By the time Lestrade arrived at the pub, John was finishing his second pint and the world seemed at least a fraction rosier. Lestrade plopped on the stool next to him and ordered another round. 'You know, if my old man were here, he'd say you were having female troubles.'

John snorted. 'Was your "old man" Clint Eastwood?'

'I think he fancied himself to be.'

'He wouldn't be too far off the mark. D'you know he spends more time in the bath than Mary did?'

'Only because you're in there with him.'

He barked a laugh and grinned. 'Was he bragging again?'

'Did he ever stop?' The barmaid appeared and set two sloshing pints before them. Lestrade lifted his glass to John. 'To your ludicrous young man.'

John grabbed his glass. 'I'll drink to the ludicrous bit.' Their glasses chimed and they each took a long draught.

'So.'

'He's at Bart's.'

'I gathered.'

'With Molly.'

'As per usual.'

'Trying to conceive our child.'

Lestrade coughed, thumping his fist against his chest to free the lager from his windpipe. 'Pardon?' John raised his eyebrows, head twisting to one side as he took another drink. 'And you're…what? Not invited?'

'So it would seem.'

Lestrade stared at him for a long moment. John sucked a bit of foam from his bottom lip and turned to his friend, bemused and irritated and resigned. 'And he-'

'Of course he did.'

He nodded, his attentions turned to his pint. 'I think you need another round.'

John let loose what could only be termed a giggle and his head fell to the bar. Lestrade gave his back a companionable pat and took another drink. 'God… Why am I doing this, Greg?'

'Because you're a nutter.'

'And he's very good looking.'

'Not really my area.' He took another drink, the thought of Molly and Sherlock- Well. Best not to think of it. His brow furrowed. 'She's not…carrying? Is she?'

'God, no. That would be too weird. We have a surrogate.'

'Ah. Mycroft?' John rolled his eyes and nodded. 'The benefits of having the government for an in-law.'

John choked on his beer. 'We're not married.'

'Keep telling yourself that, mate.' They drank in awkward silence for a moment, each admirably attempting to not think of the potential calamity that might be occurring just a few yards away. Lestrade took a large swallow, his lips smacking a little as he turned to the man beside him. 'Think of it this way. For all of his…Sherlock-ness, you and I both know that there's no one else in the world he has eyes for, right?'

'I suppose that's true.'

'Right. So it's cocked, sure, absolutely. But he'd never do something like that.'

John thought about this and nodded slowly. 'You're right. You're absolutely right. Christ, I don't know what's gotten into me.'

Lestrade patted his back, offering his shoulder a fraternal squeeze. 'I'm sure everything going on over there is just fine. And it would probably bore us both to tears.'

'Yeah…' He snorted a little, grinning at Greg. 'It's not like they're shooting a porno or anything, right?'

'Oh god…'

'Alright?'

'Y-Yes. I'm brilliant, actually.'

'You're shaking...'

'Of course I'm shaking! I can't believe this is happening.'

'Neither can I… What took us so long?'

She laughed, soft and breathy. 'Okay. Slow now…'

'Like that?'

'Just like that. Oh… That's it…'

'There?'

'Right there. Yes! God, you're good at this…'

'Beginner's luck.'

'Not how John tells it.'

'He's very complimentary.'

'He should be. Oh! God, Sherlock…'

'Oh my god...'

'Perfect…' She set down her pipette. 'Great! Tea?'

'Please.' He tugged off his goggles, crouching low to squint at the dish. 'Think it worked?'

'We should know soon. Later this week, I think. But knowing you, you've already calculated that the odds are in our favour.'

He smirked. 'All indicators point to us being genetically compatible, yes. But that isn't a guarantee.'

'Well, no. But it doesn't hurt.'

'Certainly not.' He sealed the dish and took it in hand, using the utmost care to place it in the incubator Molly had cleared out for this very purpose. He shut the door, his gaze dwindling on the machine with an odd affection. Molly set a mug by his elbow and watched him a moment.

'It's weird, isn't it? Thinking of what's in there?'

'It's a basic cellular process. Any idiot can do it.' He didn't manage to sound as dismissive as he'd meant to, betraying a hint of wonder Molly had the grace not to mention. She smiled a little and sipped her tea as he toyed with his mug.

'Did you find a surrogate?'

'Almost. We have a few candidates.'

'And the funds?' He flushed. 'Ah. Holmes Fiduciary.'

'Mother wants grandchildren,' he muttered.

'She's got Will, hasn't she?'

'Grandchildren. I'm afraid we got her hooked.'

'I'm not surprised. Will's enough to turn anyone on to children.'

He glanced at her over the rim of his mug, eyes shining in the slow steam rising from its contents. Something very much like pride coloured his cheeks. 'Do you think so?'

She gave in to temptation and squeezed his arm. 'You're both doing a wonderful job. Really.'

Sherlock swallowed, very interested in the warm, sweet liquid in his hands. His voice had lost some of its usual roughness. 'I'm glad you think so.' He cleared his throat suddenly, setting his mug down on the worktop. 'Speaking of, I'd best go rescue Lestrade before he tries to give me another ASBO.'

Her brow furrowed. 'Shouldn't it be John receiving the ASBO if he's the one getting trollied?'

'You of all people ought to know that if John's "getting trollied", as you put it, it's almost certainly my fault.' He grinned and kissed her cheek, sweeping out of the lab with his usual flair of wool and drama. She bit back a laugh and went back to her tea, her eyes finding the incubator and her smile growing.