A/N: It's really long but I didn't want to split it. Besides, it's my gift for the long wait in updating.
"Sherlock!" Molly yelled from the bedroom.
His head shot up from his current preoccupation, a new experiment he was attempting with a few more harmless chemical compounds. He set the beaker back onto the kitchen table before bolting in the direction of her voice.
Molly was laying in bed. She'd been a bit more tired with the long shifts at St. Bart's, but so far she had refused to leave work. Sherlock knew better than to argue of course. She was staring down at her stomach, mouth open and eyes wide.
"Molly, what's wrong?" Sherlock asked. "Is everything all right? Do I need to go to the hospital with you? Is the baby having problems?"
"Oh shush," she said, and then motioned him closer. "Come sit on the bed."
Sherlock advanced with his heart still pounding. He wasn't sure why Molly couldn't simply explain the problem to him. That would be so much more efficient. However, perhaps she preferred him deducing it. So he sat on the edge of the bed.
Molly grabbed his hand and brought it down to her stomach that had swelled considerably as she reached towards the next trimester. Sherlock tensed and waited, trying his best to gather every minute detail that might help him determine what the problem was.
However, before he could ask a single question, a small movement disrupted his train of thought, bringing his attention back to the hand Molly had pressed to her stomach. He waited another moment and then felt the same indescribable motion a second time.
"He's kicking," Molly whispered with a smile. "I thought something must be wrong, he's hardly moved at all."
"Well, he wasn't very big before," Sherlock said. He was searching his mind for information on development. "Movements are one thing, but kicking wouldn't start happening until later. Other movements can be harder to determine. Sometimes they pass as flatulence or other bodily functions."
Molly giggled and released her grip on his hand, though he refused to move it away from where she'd first placed it. He was unable to pull back, wanting only to have a moment more of experiencing his first reaction with his son.
"Well, I suppose he's going to be a wild little thing now," Molly said, smiling down at his hand.
"And why would you make that assumption?" Sherlock asked with a frown, still waiting in hopes of feeling yet another kick.
"Because he's yours," Molly said. "And let's face it, Sherlock, you can't sit still for five minutes."
"I actually can thank you very much," Sherlock said, eyes snapping up to stare into hers. "Honestly, why does everyone comment on my regular movements? I simply like being up and about. Sitting quiet just has never really suited me."
"Precisely. Bet he'll be just like that."
Sherlock muttered an argument, but really decided he couldn't come up with anything intelligible and finally fell quiet. Their baby had stopped moving, so he withdrew his hand.
There was a noise at the door and they turned to see Alex standing there with Toby.
"Is now a bad time?" Alex asked.
"No, sweetheart, come in," Molly said.
Alex smiled at her and came over to sit on her other side with Toby still snuggled in his arms. Molly wrapped an arm around Alex and reached over to pet the cat who began purring as soon as she did. Sherlock still hadn't figured out how Molly and Alex had the magic touch with the ridiculous cat, but somehow both of them could make him very happy. All he did when Sherlock touched him was hiss. Maybe his son would be a dog lover…
He fell silent when Alex asked what they were doing. Molly smiled.
"Sherlock was just feeling the baby kicking for the first time. He's been a little more still, but if you put your hand here and wait a bit, you might feel him too."
Alex's eyes widened comically, and he immediately set his hand on her stomach like she'd indicated. Molly waited a moment, and then there was a jump from Alex who quickly pulled his hand back.
"That's the baby!" he said in surprise. "Doesn't that hurt?"
"It's a little uncomfortable, but we're glad he's healthy," Molly said.
Alex stared at her a moment longer, still in disbelief that she was experiencing such a strange feeling. He started biting his lip as he stared down at Molly's stomach.
"What's wrong sweetheart?" Molly asked, still stroking his hair.
"What…what if he hates me?" he whispered.
"Why would he hate you?" Molly asked. "He's going to be your brother, I'm sure he'll adore you!"
Alex didn't answer, merely looked at the bedspread. Sherlock thought he saw tears glistening in Alex's eyes.
Molly sighed and pulled him a little closer, causing Toby to give her a disgruntled look and jump off the bed.
"Please tell me, darling. Whatever's wrong I want to make it better."
Though Sherlock didn't particularly want to get involved, he had to admire the way Molly handled it. Her love for Alex had been helpful. She was more willing to dive into these issues than he ever would be. Her arm squeezed a little tighter. Alex glanced towards Sherlock, and for a moment he wondered if Molly would ask him to leave.
