatigue, and yet, he thinks it's perfectly all right to stay up the entire night and all through the morning to go shopping? That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" Her hands ran through her ever-growing hair and she groaned. The last thing she wanted to think about was needing to get a haircut. Again.
Apparently the burst of hormones from her pregnancy was doing all kinds of things for her body. For instance, she found herself trimming her nails at least once a week, sometimes two. Her hair had grown at least three inches since she'd first discovered her condition. Her skin had a healthier glow to it, not that it hadn't been lovely and clear beforehand. And, as she had been 'advised' and Holmes had been 'warned' by her obstetrician, Dr. Novak, she had an increased sexual appetite, though by now that thought was the furthest thing from her mind and had been replaced by fantasies of shoving Holmes into a crypnotizer programmed to disallow any further meddling by him in her career in any way.
Watson continued to remain silent, simply looking at her, a sympathetic look on his face. Though he agreed that Elizabeth should be out of the field and in the safe confines of the New Scotland Yard headquarters, he didn't agree with how his long time friend had gone about making his opinion known. Then again, this was Sherlock Holmes, and he was nothing if not eccentric and extreme.
"Perhaps a nap, Inspector?" Watson suggested. "You may find yourself in better spirits when you awaken."
"No," but a yawn escaped her before Beth could stop it, "I just…I love him, Watson, I really do. But he drives me insane sometimes, you know?"
"I know it very well. You both drive each other to the brink of madness." The doctor smiled fondly at her. "It is what makes you two so right for one another. As irritating as his manner of handling the current situation is, you must always remember that he desires nothing but the best for you…and the child."
"I know," another yawn once again made itself plain, and this time, the inspector didn't even bother to hide it, "maybe I'll lie down on the couch until he comes out of hiding." A chuckle was her response and she made her way back over to the settee while Watson began cleaning up. "Leave it, Watson. You're not our maid; I'll clean it up in a second."
"Don't be ridiculous, inspector. Whilst Holmes has no cases and you are out of the field with no pressing business of your own, I am happy to do whatever I can to make your life easier!" Lestrade smiled fondly at the droid and rested her head on a pillow. Her eyes were already closing when Watson, having returned from the kitchen, placed a blanket over her. By the time he left the room again, Beth was sound asleep.
Chapter 2
A slight shiver of trepidation shot through Holmes as he settled his hover coach behind his wife's cruiser. He expected that she would be lying in wait when he returned home, but that did nothing to ease the small yet substantial tremor that was settling itself in his stomach. But, he was a man resigned to his fate. He knew that it would take almost no brain power at all for Beth to figure out that it was he who had called Grayson and requested that she be taken off field duty; but he had been hoping that she wouldn't figure it out quite so soon, or that she would be home quite so early.
However, that was the reason he'd left immediately after a video conference with the good Chief. Holmes took no chances, not with his work, nor with his finances, and definitely not with his wife. He might have been living in an entirely different time, but he knew the affairs of married life had not changed much over the course of two centuries. It was true that in governmental, political and religious matters men had substantial control, but all that power ended once the man set foot in the house, where the wife was the head of all she surveyed.
He suspected it was for this reason that he rarely saw his father when he was growing up. His mother could be a sufficient tyrant when the mood suited her, and that was practically all the time. Unfortunately for her, she never eased out of that behavior and applied her firm grip to every aspect of her life, including her husband and her children.
He stepped out of the hover coach and secured it, looking from the vehicle to the steps which led up to his apartment and almost a certain tirade from a certainroyal-eyed inspector. Maybe he would get lucky, and she would only be angry at the fact that she was assigned to desk work for the next five months. Perhaps she would have no idea that it was he who had orchestrated the entire thing. But to hope for that was to pray that Beth was an utter simpleton, and had she actually been that, Holmes would have never married her. No; his wife was sharp as a tack, and she knew him and his methods almost as well as he knew hers.
She would be angry, and as depraved as it was to think it, Holmes felt that Beth was incredibly beautiful when she was in a full rage. As he walked up the steps and unlocked the door to his flat, he imagined that in short time, he would quite possibly be witnessing the most radiant Elizabeth Lestrade-Holmes he'd ever seen.
