Authors Note: Ugh, I am so sorry for the long wait for the update! But, the semester is over and the summer is beginning, and that means a lot more time for writing! So, take a look at chapter four, leave me a sweet review on how you like it (and yes, feel free to yell at me for taking so long to update the story). I'm working on chapter five as we speak.

Pregnancy Pains

Her stomach was beginning to take a pregnant shape. At two and a half months pregnant, Annabelle could finally start to see just the hint of a bump in her belly, and she'd been waiting exactly eight weeks and two days to catch a glimpse at such a beautiful sight. More to the point, she knew the child's father would be eager to see her progression when he came by soon.

Moriarty hadn't been lying when he'd told her he had various hide outs all around England. From the country to the city, to the sewers…he even had an apartment on the moon in Galileo City, but for the purposes of housing and keeping her safe whilst carrying his heir, he'd chosen a country home complete with rolling fields and a big back yard. Such estates were hard to come by so close to New London, so he'd used a house just on the western border of Berkshire to house her and their soon to be new addition. In just seven months, James Moriarty would have an heir to his criminal empire, and Annabelle Wilson would have a child of her own given to her by none other than the Napoleon of Crime.

It truly didn't bother her what the man did. He was a criminal; he was a murderer, a thief, he'd kidnapped and tortured people, threatened and maimed them, displaced families, come up with doomsday scenarios…Annabelle had known guys like that all her life, zed, her own father had been some third rate robber himself. James Moriarty though…he was the real deal. Any criminal worth their salt took their lead from him because of his philosophy on the art of crime. No one ever thought of crime as an art any more, but it was, it truly was.

Stealing something wasn't just about performing a smash and grab and hoping you got what you came for. There was a psychology to it; a science of knowing what one was stealing and from whom one was stealing it from. Normally anything that was sighted to be stolen was also secured in some way shape or form, but being that there were all different kinds of ways to keep various bobbles and trinkets safe, one had to understand the person that owned it; understand how a person thought, and one understood how he or she kept their most prized possessions under lock and key. Only when a person understood all of that was when he or she could truly call themselves a master thief. The same thing could be said of committing murder, staging a hostage, lifting hover cars, or committing any number of acts that the elite majority felt were non-conducive to the human struggle of maintaining civility.

Annabelle had decided when she'd first met the infamous Moriarty that his philosophy on the how's and why's to commit crime were what attracted her to him. Why should a top few have the power to decide what everyone else could or could not do? Why should they have the power to decide right from wrong, good from evil? If one had the power to do something, why shouldn't they exercise it? It wasn't their fault if they were successful; it was the fault of their victim!

But, unfortunately, the world just didn't think like they did, and neither did ninety nine percent of those that were classified as criminals. Most of them thought it was just a big game; steal a piece of jewelry here, rough up some old guy there…hardly any of them thought of the art behind it. All they thought about were the possessions they could accumulate.

But that wouldn't be a problem with her little one. Annabelle placed a soft hand over her just barely swelling belly and smiled as she gazed in the mirror ahead of her. When he was born, and Annabelle knew in her heart it was a boy, she and his father would make sure he understood the prestige and responsibility the child had been born into. He would take it seriously, he would not dishonor it, he would grasp every conceivable notion of committing crimes and he would not allow himself to be tainted by those who were less knowledgeable.

And, he would continue the fight against Holmes, and the little whelp that was growing in his wife's womb. The brunette strode over to the large bay window which over looked a spacious back yard, her hand still locked protectively over her stomach. She thought back to that day in the mall two weeks ago. James had given her a fair amount in the way of allowance money, and she'd decided to get a head start on maternity and baby clothes, as well as peruse some furniture and toys for the baby.

