Chapter 1

The next morning, she received a call from Donovan as she was on her way to the tube station. Another murder with the same MO as the day before. "The Freak is already at the crime scene." Her tone suggested that she had failed to come in on time, again. Lestrade had some moments to feel embarrassed before she had to face them.

Sherlock gave her a disapproving look when she arrived. John was standing several metres away, clearly letting Sherlock do all his deduction from a safe distance, yet still close enough to be summoned when needed. Not that Sherlock usually needed him much which was why he usually spent his time observing people. He was no Sherlock, or Mycroft Holmes, but John Watson also had his own specialty. One look at Lestrade, and he knew the answer to his question the day before. Not for the first time, Lestrade was grateful of Sherlock's total disinterest in other things when there was a dead body in front of him. As long as she could keep his interest on the body before them, she could avoid Sherlock deducing her condition loudly in front of everyone, which she no doubt if he was given the opportunity, he would.

She looked as if she was watching Sherlock doing his usual thing, but her mind was far away. Should she tell John? She needed someone she could trust and she didn't have that many people to talk to. Her team was out of question. She drew a line between work and her private life, and to her, it could not get more private than this. Sherlock? She snorted at the thought. Discussing it with Sherlock would not help any. She would not get any sympathy or even the least bit understanding. Mycroft was almost the last person she wanted to tell. Their arrangement was all for convenience. They had no time for relationship and despite feeling the attraction to the older Holmes, Lestrade would not succumb to the temptation. Mycroft was too dangerous to get involved with, even he said so, when she gave her a detailed rationalisation as to why a romantic relationship would not work, then followed it with 'Reasons why they should start a sort of friends with benefits' arrangement. In bed. After they first had sex.

Why did she agree? They were not even friends. Well, it was a great sex and it had been a long time and wasn't it cheating to discuss something that important before the afterglow was over? She was barely coherent at the time, and in that condition, she agreed. Mycroft could have asked her anything at the time and she would have agreed with him. Yes, it was that great and yes, it had been that long. How desperate was she? Very.

So here she was, several weeks pregnant and for the first time in years, did not know what to do.

"This one is different."

Lestrade snapped into attention when she heard Sherlock's voice, filled with irritation. "Pardon?"

"This one," he pointed at the body, "is not the intended victim." The obviously was heard loud and clear. "You will find another victim soon, but this one is," he paused, then shrugged, "well, 'in the wrong place at the wrong time', I believe. Nothing else to see here."

"No clues?"

Sherlock sighed, then shook his head. "As interesting as his methods are, this one is different. Less clean, although with the same precision. The victim was probably trying to help the intended victim. What a stupid thing to do."

Lestrade, and John, were annoyed at this comment, but let it slide. Then, all of a sudden, Sherlock turned back to the body, looked at it once more, muttered under his breath, and then ran to the alleyway before John or Lestrade could say anything. John sighed. Lestrade looked at him in sympathy. After dealing with Sherlock for over five years, she was used to this burst of actions and she did have a car if she needed to follow Sherlock. John Watson on the other hand ...

"I'll give you a lift. There's ... something I want to talk to you about." Lestrade said uneasily. John looked at her, understanding dawning on his face.

"Thank you."

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There were questions that people usually asked when they knew someone was faced with a situation like this. Who was the father? Was she going to tell him? Was she going to keep the baby? Lestrade expected John to ask these questions, but throughout the whole ride to Baker Street, he didn't say anything while she told him as much as she could. He gave her a hug and told her that whatever problems that she had or whatever decisions she made, she could always talk to him. Lestrade was glad she could blame the hormones when she felt her eyes swimming with tears. It had been years since she last cried. John hugged her once more before stepping out of the car.

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The problem with being involved with the British Government was that he knew everything. She suspected he also knew about her trip to the pharmacy and what she bought. Mycroft did promise not to place any kind of surveillance in her flat, but on the street, he could follow her around if he wanted to. Lestrade did not flatter herself by thinking that Mycroft was even the least bit interested in her or anything but a relief from his work. She suspected that sleeping with his assistant would be too close to work to Mycroft's liking, and Anthea (or whatever name she fancied at the moment) was always polite to her, no hostility shown. She always had a look as if she knew something Lestrade didn't, but was not malicious about it. It seemed that whatever it was, amused her.

