Chapter 5: Make Believe
Pregnant.
I, Elfie Marie Holmes, am with child.
Not just any child; Sherlock Holmes' child.
Gazing out the cab window, I nervously bite my nails and loose myself in my thoughts. After a good cry of tears of happiness and shock with Mrs. Hudson, I had gone back up to my own flat and decided to take an official test. I had bought some behind Sherlock's back not to long after we came back from our honeymoon; that's a normal thing for a newlywed to buy right? Of course, the result was positive, but part of me wanted to take another test…then another…then another.
Its inevitable: I'm expecting my first child.
After shedding a few more tears, I decided that I was feeling well enough to venture out and find my flat mates. John had texted me a while ago, saying that he and Sherlock were one their way Scotland Yard and not to wait up because they had no idea when they'd be back; missing children, how heartbreaking. I quickly got dressed and rushed out of the flat. 'John's a doctor,' I tell myself, 'he can confirm this.' But then I think: Did he already know? He did know that I was ill, but did he realize that it was morning sickness? And if he did, why didn't he tell me?
God, my brain is just a mess of thoughts right now.
"Here we are, miss." The cabbie says as we pull up along the curb. I pay him then dash inside the building. I've become more aware of the layout of New Scotland Yard so I see myself up to Lestrade's office. In the lift, I lean back against the back wall and take in a deep breath: What am I going to tell Sherlock?
He's been so on edge lately with this whole Moriarty thing that I really don't know how he's going to react to this news: Will he be happy? Will he be upset? Maybe he won't even register what I'm saying, brush it aside like it's nothing. No, even Sherlock Holmes has to understand how huge this is. Won't he?
The lift doors open and I cautiously step out. The homicide division is in a complete uproar; officers are running about piecing together information, exchanging file and working at a hundred miles an hour. Immediately, I feel out of place and in the way.
"Oi, you can't just come up here."
I immediately recognize the annoying voice of Sgt. Sally Donovan and am greatly displeased to see her coming toward me: "Donovan, always a pleasure." I say with a fake smile.
"What do you want?" she hisses, folding her arms across her chest, "We've got a major case on our hands at the moment and don't have time for anything else."
"I've always been so impressed with your kindness, Donovan, truly," I quip back, "I'm here to see Sherlock."
Donovan rolls her eyes in annoyance and nudges her head to the side. Lestrade and John are standing amongst the madness waiting for Sherlock to say something. I can tell from here that my husband is studying something on his phone, deep in that mind palace of his. God, he's so handsome when he's deducing. 'Focus on the task, Elfie! Don't get side tracked!'
I give Donovan a quick nod and quickly walk toward the trio. "Don't add any trouble," she warns, "Freak's made this whole kidnapping more ridiculous then it needs to be."
I ignore her insult to my husband and roll my eyes; She's such a child. When I am a few feet away from them, John turns his head and spots me: "Fee!" he says in disbelief. Sherlock doesn't even notice me; too locked away in his work.
"Ah, the Mrs.!" Lestrade says in a comforting way, "I thought Sherlock's have you out searching along with his 'network' what ever that is."
"Um, what?" I ask.
"The location of the kidnapped children," John explains, "Sherlock's developed an idea of where they might be and he's got his people out there looking."
"Looking for what exactly?" I ask, becoming interested.
"Disused sweets factory," Lestrade replies. I look at him in confusion but he just shrugs and gives me his don't-ask-me-ask-Sherlock-look.
"Well, it's all a bit complicated," John adds in, giving me a concerned look, "but what I want to know is what your doing down here? Aren't you supposed to be resting?"
"I'm…I'm better now," I reply, suddenly getting a lump in my throat, "I, um, I needed to talk with-I mean, I figured out what was wrong, but…No, I, um."
"You alright?" Lestrade asks, registering the nervousness in my voice.
"Um, yeah, I'm fine." I reply, "So sorry to interrupt, but…Can I borrow John for a second?" I quickly grab the startled John Watson by the elbow and pull him aside; "I need to talk to you." I quickly whisper.
"Um, Fee, we're on a case." He whispers back, "Can it wait?"
"Not really, no." I reply, "I…I need your expertise. You know as a medical professional."
"And you couldn't text me because…"
"John, seriously, this is important. Do you think I'd come all the way down here and interrupt a case if it wasn't?"
John shakes his head and looks me in the eye. He then realizes that this is something majorly important: "What's going on, Fee?" he asks, sounding more like a worried friend than a doctor.
