On the sixth day of Sherlockmas: A Logical Progression, for marlee813
Author: katemacetak
Title: A Logical Progression
A gift for: marlee813
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/femJohn
Category: Het.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Joanna and Sherlock are having their first child; three vignettes about how they got on.
Author's Notes:
-No Britpick, and I sincerely apologize for any Americanisms.
First Comes Love
Joanna Watson-Holmes stood in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning against the sink, the porcelain cold against her shaking hands. Her face was haggard, with rings under her eyes, her hair dirty and pulled back into a rough ponytail. Looking at her reflection made her feel even more sick.
She pulled back, shifting her weight off of the sink, and pushed the pregnancy test into the bin. Then, she reconsidered. Sherlock would obviously discover it. Unsure of what to do, she wiped it off with a bit of tissue and stuffed it into her pocket. That served as a reminder of how tight her trousers were getting these days.
Reaching into the plastic bag from Boots, she pulled out another test. Unwrapping it, she sat down to try once more.
Positive. Joanna had served on the field of battle. She had faced Jim Moriarty. She had once thought that the one person who meant most to her in the world was gone forever. But somehow, the plastic stick her hand struck as much terror into her heart as any of those things.
She was a doctor, and even if obstetrics weren’t her specialty, she had guessed almost immediately what her condition was. The only reason she had managed to hide it from Sherlock was because he could sometimes be so oblivious to her when they were around the flat. It was funny how he could sometimes not even notice she was there. But she’d long ago learned to accept that as a good thing-it meant he trusted her enough to stop observing. This time, it worked in her favor. If he actually paid attention, he would immediately deduce that she was pregnant.
They hadn’t been trying, of course. The idea of raising a child was ludicrous, with their professions, even without their temperaments. They were careful; Joanna was taking birth control, and if she forgot the pill, Sherlock would never fail to remind her. And sex with Sherlock was such a…precise thing. She didn’t understand how a mistake could be made, but it had.
She could image how people would react. Sherlock, a father? But Joanna wasn’t worried about that. Sherlock would raise any child in his own particular way, but he wouldn’t be a bad father. Joanna had too much faith in him to doubt that. She was doubtful about her own ability to be a parent. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. And as she thought back to how Sherlock’s disappearance had nearly broken her a few years ago, she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to support a child through all the struggles that might happen.
“Joanna!” Sherlock’s deep voice on the other side of the door startled her. Joanna dropped the test, her heart pounding. “Hurry. There’s been a murder.”
“I don’t feel well.” She pushed the pregnancy test packaging back into the bag and shoved it into the cupboard beside the sink. Turning around, she opened the door and slipped out.
Sherlock was standing there, already dressed, bundled up in his black coat with the collar pulled up. What if he was holding the baby and it got sick on the coat? Her eyes flickered across the room as she avoided Sherlock’s gaze. While she had been in the loo, he had been working on an experiment on the table, and there were dead animals and scalpels still laid out. How could they have a child here, in 221B?
She decided not to look too closely at the carcasses. Her stomach was not what it used to be. Fortunately, the look on her face was genuine enough to convince Sherlock that she really was not well.
He frowned; touched her shoulder. “I hope it’s not contagious.” He cared, she knew that by now. Joanna was no detective but she had learned to deduce Sherlock’s feelings as well as he could hers. He was already leaving, coat whirling around him as he strode towards the door. “I’ll update you later.”
Once Sherlock was gone, Joanna puttered about the apartment, trying to put her mind at ease by tidying up. It wasn’t long before she grew tired, however. She sat down in the familiar armchair and curled up, dozing off.
She hadn’t meant to sleep for long, but the next thing she knew, she was being woken up by a beeping mobile. A text from Sherlock glowed on the screen. “Feeling better? Dinner?”
Joanna quickly typed a response. “Yes. I’m ravenous.”
A few minutes later, she walked into Speedy’s. Sherlock was already seated at their usual table. Joanna settled into the bench across from him. He was looking at a menu, although after years of coming here, both knew exactly what they would order (if Sherlock ordered anything at all). “How was the murder?” Joanna asked when he didn’t say anything for a few moments.
Sherlock dropped the menu. “Easy. It’s already solved.” He met her eyes. “Unlike you, Joanna. Your behavior as of late is something even I cannot fathom.”
Joanna took a sip of her water, trying to ignore the way her heart jumped to her throat. “What do you mean?”
“You’re tired. Ill. You have been gaining weight, despite remaining fairly physically active as we investigate cases…yet your disease matches none I know of.”
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Joanna loved how stupid her genius could be. “Sherlock, I’m pregnant.” There was no sense keeping it a secret any longer.”