"Well, Sherlock hates Mycroft," Alex said. "So maybe my brother will hate me too."
Brown eyes narrowed into a glare in his direction. With an eye roll he quickly made his corrections.
"Alex, when Mycroft and I were little the only animosity between us was Mycroft's superiority complex. I, on the other hand, might have…liked him quite a bit."
There was a moment of silence before Molly smiled.
"You're joking."
"No, completely serious," Sherlock said. "I was the typical younger child in that respect. I wanted to be just like Mycroft. Picked up violin because he was playing the cello. All that nonsense."
"What happened to you two then?" Molly asked, eyes narrowed.
"Long story really, but it had something to do with my growing awareness that I wasn't in fact an idiot as he'd implied. And most of it stemmed from him going off on his own and forgetting me for a while. By the time he wanted back in my life…well I'd found other more interesting forms of comfort."
Molly shot him a look, so he stopped before he could really describe the drugs.
"The point is I found Mycroft quite tolerable for a while," Sherlock said. "And I'm sure Molly can tell you she liked her siblings too."
"I love my brother and my sister both," Molly said. "Though I know there were moments both of them annoyed me. You have nothing to worry about, Alex. I'm sure he's going to adore you."
Alex gave a half smile before snuggling closer to her. Sherlock was just about to wrap an arm around the both of them when a crash echoed from the living room.
"Well, I can tell you who's most upset about the whole thing," Sherlock muttered. "I'll go clean up whatever that ridiculous cat broke. You two enjoy your cuddle."
"No, come give both of us a hug and then go clean up," Molly ordered.
Though he was reluctant to do so, Sherlock did finally move in to give the both of them a light hug before springing up.
"Only time he's in a hurry to clean up," Molly whispered to Alex.
"I heard that," Sherlock said, though he didn't argue. It was true after all. But things were changing. A new adventure was starting, and he needed to be ready for it.
His eyes scanned over the map. He had to put it away. It just a pity every bit of storage space seemed to be full. What could he remove? Were there useless memories still tucked around somewhere? This was crucial right now, he needed this.
There was a noise outside. He sat up straighter, listening a moment, processing the resonance and noticing the small facts that put an image into his mind. Cab outside on the street, someone getting out. There was a large pause between the opening and closing, so someone who needed more time. He glanced at his phone, the time was correct.
Sherlock shot to his feet and rushed to the door. He passed Mrs. Hudson before going to the front door and opening it just in time to find Molly trying to come in. He looked her over to make some quick deductions. Nothing appeared to be wrong.
"Here, let me take your things," Sherlock said, snatching her bag before helping her out of her coat. When he had both in one hand he reached out the other to take her arm. "How was work? No problems I presume."
"Fine," Molly said with a sigh allowing him to keep a grip on her arm, even as her other went down to rub at her back, arching slightly so that her large belly stuck out even further.
"I really think you ought to give it up," Sherlock said. "It's about time, don't you think?"
"Next week," Molly said, not able to hide the sharpness in her tone. "We've talked about this, Sherlock. Bart's is short staffed right now after we had someone quit and one of our other employees just got fired. And besides, the longer I hold out, the longer I can be home with you and the baby…or have you forgotten your little panic attack a few days ago thinking of being home alone with the baby?"
"Hmm? Oh that was just a brief moment of concern, everything will be fine."
Back up in 221 B Sherlock forced Molly to lie down on the sofa. He pulled off her shoes and pushed a pillow behind her head.
"Are they hurting?" he asked, pointing to her ankles.
"They're a little swollen, but I tried to sit more today."
Sherlock put his hands on her feet and started working the flesh. Molly moaned and let her head fall back.
"Sherlock, I'd tell you stay off the internet, but apparently there are a few benefits."
"What are you talking about? I learned this from a masseuse while I was on a case."
Molly sighed, but if she didn't believe him she didn't protest, so Sherlock merely smiled at his own lie and kept going.
After a moment, Molly looked up, glancing towards the side of the room Sherlock had been occupying earlier. She frowned and squinted.
"Sherlock, what is that?"
"Hmm? Oh, nothing, don't worry about it," he said, continuing to rub her feet.
Molly sighed and sat up further. "Sherlock, is it for a case? I've asked you not to tape things to the walls please."
