This is the second to last chapter. Don't worry, there will be a sequel! I'm even going to write up a quick summary of THIS story so people don't have to read it to understand the second story. PLEASE REVIEW! Thanks for all the views, and to those who keep coming back!

I need to think of a title for the sequel...

CHAPTER 24 - Green & Yellow

It was a boy. Sherlock wasn't surprised at all, and didn't show much emotion as his friends gushed their congratulations to Tabitha. He smiled when no one was looking, though. When they were alone, the sex was passionate and sensual. Sherlock would take the time to nuzzle and murmur towards her stomach. Tabitha teased him about being sentimental, but he just smirked and commented on how it was a positively researched topic to speak and read to a child in the womb.

Moran was in custody, and would be put away for a very long time. All the allies he thought he had now wanted nothing to do with him. The thought that Jim and his friends never really wanted him made him more mad then he was before.

The months passed, and Tabitha had a relatively easy pregnancy. The usual aches, pains, and cravings were there, and Dr. Williams seemed to be extremely happy with the results each month. Molly, Mary, and Tabitha made it their job to turn John's old room into a nursery. They had painted the walls a grassy green, and painted swirls and hearts and other shapes with white paint to make it more interesting. They put in a crib, dresser, and changing table set that was dark wood.

Sherlock picked the set out himself, stating that he needed to make sure it was the best they could afford. Tabitha had cornered him after he had surprised her with the set in the bedroom, and got him to admit with an embarrassed sigh that he liked the look of the dark wood for the nursery. Mrs. Hudson made it her job to help Tabitha stock up on supplies – bottles, diapers, wipes, clothing, a car seat.

She insisted that Tabitha and Sherlock take over the title and registration of her own vehicle. Tabitha was grateful, knowing it would make it so much easier for running errands than taking a cab. Sherlock, on the other hand, fought against it, saying that there was nothing wrong with taking a cab. Tabitha ignored him, and he had pouted for a whole day over losing the argument.

John and Mary seemed to have the perfect life together, except the few times Sherlock had appeared in the middle of the night to drag him away on a case. After the third time, the women watched as their respective partners shouted and argued about the predicament. Sherlock still pouted and grumbled about not having John as much as before, but the argument was finished. Sherlock was learning how to send a text instead of bursting in the door, although John still dragged himself out of bed in the middle of the night for a case.

It annoyed Mary, but when she saw John's excited and curious look as he rushed out, she couldn't help but be proud of her boyfriend. He was a hero, helping authorities catch bad guys, and now getting paid for it.

Molly would help spend time with Tabitha and/or Mary when she had time, although Victor and she were becoming more serious. Sherlock had decided to go to him more often now that John was busy with his job at the hospital and being with Mary. His friend appreciated the fact that he didn't have to be at Sherlock's beck and call anymore, although he obviously missed it every now and then.

The Doctor visited a few times, popping into say hello. Most of the time he joined Mycroft for a briefing on any alien sightings. Sometimes he saved the world, sometimes he just consulted information. There was something off about him, everyone noticed, but he never shared his inner thoughts. He was as silly and energetic as always!

A few weeks before Tabitha's due date, Molly and Mary decided to have a baby shower. Sherlock refused to have it in their flat, so they took it over to Molly's small house. She was still living alone, although Victor had begun to hint at moving in together. Tabitha laughed and got teary-eyed at the two woman who met her at the door. The room was decorated in green and yellow streamers and balloons.

"You look marvelous!" Molly exclaimed, giving her a hug. Tabitha chuckled and looked down at her attire. She'd thrown on a cotton maternity dress that was strapless and reached her ankles. She had on a pair of black flip-flops because her feet were constantly swelling up.

"Thanks. You do, too," she replied as Mary took her turn to hug her. Molly had her hair up in a pretty pony-tail, with jeans and a filmy white shirt over a pink tank top and trainers on her feet. Mary had on a black sundress with her short hair down, and brown wedged heels.

The small get together was simple and relaxing, with healthy appetizers, some lovely cupcakes with green and yellow icing, and bouncing around name ideas. Most of the time they would try to imitate Sherlock, John, or Victor and their opinions on the name.

"I know John keeps suggesting Hamish, but that is a horrible name!" Tabitha cried, sipping at her glass of lemonade. Mary and Molly hummed their agreement as the nibbled and drank their snacks. "It makes me think of a pork dish."

That comment made Molly choke on her lemonade with laughter. Mary had to smack her on the back, and the women fell into giggles again. They continued to throw out names, but stopped when there was a knock on the door.

"Were you expecting anyone else?'

"Not at all," Molly said with her brows furrowed. The other two women stayed seated on the couch while Molly opened the door.

"I am so sorry I'm late!"

Tabitha and the other woman stared wide-eyed at the Doctor. He was decked out in his usual outfit, but his bowtie was yellow and green stripped, and his braces matched. He had a huge green and yellow wrapped box in his arms, which made it hard to see his face, unless he peaked around it, like he was doing now. Molly stepped aside and let him in. Tabitha and Mary shrugged and chuckled, a bit surprised, and eyed the gift.

"You dressed for the occasion!" Mary pointed out, leading him to the kitchen table to set the gift down. He spun around with flair and spread his arms out.

"Of course! It's a baby Holmes!"

"Of course!" Tabitha repeated with a smile. "What's in the box?"

"Open it and find out. Clara helped me pick out the gift!"

00000000000000000000000000

Sherlock and John were in the lab above the morgue with Victor when Lestrade walked through the door, his hair wet from the light shower of rain outside. Sherlock looked up from the microscope he was using, and instantly deduced what was happening. Victor and John were talking about something or other across the table from him.