And who should she come across but the happy couple themselves? Holmes had recognized her on the spot. No doubt he'd seen some screen stills of her when he had been investigating her 'kidnapping' and etched her face into his memory in that way. And of course she knew who Sherlock Holmes was; he was always in the holo-news, helping New Scotland Yard and that zealot wife of his with the crimes they were too stupid to solve. She'd never seen Elizabeth Lestrade before however; in fact, that day two weeks ago was the first time she'd gotten a look at her. She was pretty…in a brutish sort of way, and Anne supposed she could see why Moriarty had taken a shine to her. After all, men liked women they could break, they liked a challenge; they needed a challenge to keep them interested. Anne had figured this out shortly after the professor had given her her discharge papers, so to speak.

But in the end, the little inspector had gotten away, and as Annabelle rested on the small bench just below the three tiered window, she couldn't lie to herself and say she wasn't glad. Except Moriarty had taken a vile of her blood…she remembered it, he'd told her to go and retrieve it from the medical basement just has the police were breaking into the mansion. Annabelle couldn't help but glower at yard outside. Here she was, carrying his child, and he was still worrying about that stupid yardie. It wasn't that she didn't understand; she did! She completely understood Moriarty's reasoning and methods behind this particular project. She even had to commend him on it, for it was truly genius and would make for some wonderful fun in a few months…but Annabelle was still a young woman, and prone to jealousy.

"But there is one thing that woman can't do for him," she murmured, gazing down at her stomach with a superior smile on her face, "she can't give him you."

She could not wait for this child to arrive. There was a time when Annabelle believed she would never be able to have a child of her own. She knew there were treatments and procedures available for women who had trouble conceiving, but she didn't have that kind of money. If James hadn't come along and whisked her away, she'd still be with boring Kevin and working as a waitress at some seedy bar. She'd always known she was better than that, and here she was, a home of her own, a staff and body guards to wait on her every need and desire, and in just over six months, the start of a family she'd always wanted.

She was under no delusions though. Anne knew what was expected of her. Moriarty thought of her with some affection, otherwise he wouldn't have kept her (and kept her well). He could have kept her near to him and his entire operation, stuck in some old, dark dank room with nothing to do. He hadn't done that, nothing even close to it, but Anne also knew that none of these material things meant anything. What could be given to her could just as easily be taken away. Her job was simple; deliver a healthy child, someone that Moriarty could start his legacy with, raise and nurture it as best as she was able, and most importantly of all, stay out of the good professor's personal affairs. Entice him, enchant him, beguile him, dazzle his senses with her beauty and seductive ways she would, but nose around in his business life she would not.

Much; but she'd sworn to herself, the second Anne had seen Holmes and Lestrade in the mall, that if they or their offspring so much as ever dared to think of laying a hand on her kid…she would make all three of them wish they'd never been brought into this world, and in Holmes' case, brought back.

"Miss Annabelle?"

"Yes?" Anne tucked her hair behind her ears and turned around, putting her hands on her hips. "The items you purchased from the stores on your last outing have arrived. Shall I tell them to begin bringing everything in?"

"That would be lovely, Violet, thank you." Anne followed the maid out of her room and down the hallway, which over looked a fairly large foyer. She stood there for a moment, watching the delivery men maneuver the hover lift through the door. "Careful with all that!" She bounced down the stairs and headed over to one of the employee's. "That's all very expensive; I assume you have some data pad for me to punch?"

"Yea, 'ere you go, miss!" The man pulled a small data pad from his pocket and handed it to her. Smiling, Anne punched in the name 'Brigette Summers' and handed it back to him. "This can all be moved up stairs and down the hallway to the left. The nursery is last door on the corridor."

"Yes ma'am, ro'ight away!" He and the four others that came with him immediately set on moving the furniture and other accessories to the aforementioned place, Anne looking on eagerly. In almost seven months, the real fun would begin, but for now, she was content to stand and direct traffic.

She was falling into this 'Woman of the House' role pretty well, if she did say so herself.

Pregnancy Pains

Out of the test tube and into the hydro chamber. Moriarty surveyed the large, watery world encased in glass before him, stroking his dark goatee steadily. She was coming along nicely, he decided. Five months and already, she was about the age and size of a toddler. Fenwick, he had to admit, was a genius when it came to genetics and infusing the cloning with heightened cellular growth, though difficult, was beginning to pay off.

