Fully Alive
Chapter Thirteen
A/N: to the guest commenter on chapter One claiming I stole this plot/story/whatever who's probably never going to see this but whatever. Fuck it. First, I've never even read the story you're talking about, so telling me I "stole it" is pretty farfetched. And second, calling someone a thief without proof is pretty fucking rude. Similar ideas happen. Is Stephanie Meyer a thief because she wrote a story about a human in a love triangle with 2 supernatural beings because The Vampire Diaries was written before it and involves a human girl in a love triangle with 2 supernatural beings? Guess what? The Lion King is fucking Hamlet. But I guess that makes Disney a thief? Sorry for the small rant, but that just really got to me. All I'm trying to do is write a story. One, because it's what makes me happy. And two, because I want to make others happy. Constructive criticism is one thing. But blatant rudeness and accusations are another.
Vivienne walked into her bedroom with a pouty look on her face and her shoulders slumped. She crawled into bed next to Sherlock and immediately turned her back to him.
"Something wrong?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his phone.
"No..." Vivienne answered slowly.
"You want to rephrase your answer?" Sherlock sat his phone down and turned his head towards his wife.
Vivienne rolled onto her back and sighed. "I started my period. Again."
"Oh." Sherlock reached for his phone again, but then the realization of why Vivienne was upset hit him. "Oh! I'm sorry, darling. It's only been..." Sherlock glanced at the date on his phone. "Has it really been five months already?"
"Believe me. It has. I was late this time and started to get excited, even though it's just been a couple days late. And then I started cramping today. And it decided to show up just I was brushing my teeth to come to bed."
"Are you sure that's what it is and not another...?" Sherlock stopped himself from saying the word.
"It's not that. That was different. I'm just... discouraged, I guess. It's not fair. Last time, it took a week and we weren't even trying. And now... it's like, I don't know, it's like we don't even need to be having sex because we would have the same result we're getting now. It's pointless."
"Vivienne, don't-"
"I'm sorry, baby. I'm tired, cranky, and cramping. Don't take any of that to heart. I didn't mean it."
"'Baby'. That's a new one. Don't know if I like that one." Sherlock leaned over and gave Vivienne a kiss. "I know you didn't mean any of it. It'll happen when is meant to, I suppose."
"But what if it doesn't?"
"It will. Go to sleep. We have a wedding to attend tomorrow."
"I don't think I'm going to go. I just want to lay on the couch with a bottle of Tylenol and a heating pad and my shows. And drown my sorrows in junk food."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's those cramps that radiate pain down into my thighs and I really don't want to have to walk a lot tomorrow. Tell John and Mary that I'm sorry. You can have Molly Skype me from the ceremony."
"If that's what you want."
"I'm hurting, Sherlock, in more ways than one. Yes, it's what I want. You'll be handsome, as always. And you'll be great giving your speech. You can tell me all about it when you come home." Vivienne raised herself up to kiss Sherlock. "I love you. Goodnight."
"Goodnight. I love you, too." Sherlock reached up and turned the lamp off, darkening the room. He rolled onto his side and reached out to touch Vivienne, laying a reassuring hand on her lower stomach. She placed her hand on his and he began drawing absent-minded circles with his thumb. "You'll be okay, too, you know."
"I know." Vivienne whispered as she drifted off to sleep.
Xxxxx
When Sherlock walked into Baker Street after leaving the wedding, he wasn't shocked to see Vivienne in the same place he had left her that morning. She was curled up in a blanket on the couch, with the heating pad cord sneaking out to the plug in the wall. A bottle of ibuprofen sat on the floor next to a half-empty glass of water and a half-full ashtray.
"You're smoking again." Sherlock said, as he pulled his tux jacket off and hung it next to the door.
Vivienne glanced up at her husband and rolled her eyes. "I think I deserve a few."
Sherlock tutted as he pulled off his bow tie. "Don't be stingy. Scoot over."
Vivienne sat up and pulled the pack of cigarettes out from under her pillow. She pulled two out and stuck them in her mouth, lighting them both at once. "How was the wedding?"
Sherlock kicked his shoes off and joined Vivienne on the couch. "Why do you think I want a cigarette?"
"That bad, huh?"
"Nothing too out of the ordinary." Sherlock took a drag of his cigarette. "They got married, I said my speech at the reception, someone was almost murdered, I played the waltz I wrote for their first dance, and I left early."
"I'm sorry. What?"
"I left early. I'm sure I stayed longer than they expected anyways."
"Um, no. Before that. After your speech, before the waltz."
"Oh. Yes. Someone was going to be murdered. We didn't know who. I had to solve the case." Sherlock took another lazy drag from his cigarette. "It was John's former general, in case you were wondering. And the wedding photographer was the culprit."
"It never stops for you, does it? This game of murder solving."
"The game, my dear wife, it's always on. You'll learn that one day."
"Oh, I've already learned that. I just thought that maybe for one day it would pause." Vivienne shrugged and brought her cigarette to her lips. "How was everything else?"
"Dreadfully dull. Molly was there with her fiancé. He's an idiot. When I was trying to solve the case, he suggested a meat dagger as the weapon. A meat dagger. Fucking imbecile, that one. Molly stabbed him with her fork." Sherlock chuckled. "That was probably the highlight of the day. Well, besides telling Mary..." Sherlock trailed off.
"Telling Mary what?"
"Nothing. It's not important."
"Sherlock..." Vivienne put her cigarette out slowly.
"She's pregnant."
"Oh. Well, okay, then." Vivienne's face was unreadable to Sherlock. "You ready for bed? I'm ready for bed." She stood up off of the couch.
"Are you upset?"
"Of course I'm not upset. Why would I be upset?"
"Because Mary wound up pregnant before you." Sherlock replied, putting his own cigarette out and standing up.
"Tact is not your strong suit, is it? Good night, Sherlock." Without another word, Vivienne walked into their bedroom and shut the door behind her.
Sherlock waited for a few minutes before following. As he neared the door, he could hear the muffled sound of Vivienne crying. He took a deep breath and wondered "WWJWD? What would John Watson do?"
Opening the door slowly, he walked in almost silently and shut the die behind him, letting the latch click softly into place. He removed the rest of his suit and crawled into bed wearing nothing but his boxers. He didn't even care what he was wearing. His wife needed comfort and he was determined to give it to her. He crawled into bed and wraps his arm around Vivienne's waist. He pulled her close to him and she rolled over to face him, burying her head in his shoulder.
Xxxxx
A/N: review, follow, favorite. Or whatever. Still kinda bummed, tbh, so it would make me feel better. TIA.