"It's necessary," Sherlock said.
"So, for a case?" Molly asked.
"No, it's necessary," Sherlock repeated.
Molly pushed his hands away and rose to her feet. She pushed past Sherlock to go over to the wall, staring at the map of London full of scribbled lines and two circles, one around 221 B and the other on Bart's.
"What on earth is this?" Molly asked.
"Just a little practice. Need to be ready after all." Sherlock went and sat on the sofa she'd abandoned, looking at the floor rather than at her.
"Sherlock, are you stressing out about the baby again? Because if you are you know you can always talk to me or Mrs. Hudson or Greg or anyone else. This is going to be all right, but I don't want you doodling crazy maps and—"
"It's just to determine the fastest route to the hospital," Sherlock said. "We can't know precisely when the baby will be here, so I'd like to be sure I know of every plausible route and the best ones depending on what hour your labor starts. There's no need to be stuck in ridiculous traffic when I could direct the cabby around it."
Molly stood silent for a moment, but based on the way her lips were pursed, Sherlock had a feeling she hadn't appreciated the gesture as much as he had hoped.
Before she had a chance to reply the door banged open and Alex came racing in. Molly turned to face him, though she didn't say a word about the noisy entry.
"Molly," he cried, grinning on sight of her. "Good, can you help me with my science homework?"
"Of course," she said. "Go sit at the table and I'll be along to help you in a moment."
"Molly, sit down, I'll go help him," Sherlock butted in. "Do you need tea by the way? I'm happy to make something. Should I call Mrs. Hudson?"
Her steps faltered though when she suddenly realized the strange problem with his question.
"Alex, why didn't you ask Sherlock for help?" Molly asked.
"Oh…um…because he always gets annoyed at me when I don't understand it at first," Alex explained. "And cause it's about planets and I know he doesn't know anything about those."
Molly laughed at that. "No, I suppose he doesn't. Good decision then. And no, Sherlock, I don't want tea or anything else. I'm going to help Alex since he needs it."
Alex offered a smile and then seemed to notice the map. Before Molly could protest he was over looking at it.
"What's this? Is there another case?" Alex asked.
Hoping Alex might be more understanding of his decision, Sherlock spoke up.
"It's a map of the best routes to the hospital for when Molly needs to go there to have the baby."
Alex's eyes lit up. "Is that soon? Is the baby coming soon? When's he going to get here?"
Molly sighed and rolled her eyes. "Soon. Two weeks is our due date, but these things can be unpredictable. Even Sherlock's not going to be able to guess exactly when it will get here."
His lower lip drooped into a pout and Molly tensed. Sherlock pondered if he should ask her if she wanted another massage, but before he could Alex broke into a full whine.
"Why can't he be here now? He's taking forever!" Alex whined.
"Alex, I can't speed this process up, I'm sorry," Molly said, though Sherlock could hear the patience waning in her voice.
"This is so stupid," Alex muttered. "Babies are stupid."
This childish side had been a new phenomenon. The counselor had suggested something about Alex trying to get their attention while feeling like they'd refocused on the baby. Sherlock wasn't quite sure if he believed it, but at the same time he couldn't come up with another rational explanation. Still, it was hard seeing his normally mature ward acting half his age.
Molly pursed her lips. "Alex, go up to your room and put some shoes on and grab your coat. I need to talk to Sherlock for a moment."
Alex frowned but thankfully didn't argue. Sherlock arched an eyebrow as Molly gave him her full attention.
"His homework should be easy enough we can do it tomorrow morning," Molly said. "For tonight I want you to take him out to dinner and then go do something fun with him…movie…museum…park… whatever he wants."
"Why?" Sherlock asked.
"Because, he's panicking about the baby coming, and he needs to know things aren't going to change and that we're still going to love him and spend time with him," Molly said.
"Nothing's going to change," Sherlock said. "He's being idiotic."
"He's ten, Sherlock. He doesn't know that for sure," Molly said, reaching up to rub her temple. "You need to show him it's still the good old days, still you and him having adventures and being together. That's what he needs right now."
Sherlock sighed, but he knew there was no arguing with her. Mrs. Hudson would probably come upstairs and put a stop to it the moment she heard raised voices.
"Fine, fine, I'll take him out. Give you a quiet night in too."
He stalked over to grab his coat, sliding it on and then walking over to the doorway where Alex was just coming down with his coat and shoes, ready to go.