And yet, no books flew at his head. No shouts of indignation assaulted his ears. As he gazed around the principle room, shrugging off the trench and allowing it to rest over the back of a chair, he saw nothing was out of place. All books were neatly stacked (or neatly stacked for him) on the shelves, the desk on which his and now Beth's joint and radically amped up computer system sat was tidy and well put together, no doors hanging open or various internet pages open and up on the screen. The pillows were all in their respective places on the chairs and settee, as was his wife, now that Holmes walked into the room further and saw the familiar brown head of hair resting comfortably on the couch.
He took a moment to admire her, for it was true what everyone said; women, though they grew in size, appeared to be just as gorgeous and perhaps even more so when they were pregnant. He glanced at the old wrist watch he wore. 4:56pm. He supposed he ought to wake her as he knew she would want dinner soon, but she seemed to be sleeping rather solidly. Softly smiling, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and bent down, pressing a gentle, sweet kiss to the side of her head before standing up and heading for the kitchen.
"Holmes?"
Almost, he thought, wincing as he heard his name and turning around to gaze at the woman on the couch. Carefully, knowing that just because his wife was still half asleep did not mean he was safe from a perfectly aimed projectile, he walked back over and knelt in front of her. She blinked blearily at him and rubbed her eyes.
"…time is it?"
"Almost time for supper," Holmes grinned, "I thought a pasta dish might be appropriate."
"Yeah, you'd better start sucking up." Beth sat up at the mention of her favorite food group, pulling the blanket around her and looked around. "That was a cheap, sneaky move you pulled."
"Perhaps, but done only with your best interests in mind." Holmes rose and sat on the couch next to his wife, gathering her to him. "How long were you expecting to stay fully in the field?"
"I could have handled it."
"You could have handled it yes. You do every day, and I have no doubt of it. However, in case you haven't looked in the mirror lately, you are beginning to show your condition, your reflexes are becoming less reliable, and your energy levels are diminishing more and more every day…" he felt and heard her defeated sigh and Holmes squeezed Elizabeth to him even more. "You are carrying a child, Beth. There is no shame is admitting that because of this fact, you are physically inhibited and hindered from performing your full duties."
"I was goingto put myself behind a desk, you know."
Holmes quirked an eyebrow. "When?"
"Probably at the beginning of the third trimester."
Holmes shook his head. "And so you would put yourself and the baby at risk. I love you for your stubbornness, Elizabeth, but sometimes I am also in fear because of it." He moved back as she looked at him, a spark of…something, he couldn't tell just yet, coming to her eyes. Her voice came out in a croak.
"Do you really think I'd do something so stupid as to put our child in danger? Holmes, if I didn't think I could safely do my job and be pregnant and be married all at the same time, I'd go to Grayson and ask for my medical leave early! The fact that you stepped in and made all of that happen now is just…" she shook her head. "You didn't even talk to me about it."
Well, she got him on that one. Instantly gone was his normal arrogant look, and replaced by it was one of humility. "You are quite right," he finally murmured. "I apologize for that misstep. I did not want an argument."
Beth smirked. "You wanted to be right and you wanted to get your way." Holmes nodded once.
"And in admitting to that, you also admit that if you argue with me, I'll be right most of the time and I'll get my way most of the time, and it's because of that that you felt the need to be all sneaky and secretive about this little maneuver regarding me and my job." Her smirk only got wider and Holmes had to concede defeat on that point. He hung his head for a moment before leaning it back against the settee and sighing. "I shall be paying for this for some time." None the less, he was smiling as he felt his wife's head snuggle underneath his chin. He wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I should have stayed home to meet you."
"Why's that?"
"Because my leaving Baker Street gave you time to calm yourself, which gave you time to think, which, in turn, gave you time to plot and form your argument. Had I been here for you to rant and rave at, I would have been able to win the argument."
"But you ran out to go shopping and you strategically ditched your Inverness for the coat I bought you, which you haven't worn since you got it-oh, that reminds me!" She sat up and looked him in the eye. "If you're going to mother me about not doing so much at work anymore, then that means I get to bother you about your not getting enough rest. Watson said you didn't sleep at all last night."
Holmes groaned. "I told him not to mention that."
Lestrade laughed out loud and nudged him. "You know what I want?"
"Your pasta?"
"My pasta."