"I really must commend your efforts, Fenwick." Moriarty turned and gazed at the grotesque man standing in his lab station. "You've out done yourself this time, really."

"Thank you, Master." He inclined his blue head forwards in thanks, shifting his beady eyes to the massive tank in front of him. "She will be ready shortly after your mistress gives birth."

"Fenwick, I must say If I hear you call that woman my 'mistress' once more, I shall have to severely beat you." The master criminal sent an annoyed look the geneticists way making it clear that as valuable he thought the man to be, he was continually crossing a line that he'd been warned not to even approach.

"What shall I call her then?"

"I am not married, Fenwick, therefore she cannot be my mistress. She is the mother of my future child, my heir…my legacy." Moriarty ambled over to the lab station and ran a lazy finger over the edge of one of the tables, atop which various equipment and accessories were placed. "You may call her Miss. Wilson; that is all."

"Alright, alright," Fenwick waved him off as he turned to work other matters. "How is Miss. Wilson at any rate? Faring nicely?"

"Her pregnancy is going extremely well. In as little as seven weeks we shall know the gender of the child. I confess I hope for a boy, but shall be happy for any vessel to carry on my work. A girl will be much more difficult to tame and train, but…" Moriarty shrugged, "there are benefits that come with the feminine disposition that men simply do not possess."

"I am sure any child conceived by you and Miss. Anne will be strong if it's a male, sleek and seductive if you're given a girl."

Moriarty arched an eyebrow. "I'm sure I didn't just hear you hope for any possible future daughter of mine to be whorish in any way?"

"Of course not, Master," Fenwick gazed over his shoulder at his boss. "I would treat her with the same amount of respect as I would treat her mother."

"And don't you forget it." Grabbing his long tailed coat, Moriarty shrugged it on and set for the door. "I shall return in a few weeks time. Keep me updated on her progress."

Pregnancy Pains

"Holmes old boy, I must tell you; you've been rather tense these last few weeks." Watson carefully piloted the hover coach through the sky lines of New London.

"I have reason to be."

"I have no doubt of it. Seeing Miss. Wilson again must have been quite a shock."

"Not so much a shock as a reminder that Moriarty is still at large and as long as he continues to be so, he is a danger to everyone in New London." Holmes left off the obvious statement that could have accompanied that sentence and what had been a constant fear of his for these past five months; that as long as Moriarty was allowed to roam free, he was an extraordinary threat to him and to Elizabeth.

"I have been too complacent, Watson," Holmes sighed crossing his arms and slumping down into the seat a little further. "For these last few months, I have been content to watch and wait, to be patient for his next move, but seeing Annabelle Wilson that day in the mall…observing how comfortable she was in her position, the level of protection Moriarty has garnered for her." He smirked as he gazed out the window. "He must have used Annabelle's own 'supplies' if you will to get what he wanted. Very mysterious that he didn't just use her to begin with, that he involved Beth."

"When the inspector briefed us on the situation, she did say that Moriarty had expressed an interest in her genes." Watson raised his eyebrows. "We mustn't forget the fact that whilst the professor could not have possibly known of your relationship with her, he did know that the both of you were very fond of one another. And according to Inspector Lestrade, Annabelle Wilson was going to be the one to carry the child in any event. It is possible that after the loss of Elizabeth, Moriarty was able to procure another donor."

"Or he just used hers," Holmes asserted again, "it was a last resort, but what Moriarty wants, Moriarty gets, and he wanted someone to carry on his legacy of crime and corruption. I'm sure Annabelle Wilson wasn't who he wanted to be the mother of this child, but shrewd man that he is, he weighed his options and decided that a child was better than no child at all."

Watson piloted the hover coach expertly through the air lines and bared left towards a grove of trees. Holmes raised an eyebrow. "Middlesex Park, Watson? Why on Earth are we here?"

"I do apologize, old boy, but I am sworn to secrecy in this matter." Holmes could have sworn he detected a glimmer of secret happiness in his ocular depths, but he kept silent, preferring to wait and see what would befall him as the hover coach touched down gently on the soft grass beneath.

