A/N: This is a much shorter chapter, sorry folks! I will try to crank out some longer ones for the next few. But I figured a short update was better than no update!

"Sherlock," Molly called from the sitting room. "Sherlock, where are you? I thought you said you were home from your case?"

"In the bedroom," he managed to say, though he clenched his teeth as he lost his concentration.

He heard her footsteps across the floor and then she was poking her head in the doorway.

"What on earth are you doing? Sherlock, I just cleaned in here!"

"Hmm? Oh Mrs. Hudson will tidy it up after I'm done," he said, flipping another page. "Now, if you wouldn't mind I need to go to my mind palace."

"For what?" Molly asked, but Sherlock had already descended.

He opened a drawer and looked inside. Molly's friends' names. He could clear those out couldn't he? Without a second thought he cleared it and began stacking new information inside. Basic development could fit here nicely. Probably just the first year, but that would do. Now, what else could he delete in here?

"Sherlock, please answer me. What are you doing?" Molly asked.

He exited the palace and came back to himself, finding Molly still staring at him.

"I'm storing useful information," Sherlock answered.

"On…?" Molly stared around at the piles and piles of books.

"I would think it is fairly obvious," Sherlock muttered. "Now, unless you have something very important to tell me, would you leave me to absorb this?"

After a moment's silence, he glanced up to find her still looking at him.

"Are you not feeling well?" Sherlock asked. He shot to his feet. "Molly, are you all right? Is there something wrong? I know the second trimester is supposed to be the easiest but still—are your gums bleeding? Are you experiencing any pain or discomfort? Miscarriages are still possible before week twenty or is it—"

Molly put a finger to his lips. "Calm down. No, I'm perfectly fine. Yes, everything has been easier so far. So no, you don't need to worry. Sherlock, I think it's wonderful you're taking an interest in…better educating yourself…it's just that this looks a bit…" she hesitated and took a deep breath, "extreme."

"Extreme? What's extreme? I'm not extreme! I'm being perfectly reasonable," Sherlock snapped. "I'm encountering a new situation and I'm gathering information to support future decisions and potential complications. How is preparing a problem? Everyone always complains when I act in spontaneity, but now when I decide to do my research it's an issue?"

Molly sighed. "How many books did you buy today?"

"Picked up every one at the bookstore. Some are comlete rubbish though," Sherlock said, spinning to snatch up a copy that he shoved into her hands. "This is laden with oldwives tales. Thankfully a few have been based on more scientific information. Hence why I picked up so many, to root out the fabrications."

Molly stared down at the cover with a picture of a diaper clad baby. Everything to Know as a Parent. She smiled and looked back up at him.

"Continue then," Molly said. "But I hope you kept that receipt, because we are not keeping useless baby books."

"Oh of course," Sherlock agreed. "I'm taking them all back once I have them in my mind palace."

Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, there is something called a library you know."

"More inconvenient. Besides. I've been banned at the closest library. That nasty old woman who works there knows me on sight I'm afraid."

"I'm not sure if I want to hear that story or not," Molly said with a smile. "Regardless, don't overstress yourself please, Sherlock?"

"I won't. I just need to read thirteen more books and possibly browse a few websites for supplementary information if necessary."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Sherlock, please just promise me you'll get some sleep tonight. Or find a case. Or something other than reading baby books all day. For heaven's sake, I'm supposed to be the mother. Why don't you leave some of the worrying to me?"

"Because any number of things could go wrong!" Sherlock said. "Five percent of women are diagnosed with preeclampsia! Almost twenty percent end up with gestational diabetes…or what if it's an ectopic pregnancy and the egg has implanted outside of the uterus—"

Molly made a shushing noise. "Sherlock, I'm sure the doctors will warn me if there are any complications."

"Doctors are idiots," Sherlock muttered. "Perhaps you and I should run a few early tests?"

She let out a sigh and approached, crouching down beside him as best she could.

"Sherlock, you do realize people went thousands of years without any of this information, don't you? Women used to do this themselves, no hospitals, no medications, nothing but their own bodies working the way they're supposed to, behaving naturally," Molly said.

