The next morning, I kissed Mary and baby Eliza goodbye and popped over to Sherlock's apartment. Since his return, I'd applied and been accepted at St. Bart's, so I figured we could nip into the lab before my shift started, I'd perform the paternity test, and then have a good excuse for making a swift exit at the inevitable fallout.
When I arrived at the apartment, Juliet was leaning against the counter, drinking a cup of coffee. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she had a sour look on her face. "Took the sofa, huh?" I joked. "You'd be better off on the sidewalk tonight." She smiled at me, but it looked more like a grimace. I was spared the agony of continuing the conversation when Sherlock whisked into the room, stopping briefly at the pantry to slap on a nicotine patch and then flying down the stairs.
I, as a soldier, doctor, and all-around thrill-seeker, have seen some terrible, frightening, horrific things, but I will forever remember that taxi ride as the worst twenty minutes of my life. Generally, it only takes ten, but traffic was terrible that morning, and, sandwiched in between Sherlock and Juliet's stonelike, resentful figures, I sorely wished I hadn't volunteered to accompany them. Sherlock's entire body was turned as far away from Juliet as it could be. Juliet's hands were shaking on the seat between us, and she couldn't make eye contact. The air had a stale, silent quality. Neither offered to pick up the fare. Shocker.
Just as I'd planned, Molly Hooper was waiting in the lab when we arrived. This particular portion of my maneuver, I wasn't so proud of. In my defense, I really did have clinic hours to complete, and years of dealing with Sherlock had taught me to have an escape route; when the going gets tough, it's best to get going. The way I figured, having Molly do it would remove the "shooting the messenger" component of the ordeal.
Molly grinned widely when Sherlock walked into the room, then stiffened at the sight of Juliet. (I also was not proud of the fact that I was about to toss her under the bus, totally without her knowledge.) "So, uh, Sherlock, is this your… girlfriend?" She cringed at Juliet's obvious youth.
"Actually, Molly, I don't know if John told you, but we actually need a paternity test," Sherlock said in a falsely cheerful tone, shooting me a sideways glare. Molly stuttered for a moment, then turned towards the counter, busying herself with readying the needles and tourniquets.
"All right, guys, roll up your sleeves," Molly warbled in the same cheerful tone Sherlock had used. Sherlock and Juliet flicked their sleeves above their elbows with the same conceited grace- as if they were diamonds that fell off the Shroud of Turin. I didn't know why we were bothering with the bloody paternity test- waste of time, if you ask me. Neither Juliet nor Sherlock flinched at all while Molly drew the blood.
After an hour spent sipping at lukewarm coffee in the cafeteria downstairs, Molly texted me to bring Juliet and Sherlock back up to the lab. (Generally, paternity test results take a few days to receive, but when you've got a lab technician wrapped around your little finger, it takes considerably less time.) When we got there, she thrust a file into Juliet's hand, bit her lip, and ran from the room.
Juliet flipped through the file. One dark, dramatic eyebrow shot up, and she giggled with a note of mild hysteria. "Well, Daddy, looked like you're stuck with me for the next thirty-six months." Sherlock snatched the file from her hand, gave it a cursory glance, and sighed. Suddenly exhausted, his shoulders sagged, and he dropped the file on the ground and whisked out the door.
Juliet fell back against the counter, curls falling over her face, and exhaled violently. "He thinks he's disappointed," she chuckled.
"Really, Juliet, he's just… in shock. Dad shock, you know. And, well, he's not terribly self-aware. He'll be fine soon-" I began to explain, but it didn't matter.
"It's fine, John. I've had worse in the way of a loco parentis. Actually, I kind of like him. He's interesting, at least." She grinned, pushed herself off the counter, and disappeared out the door.