On the sixth day of Sherlockmas: Caught Up In A Great Game, for Doctor WTF (2/3)
Author: scandalbaby
Title: Caught Up In A Great Game (2/3)
A gift for: Doctor WTF
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Irene Adler, Henry Knight, Greg Lestrade
Category: Het/Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: How different things would have been if Moriarty took the same interest in Molly that he took in Sherlock, and Sherlock had decided he didn't want her blood on his hands.
Author's Notes: So my prompter gave me what is alternately the best prompt ever and the worst prompt ever: write whatever you feel like writing. What I ended up writing was a rewrite of "The Great Game" and all of season 2 with the slant that Molly gets pulled into Moriarty's game with Sherlock as one of the obvious targets of it. I had so much fun with this one, I really did. It practically wrote itself.
"Why on earth did I agree to quit smoking?" Sherlock groused two months later, pacing around the room in his pajamas and dressing gown.
"Because I asked you to," Molly said exasperatedly. He knew she had been watching him pace, and he was fairly sure she was regretting ever getting him to agree to what she wanted. Lately she had been easily irritated and he had found himself wondering what had changed. She put her head in her hands. "I'm about to hurt you if you don't stop pacing."
"Why are you so easily irritated lately?" he asked, stopping in front of her.
"I don't know!" she snapped, lifting her head up and glaring at him. Then she sighed and her glare softened. "Sorry. Everything's just getting on my nerves lately. Stress, I suppose."
"It could be," he said with a nod. They had all made no further progress on what Moriarty had planned for them, and while he knew Molly was comfortable in his home, that she liked being there, he knew she would very much like her freedom back. But he knew the minute that happened Moriarty would make his move. That was the only thing he could anticipate with any degree of certainty. He sat down on the sofa next to her. "John says the cravings will ebb soon. If I could just get a case that would help."
"Greg doesn't have anything?"
"He is on vacation," Sherlock said with a shake of his head. "I would ask his subordinate but Sally Donovan hates me. She wouldn't willingly help."
"John will be back soon. You can ask him to check his blog." She stood up, her face slightly green. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"The stomach flu still?" he asked. The last few days she would get hit with a wave of nausea at random moments, but she brushed it off as a stomach bug. He was getting concerned, though. It had been four days, and he had thought it would be out of her system by now. He watched her nod, then place a hand over her mouth and bolt to the nearest washroom. He stayed on the sofa. She did not like it if he tried to go into the bathroom while she was retching, even just to make sure she was okay. When she came back out he would ask.
The door opened and he heard John come up. "John, please tell me we have a case," he called over, flopping onto the couch.
"No, no case," he said as he came into the sitting room. "Where's Molly?"
"Washroom," he said.
"Again? How many times has she vomited the last few days?"
"I've lost count. At least twice a day, if not more," he said. "It must be a supremely bad stomach flu."
John was quiet for a moment. "Or she could be pregnant," he said.
Sherlock looked at him sharply. "Pregnant?"
"Even if you were careful it could happen," he said. "Accidental and all, but it would explain the nausea and the mood swings, the way she's been irritated so often lately."
"It's too soon," he said, panicking slightly. "We haven't been together long."
"Well, the first thing to do is find out. If she is, make plans. If she isn't, make sure it doesn't happen until you're ready."
"If we're ever ready," he said quietly.
"Have you even discussed anything like that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
"No, not yet," he said. "I hadn't even considered it might be in the realm of possibilities so soon. I do know she wants children, though. She has said that."
"Who said what?" Molly asked as she emerged from the general direction of the washroom, a washcloth to her mouth. John and Sherlock looked at each other. It seemed as though they were having a silent conversation with glances and head movements, and then Molly started looking irritated. She crossed her arms. "Spit it out, Sherlock," she said with a glare.
Finally Sherlock sighed. "John suspects you might be pregnant."
She was quiet. "I could be. We didn't take precautions the first time."
"Do you want to be?" Sherlock asked. "What I mean is, is this too soon for you, if you are?"
"It would be a bit of a shock, but if I am it's fine," she said. "I mean, things will change and we'll need to talk, but if I actually am pregnant I suppose there are worse things than carrying your child."
"Such as?" John asked.
"Carrying yours," she said with a slight grin.
John smiled widely and shook his head. "That was a low blow, Molly."
"It was said with love," she replied, moving over to him and giving him a hug. "I'll go pop over to the hospital and find out. My friend in the OB/GYN area of the hospital can find out all the specifics if I am with blood work and urine."
"You are taking it really well," John said.
"Probably because I did all my panicking about it yesterday," she said with a shrug. "Everyone else who had the stomach flu had it one day, two at most. When I was still vomiting all the time yesterday I had the sinking suspicion it might be because I was pregnant. I just didn't know how to bring it up." She looked over at Sherlock. "How would you feel if I was?"
"I am not quite sure," he admitted. "I still feel it's too soon, but I would not ask you to get rid of the pregnancy or anything like that. I would remain with you and we would take care of the child together."
"At least you're honest," Molly said. "I was terrified yesterday that you'd abandon me."
Sherlock stood up and went over to her, framing her face in his hands. "I wouldn't abandon you over this."
"Good." She put her hands over his for a moment, then pulled them away from her face. Then she leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'm going to change and then head to the hospital. Do you want to come with me?"
He nodded. "I would." Just then the doorbell rang. He looked at John. "Heavy press."
"Lasted for about thirty seconds," John said. "Client?"
"Client," Sherlock said with a nod. Then he turned back to Molly. "Can we go later?"
"I can just call you once I know," she said with a smile. "Go see if it's a client so I don't kill you in your sleep because you're driving me bonkers."
He grinned back and kissed her again. He could hear John give him an exasperated sign. "I guess I'll go see if we have a client," he said in a slight huff, getting up. Sherlock ignored him until Molly pulled away. Molly gave him one last smile and then headed towards Sherlock's bedroom, which they were now sharing. Sherlock still had a faint smile on his lips when he heard two pairs of feet coming up the steps. He dropped the smile when they came into the sitting room. "Sherlock, this is Henry Knight," he said.
"I'm glad you're here, Mr. Holmes," Henry said, coming over and extending his hand. "I hope you can help me."
The overwhelming aroma of smoked cigarettes emanating off Henry hit off a sudden craving in Sherlock, and he tried to clamp it down. "I will see how much assistance I can offer," he said as he shook Henry's hand. "What type of case do you have?"
"My father was killed by a hound in the moors years ago," he said. "I went back to Dartmoor last week and last night I went back to where he died. I swear I saw it. No one believes me, though. I want to find out once and for all what killed my father and how it got there." He reached into a pocket and held up a DVD. "I think it has something to do with Baskerville."
