Amy turned the corner to the kitchen and saw Ian. It was the first time she'd ever seen him, apart from one or two family photos over the years. Amy felt as though her heart stopped when she laid eyes on Ian; he was beautiful. He looked just like Sherlock, honestly Amy couldn't see any of her in the boy. Her eyes started to water and she put her hand to her mouth. She smiled at him and he blinked up at her confused. He was going to ask why she was about to cry when John's hand pressed her shoulder.
"Amy, are you ok?"
Amy looked away from Ian and looked to John. She embraced John in a large hug and said, "John! I'm fine, I'm fine, just…allergies." John looked at her concerned, then he hugged her again and patted her back.
"It's ok, sweetie."
She buried her head in John's shoulder, sniffled, then pulled away when she felt Sherlock's hand on her shoulder. "Amy, is everything ok?"
"Fine, fine!"
Ian just watched her. He looked very concerned. He stood in his chair and let Sherlock pull him into his arms.
"Amy, it's a pleasure to introduce to you Mister Ian Holmes-Watson." Sherlock fondly smiled at Ian.
Ian took Amy's hand and kissed it. "The pleasure is all mine, madam," he said.
Sherlock grabbed his hand and looked at him. "I told you to stop doing that, son."
"No, no, it's ok!" Amy said. "The pleasure is mine, Mister Ian." She curtsied in front of him and Sherlock.
Ian got embarrassed and buried his face in Sherlock's neck, his hair tickling Sherlock's nose. Everyone laughed and Sherlock put Ian back in his seat.
"Dinner's almost ready, Amy. I hope you're hungry. We are eating," John motioned Amy to the stove and pulled the pot lid off the pot, "Mac and cheese!"
"My favorite!" Ian shouted.
"Sounds wonderful!" Amy left John and went back to Ian, "I almost forgot, Ian, I brought you a little something."
"Really? A gift? We've only just met. I regret that I didn't get you anything, Amy."
Amy looked from Ian to Sherlock and Sherlock just closed his eyes, shook his head, and laughed.
"It's quite alright, Mister Ian. This is just a little something." Amy went to her purse, came back and handed Ian a large bag of gummy worms. She sat next to Ian and gave him the bag.
"My favorite, how did you know!"
"I had a hunch." Amy smiled at Sherlock.
Ian made to open the bag of worms. John stopped him, "Hey, no way. After dinner, sir."
Ian scowled and Amy laughed. "Mister? Sir? You've got quite the names around here."
"Well, I am the King."
"King Ian?"
"King Ian Thomas, at your service." Ian stood in his chair and bowed.
"Sit down, Ian." Sherlock said, opening up a bottle of wine. He motioned to Amy, asking if she wants any, and she said no. "No? Alright." He poured himself and John a glass each, and by then John was sitting at the table setting down the pot of Mac and Cheese.
During dinner the four made pleasant small talk. Amy asked Ian all about school and what he likes, John asked Amy about work and America, Ian asked Amy about America.
"I've always wanted to go to America. What's it like there?"
"Well, it's, uh," Amy thought for a minute, "It's crowded."
"London's crowded."
"Yeah, but I like London crowded. America crowded isn't like London crowded."
"Do you live in a big city?"
"Yes, New York City."
"New York City? Daddy, let's go there one day."
"No. I hate America. I'm never leaving London."
"You went to Berlin last week!" Ian shouted to Sherlock.
"That was for a case."
"Dad, can we go to America?"
"Sure. One day." John said. Sherlock glared at him. "What? I like America just fine."
"Why did you leave London, Amy?" Ian asked.
"For work. I had a great job offer there."
"What do you do?"
"I'm involved in a lot of boring business."
"Like what?"
"Well, you know when you go out and you see advertisements on buildings or newspapers or magazines? I make those advertisements."
"Sounds wonderful."
"It's actually quite boring, to be honest. I have to work with other people and we all have to agree, and that's not always easy."
"Do you have any children, Amy?" Ian asked without even acknowledging her job explanation.