He looked around carefully as he got out of the coach. It was broad day light, the sun shining brightly through the last remaining bit of green New London had to offer. He recognized the plot of land immediately of course. This was where he'd taken Beth for their first date. However, unlike the last time he was here, looking around, he could see no horses waiting to be mounted for lazy ride along the parks trails. His uncanny cobalt eyes did however see a young woman sitting beneath a very large oak tree, a blanket spread out beneath her and a basket sitting just a few feet away. Beth leaned against the tree, as her stomach was now becoming too large for her to sit cross legged comfortably and waved to him.

"I figured we could all do with a day off." She smiled as both Holmes and Watson walked up to her, greeting Watson with a nod of thanks for dragging her husband out of their flat. "So, I came up with amazing idea of having a picnic."

"How splendid," Holmes glared up at Watson, but the droid only nodded towards the ground, indicating he should sit, "you organized a picnic, in the middle of a park where hardly any of the population of New London comes anymore and in one of the more secluded spots. I must confess; I hope Moriarty isn't watching our movements too closely. One might think this the perfect time to strike."

"Or one might think that after the trouble your wife went through to set up this lovely outing, you could thank her for it and stop your grumbling for a minute or two." She crossed her arms tightly around her growing bosom and glared up at him, clearly displeased with his first choice of how to greet her.

A great sigh heaved itself from the man's chest and Holmes gazed down at the woman before him, eyes conveying shame at his greeting of her. "My apologies."

She glanced at the spot next to her. "Sit down." He did so.

"You know how much I love you, how much I care about you, and yes, even how much I admire you, even though I might be sick for admitting it." Beth graced him with a smirk while Watson looked on. "But ever since you saw that woman, you have been driving me up the wall with what you term your 'incessant nagging.'" Holmes opened his mouth to defend himself, but Lestrade held up a finger, warning him that for the moment, she had the floor, or in this case, ground. "You have been interrogating me left and right about every place I go, how long I'm going to be out, demanding that I take Watson with me if you're unavailable…my videophone log now has more calls from you than it does from Grayson, other inspectors, sources, and reporters combined and I didn't think that was possible!"

Holmes shifted uncomfortably on the soft patch of grass next to her, wanting to look anywhere else but at his wife, but he was finding that very difficult to do at the moment. When Elizabeth was angry or highly annoyed as was the case here, it was hard to pay attention to anything else but her, for she commanded respect in every aspect of her personality. H e felt her small hand feeling for his and he grasped at it tightly, his thumb ghosting over the soft whiteness of it.

"I know you're worried," Beth murmured, "I know you're wondering what Moriarty has up his sleeve. I know you've been working every day and every night trying to figure out exactly what he's up to and where he is and if he's a threat; but putting me under house arrest isn't going to make things any easier for us."

A variety of emotions stirred within the detectives' soul at his wife's words. He had to admit her words had a seamless logic to them. Holmes had a tendency to obsess over Moriarty, especially when he knew the bastard was up to something and he couldn't prove it or gain any information on him. Such was the present case. So, he had the decency to look soundly humbled and even slightly ashamed at his over bearing actions as of late.

"I am truly sorry, Elizabeth." He kissed her hand lightly and didn't miss the sigh of relief from her that the conversation (if one could call it that; she'd been the only one talking) was, for the most part over. "It was never my intention to make you feel a prisoner in our home or to hound you…the events of the past six months or so have proven to me the depths to which Moriarty will sink to achieve his ends. It is my goal much as I can to see that he never has the ability to use such methods again."

"He won't," Lestrade assured him, grinning. "I'm carrying an ionizer everywhere I go now, and it's true what they say; the protective hormones that run around a woman's body when she's pregnant are ridiculously high and hard to control." Her eyes took on an almost devilish gleam and Holmes couldn't suppress the shiver that traveled down his spine. "I might be an officer of the law, but I swear to you, the next time I see him, I won't hesitate to put this ionizer-" she un-holstered the weapon and held it up for him to view, "on the highest setting and ba-last him with it ten times over."