"The military base run by the government?" John asked, surprised. "What would they know about a hound?"
"It's a testing facility," Sherlock murmured, leaning in to pluck the DVD from Henry's fingers. He took a strong sniff of him as he did. "Would you like to have a smoke?"
"Sherlock, that probably isn't a good idea," John said. "Just because you can't have one doesn't mean you should tempt yourself with one. And then there's Molly."
Sherlock waved his hand. "If you will not let me have a cigarette at least let me inhale cigarette smoke," he said.
"Molly will skin you alive. Especially if she really is...you know."
"It will calm Mr. Knight here down. You are not altogether calm right now, are you?" Sherlock asked.
"Not really, no," he said.
"See? It will put him at ease." He led Henry to a chair and nearly pushed him down into it. "Go ahead and smoke."
Henry glanced over at John for a moment, who shrugged, and then gave an uneasy glance to Sherlock. "If you say so." He pulled out a pack and a lighter, and then lit one of the cigarettes, inhaling deeply. As he exhaled Sherlock squatted down next to him, inhaling the smoke through his nose. Henry gave him a strange look but took another puff off his cigarette, then a third.
Sherlock could dimly hear the bedroom door fling open and then the washroom door slam shut. He turned his attention away from Henry. Surely Molly could not have smelled that little bit of cigarette smoke, could she? He looked at Henry with a sigh, then went for one of his old ashtrays. "Put it out," he said quietly.
"I thought it was okay to smoke," he said, dutifully putting the cigarette out.
"Oh, you're not going to hear the end of this," John said with a smirk. "As soon as she gets out you should prepare yourself for some well deserved vitriol."
"It won't be that bad, will it?" Sherlock asked uncertainly.
"Yes, Sherlock, it will be that bad." Sherlock actually got nervous at those words. "Whatever good mood she left in will be gone now that she's gone to the washroom and had dry heaves."
"Damn," he muttered. He turned to the hallway and within a few minutes Molly stalked out, still wearing the bottom half of her pajamas, and she was absolutely livid. "Molly--" he began, but she held up a hand and he remained quiet.
"You promised me you would quit, Sherlock," she said, advancing on him. "You promised me because I told you every medical reason why it was a bad idea to smoke. I showed you statistics and pictures and I even made you watch an autopsy of a chronic smoker who died of lung cancer. You said you'd stop. But no. You couldn't even wait until I'd left the home before you snuck one."
"Uh..." Henry said as she got closer to Sherlock.
"Molly," Sherlock said, but she glared so he stopped.
"The smell of cigarettes sets off my nausea. I probably bloody well have morning sickness. The last few days have been exceedingly unpleasant. And you don't care enough to not have a smoke. So if you want to smoke, smoke. I don't bloody well care. But fully expect to be sleeping alone for a very long time, and if I am pregnant? This will be your only child because you're never touching me again."
"Um, Molly?" John interjected.
"What?" she snapped, turning to John.
John point to Henry, who held up the ashtray he'd been holding. Molly looked at it. "Our client was the one smoking. He appeared to need a cigarette to calm his nerves."
"So it wasn't you?" Molly asked as she turned to Sherlock, confused.
"That's what I was trying to tell you," he said.
"Oh," she said, and then she got a sheepish look on her face. "I'm so sorry. I just...you were craving one...and then I smelled it and I had dry heaves and...I'm sorry."
"Forgiven," he said, reaching over to tip her face up to look at him. "I'm starting to think the likelihood that you are indeed pregnant is very high."
"I really have been having mood swings, haven't I?" she asked with a frown.
"Yes, you have. But I will love you regardless," he said, and watched as she smiled. "I will air out the flat before you get home if you will allow Mr. Knight to finish his cigarette."
"Oh, sure. I just need to finish changing and then when I go he can smoke, all right?" Then she moved away from Sherlock and turned to Henry. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. Generally I'm very nice. I'm Molly, by the way." With that, she offered her hand to him.
He switched the hand holding the ashtray and shook it. "Henry Knight," he said.
"Pleasure to meet you." She gave him a wide smile. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be out of here."
"John, go with her," Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow slightly, and Sherlock came over to him. "If she is indeed pregnant that makes her a bigger target than before," he said, his voice just slightly above a whisper. "If Moriarty has eyes and ears anywhere for her it would be at the hospital. If a pregnancy is confirmed we should assume he will know almost immediately."
"All right," John said with a nod. "I'll go with her. Can you handle the client all on your own?"
"I can manage," Sherlock said with a nod. "Keep her safe. Please," he added in a slightly pleading voice. "I do not want anything to happen to her, especially now."
"I'll keep her safe."
"Is your wife really pregnant?" Henry asked.
"She's not my wife. She's my girlfriend. And we're fairly certain she is. Why?"
"I just feel so sorry for you right now," he replied. "I think her pregnancy is going to be hell for you."
Sherlock shrugged slightly. "It is only a temporary problem. And I will do my best to appease her moods. When she has had the child she will go back to her normal state and then we will be back to how we had been."
"Well, best of luck to you." He watched as Sherlock went to the DVD player and then he looked over at John. "Is there any chance I could get a cuppa?" he asked.
John nodded. "I can make a pot up real fast for you and Sherlock," he replied. John busied himself with the tea, and when Molly came back out, fully dressed this time, she went to the cupboards and pulled out a package of chocolate biscuits and some saltines. She put the biscuits on a plate and set them on the tea tray and then started nibbling on the saltines. When John was finished he set the tea pot on the tray along with two cups, and then he brought it out to the table. "Sherlock?" he said, looking at his friend.
"What?" he asked, not looking away from the screen.
"The tea is ready, and Molly and I are about to leave. Just thought you should know."
"Very well," he said with a wave of his hand.
"Do you want me to call you when I know for sure?" Molly asked, coming over to him.
"You may call or text, whichever is easier."
Molly shook her head, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll call, only because I'll want to start making plans."
"Very well. John, take care of her."
Molly rolled her eyes. "I might be pregnant, Sherlock. I'm not suddenly an invalid."
He paused the DVD and looked at her. "When Moriarty finds out, and he will, you will be in even more danger," he said quietly, low enough for only her to hear him clearly. "I do not want to lose you or the child if you are indeed pregnant."
"I understand," she said before leaning in again and kissing him on the lips. She kept the kiss soft and pulled away much too soon for his taste. She smiled at him. "If it makes you feel better, I hope I am. I think you would be a good father. You'd make sure our child was safe."