"I've been thinking," Sherlock said to him, "that it might be nice if you and I have a night out…a good run by ourselves before the baby gets here. How does that sound?"
Alex smiled and nodded. "Cool. Where are we going?"
"Er…dinner at Angleo's all right?"
Alex answered in the affirmative.
"And you can decide from there what you want to do for the rest of it. So long as we're back by your bedtime I'm sure we can get Molly to approve."
Molly feigned indecision but eventually nodded. "All right, homework in the morning then."
Alex grinned and went over to give her a big hug. Sherlock watched as she leaned down and whispered something in his ear. There was a small giggle and then Alex was nodding. Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but he couldn't make out what she'd said.
Sherlock put a hand on his son's shoulder. He waited until they were downstairs to ask his question.
"What did Molly say?" he asked, glancing back the way they'd came. Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to leave her on her own after all.
"Oh," Alex paused, eyes widening slightly. "Um just something about being willing to help with my homework since you won't be able to help me at all."
"Well that's because Molly absorbs useless information that schools push at children for no other reason than to bolster their weak curriculum." He paused and looked back. "Just a moment."
He poked his head into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen.
"Mrs, Hudson, Alex and I are going out for the evening. Would you keep an eye on Molly for me please?"
She looked up from her stove and smiled. "Of course, Sherlock. I'll make sure she's just fine. You go have a nice time with that lovely boy. Enjoy having some energy to go do things."
"Energy?" Sherlock asked. "I'm afraid I don't understand."
"Of course you don't," Mrs. Hudson giggled. "But Sherlock, you're going to be having a baby soon. And even if you don't sleep much normally, a baby will wear you out."
"I'm sure Molly and I can handle him quite adequately. I don't see how much energy you need to raise a simple baby."
Mrs. Hudson sighed and rolled her eyes. "Oh my friend Eleanor thought the same thing. She kept saying it wouldn't be all that hard and after it was out of her body it would be easy. But then she had it, and she was up several times a night for feedings and it was the most colicky little thing and she was exhausted just a few months in. And considering how fussy you are, I imagine your child might be the exact same way."
"Fussy?" Sherlock asked, furrowing his brow. "I'm not fussy. Why would you say I'm fussy? I'm not. That's utterly absurd."
"Oh you just go have fun with Alex," Mrs. Hudson said with a wave of her hand. "I don't have time to explain."
"I'm not fussy," Sherlock muttered as he walked to the door.
At Angelo's Sherlock ordered a plate of fettucine. He didn't particularly feel like eating, but he was well aware that Alex would complain if he didn't. He mostly pushed the pasta around his plate while Alex devoured the extra large portion of spaghetti and meatballs that Angelo had brought him.
"Takes me back seeing you two here," Angelo said as he came by to refill Sherlock's drink. "He looks just like his dad, he does."
Alex glanced up and frowned, but after a moment seemed to get the idea and looked down at his spaghetti again.
"Yes," Sherlock said, shooting a look in Alex's direction, tracing the small bits and pieces of John that Alex had absorbed.
"They share some similarities," Sherlock said. "Thank you again, Angelo. I always appreciate your hospitality."
The man offered a grin before heading off to take care of some other customers. Alex was still pouting.
"What?" Sherlock said with a sigh, setting down his fork and welcoming the excuse to stop eating. "What's wrong now?"
"I wish I looked like you," Alex whispered. "He will."
"I don't know why anyone in their right mind would want to look like me," Sherlock muttered. "You look like your father. It's genetics. It makes sense."
Intent on avoiding any further pouting or whining, Sherlock quickly changed the subject.
"Now, what is it you want to do tonight?"
Alex twisted his fork through his pasta and frowned. After just a moment he lifted his head and smiled.
"Can we go play laser tag?" he asked.
With a tilt of his head, Sherlock asked, "what's laser tag?"
A stifled giggle came from behind Alex's hand that he'd put in front of his mouth.
"You really don't know anything do you?"
"I know Molly instructed me to take you to do whatever you want, so I suppose we will go do whatever this ridiculous laser tag thing is."
Thirty minutes later and Sherlock had figured out exactly what the bizarre activity Alex had requested was, and could immediately understand the boy's interest. As he ducked behind a wall, he tried to imagine John's reaction to this activity. He had a feeling the man would have loved it just as much as his son who was currently in hiding somewhere.
