Author's Note:

I like this chapter for the mere fact that the baby finally gets a name! This story is going to end up being longer than the previous one. Audrey and I are in the middle of chapter 30 and good God, it's breaking my heart. So, yeah...get ready for some sadness in about ten chapters. All kinds of crazy things happen from here on out. Some good and others terrible. Anyway, here is the next part! Enjoy!

Several hours must have gone by, because the sun was up and shining down on Sherlock. With a groan he turned his head from the bright light. At least his body wasn't in as much pain as it had been last night. He got to a sitting position, and experimentally moved different parts of his body. Some hurt worse than others but he would manage.

John groaned sleepily at Sherlock's movement, rolling so his back was facing Sherlock as he fell back asleep.

"We've got a few hours left before we leave. We want to make sure you're stable before you get on the airplane." Mycroft spoke calmly, smiling slightly at his younger brother. "How you doing?"

Sherlock glanced over to Mycroft. "I'm fine." He said and pulled the I-V out of his arm, glad that John was still sleeping so he didn't see that. He put two fingers over where the blood started and applied pressure to it for a few moments. He wiped the blood onto the bed sheets. "We need to talk later. Not on the plane though. Your flat or some other location you feel is secure." He looked back over to his older brother as he got up off the bed.

"About what, exactly?" Mycroft asked softly as he watched his brother. "You can lay back down, Sherlock. We aren't leaving for a while. Don't you want to spend some more time with John?" His eyes darted to the army doctor still squeezed into a small section of the bed, sleeping blissfully. The fact that Sherlock was just getting out of the bed made him nervous. "Lay back down, Sherlock. You aren't seeing him for another nine months."

Sherlock titled his head to John and then shook his head in answer to Mycroft's question. He turned to look at his brother sharply. "What do you mean nine months? His tour is over in six." His eyes were narrowed and he took a few steps toward Mycroft. "Did it get extended? Is this dad's way of getting back at him? Me?"

Mycroft tensed instantly, sucking in a sharp breath and lowering his gaze. He couldn't meet his brother's eyes. "The papers came on this morning. Captain Watson will be informed after we've left," his voice was tight. Of course it had been their father, upset that John had just left Sherlock to get kidnapped. "Unless he gets shot he will be serving an entire year."

"Out! Get out! Or I'll give you matching cheeks!" Sherlock was livid, fingers curling to make fists in both hands. That bastard. Of course he would do something like that. He turned away from Mycroft and stalked back over to the bed, climbing back into it to be close to John once more.

The yelling had pulled him from his sleep and the sound of heavy footsteps and the rough movement of the bed forced his eyes open. "What's wrong?" John asked sleepily, happily pressing his back against Sherlock's chest. He paused when he heard more footsteps, tensing when he realized Mycroft had been in the room. "Sherlock?" John's eyes narrowed in confusion.

"My father," Sherlock spat the word with contempt, "has extended your stay here. Instead of six months left, you have nine." He supposed the old man could have done worse to John, like actually court marshaling the army doctor. It still pissed him off though. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised. It was exactly the kind of thing his dad would do.

Nine months? John tensed against Sherlock and twisted violently on the bed to look at him. "What? No... No. I can't. You... No." His eyes searched Sherlock's face for some sort of joke or a lie. When he realized it was true, that it was really happening, he ripped himself out of the bed with a yell. He started pacing beside the bed, panting as he stopped himself from punching the nearest wall. "Fuck! No, I can't. That's impossible, I can't," his words started to get more desperate as he spoke.

"John, I'm sorry." Sherlock got up from the bed, to stand in front of his fiancé and to halt his pacing. He wrapped his arms around John's waist to draw him into a hug. "It'll be okay. We'll be okay. We can tough it out for another three months." He wanted to believe his own words. The truth was, the longer John stayed here the less likely his dear doctor would be to return to London. Something Sherlock really didn't want to think about.

If John hadn't been so worried about Sherlock's strength he would have fought against his fiancé. With a shaky breath, one that was clearly forcing back tears, he lightly returned Sherlock's embrace. "Want to be home with you," he whispered through clinched teeth. His entire body was tense and his breathing was short and fast. "We're supposed to get married. This isn't supposed to happen. I promised you nine months. Only nine months." He buried his face against Sherlock's neck. Breaking his promise to Sherlock was the worst part of this, the fact that now his fiancé couldn't even believe him when he said anything.