A sense of pride hit him at her words, She thought him worthy of raising a child with her. That meant more to him than she realized. "I love you, Molly."
"I love you too, Sherlock," she said as her grin widened. "I promise, we'll be careful." Then she left him and headed out of the flat, John right behind her.
He went back to the DVD, watching right up to Henry's part. Then he paused it again and rejoined Henry, who had poured himself a cup of tea. He made his own cup of tea and sat down in front of him. "I didn't hear you watch my interview," he said.
"I prefer to do my own interviews," he said. "You used the word hound when you described the beast that killed your father. Why?"
"I'm not sure. It was a big beast, I know that much. My dad was under him as I ran away. And then there was no trace of him or the hound. No one would believe me."
"Interesting," Sherlock said before taking a sip of his tea. "What did you see last night?"
"I went back to where he had died, and there I saw the hound. It was like it was waiting for fresh prey. It had red glowing eyes and looked as though it would attack me if I so much as breathed. I turned and ran, afraid it would come after me. I ran for my life and I escaped."
"Do you live in Dartmoor now?" Henry nodded. "How close to the moors?"
"Fairly close."
"Then tomorrow John and I will visit you there. There are other places we will need access to, but I want to see the specific place he was killed at some point. Are you willing to go back there?"
"I suppose," he said as he nodded again.
"Then we will meet you at your home in the afternoon, and we will go to the moors together. For now, finish your cigarette and then go home."
"That's it? That's all there is?" Henry asked, surprised.
"I will learn more once I'm there." He stood up and then went to the desk, picking up a notepad and a pen. Then he brought them both over to Henry. "Write down your address for me."
Henry took the items offered and wrote down his address. "Any idea when I should expect you?"
"Mid afternoon. I want to explore the area a bit first before we meet with you. Get the lay of the land, so to speak."
"Who will be coming?" he asked, handing the pad and the pen back to Sherlock.
"John and I, most likely. For part of my plan there may be an unexpected visit from my brother. We shall see."
"Well, thank you for your help," he said. "Do you want me to finish my cigarette here?"
He thought for a moment. As much as he would love to inhale the smoke, Molly had voiced her obvious displeasure and he wasn't sure he could air out the room well enough. Finally he shook his head. "No. It would be best if you have it once you leave."
"I can leave one with you," he suggested.
Sherlock gave him a faint smile. "Molly would kill me then. No, take the cigarettes with you when you leave and enjoy them on your return trip. As I said, we will be there tomorrow." Then he paused. "May I keep the DVD? I will bring it with me tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure," Henry said with a nod. "See you tomorrow, then." He took another sip of his tea, then got up and left. Sherlock waited for the front door to close, and then he went back to the DVD. He pressed play and watched Henry's interview, and then the rest of it. The more he watched, the more he greatly wanted to get into Baskerville. It seemed as though something there would be the key to it all.
When he was done with the DVD he went back to the tea. He found he was slightly nervous. He debated leaving the home and going to St. Bart's. At the moment he was really regretting not going with Molly. When he was on his third cup of tea his phone rang and he saw it was Molly. He answered it quickly. "Well?"
"I'm two months pregnant," she said. "So the first time we were together is when I got pregnant."
He felt joy at the news. He had never thought about having a child before, having a legacy and passing on the Holmes name to another generation, even after he started dating Molly. Of course, he had never expected to be in a relationship or fall in love with someone, either, so there was that. Now, though, he realized that this could only be a good thing. "I'm glad."
"Are you really?" she asked with uncertainty. "I mean, it's all so sudden and we haven't been together long, just since Christmas. You'll be stuck with me for the rest of your life, even if we don't stay together. We'll always be connected."
"I assure you that I am quite happy with the news," he said. "Do you want to come back home and talk before I have to leave?"
"Leave? Where are you going?"
"Dartmoor, for the case with Mr. Knight."
"Are you sure it's safe to leave me here by myself?" she asked.
He frowned. He had not considered that. If John went with him it would just be her and Mrs. Hudson at the flat, and anyone Moriarty might send to hurt her could easily overpower both of them. "Do you think you can come with me?"
"I can pull some strings, see if I can get some time off. How long do you think you will be on the case?"
"I'm not sure. Three days, maybe four? Can you get that many days off?"
"I'll see what I can do. I have a few associates who would love the extra shifts. I'll ask them before I come home." She paused. "I'm happy, you know. With all of this. I don't know if you really wanted kids, but I did. I mean, I do. And I'm happy it's yours."
"I hadn't thought about it before, but what you said earlier makes me think I would not be a bad father."
"What was that?"
"That I would keep the child safe. I will also do my best to make the two of you happy."
"That's all I can ask for. See you soon, okay?"
"Very well. I'll be here." He hung up then and found himself with a wide grin on his face. It was a shock, it was, but this had probably made him the happiest he had ever been. He would not fail her in being the best father he could be. He owed the both of them that much. And with that he made his way to Mrs. Hudson's part of the house. He knew many were going to be surprised, but it was a very good thing, and he intended to share the good news with those closest to him as soon as possible.
So far, the entire case had been a headache. Yes, he had managed to get into Baskerville using his brother's stolen ID, and gotten out before any red flags were raised, so that was a plus. And he had connected one of the cases John had mentioned from the blog with one of the scientists at Baskerville, so now he had an inkling of what was really going on there, but that had all been before the visit to Dewer's Hollow, the area where Henry's father had been killed. That was before he saw the hound. Very few things scared him, but everywhere he had turned around when he was there he had seen Moriarty's face. Logically he knew the man wasn't there, but the bone deep fear he had had overridden the use of his brain while he was there. There was now so much more he could lose now, so much that Moriarty could rip from his grasp. It had been like being in a waking nightmare, and then seeing the hound had been too much. And then it had all been gone.
They had gone back to the inn at that point, and Sherlock had sat in front of the fire, staring at it. Molly was in their room, doing whatever it was she had planned on doing during their stay. John had left him in peace to think, going to get food. He had not seen it. He had not heard the growl or seen the glowing red eyes, seen Moriarty's face dancing around like a horrible spectre. Now that he was away from the moor he could think clearly again. There had to be a connection somehow. He just had to find it.
John came up to him, carrying a bowl of stew. "Eat this," he said, handing it to Sherlock.
"I don't have an appetite," he said, pushing the bowl away.
John moved it back towards him. "You haven't eaten all day. Eat."
"No."
"Doctor's orders. And I'll get Molly to agree with me."
Sherlock paused in his retort, then closed his mouth and took the bowl. But he did not eat. "Have you ever been so scared you thought you had lost your mind?"