"Probably waiting to ambush me," Sherlock muttered to himself. "Little adrenaline junkie."
He pushed his gun over the ledge and shot a few times, effectively hitting one of the members of the other team. He had to wonder how many more times Alex was going to want to play. Possibly until his imposed bedtime. With a groan, Sherlock ducked a little further into his hiding place, beginning to form some quick strategies on his plan of attack. Well, if he was stuck here for a few more hours, best to make the most of it.
And of course, he was more than right. Hours of laser tag until he was looking at his phone and the few texts from Molly asking when he'd be home. Thankfully Alex was fairly worn out. He leaned against Sherlock on the cab ride home, eyes fluttering closed even as he continued to talk about how amazing the night was.
"It was really fun," he yawned. "Sherlock, you need to find another case though. Or you're gonna get rusty. Considering how bad I beat you and all."
Sherlock rolled his eyes but said nothing.
"Saw Lestrade a few days ago actually. He mentioned having something for you."
"Where did you run across Lestrade?" Sherlock asked.
"Hmm…he was doing something at my school. Said there's been some weird things going on at schools and that he needed to check mine. Said to tell you to start taking his calls or at least text him. He wants your help."
He did have some memories of several calls from Lestrade, but none of it had seemed altogether urgent. Still, a new case might be nice. It had been quite some time since he'd had a serious one. Maybe the distraction would do him some good.
The soft purr of the cab's engine and the lulling movement of driving on the more quiet London streets soon had Alex's eyes closing and his body drooping in the seat. Sherlock scooped him up the moment they arrived at 221 B, handing a note to the cabby before going towards the door with Alex remaining asleep.
He opened the door and went past Mrs. Hudson's kitchen that was quiet due to the late hour. He proceeded up the stairs, passing their flat and peeking in to see Molly also dozing on the sofa with the telly running. Without pausing again he went up the last flight of stairs to Alex's bedroom.
With careful precision, Sherlock managed to balance Alex while pulling back the covers, before depositing him onto the bed. He pulled the covers up over him, deciding not to bother trying to change him into pyjamas. Alex made a soft groaning noise and blinked a few times, looking up at Sherlock.
"Go to sleep," the detective ordered.
There was a soft yawn before Alex snuggled a little deeper under the covers.
"Thanks Sherlock," he whispered. "oh…mmm…and Sherlock?"
"Yes?"
"Please try and find a case. For me."
After a moment of silence Sherlock nodded.
"I'll try, Alex. I promise I'll try."
There was a bright smile Sherlock could just barely make out in the dim room. And then Alex was yawning again and pulling the covers up a little further.
"Okay, thanks…tonight was wonderful, dad. I really liked it."
For just a second Sherlock thought he'd heard wrong. But there was no clarifying from Alex who had fallen asleep again. He was uncertain if his ears were to be trusted, but it seemed like there was a good chance he'd been correct in what he thought Alex had said.
"Goodnight," he said, unable to come up with anything more creative in a response, and not caring since Alex was already asleep.
As he walked down the stairs, he let that word carry him. He held onto it for a moment, related it back to Alex in Angelo's upset that he'd been told he looked like his father. Out of all the people Sherlock had met, he'd never admired anyone more than John, so it puzzled him to try to determine why someone would want to be or look like him instead. But somehow Alex was finding something worthy in him.
Of course, if Alex was going to appreciate him that way. He'd have to keep his promise. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Sherlock punched in Lestrade's number. Never too late to try to pick up a case.
Lestrade phoned him back a few days later saying he was swamped and they could set up a meeting at some point later in the week. Though Sherlock was impatient to get to the case Alex had sounded so intrigued with, he reluctantly held back in commenting on the issue.
Of course, by the time he made his way to the detective inspector's office the case had truly piqued his interest. Something with schools could be interesting. And besides, it had been a while since he'd heard from his old friend Moriarty.
Lestrade's office was cluttered with various files. By one look at him, Sherlock could already tell he hadn't slept in over forty-eight hours.
"So, what has you so swamped and why haven't you bothered me about it before?" Sherlock asked, not bothering to sit down since the one other chair had a stack of files on it.
"For the love of—Sherlock I called you at least eight bloody times," Lestrade said. "Talked to Molly about it. Mentioned it to Alex in passing. Seriously, what more do you want me to do? Flash a giant lit up sign that says 'Help me Sherlock' into the sky?"