"I…I found out why I've been feeling…this way," I say with a heavy sigh. Suddenly, my eyes begin to well up with tears again. God, why is this so hard to say? I need to just say it!
"Fee? Talk to me," John says, placing a hand on my shoulder, "What is it?"
"John, I…I think I'm pregnant."
I can see the color leave John's cheeks and his eyes grow wide with surprise. It's not a displeased surprise, but rather an unexpected one; "Oh, God," he manages to breathe out, "Are…are you sure?"
I nod and bite my lower lip, fighting back the tears that have returned to my eyes: "John what am I going to do?" I whimper.
"Addlestone." Sherlock suddenly declares, causing John and I turn to turn our heads back toward him.
"What?" Lestrade asks, in confusion.
"There's a mile of disused factories between the river and the park." Sherlock explains, stuffing his phone back in his pocket, "It matches everything." He then turns on his heel to exit but stops abruptly when he sees John and I: "Oh, Elfie." he says, half surprised and half confused, "You're here…and crying. Why are you crying?"
"I…I, um…" I struggle to find the right words to say, but it doesn't matter.
"No time," Sherlock interrupts, "we must get a move on. Guess your coming with us." He quickly takes me by the hand and whisks me along toward the exit. I look back at John, who is on our heels, in disbelief.
"Don't tell him yet." He mouths to me with a reassuring nod. I nod back; He's right. It's better to break the news once I'm absolutely sure and Sherlock's not on the case.
"Right, come on." I hear Lestrade call out to his team, "Come on!"
In the back of a police car, Sherlock fills me in on the case: Two children, boy and girl, kidnapped from their boarding school for reasons yet to be seen, most likely because they are the children of the US Ambassador. Through various tests at the lab, Sherlock was able to trace the location of where they are being held via the kidnappers shoe print (Seriously, my husband's genius never ceases to amaze me). But the most chilling thing he tells me though is that he suspects this to be the handy work of Moriarty.
"How?" I ask, "How do you know?"
"Fairytales, Elfie," he says, showing me a picture of a children's fairytale book, "There was a package of breadcrumbs sent to our flat and a glycerol molecule was a result of one of the test. Glycerol is found, of course, in…"
"The making of chocolate." I finish for, trying to piece together the puzzle in my own head.
"Correct. Now, Moriarty alluded to fairytales during his visit after the trial. Missing brother and sister, breadcrumbs, chocolate, a book of Grimm Fairytales: sound related to you?"
"Hansel and Gretel."
"Exactly."
"So Moriarty takes these two kids to an abandoned sweets factory, but leaves clues for you to figure it all out. That doesn't make any sense? Why would he do that?"
Sherlock's gaze suddenly changes from case mode to a much softer look; "Asking the right questions, now, darling," he says with a small smile, "I knew you had a knack for this sort of thing. Part of the reason I fell so madly in love with you."
He then pulls me in close and places a soft kiss on the top of my head. I smile back at him and blush; God, I love this man. Reality quickly comes back to me; I have to tell him I'm carrying his child. No, not yet. I'll wait until we are home and John can give me his medical opinion. Yeah, that's smarter. Isn't it?
The caravan of police cars suddenly stops in front of a worn down warehouse. Sherlock, John and I climb out of the back of ours and quickly group up with the small search party getting ready to enter the building.
"Now are you sure of this?" Lestrade asks Sherlock in a low voice,
"When have I ever been wrong?" Sherlock replies, grabbing three flashlights from the inspector, "You brought me in on this case, so trust my judgment." Lestrade sighs heavily then turns to address his team.
"Here," Sherlock says handing me a flashlight, "stay close to me, alright?"
"Sherlock, wait," John says, putting up a defensive hand, "you don't expect Elfie to go in there with us, do you?"
"Of course," he replies, giving John a raised eyebrow look, "she's here, isn't she, and she is more than capable to assist the search. Honestly, John, sometimes you don't give my wife enough credit."
"No, no, I'm not saying that." John says, "I'm…I'm just wondering if it's really safe."
It clicks in my brain what he really means: Pregnant women shouldn't be helping out on search and rescues in abandoned warehouses. "I'll be fine," I assure John, setting a hand on his elbow, "really." The doctor gives me a questioning look but I just nod.
"There, see! She's fine." Sherlock says, heading inside the warehouse with the search party, "Now, come on." John and I exchange a quick look, and then follow him inside. The warehouse is dark and dank, like something you'd see in a horror film. I wouldn't be surprised if this place was haunted, honestly. Lestrade directs the search party to a more remote part of the building while Sherlock, John and I head a different way. Feeling a chill run up my spine, I take Sherlock's hand into my own.