She knew Mycroft would be away for at least another week. Lestrade knew that her decision had to be discussed with him. Planned or not, the baby was Mycroft's (Yes, a baby. She now had more proof after the lab test). She could not live with a baby. Her job ... She slumped onto her couch. Kill the baby? She could not do that. After seeing murders, victims, kids ... How many times had she seen children and comforted herself with the fact that she had a career and a life without a man or children? White picket fence and everything were never her dreams. Sure, she made her choice, but now that she was thrust into this ... situation, abortion was never a choice. Not hers. She would tell Mycroft, told him exactly what she wanted, that she would keep the baby (lesser of two evils) and ... what? She could not help but wonder what Mycroft's reaction would be.

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Lestrade was not surprised when ten days later she saw a familiar dark car pulled up in front of the Yard when she was just going to head home. The driver opened the door for her. With a nod, Lestrade got in the car to see Mycroft smiling at her. "Good evening, Inspector."

She smiled. "Mycroft, how was your, er, trip?"

"It was ... fruitful." He took in her complexion, Lestrade winced inside. Nothing could get passed Mycroft Holmes, well, not for long. "A long day?"

She considered lying, she really did. And most of the time, her days were long ones. However, that day, Sherlock was being surprisingly more difficult in a different way than usual, Dr Watson was irritable, Anderson was being completely obnoxious, and Sally seemed to provoke Sherlock more than usual. Not to mention the morning sickness, although that was not as bad as the others. And this time the murder, another murder, a child. She had looked at the body and imagined the parents' grief, this time struck closer to her, and unconsciously wrapped her arms around her middle. Sherlock did spare glance at her, but went about his work without saying anything. Then the scrutiny. When he was not deducing and insulting everyone, he would study her. She could feel his eyes on her every time she turned her back.

She snapped back to the present as Mycroft's hand covered hers. He didn't say anything the whole time, but his concern was clear in his eyes. This, I will lose this. She wanted to cry when that thought came into her mind. When they arrived at her place, she looked at him and said, "We need to talk."

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It was not as explosive as she thought it would be. Mycroft did not say much, not that she gave him the time to. She showed him the lab result and it took him a while to recover from the shock. Some part of her relished the fact that apparently Mycroft Holmes was not omniscience, which most likely also meant that he had kept his promise to her. Then everything went downhill. Not that she expected much. It was a familiar speech, the whole danger in relationship thing. It hurt her more than she thought it would, no matter how many times she told herself that she was prepared for it. When Mycroft made a tentative suggestion to take the baby into his care, Lestrade wanted to scream. She did not, though. She looked at him, eyes filled with tears that she hoped he would not notice and that she would not break down in front of him, pointed at the door and asked him to leave. That was two days ago. There was no contact after that. She busied herself with her work. There were murderers to lock up after all. Her world did not stop just because Mycroft Holmes decided that she was not worth his time anymore.

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"You broke up with my brother."

Very typical of Sherlock to barge into her office and said what he wanted without any greetings. John was behind him, quickly closing the door. At least he did not say it in front of her team.

"Hello to you to, Sherlock, John." She nodded to the doctor who smiled at her sheepishly.

"You did not answer my question."

"I am not aware that it was a question." His eyes narrowed. "And it's hard to break up with someone you are not dating."

Sherlock scoffed at her. John gave him a look. Sherlock's emotions were clearly displayed on his face, annoyance, anger, then resignation. Then back to the case. John was clearly a good influence on him. He might yet be a good man, but he was getting there.

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When she had her first ultrasound, surprisingly with John and Sherlock's company, she nearly cried. Sherlock, for the first time since Lestrade knew him, did not make any scathing remarks. He even looked interested in the whole proceeding and Lestrade could swear that he gaped at the monitor for at least a second. None of them said anything when she gave them the ultrasound picture and asked them to pass it to Mycroft. She supposed it was a sensible gesture, whether he cared or not. And if he did not, he would find a way to make her know. Which was why she was not at all surprised to find a bouquet of flowers on her desk the next morning. There was no card, but she knew who sent it. Mycroft likes it then.