"Once or twice, yeah," John said with a nod. "Why? Are you okay?"
No, he was not okay. He had been scared out of his wits, and he still felt the edge of that fear, threatening to close in on him. "I'm fine. I just have much to think about." He stood up, leaving the bowl on the table. "I think I will call it a night." Then he glanced over and saw Henry's psychiatrist come into the room. "Why don't you try and find out more about Henry from Dr. Mortimer?" he asked. "I will take the stew and go to bed."
"All right," John said with a bit of uncertainty. "I'll see what I can find out." He left Sherlock then, and Sherlock watched him go over to the woman. He hoped he could get answers, because they needed all the ones they could get.
He turned back to the fire for a moment, then picked up the bowl of stew and went to his room. He had no clue if Molly was still awake at this point, but he hoped she was. He needed to talk to someone, and right now John would not suffice. He opened the door to his room and found he was in luck; Molly was in bed, reading a book. She turned when she heard the door open and gave him a smile, one that dimmed considerably when she got a better look at him. "Sherlock? What happened?" She set the book on the nightstand. "How bad was it?"
He took the stew over to her. "For you."
"Thank you," she said, taking the bowl, which she then she set on the nightstand next to her book. "I'll eat it later. Tell me what happened."
"I saw the hound my client had talked about," he said quietly, sitting on the bed next to her. "And I saw him."
"Which him? Moriarty?" she asked. He nodded, and her eyes got wide. "He can't be here. He can't...he can't," she said, panic in her voice.
"No, I think he was a hallucination," he said soothingly, sorry he had said anything. "I think it's all a hallucination. I don't think there's really a hound there."
"Oh," she said quietly.
"I didn't mean to send you into a panic," he said. "I just...I was scared, Molly. More scared than I had been in a very long time."
"I can see how that would scare you," she said, moving one of her hands over his and grasping it tightly. "He scares me too. More so now."
"He can take it all away. Snuff out your life, our child's...he can take it all away and there is no way I can stop him. I do not know what his plans are. I cannot fathom his next move. I can only guess it will be directed at you, and even then I am not sure."
"You'll stop him. I have faith in you." She let go of his hand and pulled him into an embrace. He shifted his position and held her close. This was more comforting than words and concern from John. He felt the fear begin to seep out of his bones, replaced with a comfort he knew only she could give. When they pulled apart he let his hand drift down to her abdomen. She chuckled slightly. "It will be a long while until she kicks."
"She?" he asked, looking down at her abdomen.
"I am hoping it's a girl. I mean, I'll be happy with a boy as well, but I've always wanted a little girl." She placed her hand over his again. "What do you want, Sherlock?"
"I want a healthy child," he said. "The sex of our child doesn't matter to me." Then he paused. "But if we had a son he could carry on my name."
"Sherlock Holmes the second," she said with a smile. "I think he could be proud of that name, if we had a son."
"And if we have a girl? What do you want to name her?" he asked as he looked at her.
"Alexandria Lynnette Holmes. I've always loved those two names."
"I like it as well," he said with a smile, beginning to trace patterns on her stomach. "I had never expected any of this to happen. The mess with Moriarty, the relationship I have with you, this child...some of it I am not happy about, but you and the child I am happy for. I just hope I am here with you for some time yet."
"He won't kill you," she said firmly, framing his face in her hands. "And you won't let him kill us. We will live a long life together. You made a promise to keep me safe. Now I'm making a promise to you that I will make sure we have a long and happy life together."
"I'm going to hold you to that promise," he said.
"Good. I definitely plan on keeping it." She gave him a grin. "Have you eaten?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head.
"Then you should eat the stew. I'm not all that hungry right now." She picked up the bowl and handed it to him.
"Still not keeping food down?" he asked as he picked up the spoon and took out some of the stew.
"Some food. More than before, thanks to the prenatal vitamins." She watched him eat the stew. "I'm going to end up taking better care of you than myself, I think. I worry about you."
"Just make sure you take care of yourself," he said after he swallowed. "I do not wish to see anything happen to you."
"I will," she said with a nod. "But I'll take care of you, too."
"For how long?"
"Until you don't want me around anymore, or until one of us dies," she said with a slight shrug. "Whatever happens first."
"Is that a hint you want to get married?" he asked, pausing before he took a bite.
"One day, yeah. I would like to marry you. But not now. It's just too soon." She settled back into the pillows. "Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes," he said. "But you are right. Right now it is too soon."
"We don't have to get married before I have this baby, you know," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's something I had always thought would happen before I had a child, but doing it out of the normal order is okay too."
"Will your mother approve?" he asked before he took another bite of the stew.
"My mother was ecstatic when I told her she was going to be a grandmother yesterday," she said with a smile. "I'm fairly sure she will ask about marriage later, but I think as long as I give her a healthy grandchild she will let me live my life however I want." Then she tilted her head slightly. "What about you? How did your family take it?"
"My mother was also quite happy. She had given up hope of having grandchildren before I started dating you. Mycroft was...I'm not really quite sure how Mycroft feels. I don't think he's loathing the idea completely."
"Well, he's the only uncle our child is going to have. He better get used to the idea very quickly."
Sherlock grinned slightly. "I'm fairly sure that whatever we need he will get, whether it's a recommendation to a good school or money for his future or any other need that might arise. I just don't know if he'll be happy about it. He'll see it as a duty."
"You really do want a son, don't you?" she said with a chuckle.
"I suppose I do," he mused after a moment.
"Maybe we'll luck out and I'm carrying twins, a boy and a girl."
"That would be nice. But we could always try for a girl later if you are indeed carrying a boy."
"Let's get through this pregnancy first. For all I know I'll hate pregnancy and I'll never want to go through it again." She smiled at him. "You had best be in the delivery room, though. I'm not going to have this child alone."
"I will be there," he said, setting the bowl of stew on his nightstand. He moved closer to her. "I will not have you go through it alone."
"Something can happen, though," she said as her smile faltered. "But we'll plan on you being there."
He moved as close to her as he could get and leaned over, kissing her softly. She set her hands on either side of his face as she kissed him back, then slid them down to his shoulders and pulled him closer. He maneuvered himself so he was on top of her more, and she deepened the kiss. There was something in this kiss that was not in most of their kisses, he realized as he began to hitch the top of her camisole up. She was scared, too. And right now he wasn't sure what he could do to allay her fears, other than hold onto her promise as much as he could. Right now all he could do was lose himself in her and hope that things got better for them as opposed to worse.