"And plenty of those women died in childbirth," Sherlock said. "And if something goes wrong with the pregnancy…I'd rather be prepared. Do we need to buy you a body pillow? You need to be sleeping on your side, and this book recommends using a body pillow."

She leaned over to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

"Sherlock, I'll get by. Now, you finish cataloging information and come be a good father and help me do some crib shopping."

He muttered under his breath before nodding. "Fine. Half an hour?"

"Yes," Molly agreed. She rose back to her feet and walked to the door. "Sherlock, please don't stress yourself. This isn't worth that."

"Of course it's worth that," Sherlock said, shooting her a critical look. "This is our child we're talking about, Molly. Everything needs to be perfect."

Molly started to step out the door and then stopped. She looked back over her shoulder. "Sherlock, store this in your mind palace please."

"What?" he asked, glancing up from his latest information binge on baby healthcare.

She smiled. "I believe you're going to be a great father. In fact, you already are."

Without another word she went back into the hall, heading towards the kitchen. Sherlock sat silent for a moment, thinking. After a long consideration, he went back to his palace, walking along the drive, entering into the front door, gazing around at the various chests and cupboards and places he'd set up for storing information.

He walked up the stairs and started looking through drawers. There was too much information that he felt he needed. He walked over to a cabinet and opened it.

Memories hit him. John's smiling face was there. His quirky comments. Those early cases where they were just starting to know each other. The later ones with the familiar comforting presence of John beside him. Sherlock felt his throat start to tighten up, a few tears were there in the corner of his eyes. He closed the cabinet, and ran a hand over the smooth wood. It was tempting to linger there, but he couldn't.

No, this room was fine. The information in here was good. He looked towards Molly's cupboard he'd set up recently. No, he wanted this. He'd simply have to try to make more room. There had to be room. He squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to envision. After a moment he opened again. Another door appeared to the side.

Sherlock went and walked through, finding himself in a fairly plain nursery. He walked over to a dresser and opened the top drawer. He began filing the information in. But alongside what he'd already learned, he inserted the memory of Molly tell him he was going to be a good father. She was right, it was probably a decent idea to keep that in mind even as he did his best to remember everything important.

"What about Scarlett?" Molly asked.

"Isn't there some dreadful book or movie with that woman's name in it?" Sherlock said with a frown.

"Oh Gone with the Wind, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked from the kitchen. "I'm surprised you know about that."

"Yes well, I suppose I'm simply trying to be aware of potential name flaws," Sherlock muttered. "Lets name our daughter something more creative than a color."

"I didn't mean naming her after anyone," Molly said. "We don't have to have every name be after someone you know. Were you named after someone?"

"Yes actually," Sherlock said. "Some great grandfather or other. William something. I don't particularly care. Anyhow, continuing in Holmes tradition I suppose."

"William?" Molly said.

"Yes, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he said with a sigh.

"How did you end up going by your middle name?" Molly asked, with a smile.

"Yes, Sherlock, how did that happen?" Mrs. Hudson inquired.

"It's a long story that involves years as a brainwashed little boy wanting to be like my brother," Sherlock muttered.

Mrs. Hudson giggled in delight. "I knew you couldn't completely hate him. Nothing better than a younger sibling trying to be like the older one. You watch out for that, Alex. Your little brother or sister will probably want to be just like you."

Alex looked up from where he was lying on the sofa with his nose buried in a book. "That'll be good. The baby could use a good role model."

Sherlock just sighed and went back to his pacing. "What about Florence?"

"A bit old fashioned, don't you think?" Molly countered. "Lily?"

"I'd rather not make it overly flowery. We want a daughter to be well respected."

"Sherlock," Molly said, shaking her head and sighing. She sat back in her chair, putting a hand back to her stomach that was just starting to swell.

"Margaux," Sherlock said.

"No. Anna."

"Absolutely not," Sherlock said. "Maevis."

"So, when do you two learn if it's a girl or boy?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "Since you're only arguing girl ones right now."

"Next week," Molly said with a smile. "We're going in for our scan and we'll let the doctor tell us then."

Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands and giggled. "What about if it's a boy?"