"How on earth would you put a giant sign in the sky, and I was busy, so that was why I didn't respond. I apologize."
"Like you think I'm not busy?" Lestrade growled. "And forget the reference. One of the many times I miss John. Now, let's get down to business shall we. Crime has been at an all time high as of late. Not sure what's going on, but whatever it is, I'd guess Moriarty is behind at least half of it. People are running rampant, I swear. But the case we thought you might want to look into was the school ones."
He passed over a file and Sherlock opened it, taking in pictures of several different primary schools, a number of copies of letters that appeared to have various kinds of threats and several pictures of vandalism.
"Bomb threats? But no one has made good on these yet," Sherlock pointed out.
"Still, we can't take any chances," Lestrade muttered. "Can't have kids getting blown up."
"Why on earth does it matter if they're children? Would adults be better?" Sherlock remarked snidely. "Some of these are ciphers."
"Yeah," Lestrade said with a sigh. "I noticed. Got a clue as to what they're about?"
"You need the key to break them. It could be anything," Sherlock said, he peered at one of them closer before noting the attached copy of a lab report. "Human blood? This was written in human blood?"
"Not just any blood, but…Ben's…thought that might interest you," Lestrade said. "Oh go on, talk about how it's Christmas with how clever and exciting this is."
Sherlock stared down at the picture of cipher numbers drawn in human blood, and for once could not muster the energy to show any form of excitement. It was one thing when there was no personal connection. It was quite another when he knew that blood was directly related to why Alex had to still see a counselor once a week.
"I cannot solve these without a key. If I spend some time thinking, perhaps I could come up with some possibilities Moriarty might have expected me to go to, but otherwise, they will take time," Sherlock said. "In the meantime, I'd rather look at these bomb threats, which in fact to me don't actually look that way at all."
"Then what the hell are they?" Lestrade demanded, gawking at him.
"Messages. Certain words are written in a minutely different text."
"No they're not! I would have noticed that!"
Sherlock passed the letters back over and pointed to one of the words.
"Trained killer. The word train is written in a different font. You can tell because the word to uses a different looking t. Not vastly different, but still enough to be able to see that."
"And so? What's your conclusion?"
"train under bomb the London?" Sherlock said , looking at each letter in turn. "Quite simple, the train bomb under London. It likely references the bomb we stopped from blowing under Parliament."
"So?" Lestrade asked.
"So, we should go check that area to make sure Moriarty hasn't left any nasty surprises or clues there," Sherlock said.
Lestrade reached a hand up to rub his temple. "Fine, fine. I'll go get the car."
There was a certain amount of déjà vu in going through those tunnels a second time, walking along the tracks with a flashlight. Lestrade had pointed out that there had been fences and locks added to the area since the incident, but Sherlock still need confirmation that nothing was being planted there.
They reached the gate and Sherlock put a finger to his lips as he pointed to the lock. Though it was still hanging in place, it was easy to see where someone had clipped off part of it, making it easy to remove.
"Shite," Lestrade growled as Sherlock opened up the gate and led him into the dead end area of track.
As they went further, Sherlock of course, was not surprised when he made out a tube car resting on the tracks ahead of them. He led the way, going up and opening the door, looking inside before allowing Lestrade to get in with him. But it was different than last time.
The seats were filled with people.
Any place that one could sit was filled. And when Sherlock swung his flashlight around, he found closed eyes and still features. His quick deduction skills made easy work of the ragged clothing and dirty skin. Homeless people. The car was packed with dead homeless people.
"That's disgusting," Lestrade whispered. "And I've seen some right messed up things in my time."
Sherlock nodded his agreement, still shining his flashlight over various parts of the car, looking for any signs of any more clues.
"These aren't your network, are they?"
Sherlock shook his head. "No. But perhaps a threat towards them, like his doppelgangers of me and Alex and Molly." He paused and cocked his head. "Do you hear something?"
Lestrade paused and then nodded. "Clicking?"
Sherlock swung his flashlight in the direction of the noise and found that in one of the women's hands rested a small clock. Numbers were going down, counting from a minute.
"He's going to blow this whole thing isn't he?" Lestrade cried. "Bloody hell, that maniac. Sherlock, we have to run."
Sherlock looked at the clock and then around the small compartment. He walked to the other end and glanced out the window.