Title: Caught Up In A Great Game (2/3)
A gift for: Doctor WTF
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, John Watson, Mycroft Holmes, Irene Adler, Henry Knight, Greg Lestrade
Category: Het/Gen
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: How different things would have been if Moriarty took the same interest in Molly that he took in Sherlock, and Sherlock had decided he didn't want her blood on his hands.
Author's Notes: So my prompter gave me what is alternately the best prompt ever and the worst prompt ever: write whatever you feel like writing. What I ended up writing was a rewrite of "The Great Game" and all of season 2 with the slant that Molly gets pulled into Moriarty's game with Sherlock as one of the obvious targets of it. I had so much fun with this one, I really did. It practically wrote itself.
"Why on earth did I agree to quit smoking?" Sherlock groused two months later, pacing around the room in his pajamas and dressing gown.
"Because I asked you to," Molly said exasperatedly. He knew she had been watching him pace, and he was fairly sure she was regretting ever getting him to agree to what she wanted. Lately she had been easily irritated and he had found himself wondering what had changed. She put her head in her hands. "I'm about to hurt you if you don't stop pacing."
"Why are you so easily irritated lately?" he asked, stopping in front of her.
"I don't know!" she snapped, lifting her head up and glaring at him. Then she sighed and her glare softened. "Sorry. Everything's just getting on my nerves lately. Stress, I suppose."
"It could be," he said with a nod. They had all made no further progress on what Moriarty had planned for them, and while he knew Molly was comfortable in his home, that she liked being there, he knew she would very much like her freedom back. But he knew the minute that happened Moriarty would make his move. That was the only thing he could anticipate with any degree of certainty. He sat down on the sofa next to her. "John says the cravings will ebb soon. If I could just get a case that would help."
"Greg doesn't have anything?"
"He is on vacation," Sherlock said with a shake of his head. "I would ask his subordinate but Sally Donovan hates me. She wouldn't willingly help."
"John will be back soon. You can ask him to check his blog." She stood up, her face slightly green. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"The stomach flu still?" he asked. The last few days she would get hit with a wave of nausea at random moments, but she brushed it off as a stomach bug. He was getting concerned, though. It had been four days, and he had thought it would be out of her system by now. He watched her nod, then place a hand over her mouth and bolt to the nearest washroom. He stayed on the sofa. She did not like it if he tried to go into the bathroom while she was retching, even just to make sure she was okay. When she came back out he would ask.
The door opened and he heard John come up. "John, please tell me we have a case," he called over, flopping onto the couch.
"No, no case," he said as he came into the sitting room. "Where's Molly?"
"Washroom," he said.
"Again? How many times has she vomited the last few days?"
"I've lost count. At least twice a day, if not more," he said. "It must be a supremely bad stomach flu."
John was quiet for a moment. "Or she could be pregnant," he said.
Sherlock looked at him sharply. "Pregnant?"
"Even if you were careful it could happen," he said. "Accidental and all, but it would explain the nausea and the mood swings, the way she's been irritated so often lately."
"It's too soon," he said, panicking slightly. "We haven't been together long."
"Well, the first thing to do is find out. If she is, make plans. If she isn't, make sure it doesn't happen until you're ready."
"If we're ever ready," he said quietly.
"Have you even discussed anything like that?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
"No, not yet," he said. "I hadn't even considered it might be in the realm of possibilities so soon. I do know she wants children, though. She has said that."
"Who said what?" Molly asked as she emerged from the general direction of the washroom, a washcloth to her mouth. John and Sherlock looked at each other. It seemed as though they were having a silent conversation with glances and head movements, and then Molly started looking irritated. She crossed her arms. "Spit it out, Sherlock," she said with a glare.
Finally Sherlock sighed. "John suspects you might be pregnant."
She was quiet. "I could be. We didn't take precautions the first time."
"Do you want to be?" Sherlock asked. "What I mean is, is this too soon for you, if you are?"
"It would be a bit of a shock, but if I am it's fine," she said. "I mean, things will change and we'll need to talk, but if I actually am pregnant I suppose there are worse things than carrying your child."
"Such as?" John asked.
"Carrying yours," she said with a slight grin.
John smiled widely and shook his head. "That was a low blow, Molly."
"It was said with love," she replied, moving over to him and giving him a hug. "I'll go pop over to the hospital and find out. My friend in the OB/GYN area of the hospital can find out all the specifics if I am with blood work and urine."
"You are taking it really well," John said.
"Probably because I did all my panicking about it yesterday," she said with a shrug. "Everyone else who had the stomach flu had it one day, two at most. When I was still vomiting all the time yesterday I had the sinking suspicion it might be because I was pregnant. I just didn't know how to bring it up." She looked over at Sherlock. "How would you feel if I was?"
"I am not quite sure," he admitted. "I still feel it's too soon, but I would not ask you to get rid of the pregnancy or anything like that. I would remain with you and we would take care of the child together."
"At least you're honest," Molly said. "I was terrified yesterday that you'd abandon me."
Sherlock stood up and went over to her, framing her face in his hands. "I wouldn't abandon you over this."
"Good." She put her hands over his for a moment, then pulled them away from her face. Then she leaned in and kissed him softly. "I'm going to change and then head to the hospital. Do you want to come with me?"
He nodded. "I would." Just then the doorbell rang. He looked at John. "Heavy press."
"Lasted for about thirty seconds," John said. "Client?"
"Client," Sherlock said with a nod. Then he turned back to Molly. "Can we go later?"
"I can just call you once I know," she said with a smile. "Go see if it's a client so I don't kill you in your sleep because you're driving me bonkers."
He grinned back and kissed her again. He could hear John give him an exasperated sign. "I guess I'll go see if we have a client," he said in a slight huff, getting up. Sherlock ignored him until Molly pulled away. Molly gave him one last smile and then headed towards Sherlock's bedroom, which they were now sharing. Sherlock still had a faint smile on his lips when he heard two pairs of feet coming up the steps. He dropped the smile when they came into the sitting room. "Sherlock, this is Henry Knight," he said.
"I'm glad you're here, Mr. Holmes," Henry said, coming over and extending his hand. "I hope you can help me."
The overwhelming aroma of smoked cigarettes emanating off Henry hit off a sudden craving in Sherlock, and he tried to clamp it down. "I will see how much assistance I can offer," he said as he shook Henry's hand. "What type of case do you have?"
"My father was killed by a hound in the moors years ago," he said. "I went back to Dartmoor last week and last night I went back to where he died. I swear I saw it. No one believes me, though. I want to find out once and for all what killed my father and how it got there." He reached into a pocket and held up a DVD. "I think it has something to do with Baskerville."