"Oh, Sherlock is already set on what he wants," Molly said with a smile. "Though we're still discussing options just in case. I'm set on Nickolas at the moment. Very handsome and dignified…but yesterday I told him Dante was a unique option. And he replied—"

"There are better writers to name our child after than the one who perpetuated the ideas of the fictional realm of hell," Sherlock muttered.

"What about Benedict?" Molly asked. "Elegant, handsome."

Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed. "There's something about that name that simply speaks to me as a no. Benedict Holmes. No."

"I think we should name him Arthur," Alex said, looking up from his book. "And if it's a girl it should be Guinevere."

Sherlock turned to blink at the boy, examining the book he was holding: The Once and Future King. Of course, Arthurian myths.

"Oh so naming a child after a king isn't bad enough, it has to be a fictional king," Sherlock muttered.

"You're one to talk, William," Molly said with a smirk before mouthing be nice.

"We will consider those names," Sherlock said, frowning as he turned to pace the length of the room again. "Why are we even bothering? We still have months. There's no reason to worry all too much. Once we find out what the sex is we will have half as many options which will be nice."

"Well, then we can discuss it again in a week," Molly said. "It's true, a name isn't all that important anyhow. A rose by any other name, right?"

Sherlock tilted his head. "A what? I thought I said no flower names."

Molly just shook her head and smiled at Mrs. Hudson. "If you were going to name a child, what would you name it, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Oh, Andrew for a boy and something pretty for a girl…like…Louise!" Mrs. Hudson said. "Oh I'm sure he or she will be lovely no matter what name you choose. You two are going to be so perfect. Why I just can't help but picture John's face if he saw you two—"

Sherlock rounded on her. "Would you make our tea and leave please? Molly and I are trying to have a conversation?"

Mrs. Hudson frowned but hurried to the stairs. Sherlock stared in her general direction before turning and pacing the length of the floor again.

There was a sigh and then the sound of a book snapping shut.

"You shouldn't be mean to Mrs. Hudson," Alex said. He shot a glare at Sherlock before heading back towards the stairs as well.

"He's right you know," Molly said. "She doesn't mean to upset you. She was trying to compliment you."

"She didn't need to bring him up," Sherlock said.

Molly sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Sherlock, she's just trying to help. She wants you to know how wonderful you'll be as a father. Now…what's really going on?"

He hesitated. Should he tell her? Was that the right thing to do? Instead he shook his head.

"I just…miss John," Sherlock said quietly. "I need him here. I don't know what I'm doing. I want his help with this new adventure."

"He was a good man, and it's understandable to miss him," Molly said. "But you can't take that out on Mrs. Hudson or Alex or me. John would never want you to do that."

Sherlock was silent, but after a long moment he nodded. She was right. As always.

"Please, Sherlock. I know how much he means for you. I've already promised you his name," Molly said. "But you can't act like this just because he's not around."

"It was my fault," Sherlock said. "I made a mistake and I still haven't rectified it. Moriarty is still at large."

He swallowed, thinking of the doppelgangers Moriarty had left again on the anniversary of John's death a man, boy, and pregnant woman. He wondered if next year there would be a dead baby in the mix. He shuddered at the mere thought.

"John knew you were only human," Molly pointed out. "Please, Sherlock. You can't get bogged down in that again. I need you here with me right now. Here for me and the baby. Please."

The room fell into silence again. Sherlock stopped pacing, stood still, trying to settle his restless brain. He kept wanting to think through this. But perhaps Molly was right. Maybe he just needed to stop thinking.

He went over to her chair. She gave him a hesitant smile, though he could still see the concern in her eyes. He moved to kneel beside her, laying one hand on her baby bump and the other coming up to touch her cheek.

"Thank you, Molly."

Sherlock moved forward and gave her a soft kiss. Molly's lips moved against his in a light smile. Her arms encircled him as best she could.

When he pulled away she took a moment to look into his eyes. "Everything is going to be all right, Sherlock. John would want you to be happy. Please be happy for him. And for me."

"I'll try," Sherlock said. And he meant it.

Of course, by that next Wednesday morning he'd pretty much forgotten. He was unable to sit still as he watched the doctor come in and put gloves on.

