A/N: Here's a new update! Hope you enjoy! Remember, reviews feed my muse! Thanks so much to those faithful readers (you know who you are) who keep me motivated. It's so nice to have a cheering section!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel.

"Just do it, already," Molly scolded herself as she stood in the bathroom stall clutching the small box.

"What was that?" Mary called from where she was perched in the lounge area of the ladies' room at Mothercare. "I think this pregnancy is affecting my hearing. I can't seem to hear John anymore either."

"You're just being selective," Molly mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing." She took a deep breath and sat down on the toilet, clutching the small stick in her hand. She had to do it. She had to do something. The suspense was killing her. She'd almost done the long version at work earlier, but just as she'd gotten the gumption to do it, Sherlock had come in. And he would definitely want to know why she was running a urinalysis. She didn't usually do those. Unless of course she was checking up on him at John's urging. And whatever this was, she didn't want to tell Sherlock about it just yet. She looked down at the test stick once more and sighed. She wanted to know, but then she was also terrified to know. What if she was…pregnant? Uggh… just the word incited a horror like nothing she'd ever known. Pregnant. With Sherlock's baby? She giggled a little, unable to hold it inside.

"Are you okay, Mols?"

"Yeah. I'm good." And what if she wasn't pregnant? What sort of ailment would cause her to be sick as a dog in the mornings, make everything (including her boyfriend) smell like ass, make her violently irritable and, the coup de gras, three weeks late with her period. Okay, Hooper, she said to herself. It's now or never. If you don't hurry up, Mary's going to burst in. She read the directions, slightly horrified by what she would have to do. "How am I supposed to aim my urine stream?" she muttered.

Five minutes later, Molly emerged from the stall. Zombiefied. She clutched the test stick in her hand, holding it out in front of her like Excalibur. "Molly? Are you okay? What's the matter?" Mary started to her feet, chuckling as her belly shifted her center of gravity, pushing her back into the chair.

"I'm… uhm… I…" She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind Mary. She looked as if she'd just seen a ghost. Finally she decided it was best just to show and shoved the test into Mary's hand. "Just… look."

"What the bloody—" She stopped, looking down at the stick and it's accusing red plus sign. "Oh my God! Molly! This is… This means…"

"Yes. Yes I know." Molly sank into the nearest chair before she fell into it. Her head felt light and floaty. In a moment she would either faint or throw up again. Perhaps both simultaneously.

Mary rushed her and flung her arms around her shoulders. "This is wonderful, Mols!"

"It is?"

"Of course it is, silly girl! Just think… you and Sherlock with a baby! Besides, you already have Gabriel. What's one more?"

"Are you insane? Gabe can walk, talk and use the toilet by himself! He'll complain if Sherlock forgets to feed him. He sleeps through the night! Babies don't do any of that stuff for themselves! We aren't even married!" Molly hid her face in her hands, trying very hard not to cry. She could hear her mother's voice screaming in her head. Something that sounded suspiciously like "Why would he buy the cow if he's getting the milk for free?"

"What difference does that make?"

"People are supposed to be married before they have kids aren't they?" Molly asked miserably.

"Well… sometimes, I suppose. But you don't have to. I mean, you've been living together for almost a year now."

"Because the lease was running out on my flat and I had to move somewhere."

"You could have renewed the lease."

"My landlord was a pig! The one time Sherlock met him, he deduced that he was breaking into my flat while I was at work and trying on my underwear!" Mary wrinkled her nose in disgust. "And besides, the rent was doubling."

"It doesn't matter. When your lease was running out, Sherlock asked you to move in. I think that's a pretty good sign of commitment."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "John lived there for years."

"Exactly. Do you know two people in a more committed relationship than Sherlock and John?" They stared at one another a moment before dissolving in girlish giggles. "And you never know, maybe the news will shock him into proposing."

"Or an aneurysm."

OoOoOo

"I thought John and Mary were meeting us for dinner," Sherlock said as they sat down at their usual table at Angelo's.

"Mary wasn't feeling well, so they decided to stay in. I was going to call Mrs. Hudson and Gabriel to meet us too, but I think Katie was with them. Besides, I uhm… I had something I needed to talk to you about." Molly chewed on her lip, not wanting to look him in the eye. She knew if she did, that he would know what she was going to say. If he hadn't figured it out already. Since they'd been living together, Sherlock had tried to keep unwanted deductions to himself. It didn't always work. Sometimes he slipped. Of course it was worse with Gabriel too. Sometimes she got the feeling that the two of them were conspiring against her.

