It was Thursday night and the baby kept crying, making Molly get up again, but this one was an all-nighter. Trying not to lose his patience, Sherlock was trying to block out the crying by burying his head under the pillow or go to his Mind Palace, but the crying just echoed through his brain. On and off with the crying, it finally ended at two in the morning.
In the morning, the baby was sleeping, making up for his night of shrieking and Sherlock hated him even more. Hopefully tomorrow he'll find the mother. At nine in the morning, there was a knock on the door, and Molly quickly opened it before the baby could cry as Sherlock was in the kitchen working on his experiment.
"Hello, Mol- Oh. A baby. I never knew you were- Um…"
Sherlock sighed with annoyance.
He knew that voice anywhere.
Heaving himself to his feet, he headed for the living room as Molly was explaining to his older brother about the orphan. "We may find the mother tomorrow night," he simply explained.
Mycroft looked at his little brother with amusement. "Oh, yes. That's right. I saw the blog. Family Ties as it's called." He glanced at the sleeping baby on the couch, then back to the detective. "Thank God. I'm not ready to be an uncle and I can't imagine you being a father."
Sherlock gave a snort. "Hardly." That was the last thing he wanted to be. "What do you want, Mycroft?"
"Actually, Sherlock, I came to talk to you about something." There was a strangeness in his eyes.
Sherlock gave a small dip of the head and lead his brother to the kitchen. "What is it?" He asked in a hushed voice, knowing that something was wrong.
"Someone wants your head," Myroft coldly answered.
That amused the detective. "Who is it?"
"Before I get to that-" he glanced at the brain that was sitting in the bowl on the table beside him. "Honestly," he scoffed with disgust.
"Ex-"
"Experiment. I know." He turned his attention back to his little brother. "I got a text last night saying that you'll end up in a morgue."
The detective waved it off. "Some bluff." He was about to walk back to the living room.
"It said that there will be death, Sherlock. And your death will be the first."
Those words stopped him in his tracks.
That caught his attention.
He spun on his heel and faced his brother. "Do you have the text?"
Mycroft pulled out the phone from the pocket of his grey slacks, flipped through his phone, then handed the detective the cell phone with the message on the screen.
Sherlock took the phone and read the text:
Tell your brother that there will be death, starting with his. I want to let him know...
He was taken aback. "Simple as that? Really?" He handed the phone back to his brother. "Did you locate the source?"
"Yes and no," Mycroft sighed as he stuffed his phone back into his pocket. "We later found out the phone was destroyed including the data card."
"Damn," he hissed, looking away in with annoyance.
"At least we don't have to worry about people dying, until you do." There was a faint smile on his face.
"Good," Sherlock muttered as he turned away to walk out. "Because I already have a challenging case and I want that infant gone!"
"Rough night?" His brother mused.
"He kept crying all night long," he growled. He wouldn't be surprised if Molly was going to take a nap today. He wasn't because he didn't have time for that will his experiment and watching the offspring. When he and Molly were out and about, Mrs. Hudson would babysit… Thank God.
"Not ready for fatherhood yet, I see."
"Never," the detective grumbled. The thought made him disgusted.
"Good luck finding the mother, Sherlock." Mycroft chuckled as he walked out and began to say his good-byes to Molly, then left. There was doubt in his voice, but Mycroft knew better than to doubt him. His older brother cared more about his little brother than anyone thinks and that was proven to Sherlock when he was spared after killing Magnussen.
When he walked out to Molly, there was concern in her brown eyes. "Is everything alright?"
"Of course," he confidently answered, knowing that it was true. It was just a threat. So far, at least.
"Normally when your brother pulls you aside there's something wrong." The worry still lingered in her eyes.
He chuckled amusingly as he approached her and kissed her head. "No need to worry, Molly." When he walked back to the kitchen, he didn't notice the concern that was still on her face.
During the day, Sherlock was ready to hear from Mycroft in case he heard anything from the killer-to-be and, of course, his brother contact him, which he was fine with. At noon, Molly took a nap, leaving Sherlock with a baby that was still sleeping. At least he's sleeping, he thought to himself, staring at the baby that was bundled in the same blanket that his mother left him on the couch. He glanced at the photo of the woman on the wall. "Hopefully we'll get you to your mother tomorrow." He sat in his chair, reading his book, keeping an eye on the child just in case of anything.
Hours past and the child was still sound asleep and Molly had woken up. "Good thing it's my day off today," she tiredly grumbled as she walked in the living room.
"Yes," he agreed as he was reading a book in his chair. So far he had yet to be alone looking after the child because he simply wanted to avoid it.
She kissed his head. "I'm going to make tea. Want any?"
"Why not?" He asked, closing the book and followed her. "Tomorrow we may get the child to his mother."
She smiled at him over her shoulder as she was getting the water boiled. "I know. Hopefully she'll be happy."
He knew Molly wouldn't mind being a mother, but he on the other hand was a complete different story. Hopefully she wasn't growing a connection with a child that wasn't hers.