"We are still going to get married. Just three months later than we thought." Sherlock replied, holding John close to his chest. He ran a hand through his fiancé's hair soothingly. He wished he was better in these emotional moments. The appropriate words and actions were difficult for him to come up with. "It's not your fault. My dad's being an arsehole." Obviously his father had a complete and blatant disregard for how he would be affected as well. Hell, he probably did it to teach them both a lesson.

Three months later. That was too long and seemed like an eternity right now. In the extra three months his little girl will grow and he will miss it all. Sherlock will be stuck taking care of his mistake. Sherlock will be alone. John tensed and tightly hugged his fiancé. "Doesn't mean he has to punish you, too. You don't deserve this." Another three months would just be more time for something else to happen. When he heard Mycroft's footsteps he shook his head. "I don't want you to go," he whispered into Sherlock's chest.

"Welcome to the Holmes family," Sherlock muttered attempting some form of humor but it lacked any real light hearted or playful tone. "I know. I don't either, but I have to. We both know that." He placed a kiss on top of John's head and even though his chest was still bruised from getting body armor kicked into him, he hugged his fiancé closer. "I'll miss you." Mycroft had said they had a few hours until they would need to leave. What did his older brother want now?

Mycroft entered the room hurriedly, meeting Sherlock's gaze with a dangerous glint. "We must go," he stated in a calm tone, betraying the emotion in his eyes. "Mummy wishes to meet with you. Plans about the wedding," he lied smoothly. His hand tightened around a slip of paper in his hands and Hollman appeared behind Mycroft with a serious expression. The tight smile on his lips wasn't giving much away but it seemed that John had bought the lie.

"Stay safe. Please take care of yourself, yeah?" John nodded to himself as he ran his hands down Sherlock's chest. "Text me when you land. And a picture of Sarah so far," his eyes lifted to meet Sherlock's gaze before he pushed himself up on his toes and passionately met Sherlock's lips. He didn't give a damn who saw, he was going to make sure Sherlock remembered this. When he pulled away, gasping, he rushed from the room with a grunt in Hollman's direction.

"Let us go, dear brother," Mycroft stated as soon as John was out of earshot. "We've got some men after you and we need to leave. Now."

If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Maybe John bought the lie, but Sherlock wasn't fooled for a moment. He returned his fiancé's kiss and then watched the army doctor leave. He returned his gaze to Mycroft. "I'm not surprised. It was what I wanted to discuss with you. Also, I want dad's number. I need to send him an important text." He began walking out of the building, thinking of all the things that needed to be done before John got home. Really he had just been bought more time to make things safe for John and his little girl. Realization hit him then. The old man really was getting soft in his old age. In his own way, he had done his son a favor. Although he doubted his father would ever admit it or hell maybe he was just being a dick. It was difficult to know for sure either way.

"We'll discuss it at my house tonight before we meet with Sarah," Mycroft replied as he followed after Sherlock, his eyes locked on the cell phone in his hands. "Dad has given me quite a sum of money for you and Captain Watson with specific orders that it is to be used on necessary items for the infant," he stated in bored tone as he managed to finally catch up to Sherlock. He held his cell phone out to Sherlock, a new message already open under their father's number. "I've taken the liberty of already getting your stuff into the back of the helicopter. We're ready to leave now." His eyes scanned the base one last time, lingering on John's group of men as the stalked out into the desert, before he hoisted himself into the helicopter with a small nod toward the pilot.

Sherlock snorted. "Does he think by throwing money at us, he'll fix everything? " He was still feeling bitter. He snatched Myrcoft's cell phone and was about to copy the number to his phone, when he noticed the message. His eyes narrowed suspiciously and he opened it . He got into the helicopter, ducking his head automatically as the blades above spun nosily. As the helicopter lifted off the ground, he looked below him. "Good bye John," He muttered softly and then returned his attention the text message.