"Body found. Male. 56. Stabbed through the heart. The murderer carved letters all over his body." Lestrade looked tired. The case had just came in, and he was already wanting to give up with confusion. "The body is a few hours old. It happened in broad daylight and no one saw a thing."

"This one sounds interesting," Sherlock said with a smirk as he pulled his coat off the table. He slipped it over his suit jacket and white button-up shirt, motioning for John to follow him. John tugged his green coat jacket over his plaid shirt.

"Victor, be ready for the body when it comes in."

"What? I'm not a –"

"Molly isn't here, so I need you." Sherlock left without looking back. John shrugged apologetically and rushed after him. Lestrade sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Welcome to the team," he replied grimly as he walked out the door himself.

"Right," Victor murmured, running a hand through his thick, buzzed hair. He through his lab coat over his dark blue t-shirt and faded jeans. At 27, he was actually younger than Molly by a few years, but that never seemed an issue with her. He smiled as he made his way to the morgue to prep for the body. They had been dating for the last six months, and he was going to the jewelers next week to pick up a ring.

000000000000000000000000000

"There doesn't seem to be any pattern," John murmured as he crouched down besides Sherlock. They were under a bridge along the shore of the river, with the man nakedly laying on his stomach, face deep in the sand.

"There has to be one," Sherlock replied, his attention completely focused on the letters and numbers spread over the body. Lestrade watched over them while the rest of his men stayed back. Anderson was at the front of the group, watching with his arms over his chest. The last few months there had been a quiet truce between Sherlock and him – mostly because Anderson's relationship with Donovan had become public and straight-laced. Both of them owed Tabitha for giving them the push they needed to make that step.

"The murderer watched him as he died from the stabbing in his heart, then made the effort to carve this letters and numbers onto his body."

"Obviously," Sherlock replied for the sake of acknowledgment. John sent him a glare, then stood up straight. Sherlock followed suit, sticking his hands in his coat jacket as he strolled around the body and John.

"And this means…?" John asked, waiting for Sherlock to explain.

"It's a message. She carved consonants out of order and odd numbers up to 91. Every seventh carving is a prime number out of order." Sherlock pointed it out to John, who raised his eyebrow.

"Wait, how do you know it's a woman?"

"What do you see, John?"

"We've been over this, just tell me."

"John!"

"Fine!" John growled, squinting his eyes to focus on the body. He studied what he could see for a few moments, and then hummed in realization. "There is glitter in most of the carvings. Damn, I should have seen that. That doesn't mean the murderer was a woman!"

"You should have, and no, technically it doesn't, but the statistics of it being a woman is a bit higher. I bet there is female DNA in some of his defensive wounds."

"So, this is for revenge?"

"Most likely," Sherlock answered with a twinge of disappointment. "This isn't nearly as interesting as I thought." John rolled his eyes as they wondered over to Lestrade to give them their findings. "I suspect there may be evidence of adultery with this one," Sherlock added. "Let's look into the mistress."

0000000000000000

Victor was leaning against the desk at the end of the morgue when John and Sherlock stepped in. He immediately straightened and let out a greeting. John replied, but Sherlock went straight to their latest victim laying on the slab.

"I've gotten samples of the glitter, they are running now, and there was some DNA evidence of sexual intercourse around the time of death." John furrowed his brows at that.

"Let me know when you're done processing the body." Sherlock spun on his heel to walk toward the door. John followed him. As they walked down the corridor to get to the street, Sherlock saw John out of the corner of his eye about to say something. "What is it?"

"You're going to be a father in a few weeks."

"Yes. And?" John put out a hand to stop his friend, and they turned to face one another. Sherlock watched John's face, interested in what he had to say. John sighed in frustration and put his hands in his pockets.

"I won't be around to help you with this."

"What do you mean? Tabitha and I are all prepared. We have everything that we need to take care of a newborn." Sherlock made a move to continue walking, but John caught his arm.

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it. I'm one of the few people who know for a fact that you feel things, that you feel things specific to only Tabitha. It's been nine months, and you're still trying to hide whatever sentiment pops up." Sherlock's jaw clenched, but he stood still as he waited for John to continue. John's tone quieted a bit. "You can't do that with a child. A child thrives and learns from the people they are around. You need to show the baby more than just facts and statistics."

John and Sherlock stared at one another for a long moment. John expected Sherlock to stomp off, ignoring the conversation all together, but was pleasantly surprised when his friend's face slipped away from it's cool exterior to a look of frustration and confusion.

"I know that, John," he replied with an unsatisfied voice. "Logically, I understand that. I just don't understand how to do it! With you, and Tabitha for that matter, I don't have to watch what I say, or think about other people. It just comes naturally. What if it doesn't come naturally for my child?" Sherlock looked away from John into the distance, a thoughtful and irritated look on his face.

John had to replay the words that Sherlock had just thrown at him. His friend, the king of ignoring everything but himself was worried about how to be emotional with his son. It took a while for John to think of something to say.

"How do you know it won't?"

"Seriously, John, have you seen me with children?"

"Well, no. The last time was really three years ago when the little girl screamed at you."

"Exactly."

"I'm not sure what that has to do with you being emotional with your son."

Sherlock gulped at the word John had just said.

"What if he doesn't like me?" It was let out in a quiet whispered. John was about to say something sympathetic, but Sherlock turned at that moment and began pounding the pavement furiously to the edge of the sidewalk. He called a cab, and John knew this conversation was finished for now.