"The military base run by the government?" John asked, surprised. "What would they know about a hound?"
"It's a testing facility," Sherlock murmured, leaning in to pluck the DVD from Henry's fingers. He took a strong sniff of him as he did. "Would you like to have a smoke?"
"Sherlock, that probably isn't a good idea," John said. "Just because you can't have one doesn't mean you should tempt yourself with one. And then there's Molly."
Sherlock waved his hand. "If you will not let me have a cigarette at least let me inhale cigarette smoke," he said.
"Molly will skin you alive. Especially if she really is...you know."
"It will calm Mr. Knight here down. You are not altogether calm right now, are you?" Sherlock asked.
"Not really, no," he said.
"See? It will put him at ease." He led Henry to a chair and nearly pushed him down into it. "Go ahead and smoke."
Henry glanced over at John for a moment, who shrugged, and then gave an uneasy glance to Sherlock. "If you say so." He pulled out a pack and a lighter, and then lit one of the cigarettes, inhaling deeply. As he exhaled Sherlock squatted down next to him, inhaling the smoke through his nose. Henry gave him a strange look but took another puff off his cigarette, then a third.
Sherlock could dimly hear the bedroom door fling open and then the washroom door slam shut. He turned his attention away from Henry. Surely Molly could not have smelled that little bit of cigarette smoke, could she? He looked at Henry with a sigh, then went for one of his old ashtrays. "Put it out," he said quietly.
"I thought it was okay to smoke," he said, dutifully putting the cigarette out.
"Oh, you're not going to hear the end of this," John said with a smirk. "As soon as she gets out you should prepare yourself for some well deserved vitriol."
"It won't be that bad, will it?" Sherlock asked uncertainly.
"Yes, Sherlock, it will be that bad." Sherlock actually got nervous at those words. "Whatever good mood she left in will be gone now that she's gone to the washroom and had dry heaves."
"Damn," he muttered. He turned to the hallway and within a few minutes Molly stalked out, still wearing the bottom half of her pajamas, and she was absolutely livid. "Molly--" he began, but she held up a hand and he remained quiet.
"You promised me you would quit, Sherlock," she said, advancing on him. "You promised me because I told you every medical reason why it was a bad idea to smoke. I showed you statistics and pictures and I even made you watch an autopsy of a chronic smoker who died of lung cancer. You said you'd stop. But no. You couldn't even wait until I'd left the home before you snuck one."
"Uh..." Henry said as she got closer to Sherlock.
"Molly," Sherlock said, but she glared so he stopped.
"The smell of cigarettes sets off my nausea. I probably bloody well have morning sickness. The last few days have been exceedingly unpleasant. And you don't care enough to not have a smoke. So if you want to smoke, smoke. I don't bloody well care. But fully expect to be sleeping alone for a very long time, and if I am pregnant? This will be your only child because you're never touching me again."
"Um, Molly?" John interjected.
"What?" she snapped, turning to John.
John point to Henry, who held up the ashtray he'd been holding. Molly looked at it. "Our client was the one smoking. He appeared to need a cigarette to calm his nerves."
"So it wasn't you?" Molly asked as she turned to Sherlock, confused.
"That's what I was trying to tell you," he said.
"Oh," she said, and then she got a sheepish look on her face. "I'm so sorry. I just...you were craving one...and then I smelled it and I had dry heaves and...I'm sorry."
"Forgiven," he said, reaching over to tip her face up to look at him. "I'm starting to think the likelihood that you are indeed pregnant is very high."
"I really have been having mood swings, haven't I?" she asked with a frown.
"Yes, you have. But I will love you regardless," he said, and watched as she smiled. "I will air out the flat before you get home if you will allow Mr. Knight to finish his cigarette."
"Oh, sure. I just need to finish changing and then when I go he can smoke, all right?" Then she moved away from Sherlock and turned to Henry. "I'm so sorry you had to see that. Generally I'm very nice. I'm Molly, by the way." With that, she offered her hand to him.
He switched the hand holding the ashtray and shook it. "Henry Knight," he said.
"Pleasure to meet you." She gave him a wide smile. "Give me ten minutes and I'll be out of here."
"John, go with her," Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow slightly, and Sherlock came over to him. "If she is indeed pregnant that makes her a bigger target than before," he said, his voice just slightly above a whisper. "If Moriarty has eyes and ears anywhere for her it would be at the hospital. If a pregnancy is confirmed we should assume he will know almost immediately."
"All right," John said with a nod. "I'll go with her. Can you handle the client all on your own?"
"I can manage," Sherlock said with a nod. "Keep her safe. Please," he added in a slightly pleading voice. "I do not want anything to happen to her, especially now."
"I'll keep her safe."
"Is your wife really pregnant?" Henry asked.
"She's not my wife. She's my girlfriend. And we're fairly certain she is. Why?"
"I just feel so sorry for you right now," he replied. "I think her pregnancy is going to be hell for you."
Sherlock shrugged slightly. "It is only a temporary problem. And I will do my best to appease her moods. When she has had the child she will go back to her normal state and then we will be back to how we had been."
"Well, best of luck to you." He watched as Sherlock went to the DVD player and then he looked over at John. "Is there any chance I could get a cuppa?" he asked.
John nodded. "I can make a pot up real fast for you and Sherlock," he replied. John busied himself with the tea, and when Molly came back out, fully dressed this time, she went to the cupboards and pulled out a package of chocolate biscuits and some saltines. She put the biscuits on a plate and set them on the tea tray and then started nibbling on the saltines. When John was finished he set the tea pot on the tray along with two cups, and then he brought it out to the table. "Sherlock?" he said, looking at his friend.
"What?" he asked, not looking away from the screen.
"The tea is ready, and Molly and I are about to leave. Just thought you should know."
"Very well," he said with a wave of his hand.
"Do you want me to call you when I know for sure?" Molly asked, coming over to him.
"You may call or text, whichever is easier."
Molly shook her head, then leaned over and kissed his cheek. "I'll call, only because I'll want to start making plans."
"Very well. John, take care of her."
Molly rolled her eyes. "I might be pregnant, Sherlock. I'm not suddenly an invalid."
He paused the DVD and looked at her. "When Moriarty finds out, and he will, you will be in even more danger," he said quietly, low enough for only her to hear him clearly. "I do not want to lose you or the child if you are indeed pregnant."
"I understand," she said before leaning in again and kissing him on the lips. She kept the kiss soft and pulled away much too soon for his taste. She smiled at him. "If it makes you feel better, I hope I am. I think you would be a good father. You'd make sure our child was safe."