She did not tell anyone at the Yard except for her boss, but you could not really hide a pregnancy, especially when you were a forty something DI who was known to be single. Some people gave her sympathetic looks. Some gave her looks that tended more towards pitying. Some were, well, judgemental. She pretended she did not care about those and went about to do her job. Being pregnant was not going to make her back down from doing her work. She kept her appointments with her doctor and also had John to check up on her. Mostly with Sherlock in tow. Sometimes the consulting detective would have his phone in hand and text all the time, muttering under his breath. John would give him an amused look. Gabrielle Lestrade was no fool. She knew that Mycroft asked both his brother and Dr Watson to keep an eye on her. She did not like it, but the man who was the British Government would have what he wanted no matter what she said. At least she could easily explain Sherlock and John's appearance at the crime scene. A detective inspector being followed by a government surveillance team was definitely harder to explain.

After the break-up or whatever it was, Lestrade found herself lonelier than usual. Before, at least she could have Mycroft's company when their schedules permit it. Now, every time she opened the door to her flat, it seemed cold and empty, so when the newly transferred DI, DI Harley asked her out, she said yes. It was not a date. It was just lunch in the cafeteria, but it had been long enough since she had some company besides her team and the residents of 221B Baker Street. Then it became a daily thing.

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She was quite surprised to find Mycroft in her office two weeks after she started her daily lunch with Harley. His eyes softened when he saw her. "I see that you are doing well, Inspector."

"Yes, I am." Lestrade walked over to sit at her desk. "What brings you here, Mycroft? Is this about Sherlock?" As far as she knew, Sherlock had not gotten into any trouble in the past weeks.

"No, I'm here to see you. Care to have lunch with me, Gabrielle?"

Lestrade stared at him. Mycroft looked as impeccable as always, hands toying with the handle of his umbrella. She had to admit that she missed this man. However, going out to have lunch with him after weeks of no communications except when they were using Sherlock and John as go between made her feel cheap. Far too easy to forgive him. She wondered if John ever felt that way about Sherlock.

"I'm sorry, but I already have ..."

"Ah, you already have a previous engagement with DI Harley."

Mycroft's tone changed a little at the name, enough to make her eyes narrow, but his face betrayed nothing.

"Well, next time then. I will call you. Good afternoon, Gabrielle."

And he swept out of her office, leaving Lestrade with a sense of dread.

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John seemed to find it amusing when she told him about Mycroft's visit during their weekly get together, usually to discuss Sherlock. "Well, I always thought he was the sane one."

"The more dangerous one, I would think."

John smiled a little, his eyes on his drink. "Yes, he is. The one thing that the two of them are not good at is social interactions. Sherlock is ... , you know how Sherlock is. Mycroft manipulates people. He controls situation. He intimidates." Lestrade gave a nod to that. "You are one of the things that he cannot control."

Lestrade snorted. "He can easily destroy my career if he feels the inclination."

"That's true, but he won't do that. He is ... trying. Whatever he said to you, he most likely was-"

"So thrown off by the news that I'm pregnant that he acted like a twat?" There was no anger in her tone, only resignation.

John nodded, still smiling. "Now that you are dating-"

"I'm not dating anyone!"

The doctor frowned. "Aren't you dating that new DI? Sherlock was very certain of that." As he was with everything. John clearly remembered the glee on Sherlock's face when he texted Mycroft about that. As if Mycroft didn't already know.

"No, I'm not! I'm pregnant! Definitely not in the condition or the mood to deal with the whole dating thing. Yes, I know that my condition is not a reason. But honestly, I have to deal with Sherlock on daily basis now, God knows why, and my team acting like children when he is there, which is now somehow a constant. I just need someone to talk to. I don't see any harm in making friends."

"No, I understand. Only ... Sherlock was so sure about it."

"Sherlock can be wrong, you know. Trust me, I should know. It is about me after all."

Something was definitely wrong and Lestrade knew very well that Sherlock Holmes did not like being wrong.

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TBC