"Then please allow me to be nowhere in your line of sight when do, for you might miss him and hit me." Holmes grinned and the jest earned him a punch in the shoulder which he took good naturedly. Normally he would have pulled her towards him with a slightly roughness that he knew she enjoyed, but as she was becoming heavier with child, he tugged her gently to him and kissed her. "I promise; I will endeavor to stifle you less, though my worry for your safety and that of the child will never cease."

"Good." Beth snuggled her head underneath his chin and closed her eyes. "Right back at ch'ya."

"Beth?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is it possible we may eat now?"

Holmes could feel her slump in his arms, a sign of her disbelief that he could change interests so quickly, but never the less, she sat up and reached for the basket. "Hey Watson! When are the kids supposed to get here?"

Watson, who had decided to slough off to the side to give the couple some privacy, now came back over to address the inspectors' question. "I believe Deidre said she and her young friend, along with Wiggins and Tennyson would meet us here shortly after their lessons were over; around 3:15 she said."

"Well then that gives us plenty of time to hang out and eat and just…you know…lounge around." With that, the two humans set to eating their rather late lunch while Watson chattered on about the many conversations he had been having with the Baker Street Irregulars, specifically Wiggins and Deidre, and not necessarily together.

"So let me get this straight," Beth bit off a piece of one of the many sandwiches Watson had prepared for the picnic and leaned back against the tree. "Wiggins is insanely jealous about Deidre and this new guy of hers…and he's not even gonna try and win her?"

"Perhaps our Mr. Wiggins believes discretion to be the better part of valor?" Holmes suggestion did not elate Lestrade by any means but she let him carry out his point. "Deidre is not the traditional sort of girl. She may misinterpret Wiggins fighting for her affections as a displaced claim of property upon her, and then the young man will be sorely defeated, for not only will he have managed to anger the young lady, but he will also undoubtedly push her into the arms of the very man he detests."

"What you say is very true, Holmes; on the other hand, I'm not so sure Miss. Deidre is aware of young Wiggins affections for her." Sitting on the ground was an odd way for Watson to try to relax...that is, if robots were capable of relaxing, but there he was, his metal body shining brightly against the sun's rays as he briefed his two friends on the goings on of their juvenile compatriots for the past three weeks. "In fact," the droid continued, "I am quite sure that, when the possibility was broached in the most subtle of ways by yours truly, Deidre seemed so against the idea that I finally dropped the subject all together."

Lestrade paused mid chew. "You mean she was turned off?"

"I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, Inspector. Deidre is not a machine. I would find it impossible to turn her 'off'." His face became even more confused as Beth began laughing, trying to cover her mouth as she still had food in it.

"What I believe the inspector meant to ask was if Deidre was un-flattered by the possibility of Wiggins showing her an affection that was more of the romantic variety than of the platonic one." Thankfully, Holmes stepped in to save the conversation from going onto an entirely different topic and Watson seemed much more at home with this brand of description. "I should say not, Holmes. In fact, Deidre seemed to think it was impossible that Wiggins could feel such a way about her, citing that they had been friends for so long it would be difficult for him to see her in such a light."

Both detectives' eyes, ears, and brains perked up at that last sentence.

"'It would be difficult for him to see her in such a light?' You're sure you remembered Deidre saying it exactly like that, Watson?"

"Positive, Inspector."

"Well that's interesting," Beth grinned, "that kind of implies that she wants him to be attracted to her but is giving up because they've had this platonic thing for so long…"

"Oh Beth, please, for the love of God, do not go meddling in the affairs of teenagers," Holmes implored, delivering her a rather annoyed gaze with a simple sardonic roll of the eyes. "I am sure that in fifteen years or so, we shall have more dramatic happenings regarding the opposite sex of child than we could ever ask for; I do not wish to get a head start on that experience now."

Beth pouted, but changed the subject none the less. "So, Watson; I hear you're ready for an upgrade?"