Who knows, maybe this three months will knock some sense into him. He doesn't need to marry some soldier with a record like that. I'm trying to convince your Mother of the same thing. See if you can talk him out of it, Mycroft. He deserves better than John Watson.

Mycroft fell back into his seat with an undignified grunt, shooting a glare at the pilot before he buckled himself in and put on the a headset. He set the second one on Sherlock's lap so they could at least begin talking here. That was when he noticed Sherlock reading the text, ripping the phone out of Sherlock's hands with a glare. "I said get the number, not snoop through my messages."

Mycroft was lucky he took the phone back, because Sherlock almost threw it out of the chopper after reading the text message. He ignored his older brother and the head set for now, and took out his own cell phone and input the number he had just read from the other phone.

Don't think for a minute you can interfere. If you do, I'll tell mum about the time I caught you having an affair when I was nine. Don't think for a second, I ever forgot about that.

He typed the text angrily, fingers pounding the small keys with more force than necessary. He didn't bother signing the message; his father would know it was from him so there was no point. As far as Sherlock knew, not even Mycroft knew about the affair. He deleted the message after it was successfully sent, ignoring the head set still.

Watching Sherlock type furiously on his phone made Mycroft narrow his eyes for a long moment. His curiosity increased when his brother's phone lit up with their father's number on the screen. He managed to read the message quickly before turning away.

Piss off. I can still court marshal that little prick.

Wonderful. Absolutely fantastic. A family fight over the decision of a solider in a time of intense stress and pressure. Mycroft picked up his phone, glanced at Sherlock, and quickly sent him a text since he refused to put his headset on.

Sherlock, ignore him. John will be fine and so will you. Don't start something. –MH

Sherlock was too busy being upset, to even notice that Mycroft had read the message at the same time he had. He was about to text his father back when he got another text, from his older brother. He lifted his gaze briefly to look at his brother, eyes narrowed. He glanced down at his phone with a growl and deleted both messages. In frustration, he rammed his head into whatever was behind him. Whatever it was, it was metal. Sherlock's head was still tender from the blow to the head from last night and he growled again, this time from inadvertently inflicting pain upon himself. He knew his father was just being an ass to get under his skin. Hopefully the old man would care enough about the secret to at least mind his own damn business. It was the only leverage he had on the Colonel.

The helicopter ride finished without incident and by the time the plane had landed in London Mycroft was yawning and clearly wanted to do nothing more than sleep. Instead he was greeted by his black car and slid into the back with a tight smile, his eyes locked on his younger brother dangerously. "We are meeting with Sarah first, she is already at the flat." He tilted his head down slightly. "You will behave and once she leaves we can discuss what's going on. Period. Get in the car."

Sherlock had kept to himself during the flight, going over many things in his head. He didn't like his brother's tone or being told what to do. It reminded him too much of their father. However, he had told John he would be civil and get a picture for him, so he slid into the car. He pulled out his phone and sent a text to his fiancé.

Back in London. Going to see Sarah. I'll send you a picture soon. Miss you. –SH

The moment the cell phone went off John dropped his fork into whatever the Hell was on his plate and fished it from his pocket. Just reading Sherlock's text made him smile.

I love you. Try not to punch your brother in the face. Take a bite of real food for me. -JW

Mycroft watched his brother with a small smile, turning his gaze to the window of the car to give Sherlock a bit of privacy. As the car came to a stop he rested a hand gently on Sherlock's knee. "You'll be fine," he whispered before sliding out of the car and walking around the back to pull Sherlock's open. "I'm going to give you some privacy with her, alright? Just in the door to the left in the sitting room. She's on the couch." He flashed his brother a tight smile before entering the house himself.

Food? When was the last time he had eaten? The day before he had left London to see John. He should probably eat at some point he supposed. Sherlock typed out a reply, ignoring Mycroft and the stopped car for a moment.

Love you too. I'll eat soon, promise. Expect a picture soon. I'll talk to you later. –SH

He finally got out of the car and entered his older brother's flat. He walked into the room mentioned to him and saw Sarah. He gave a small forced smile and nodded a hello.

It was odd looking at the fiancé of the father of her child. "Hello Sherlock." She stood slowly, arching her back with a hand on her swollen stomach. "It's nice to see you." There was a long pause and the air in the room carried the tense feeling. "Do you want to feel her move? She's been really active today." She took a hesitant step forward, a weak smile on her face.