A sense of pride hit him at her words, She thought him worthy of raising a child with her. That meant more to him than she realized. "I love you, Molly."
"I love you too, Sherlock," she said as her grin widened. "I promise, we'll be careful." Then she left him and headed out of the flat, John right behind her.
He went back to the DVD, watching right up to Henry's part. Then he paused it again and rejoined Henry, who had poured himself a cup of tea. He made his own cup of tea and sat down in front of him. "I didn't hear you watch my interview," he said.
"I prefer to do my own interviews," he said. "You used the word hound when you described the beast that killed your father. Why?"
"I'm not sure. It was a big beast, I know that much. My dad was under him as I ran away. And then there was no trace of him or the hound. No one would believe me."
"Interesting," Sherlock said before taking a sip of his tea. "What did you see last night?"
"I went back to where he had died, and there I saw the hound. It was like it was waiting for fresh prey. It had red glowing eyes and looked as though it would attack me if I so much as breathed. I turned and ran, afraid it would come after me. I ran for my life and I escaped."
"Do you live in Dartmoor now?" Henry nodded. "How close to the moors?"
"Fairly close."
"Then tomorrow John and I will visit you there. There are other places we will need access to, but I want to see the specific place he was killed at some point. Are you willing to go back there?"
"I suppose," he said as he nodded again.
"Then we will meet you at your home in the afternoon, and we will go to the moors together. For now, finish your cigarette and then go home."
"That's it? That's all there is?" Henry asked, surprised.
"I will learn more once I'm there." He stood up and then went to the desk, picking up a notepad and a pen. Then he brought them both over to Henry. "Write down your address for me."
Henry took the items offered and wrote down his address. "Any idea when I should expect you?"
"Mid afternoon. I want to explore the area a bit first before we meet with you. Get the lay of the land, so to speak."
"Who will be coming?" he asked, handing the pad and the pen back to Sherlock.
"John and I, most likely. For part of my plan there may be an unexpected visit from my brother. We shall see."
"Well, thank you for your help," he said. "Do you want me to finish my cigarette here?"
He thought for a moment. As much as he would love to inhale the smoke, Molly had voiced her obvious displeasure and he wasn't sure he could air out the room well enough. Finally he shook his head. "No. It would be best if you have it once you leave."
"I can leave one with you," he suggested.
Sherlock gave him a faint smile. "Molly would kill me then. No, take the cigarettes with you when you leave and enjoy them on your return trip. As I said, we will be there tomorrow." Then he paused. "May I keep the DVD? I will bring it with me tomorrow."
"Yeah, sure," Henry said with a nod. "See you tomorrow, then." He took another sip of his tea, then got up and left. Sherlock waited for the front door to close, and then he went back to the DVD. He pressed play and watched Henry's interview, and then the rest of it. The more he watched, the more he greatly wanted to get into Baskerville. It seemed as though something there would be the key to it all.
When he was done with the DVD he went back to the tea. He found he was slightly nervous. He debated leaving the home and going to St. Bart's. At the moment he was really regretting not going with Molly. When he was on his third cup of tea his phone rang and he saw it was Molly. He answered it quickly. "Well?"
"I'm two months pregnant," she said. "So the first time we were together is when I got pregnant."
He felt joy at the news. He had never thought about having a child before, having a legacy and passing on the Holmes name to another generation, even after he started dating Molly. Of course, he had never expected to be in a relationship or fall in love with someone, either, so there was that. Now, though, he realized that this could only be a good thing. "I'm glad."
"Are you really?" she asked with uncertainty. "I mean, it's all so sudden and we haven't been together long, just since Christmas. You'll be stuck with me for the rest of your life, even if we don't stay together. We'll always be connected."
"I assure you that I am quite happy with the news," he said. "Do you want to come back home and talk before I have to leave?"
"Leave? Where are you going?"
"Dartmoor, for the case with Mr. Knight."
"Are you sure it's safe to leave me here by myself?" she asked.
He frowned. He had not considered that. If John went with him it would just be her and Mrs. Hudson at the flat, and anyone Moriarty might send to hurt her could easily overpower both of them. "Do you think you can come with me?"
"I can pull some strings, see if I can get some time off. How long do you think you will be on the case?"
"I'm not sure. Three days, maybe four? Can you get that many days off?"
"I'll see what I can do. I have a few associates who would love the extra shifts. I'll ask them before I come home." She paused. "I'm happy, you know. With all of this. I don't know if you really wanted kids, but I did. I mean, I do. And I'm happy it's yours."
"I hadn't thought about it before, but what you said earlier makes me think I would not be a bad father."
"What was that?"
"That I would keep the child safe. I will also do my best to make the two of you happy."
"That's all I can ask for. See you soon, okay?"
"Very well. I'll be here." He hung up then and found himself with a wide grin on his face. It was a shock, it was, but this had probably made him the happiest he had ever been. He would not fail her in being the best father he could be. He owed the both of them that much. And with that he made his way to Mrs. Hudson's part of the house. He knew many were going to be surprised, but it was a very good thing, and he intended to share the good news with those closest to him as soon as possible.
So far, the entire case had been a headache. Yes, he had managed to get into Baskerville using his brother's stolen ID, and gotten out before any red flags were raised, so that was a plus. And he had connected one of the cases John had mentioned from the blog with one of the scientists at Baskerville, so now he had an inkling of what was really going on there, but that had all been before the visit to Dewer's Hollow, the area where Henry's father had been killed. That was before he saw the hound. Very few things scared him, but everywhere he had turned around when he was there he had seen Moriarty's face. Logically he knew the man wasn't there, but the bone deep fear he had had overridden the use of his brain while he was there. There was now so much more he could lose now, so much that Moriarty could rip from his grasp. It had been like being in a waking nightmare, and then seeing the hound had been too much. And then it had all been gone.
They had gone back to the inn at that point, and Sherlock had sat in front of the fire, staring at it. Molly was in their room, doing whatever it was she had planned on doing during their stay. John had left him in peace to think, going to get food. He had not seen it. He had not heard the growl or seen the glowing red eyes, seen Moriarty's face dancing around like a horrible spectre. Now that he was away from the moor he could think clearly again. There had to be a connection somehow. He just had to find it.
John came up to him, carrying a bowl of stew. "Eat this," he said, handing it to Sherlock.
"I don't have an appetite," he said, pushing the bowl away.
John moved it back towards him. "You haven't eaten all day. Eat."
"No."
"Doctor's orders. And I'll get Molly to agree with me."
Sherlock paused in his retort, then closed his mouth and took the bowl. But he did not eat. "Have you ever been so scared you thought you had lost your mind?"