"Scared?" he whispers in a teasing way.
"Shut up." I whisper back, elbowing him in the side. Sherlock chuckles and gives my hand a comforting squeeze.
"Can you two not flirt right now?" John asks, "Kidnapped children, remember?" We both nod and continue to look around. Out of the corner of his eye, Sherlock notices a candle on the ground. He rushes over to it, dragging me along, and kneels down to touch the wick.
"This was alight moments ago," he says, half to himself. He then calls out: "There still here!"
"Are they alive?" I ask, but Sherlock quickly turns back to the candle.
"Check back near the door. See if there's a trial" he whispers, studying the miscellaneous wrappers around the candle. I quickly nod and head back toward the entrance. John gives me a quick concerned glance but I nod to him reassuringly.
"I'm okay." I whisper walking past him, "I'm being careful."
As I reach the location of the other half of the search party, Donovan catches me in the light of her flashlight; "He brought you along, then?" she asks sarcastically, "Perfect. The Freak wanted some company on the case."
"Really? Can you not, right now?" I hiss, "He's helping you out, isn't he? Lay off."
She rolls her eyes and continues to look around. I decide to stay near her, just in case I get lost wandering on my own. "So, I heard Lestrade call you 'Mrs.'" Donovan says, still searching.
"Are you attempting to make friendly conversation?" I ask, rather annoyed, "I'd really appreciate it if you didn't."
"It's true then?" she goes on, ignoring my statement, "You and Sherlock Holmes got hitched."
"Yes," I say with a heavy sigh, "does that bother you?"
"No, it's just…blimey." She says, "I never thought he'd ever settle down. How'd you convince him to go through with it?"
"I didn't. He asked me, just like any other couple."
Donovan nods then changes her tone to a bit more serious; "He trusts you then; you and John Watson. You two are the closest people to him and that's saying a lot. Tells you all of his secrets, I bet: The real Sherlock Holmes."
"What are you getting at?" I ask, giving her a cold glare.
She just shrugs and nudges her flashlight to the right; "Mind checking over there for me?" she asks and I quickly agree. God she gets on my last nerve.
As I continue to look around, my legs start to ache much like they did this morning. My stomach starts to turn and I think I'm going to be sick again…great, just great. Gripping my middle, I turn around and quickly head back the way I came. Suddenly, I notice a shadow out of the corner of my eye. It's small and petite…like a child. I cautiously go towards it and breathe a sigh of relief when I see the back of a little girl. Another small body is lying beside her; that must be the brother. He's so still. Jesus Christ, no.
I notice another flashlight is shining on the girl and I look up to see who it is. Donovan is standing parallel to me and for a split second she gives me a reassuring smile. "Over here!" she calls out to Lestrade and then motions for me to kneel down beside the children with her. I do so and much to my surprise the little girl doesn't jump back. She just stares at Donovan and me with wide eyes; She's in shock, the poor thing. My eyes then turn to her brother, lying so still in her lap. I gently place two fingers on his neck.
There's a pulse.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Back at the Yard, I'm waiting with Sherlock and John outside of the interrogation room. Sherlock is pacing back and forth, anxious to get in the room and ask the girl his own questions.
"Will you relax?" I ask, leaning back against the wall, "You're making me dizzy."
"She knows something. The girl knows something." He mutters to himself, "She must know what Moriarty had planed."
"Sherlock, she's a child and she's in shock," John says from his chair, "You can't go in there and interrogate her. Poor thing is probably so confused right now. Can't imagine what kind of thoughts she's having right now."
"She was so calm when we found her," I add in, "Almost catatonic."
"Moriarty must not have been present," Sherlock says, completely ignoring John and I, "he more or less dropped them off at the warehouse then left them there to die. Ah, but he didn't drop them off, someone else did. The man doesn't like getting his hands dirty, he'd never directly involve himself."
A little annoyed by his constant pacing like a mad man, I gently take a hold of Sherlock's shoulders and turn him to face me. He stops and stares at me in confusion; "Problem?" he asks.
"Yes," I reply, "Your pacing is bugging me and I think you need to stop." Sherlock opens his mouth to rebuttal but then stops. He takes in a deep breath and takes my hands into his own.
"I'm sorry," he says, studying my wedding band.
"No need to apologize." I reply, "Just take a deep breath, okay? You can't just barge in there and scare the girl. She's frightened, confused, worried…Well lets put it this way, she's just a shaken little girl."
