Thank you all for the reviews and kind words; I'm glad you all like the story. And of course a thanks to my wonderful beta There's A Time Lord In Lima, you rock and you're probably the reason I haven't worried myself into a hole somewhere.
And, I promise that within in the next few chapters we'll see some Sherlolly. And I mean real, actual Sherlolly. Yay!
Duck in a Row
Eighteen weeks old
As hard as he tries John can't stop laughing, probably not even to save his life.
And in return, Sherlock glares at him as they walk through the store, muttering under his breath and pretending his cheeks aren't a few shades darker than they normally are. He looks down at Annabelle who is content and happy with one of her tiny hands stuck in her mouth.
"John, I don't want to wear this pouch. It's absolutely ridiculous." The whine in his voice is very evident today and all John can do is sigh as he grabs a loaf of bread and drops it into the cart.
"It's not a pouch Sherlock, it's a carrier. And I happen to think you look nice with it." He tries to hide a smirk, failing and once again falling victim to an icy glare.
"You're just saying that. I can't believe I actually left the house wearing this." He checks on Annabelle again, moving her grabbing hand away from the shelf of boxes she seems desperate to have as her own. In response to his remark John just rolls his eyes.
"Oh come off it. You and I both know you only wore that to kiss up to Molly. She's the one who bought it anyway." His voice is teasing, but also serious as if he were challenging Sherlock to deny his obviously growing feelings for Molly. While Sherlock may think differently John is not as blind as the detective likes to think and he sees the connection between the two.
Through another dramatic sigh, Sherlock says casually, "Would you happen to have any tips on what I should do about the… relationship, between Molly and I?"
For a moment John just stares, stopping the cart in the middle of the aisle and blinking a few times to be sure that it was Sherlock who is asking him for relationship advice. After he regains his composure he falls into step beside his friend and blows air out between his teeth.
"Well, I guess first we should figure out where you two are in this relationship of yours." He glances at Sherlock who in return raises an eyebrow.
"It's not hard to figure out," he retorts, "she's the mother of my child and we take care of her together." John squeezes his eyes shut. This was going to be about as difficult as he thought.
Calmly, he tells Sherlock, "That isn't a real relationship, it's a compromise. Or at least it was in the beginning. Honestly, Sherlock, are you sure about this? The last thing that poor girl needs after everything is to be thrown back into believing that you could possibly be the guy she's looking for."
Sherlock scowls and tries to cross his arms before he remembers Annabelle is in the way, and instead strokes her tiny head with such care that it still manages to make John grin.
"Why wouldn't I be sure about this?" he challenges, keeping his voice low, "that may be my past but I think we can both say that what's done is done and it's time to move on. Of course if you don't want to help me that's fine. I could always find someone else to give me advice on women."
Clenching his jaw John fires back with, "Oh yeah, like who? In case you've forgotten Lestrade is divorced and I'm the only other person who would even consider a conversation with you." The looks in Sherlock's eyes tells John he knows he's defeated and with a groan he grudgingly relents.
"Oh fine, just get on with it then." They stop by the refrigerator holding the milk and as John grabs a carton he smiles.
"Alright then. First, have you thought about asking her on a date with you? You know, something without Annabelle or anyone else?" Sherlock chews his lips and thinks, coming to the conclusion that ever since Annabelle was born the two have yet to be alone.
"No, now that I think about it." He pauses and pretends to admire the display in front of him, reading the label on one of the soup cans and avoiding John's eye. "How would I go about asking her though? She goes back to work soon and then we'll really be pressed for time."
John smiles, "Sherlock don't worry. If Molly still harbors any of her old feelings for you then it shouldn't be that difficult to get her to agree. After all she forgave you didn't she?"
Sherlock rolls his eyes, knowing John is enjoying this probably too much. "Yes, I suppose you're right."
They move toward the checkout line and lapse into silence, neither one daring to go any further in the conversation for now. Sherlock stands in front and empties the contents of their cart onto the belt and as he's watching John feels something poke at him. Turning around he sees an older woman with white hair and a kind smile looking at him.
"Is that your husband, dear? Oh my, you two have such a precious little one." She waves at Annabelle who is still strapped to Sherlock and somehow looking impossibly bored. All John can do is sputter.
"Oh, no ma'am we're not-"
"Darling, can you hand me your card?" Sherlock calls suddenly, batting his eyelashes at John and holding out his hand. The old lady smiles and pats his arm, and all he can do is grit his teeth as he fishes for the card. As he hands it to Sherlock he grounds out.
"I really do hate you sometimes."
…
As they carry the groceries up the steps of 221B and Mrs. Hudson helps remove Sherlock's 'pouch', the three of them sit on the couch as John reveals Sherlock's grand plan to ask Molly when she returns to pick Annabelle up.
To say Mrs. Hudson was thrilled would be considered an understatement.
"Oh, Sherlock dear, that's wonderful! You know the first time you brought her here I was almost certain there was something there between the two of you. And now with a baby and all this is just the right step…" The older woman continues to ramble as she disappears into the kitchen to make tea, leaving the men and Annabelle in the living room.
"What if she says no?" Sherlock asks suddenly, bouncing the baby on his knee. John looks at him and sees genuine worry, which is enough for him to awkwardly pat his friends arm and try to comfort him.
"Don't think like that. Just be polite and understanding. It really isn't all that hard."
Sherlock snorts. "Easy for you to say."
As John opens his mouth to offer a rebuttal they hear the door open downstairs and Sherlock can make out the distinct sound of Molly's flats against the wooden stairs. He looks at John with wide eyes and the doctor merely looks at him pointedly, a sign to just relax. As if on cue Molly appears in the doorway smiling.
"Hello," she practically sings, moving to whisk Annabelle up in her arms. She kisses the dark curls and turns to John, offering a peck to his cheek.
"Thanks for keeping an eye on these two today," she teases, "Hopefully they weren't too much trouble."
John waves dismissively and plays along. "No problem." He glances at Sherlock and jerks his head towards Molly, who was now in conversation with Mrs. Hudson and after hesitating he stands up and clears his throat.
"Molly, can I speak to you for a moment?" she looks up, curious but nods her head and hands Annabelle to Mrs. Hudson before Sherlock leads her to a more private spot by the door.
"What is it Sherlock?" she looks worried and he appreciates it, knowing she cares for him the way she cares for Annabelle and vice versa. Swallowing thickly he looks down at his feet.
"Nothing's wrong," he assures her, "I was just wondering if perhaps sometime you and I could go for coffee or dinner. Just the two of us." He feels his face burn with embarrassment but he sees Molly's smile and he manages to catch his breath.
"That sounds lovely," she says, giggling and reminding him of all the times she had chased after him before. The memory stirs something inside of him and he smiles too.
"Perfect. And of course Mrs. Hudson will babysit right?" he says a little louder.
From the living room he hears, "I'm your landlady dear, not your babysitter."
Whooo, progress! This was actually one of my favorite chapters and of course what kind of Sherlock story would this be if poor John didn't have to defend his sexuality at least once?