Try. He had to try. He told John he would. Sherlock reached out tentatively to Sarah's stomach to see if he could feel the baby kicking. He tried to think of something to talk about so there wouldn't be awkward silence on his part. "I told John. We talked about names…" He thought for a moment to remember the names his fiancé had come up with, "…Stephanie, Melanie, Amy were the ones John came up with. I suggested Sandoval."

Sarah focused on Sherlock's face for a moment, inspecting the bruises before noticing several love marks on his neck. The moment she felt movement in her stomach, a flurry of activity that she had gotten used to, she grabbed Sherlock's hand and pressed it above the little girl. "I think she likes your voice," she whispered with a genuine smile. She lifted her gaze to study Sherlock once again as she listened to the names. "Amy," she tested it, nodding slightly. "Amy Sandoval?" She asked, looking at Sherlock for confirmation.

Wow. Weird. Sherlock moved his hand away. "Doesn't that…freak you out?" He furrowed his brows and stood up straight. How was that natural? Of course it was, but it was still a weird sensation to feel. "Amy Sandoval?" He echoed back and then nodded. "I'll see what John thinks. Oh, he wanted me to send a picture showing how far along you are…would that be acceptable?"

Sarah couldn't help but laugh. "It was at first but I'm getting used to it. She gets really active about tea time. Reminds me a lot of John, actually." Her smile only grew at Sherlock's question. "Of course it would be acceptable, Sherlock. Then... maybe we could sit and talk? We obviously have some things to discuss." The smile on her face faltered and the seriousness of her face flashed into focus.

Sherlock snapped a quick photo on his phone once Sarah was ready and then immediately sent the picture to John. He then situated himself on the arm of the couch, leaning against it for support. He returned his attention back to Sarah. He was quiet, so she could say whatever it was she was thinking. He figured it was better to let her go first.

Sarah hesitantly sat down on the opposite side of the couch, her hands resting protectively on her stomach. "First," her eyes cautiously lifted to glance at Sherlock, "I wanted to apologize. I know this isn't exactly the best situation with you two getting married and the fact that this child was conceived because of John's adultery." She bit her bottom lip and lifted a hand to tug some hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to apologize because I know you must not be happy about it. Second," with a shaky sigh and a sure nod her voice gained a bit of confidence, "I want you to be involved in her life, Sherlock. I'm certain you and John have discussed this and I'm am all for you being like a parent to her. I feel like that's the best option. I would love it if you were there when she was born and, if you're comfortable, I figured we could meet every two weeks for the next four months until she's born to catch up, discuss how everything is going. It will be a good time to get John pictures and give you sonograms." She finally stopped to take a breath and looked at Sherlock, smiling slightly. "You... You can talk now, just tell me what you think..."

Sherlock listened quietly and politely. Be civil, he reminded himself and he took a moment to search for congenial words. "Admittedly…I wasn't thrilled when I first found out, but I've gotten used to the idea. I'll be spending time making sure the flat is safe for an infant and other work related things while John is away. His tour has been extended for another three months." He paused ever so briefly before going on, "But I'm sure I can make time to see you every two weeks easy enough."

"What? Three months?" Sarah tensed, looking down at her swollen belly for a moment. "Oh. Yes, well, I guess that's the problem with being a soldier." She grimaced and hissed slightly as the child started moving again, her eyes closing for a moment. Sometimes it wasn't exactly comfortable and every time the child heard the deep rumble of Sherlock's voice it started moving. "I think she really likes your voice, Sherlock," she blew air steadily from her mouth. "D'you want to talk to her? She can hear you now."

More like the problem of having a jackass of a father, but Sherlock kept that to himself. Talk to the baby? Did people really do that? It wasn't even born yet. Sure the fetus could pick up audio waves but there would be no comprehension. He supposed being civil meant humoring Sarah, no matter how ridiculous the request. He leaned up off the couch and took a seat next to the pregnant woman. Was he seriously going to do this? It seemed so silly and pointless. He refused to speak in one of those altered voices so many adults seemed to use when speaking to an infant. "Hello there little Sandi…" He trailed off with a cough, shifting a bit. This was certainly one of his more awkward moments in life.