"There's another car. And if my eyesight isn't deceiving me another behind that. If they're all full of explosives, we're already dead."
"Well, is there a bloody off switch!? There was in the case with John!"
Sherlock walked over to the clock and examined it carefully. For all intents and purposes it appeared to be a normal digital alarm clock. Nothing out of the ordinary. In fact there didn't appear to be any wires or anything coming out of it.
"This isn't my demise, Lestrade. He isn't going to blow me to smithereens in a tube car full of dead homeless people."
"Sherlock, first off, you can't bloody well know what this man is planning because if you could we would have caught him ten years ago. Secondly, what the hell makes you think he wants something more glamorous for you? Seriously, this seems pretty damn villainlike to me, killing you the same way you almost died years ago."
"It's not a bomb," Sherlock said. "I don't know what it is, but it isn't a bomb."
He watched as the numbers rapidly descended, dropping towards zero at an alarming rate. Lestrade was bracing himself against one of the poles and closing his eyes. Sherlock just watched on, waiting until the number hit the expected bright red O.
He waited a moment. Nothing.
"It's not a bomb. I told you. I don't know what he was counting down towards, but it wasn't a bomb."
"If you don't know what it was for, then we'd best get out of here and find out," Lestrade muttered. "He could have wreaked all kinds of havoc by now."
Sherlock nodded his agreement and followed Lestrade to the door. His mind was racing with possibilities, but none of them really made any sense. This whole game for Moriarty was becoming more and more illogical. Perhaps that was the point. The further they went along, the less Moriarty tried to make it make sense.
They reemerged into the light of day. No one around them appeared to be in any kind of panic, so Lestrade was put at ease some with that. But he was picking up his phone and calling Donovan anyways. Sherlock followed suit in picking up his phone and looking at what he'd missed without service. To his surprise there were multiple texts and messages from Molly, several from Alex, and even one from Mrs. Hudson's old landline.
He picked one of the first messages from Molly and played it.
"Sherlock, I don't want to alarm you," she began, immediately causing him some level of alarm, "but I've been feeling a bit off all day…I know you were off to go do your case so I didn't really say much this morning. Thought it was just some random back pains and maybe indigestion or something, but Mrs. Hudson is taking me to the hospital. As soon as you get this please come straight there. I don't know why your phone is going to voicemail. But Sherlock it's happening now…he's early but he's coming now. Sherlock, I'm having the baby."
Sherlock stiffened, hand tightening around the phone, breath catching as he realized. Moriarty causing problems for London or not, he had a more important dilemma at the moment.
"Lestrade, I need you to drive me to St. Bart's," Sherlock ordered,
"What's wrong?" he said, pulling the phone from his mouth. "And Sally's not answering her phone, by the way. It's got me worried."
Sherlock slid his phone into his pocket. He couldn't bear to listen to the other messages. He knew what they were. "Where are you's?" from Alex. Mrs. Hudson probably fretting.
"Well, can we go by Bart's on the way?"
"Sherlock, what is it? Is it Alex? Molly? Is something wrong?" Lestrade asked.
"If you would simply drive this wouldn't be such an issue," Sherlock snapped. His voice softened slightly, though it was hard for him to state calmly what had him in such a panic. "I don't know how long I have, but I need to get to St. Bart's. Molly's in labor…"
Lestrade's eyes widened. "Good god."
"Exactly. I'm about to be a father," Sherlock said, reaching up a hand to run through his hair.
Lestrade had something of a mix between a grin and grimace. "Cor, let's get you to the hospital. Call Sally for me on the way will you? Perfect timing Moriarty has. That bastard."
Sherlock nodded. But even with the possibility of further action from the consulting criminal, Sherlock was only focused on one thing. The thought that in less than twenty-four hours, his whole life was about to change.
A/N: Hey guys, so even I'm getting a bit confused by some of the jumps in story so I put a poll up to help me decide the best way to help you keep track of the time frame of each chapter. It's on my profile so go vote away! I feel like a few of you probably went "ALEX IS 10?! In this chapter because I didn't mark some of those gaps very clearly. But yes, quite a bit of time has passed and he's ten now believe it or not.
Thanks to Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Believer of Many Things and Jesuslovesmarina for reviewing. Also, fanfiction has been glitching on me some so if you reviewed and your name isn't on here I'm so sorry! I know someone on one of my other fics told me that was the case.