"But what does that matter?" Sherlock asks, looking me in the eyes, "She's a victim and the key to getting to Moriarty. Just because she's a child, that doesn't mean she deserves special treatment."
"Jesus, do you hear yourself?" John says in disbelief, "She almost died and her brother is in hospital. Have a heart."
"Having a heart won't make this problem go by any quicker," Sherlock quips back, glaring over at John, "Child or not, that girl is the only link I have to Moriarty."
"So, if you don't want to loose that link, go in there and be civil," I quickly say, turning his face so that we are eye to eye, "Don't be so cold, try and show a little compassion."
Sherlock rolls his eyes and goes back to his pacing; "Children can be such a chore," he says with a heavy sigh, "They can be so dull and tiresome, and the yet the world continues to treat them like precious gems. It's annoying. Look, it's not that I hate children, I just don't' see the point in it all."
I quickly give John a side-glance and he looks at me with a mixture of sadness and concern. He knows exactly what I'm thinking; if that's the opinion Sherlock holds about children, then how will he feel about his own child?
"Well, but, you don't mean that bout all children, right?" I say, feeling a tight lump develop in my throat. John shakes his head as if to tell me to not go any further, but I quickly turn all my attention to Sherlock: "I mean, what about when we have kids? You won't consider them annoying, would you?"
"That's irrelevant." Sherlock says, still pacing, "Besides, you make it sound like we are going to have children soon, which isn't the case."
"Oh?"
"Of course, be logical darling. We don't have the intention to start a family right now and we haven't had sex in awhile; you have been too sick these past few days, anyways to even…" Suddenly, he stops and I can see that the cogs are turning in his head. Dear Lord, he's figuring it out. Very slowly, he turns to me; eyes very serious. "Why have you been sick?" he asks, half to himself, "You've feeling ill for quiet some time, but have been hiding it until now. Why have you been hiding it? You've been experiencing some mood swings as well, why is that? Joints are aching, that's clear by the way you walk. Why is that?"
Sherlock takes a step closer to me so that we are toe to toe. I bite my lower lip and just look into his eyes. He knows, but he doesn't want to say it. He needs to hear it form me. "Elfie," He whispers, "tell me what is going on."
"I think you already know." I reply.
Sherlock stares at me in disbelief as he places a shaking hand on my cheek. Just as he is about to speak, the door to the interrogation room opens and Donovan and Lestrade come out. The moment is lost; Sherlock immediately snaps back into case mode, leaving me to just stand there and catch my breath.
"Right, then. The professionals have finished." Donovan remarks sarcastically, "If the amateurs wanna go in and have their turn-"
Sherlock rolls his eyes at her and motions for John to get up. John does so but looks to me with a worried gaze. I just clear my throat and stand off to the side; I need a moment.
"Now, remember," Lestrade, warns, "she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to-"
"Not be myself?" Sherlock quips in with a hint of arrogance. Lestrade and John share a knowing look.
"Yeah. Might be helpful." The detective inspector says. Lestrade opens the door for Sherlock and he determinedly walks inside. Suddenly, there is a loud, ear-piercing scream coming from the little girl.
"No, no, I know it's been hard for you," I hear Sherlock try to calm her, but its no use. She is screaming for dear life. What the hell?
"Get out!" Lestrade demands, as he hooks Sherlock by the arm and pulls him out of the room. Sherlock stumbles back in shock and just stares at the door in utter confusion. Cautiously, I set a hand on his back. He quickly turns but relaxes slightly when we make eye contact.
"What just happened?" I ask, but Sherlock just shakes his head. He stares off into the distance in deep thought for a moment and then looks back at me. Trying to be comforting, I slowly wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head under his chin. Sherlock holds me in return, but I can tell that he's still deep in thought.
"Something else is going on," he says in a whisper, "something much bigger then I feared."
"How do you mean?" I ask, lifting my head so that I can make eye contact with him, "She's traumatized; a new face probably startled her and…"
"No, no, it's not that." He goes on, staring off into space and looking completely deadpanned, "Its…I.O.U."
"What?" I ask, "Sherlock, what does that mean?"
"I.O.U." he just repeats to himself, "I.O.U."
Hello all!
Things are getting darker now and, well, we know where it will lead to…but that won't be for a while, I promise.
I can't wait to share the next few chapters with you guys. You've all been so supportive of this and I really do appreciate it. It keeps me writing so thank you, thank you, thank you.
I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's cannon.
Much love and many thanks.