"Oh?" he asked, looking over the menu. "What's that?"

"Uhm… well… I…"

"Don't stammer, Molly," he replied absently, laying the menu aside and staring at her with those bottomless blue eyes. "You're much more attractive when you assert yourself."

"I know…but… it's just that…I'm very nervous about telling you this. I mean, you know how you are."

"That's ridiculous. Why should you be nervous to tell me anything, Molly?"

Molly gave a bitter chuckle. "Really? Did you really just say that to me?"

"Well it's just silly."

"Remember last summer? The experiment that fell out the window? Or the time Gabriel and Katie popped popcorn in the electric wok all over the lounge? Or maybe when Mrs. Hudson lost that case file on the Greenwich Strangler?"

"She burned it up in the microwave!"

"You shouted so loud that you cracked the walls!" Molly exclaimed.

"Exaggeration," Sherlock replied, turning and giving their order to Angelo. "Anyway, go ahead and spit out whatever it is. Watching you tremble and stutter is physically painful." He leaned forward and rested his chin on the heel of his hand, his eyes boring into her. "You have my undivided attention."

Molly sighed and pushed her hair back, trying to relax. She wasn't sure why this was so difficult. This is Sherlock. The man who had been her friend for years before they started sleeping together. The same man whose death she'd helped fake. The same one she'd showered with this very morning. She trusted him implicitly, so why was this so daunting? "Well…" Oh dear God… what if he was angry? What if he walked out on her right here? What if he didn't believe it was his? Suddenly Molly had visions of being on one of those horrible daytime chat shows that the nurses watched on their breaks. Sherlock Holmes, you are NOT the father! "First, you have to promise not to get angry."

He sighed. "You know how I hate making that promise. Usually when people say 'don't get angry' it's something very hard not to get angry about."

"Well… just…" she looked away and chewed on her lip a little more. She took a generous gulp of the wine in front of her. Fuck. I'm not supposed to drink, she thought. "Sherlock," she began. "Have you ever thought about…"

"A candle for a romantic—" Angelo interrupted. Molly grabbed his candle and threw it away. He stared down at her in disbelief, but followed the candle that was now slowly rolling across the dining room.

"Molly! That was a bit rude!" Sherlock said.

"There's the pot calling the kettle black," she mumbled. "Anyway…"

"You can't just throw flaming candles across crowded restaurants."

"Sherlock—"

"I mean Angelo's a loyal friend, but I don't think he'd be too keen if my girlfriend burned down his restaurant…"

"Sherlock-"

"Not to mention if you'd hit someone with it."

"Sherlock, I'm pregnant."

"Can you imagine the headlines? Long Suffering Pathologist Finally Snaps in Trattoria—" He stopped, his brain visibly catching up to her statement. "Wait. What?"

"I'm pregnant. With a baby. Yours."

Sherlock was paralyzed. For several minutes he just sat there, staring into space, not moving or speaking. People passed by, the waitress brought the food, even a traveling violinist swept past them, but still Sherlock was like a stone. Molly studied his face, looking for some sign that he had processed her words, but finding none. Perhaps this was one of those times when he thought he was talking, but no words were coming out. "Uhm… Sherlock?" she started. "Hello? Are you there?"

"So… what you're saying is… you're… pregnant?"

"Yes."

"With my child?"

"Yes."

"Hmm." He started to say more, his mouth open. Then he stopped. "How? I mean… how?"

Molly nearly laughed. "Well… sometimes when a boy and a girl really love one another…" she began.

"Cute," he said. "I mean, I know how it happened. I just don't know… I mean, weren't you on those pills?"

"Remember when I had that sinus infection a while ago? The antibiotics… I forgot that they can make the birth control ineffective for a while… that must be when…" Molly sighed and looked down at the plate of pasta in front of her. The smell was nauseating and she pushed it away. "Anyway, there's nothing I can do about it now. What's done is done." She looked up at him, her eyes pleading with him to not be angry.

Sherlock stood up, buttoning his jacket. Molly's heart sank. Here it is. He's going to run. She'd get back to Baker Street to find her stuff sitting on the stairs. She stood up to face him. "Sherlock…" She didn't have time to finish. Grabbing her hip, he pulled her against him, hugging her tightly and burying his face in her hair. "Oh… wow… you aren't…?"

"Of course not," he whispered, kissing the space just behind her ear. "Of course not, silly woman." He pulled back, looking into her eyes as both of them began to laugh.