It had been one whole month since Sherlock had jumped, but that wasn't the biggest shock. There was a reason Clara was waking up in the middle of the night feeling sick.
She was pregnant.
At first, she managed to come up with excuses as to why she was ill, but then she couldn't trick herself anymore, and bought a pregnancy test. Completely shell-shocked, she sat in the bathroom with her knees tucked to her chest, clutching the stick in a shaking hand.
What was she going to do? Could she bring up a child on her own? Did she have it in her to bring a child into the world knowing it wouldn't have a dad?
When he was alive, they had never discussed children, sure deep down they wanted them, but with all the running around and danger in their lives, they never talked about marriage and babies.
And here she was, a woman who would have to bring a child up on her own.
John had suspicions that the reason she was throwing up was not because she was ill, and kept asking her questions and checking up on her, Clara didn't mind, she was glad to have the company and they both helped eachother to cope with Sherlock's death.
He was just as shocked as her when he found out. "Sherlock's not a virgin?" He had joked.
"What are you gonna do?"
"I don't know." Clara still didn't know what to decide on.
"Well, I'll be here if you need me." John had promised to help and support her no matter what her decision was.
After much contemplation, she decided to keep the baby. It would be the last peice of Sherlock she had, and it wouldn't be fair to kill it, she knew she would regret it later.
xxx
Being nine months pregnant was a pain in the arse.
Clara still wasn't over Sherlock's death, but she didn't have time to greave, there was a baby she needed to look after and provide for. She had planned to move out of Baker Street, but Mrs Hudson had persuaded her otherwise, saying that someone needed to keep an eye on her, but Clara sensed that it was also because she didn't want to be lonely, so agreed to stay, despite the memories the flat brought.
Mycroft had even given her money to buy equipment, obviously not in the flesh, they never really saw eye to eye as Sherlock would always tease him infront of her.
She was due any day now, and she was terrified more then ever.
More then when she was travelling with the Doctor and fighting aliens.
xxx
Two years. Two extremely long years not being able to see Clara or John.
Sherlock had spent the entire time bringing down Moriarty's network. It had been hard not being able to see the people he cared about the most, but he had shoved all those emotions to the back of his mind palace. Though Clara was harder to get over then anyone else, the last time he saw her she was in tears as he faked his death.
He missed Clara, he missed everything about her, her soft brown locks, even darker brown eyes, and her smooth lips. He missed being able to hold her close and laugh with her, staying up for hours laying in bed together and talking the night away.
But he was coming home very, very soon.
Sorry each peice came to very sudden ends, but as it isn't the last chapter, I can't and don't know how to round it off.