"And how are we today?" she asked the two of them.

"Wonderful," Molly said. She was beaming.

"And how are you Mr. expectant father?"

"Better than the woman who is in major credit card debt," Sherlock muttered, silenced only by Molly's glare in his direction.

"All right, should we take a look at the little one?"

She gelled up the probe. Sherlock was watching her every move, trying to deduce if there were any problems with her medical training. He wished he'd read more on ultrasounds. Why hadn't he thought of researching that? How idiotic!

"It's going to be a little bit cold, and maybe a little uncomfortable when I press in some places, but otherwise it shouldn't hurt," the doctor said before pulling up Molly's gown. Sherlock watched as she pressed the probe against the skin. She moved it around a bit, turning her eyes to the monitor and watching carefully until she was satisfied.

"Oh look at that," she said with a smile in their direction. "That's your baby!"

Sherlock glanced at the screen, taking in the vaguely baby shaped form. Something about it felt truly unreal. He'd known for four months now that Molly was pregnant, but just looking at a small bump and dealing with some symptoms had never felt like this. He swallowed and gazed at the small form, trying to remember to take deep breaths.

"Everything is looking normal," the doctor said. "A perfectly healthy little baby. Now….did you two want to know the gender or would you rather have it be a surprise?"

"I would like to know the sex now," Sherlock said.

Molly rolled her eyes at Sherlock's term correction. "Yes, I want to know too."

The doctor smiled and pointed at what looked like a misshaped blob in Sherlock's opinion. How people could read these things was impressive. He had no idea what he was looking at. No power of observation seemed useful in these circumstances.

"Well, you two are going to be having—" She paused and smiled.

Sherlock sighed. Why did people feel a need to build up suspense for these things? He just wanted to know what he was having. It would allow him to limit some of the scope of his research. Not to mention, help with the still continuing name game that Molly could not seem to abandon no matter how many acceptable names he gave her. She had mentioned something about a list for heaven's sake.

"Congratulations, it's a boy," the woman said.

Molly put a hand to her mouth, eyes tearing up. Sherlock gave his own smile, though his mind was already reeling. A boy. Had he been hoping for one or the other? He didn't really know. Perhaps he'd thought a girl might be more naturally like Molly. He needed to look into genetics a little more.

But a boy did sound wonderful in some ways. They both did. There were advantages and disadvantages, and no amount of calculations could tell him if one would have truly been better than the other. He just had to hope Molly felt the same way.

"Oh Sherlock," she whispered. "He's so beautiful."

Sherlock shook his head. "Molly, beauty is a social construct, and besides, he's still in the womb. You can't possibly know he's beautiful."

Molly sighed. "Must you take everything so literally? Sherlock, he's beautiful because he's ours and he's real and he's healthy and he's…everything I ever wanted. Oh Sherlock, look at him. Look at his tiny fingers and his little heartbeat and…" She broke off and let out a soft sob.

The doctor smiled. "Shall I turn it off then?"

Molly shook her head. "Just a bit more, please. I just want to look at him a bit more."

"You'll have a picture of the scan too, of course," the doctor promised. "And you can look at that all you want."

"Oh we'll have to put it on our mantle," Molly said. "After we show Mrs. Hudson and Alex and everyone else."

Sherlock stared at the little baby's form, watched as he moved slightly, and did his best to contain the strange tears that seemed to be trying to get to him more and more often. No matter what he had tried to tell himself before, looking at the fetus—no his son—in the image, Sherlock knew nothing would ever be the same.

A/N: Tons of great suggestions! Hope I covered at least one name per person in this chapter. Also, if one of the characters criticized your name suggestion, don't feel offended! Just Sherlock being picky and Molly making his life difficult. Personally I loved most of the names!

Thanks to Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Anasthesia93, Believer of Many Things, and Denethorian for reviewing.

Seriously, reviews are half of what inspire me to keep going, so keep up the great feedback guys! It's driving me to finish this thing! I want to say we're maybe reaching the halfway mark, but I'm not sure. Sometimes brilliance strikes me in the middle of the story and makes it longer. Anyhow, until next time!