"Once or twice, yeah," John said with a nod. "Why? Are you okay?"
No, he was not okay. He had been scared out of his wits, and he still felt the edge of that fear, threatening to close in on him. "I'm fine. I just have much to think about." He stood up, leaving the bowl on the table. "I think I will call it a night." Then he glanced over and saw Henry's psychiatrist come into the room. "Why don't you try and find out more about Henry from Dr. Mortimer?" he asked. "I will take the stew and go to bed."
"All right," John said with a bit of uncertainty. "I'll see what I can find out." He left Sherlock then, and Sherlock watched him go over to the woman. He hoped he could get answers, because they needed all the ones they could get.
He turned back to the fire for a moment, then picked up the bowl of stew and went to his room. He had no clue if Molly was still awake at this point, but he hoped she was. He needed to talk to someone, and right now John would not suffice. He opened the door to his room and found he was in luck; Molly was in bed, reading a book. She turned when she heard the door open and gave him a smile, one that dimmed considerably when she got a better look at him. "Sherlock? What happened?" She set the book on the nightstand. "How bad was it?"
He took the stew over to her. "For you."
"Thank you," she said, taking the bowl, which she then she set on the nightstand next to her book. "I'll eat it later. Tell me what happened."
"I saw the hound my client had talked about," he said quietly, sitting on the bed next to her. "And I saw him."
"Which him? Moriarty?" she asked. He nodded, and her eyes got wide. "He can't be here. He can't...he can't," she said, panic in her voice.
"No, I think he was a hallucination," he said soothingly, sorry he had said anything. "I think it's all a hallucination. I don't think there's really a hound there."
"Oh," she said quietly.
"I didn't mean to send you into a panic," he said. "I just...I was scared, Molly. More scared than I had been in a very long time."
"I can see how that would scare you," she said, moving one of her hands over his and grasping it tightly. "He scares me too. More so now."
"He can take it all away. Snuff out your life, our child's...he can take it all away and there is no way I can stop him. I do not know what his plans are. I cannot fathom his next move. I can only guess it will be directed at you, and even then I am not sure."
"You'll stop him. I have faith in you." She let go of his hand and pulled him into an embrace. He shifted his position and held her close. This was more comforting than words and concern from John. He felt the fear begin to seep out of his bones, replaced with a comfort he knew only she could give. When they pulled apart he let his hand drift down to her abdomen. She chuckled slightly. "It will be a long while until she kicks."
"She?" he asked, looking down at her abdomen.
"I am hoping it's a girl. I mean, I'll be happy with a boy as well, but I've always wanted a little girl." She placed her hand over his again. "What do you want, Sherlock?"
"I want a healthy child," he said. "The sex of our child doesn't matter to me." Then he paused. "But if we had a son he could carry on my name."
"Sherlock Holmes the second," she said with a smile. "I think he could be proud of that name, if we had a son."
"And if we have a girl? What do you want to name her?" he asked as he looked at her.
"Alexandria Lynnette Holmes. I've always loved those two names."
"I like it as well," he said with a smile, beginning to trace patterns on her stomach. "I had never expected any of this to happen. The mess with Moriarty, the relationship I have with you, this child...some of it I am not happy about, but you and the child I am happy for. I just hope I am here with you for some time yet."
"He won't kill you," she said firmly, framing his face in her hands. "And you won't let him kill us. We will live a long life together. You made a promise to keep me safe. Now I'm making a promise to you that I will make sure we have a long and happy life together."
"I'm going to hold you to that promise," he said.
"Good. I definitely plan on keeping it." She gave him a grin. "Have you eaten?"
"No," he replied, shaking his head.
"Then you should eat the stew. I'm not all that hungry right now." She picked up the bowl and handed it to him.
"Still not keeping food down?" he asked as he picked up the spoon and took out some of the stew.
"Some food. More than before, thanks to the prenatal vitamins." She watched him eat the stew. "I'm going to end up taking better care of you than myself, I think. I worry about you."
"Just make sure you take care of yourself," he said after he swallowed. "I do not wish to see anything happen to you."
"I will," she said with a nod. "But I'll take care of you, too."
"For how long?"
"Until you don't want me around anymore, or until one of us dies," she said with a slight shrug. "Whatever happens first."
"Is that a hint you want to get married?" he asked, pausing before he took a bite.
"One day, yeah. I would like to marry you. But not now. It's just too soon." She settled back into the pillows. "Do you want to marry me?"
"Yes," he said. "But you are right. Right now it is too soon."
"We don't have to get married before I have this baby, you know," she said thoughtfully. "I mean, it's something I had always thought would happen before I had a child, but doing it out of the normal order is okay too."
"Will your mother approve?" he asked before he took another bite of the stew.
"My mother was ecstatic when I told her she was going to be a grandmother yesterday," she said with a smile. "I'm fairly sure she will ask about marriage later, but I think as long as I give her a healthy grandchild she will let me live my life however I want." Then she tilted her head slightly. "What about you? How did your family take it?"
"My mother was also quite happy. She had given up hope of having grandchildren before I started dating you. Mycroft was...I'm not really quite sure how Mycroft feels. I don't think he's loathing the idea completely."
"Well, he's the only uncle our child is going to have. He better get used to the idea very quickly."
Sherlock grinned slightly. "I'm fairly sure that whatever we need he will get, whether it's a recommendation to a good school or money for his future or any other need that might arise. I just don't know if he'll be happy about it. He'll see it as a duty."
"You really do want a son, don't you?" she said with a chuckle.
"I suppose I do," he mused after a moment.
"Maybe we'll luck out and I'm carrying twins, a boy and a girl."
"That would be nice. But we could always try for a girl later if you are indeed carrying a boy."
"Let's get through this pregnancy first. For all I know I'll hate pregnancy and I'll never want to go through it again." She smiled at him. "You had best be in the delivery room, though. I'm not going to have this child alone."
"I will be there," he said, setting the bowl of stew on his nightstand. He moved closer to her. "I will not have you go through it alone."
"Something can happen, though," she said as her smile faltered. "But we'll plan on you being there."
He moved as close to her as he could get and leaned over, kissing her softly. She set her hands on either side of his face as she kissed him back, then slid them down to his shoulders and pulled him closer. He maneuvered himself so he was on top of her more, and she deepened the kiss. There was something in this kiss that was not in most of their kisses, he realized as he began to hitch the top of her camisole up. She was scared, too. And right now he wasn't sure what he could do to allay her fears, other than hold onto her promise as much as he could. Right now all he could do was lose himself in her and hope that things got better for them as opposed to worse.