Amy was stunned. She looked at Ian, then John, then Sherlock. They all exchanged strange glances and finally Amy broke the silence, "No, Ian. I don't."
"But I've seen a photo of you, in Dad's book. You're fat, like baby fat."
"Ian!" Sherlock snapped.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." Ian paused, "What's that word, Dad? Uhm, oh, pregnant. Right, Dad?"
"Right, Ian." John stared at his food, his face was flushed.
"If you were pregnant, why don't you have any children?"
Amy didn't know what to say, all of this should be Sherlock and John's area. Sherlock grabbed John's hand and squeezed it tight. They all sat silent for a moment hoping Ian would drop it.
"Dad, can I open my worms now?"
"Yes. Go ahead. H-have as many as you want."
"Oooh, great!"
The silence continued.
"So, why?" Ian asked with a mouthful of gummy worms.
"Why what, son?"
"Why were you pregnant, and now you have no kids, Amy?"
"Well, I, well-"
"She gave her baby up for adoption." John intervened. Sherlock looked at John, stunned. He squeezed John's hand again and swallowed.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that she gave her baby to someone else, and that someone else raised the baby as their own." John explained.
"Huh." Ian said, pulling another handful of worms out.
There was more silence, and Amy began to cry. John began to cry too, because he knew his son, even as a six-year-old, was smart enough to figure out that Amy is his birth mother.
"Dad?"
"Yes, son?"
"I wasn't in any of the pictures in your book."
"You're right."
"Until the end."
"Yes."
"And I was a baby."
"You were."
"And then Amy was gone."
"She was."
"Daddy?"
"Yes, Ian?" Sherlock's voice was deep and serious; he was very proud of his son for being this smart, but very scared of what this was going to do to John.
"Was I Amy's baby?"
John's voice squeaked a little bit, "Yes, Ian."
"So she gave me to you?"
"S-sort of."
"What does that mean?"
"See, Ian, uhm," Sherlock began, "To make a baby, there needs to be something a man gives called sperm, and something a woman gives called an egg. And the baby needs these two things to be made. Well, Dad and I found Amy and she gave us an egg. That was very kind of her, you see? And then you were born."
"I see." Ian's facial expression hadn't changed the whole time, and he was fixed on his bag of worms.
Amy was still crying. "I'm so sorry, John," she whispered to John. He held his hand up and closed his eyes.
"How does that make you feel, Ian?"
Ian shrugged, "I don't know." He looked at Amy and pressed his hand to her arm, "That was very nice of you, Amy." She smiled and touched Ian's hand.
"Thank you, Sir Ian."
"Sir Ian? I like that." Then, Ian got off his chair and went to John. John picked him up onto his lap and hugged Ian. "Are you ok, Dad?"
"Yes, my baby, it's alright."
Ian kissed his cheek and wrapped his arm around John's neck. "I love you, Dad."
"I love you, too, Ian."
Sherlock pulled the pair close and hugged them both tight. He kissed John's head, then kissed Ian's cheek. They hugged for a few minutes, then Sherlock stood and went to Amy. He then pulled her out of her chair and hugged her tight. He stroked her hair and soothed her from crying.
After that, the four went back to their meal and sat quietly. That is, until Ian got tired of the silence.
"So, Amy," he turned to Amy, "What are the stars like in America?"
Amy chuckled, "To be honest, I can't really see them."
"That's rubbish! Dad, I don't want to go to America anymore. You can't see stars there!"
John laughed, "Well, we'll go somewhere that we can see stars."
"Amy, did you know my Daddy doesn't know where Neptune is? Can you believe?"
They all laughed. After dinner, Ian pulled Amy up to his room to show her all of his books and toys. John and Sherlock cleaned up the kitchen.
Sherlock draped his arm over John's shoulder. "I'm so sorry, John. I didn't mean-I didn't know-I shouldn't have-"
"No, no," John pressed a finger to Sherlock's lips, "It's ok, Sherlock. It's all out now. He's fine, we're fine, she's fine. It's all…fine." John kissed Sherlock lightly.
"It is fine. Because he's our son and we love him."
"I know, that's exactly right."