Sarah laughed almost right away, reaching a hand out to rest on Sherlock's shoulder. "It's fine, I understand. It's a bit weird to think that this thing is a little human being. I haven't quite gotten used to talking to her myself yet, either. Especially without a name." She looked down at her stomach as she felt more movement and shamelessly grabbed Sherlock's hand so he could feel it again. "I think she's going to like you. She hasn't moved this much ever. It's your voice. She likes the sound." She met Sherlock's gaze with a wide smile and glanced when she heard Sherlock's phone go off.

Oh thank God, an interruption from this situation. Sherlock took out his cell phone to read the message and a second one came through while he read it so he clicked it open.

Christ. That's five months? Is that normal, Sherlock? -JW

Can I call? I'm free right now. –JW

Instead of texting back, he merely called John himself and put the phone on speaker as it rang.

"Sherlock?" John's voice was eager, happy. It was clear there was a smile on his face. "Hi Sarah!"

"Hi John," she tentatively replied.

"How is she, Sherlock? Moving? Did you feel her move?" There was a long pause and John exhaled loudly. "I miss you."

"Everything is fine John. Yes, she is moving and yes I felt it. According to Sarah the baby likes my voice. What do you think of Amy Sandoval as a name for her? I know John, I miss you too." Sherlock replied, his fiancé's enthusiasm rubbing off on him some as he spoke.

"Amy Sandoval," a long pause, "Yeah, that's good. Really good." John smiled and laughed slightly into the phone. "Perfect. Is she really active then, Sarah?"

"Only near tea time, bit like her father," Sarah replied with a smile.

John's laughter came through the phone and Sarah tensed, looking at her stomach. "What's it like to feel her move, Sherlock?

"It's…weird John…I don't really know how else to explain it… Sarah had me talk to the baby that was…an interesting experience as well." Sherlock was once more in a situation he felt entirely out of depth in.

John couldn't help but laugh. Sherlock probably never had felt a baby move. "Yeah, I bet it was a bit weird for you. God, I wish I could feel her move," he stated with a sigh. When Sherlock's second statement registered with John he started laughing so hard he couldn't breathe. "You talked to her? I wish there was a video of that. Christ, what did you say?" It was clear there was a smile on his face as he spoke and Sarah was smiling at the phone as well.

"I said hello." Sherlock replied, feeling silly all over again for admitting such a thing. He shifted once more. "Do you want to talk to her? I could put the phone up to Sarah's stomach?" He glanced to the woman next to him with raised eyebrows.

John was silent for a long moment before replying. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

Sarah smiled and shifted to be closer to Sherlock. "Go ahead John."

"Hi there Amy." It seemed so much simpler when he saw other people do this. What did one typically say to their unborn child conceived because of infidelity? "I'm your Dad. Me and Sherlock. And you already know your Mum, of course. You're keepin' her up with how active you are. You get that from me."

Sherlock listened quietly. He was feeling more awkward with each passing moment. Maybe he wasn't as prepared for this at he thought he was. He had a feeling that this might become a regular thing. Would he ever be comfortable with any of this? He kept his reservations to himself, moving the phone away from Sarah's stomach once John was done talking to the unborn baby.

"I've got to go. Need to sleep. I've written you a letter Sarah, should be there soon. I will text you Sherlock. Love you." He ended the call.

"I know you feel awkward," Sarah stated with a glance toward their feet. "It will get better, I promise. I know you aren't one to talk about your emotions but you can talk to me Sherlock."

Sherlock put the phone away, trying not to be jealous or upset that John has sent Sarah a letter. He glanced to her when she spoke and gave a slight shake of his head. "I'll be fine." Yeah, sharing with Sarah, that would never happen. He barely felt comfortable around his own brother.

"Right. Well, I must be going. I'll see you next week, then?" Sarah stood slowly and made her way out of the room right as Mycroft entered.

"How did that go?" Mycroft asked softly, handing his brother a cup of tea as he took a sip from his own. "You can talk to me. Or text the man you will be marrying. He should know how you feel."