At first his face revealed no emotion, even to her. But then she thought she caught a trace of…a smile? “Fascinating.”
“What?”
“A 98 percent chance of success and we defeated the odds.” Sherlock chuckled. “What will you call this case for your blog? The two percent problem?”
Joanna’s hand tightened around her glass. “You’re not taking this seriously. What will we do when the…” She leaned in. “When the baby gets here?”
“Raise it, I suppose.” Sherlock put his hand over hers. “Mrs. Hudson and Molly will help. Mycroft probably won’t, but that’s all right. He’ll give it money on Christmas every year. This is only logical, isn’t it? First comes love, then comes marriage, then…”
Before Joanna could respond, their usual waitress approached, looking concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfectly.” Sherlock didn’t look away from Joanna. “My wife is pregnant.”
“Sherlock!” Joanna could feel her face growing hot.
The waitress beamed at them. “Congratulations! You two will make great parents.”
Joanna stared after her in puzzlement as she walked away agin. What was the waitress talking about? They were going to make horrible parents. It was just that the waitresses at Speedy’s were used to them. No one else would ever say they would make good parents…
“Eat quickly. We have things to plan.” Sherlock was all but cackling with glee. He was taking this so much better than she expected…but only because it seemed like a project. Joanna rested her hand on her stomach, thinking for the first time about the real possibility of bringing this child into the world. She had a feeling it was going to be an interesting ride.
Then Comes Marriage
Joanna woke on the edge of a scream, biting back her cries just in time. Her heart was pounding, and she was drenched in sweat. She had always wondered when the nightmares would end, but now she knew they never would. But now, she had Sherlock beside her, and she always felt safe again once she woke up.
He mumbled something and Joanna told him to go back to sleep. She knew that she would be awake for the rest of the night, though. Sleeping was difficult enough when she couldn’t find a comfortable position. Once she felt steady again, she heaved herself out of bed and waddled out into the front room.
She flicked the light on and blinked as her eyes adjusted. The room wasn’t much messier than it had been before; but now it looked like an abomination. Joanna set about cleaning, doing anything she could that wouldn’t make too much noise. The place needed a good vacuuming, but that would have to wait until morning.
First light was edging through the window by the time she was satisfied enough with the living room to move into the office. This was Sherlock’s domain, and she didn’t usually mess with anything in here. But she was twitchy with the need to keep cleaning. Surely, if she just straightened up a few papers…
Before she knew it, she was rooting around at the boxes piled up under Sherlock’s desk, because she just couldn’t resist. This area probably hadn’t been touched since before she moved in. She couldn’t imagine all the dust lurking underneath those boxes. She tugged one of them out and leaned back on her heels, pulling the lid off.
It was filled with photographs. Compelled more by curiosity than cleaning now, Joanna flipped through them. A younger version of Sherlock starred in most of the images. She guessed that he had been in university when these photographs were taken. He would have been just beginning with his criminal investigations…as well as with his drug use. Joanna felt a pang of sympathy and affection for the younger Sherlock.
And then, Joanna saw a picture of him with his arm around a red-haired woman, standing stiffly while she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek. The warmth she had felt moments before dissolved, replaced by cold foreboding in the pit of her stomach. She started going through the photographs more quickly, throwing aside picture after picture of different women with her Sherlock. Fear turned to rage, and she dumped the box over.
“Joanna? What are you doing?” Sherlock appeared in the doorway. “No, I know what you’re doing…I believe it’s called nesting. But what is this?” He motioned at the overturned box.
“Sherlock…” She breathed deeply, willing herself not to sob. “Who are these people? These women? You never told me about them.”
“Those women are nothing to me.” Sherlock came and knelt beside her, sweeping the photographs together. He picked up the one with the ginger. “It was when I was in university. They seemed curiously interested in spending time with me.”
“And you didn’t have the heart to tell them that you weren’t interested in return?”
“It didn’t occur to me.” Sherlock frowned and set the picture down again. “I don’t even remember her name…”
Joanna laughed, even though she felt a bit sorry for the women of Sherlock’s past. She had been silly to feel jealous, even for a moment. “That’s a relief.”
Sherlock shook his head. “Look, you don’t have to worry about that, ever. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Especially now that we have this.” He patted her stomach fondly, and then his eyes widened. “She kicked again! I have to add this to my notes.” He jumped up and hurried out of the room. Joanna, deciding to leave the boxes of old papers a mess for now, headed back to bed. She finally felt like she could rest.
Then Comes Baby in a Baby Carriage
They named her Francesca. She was--in Joanna’s opinion-the most perfect thing she had ever laid eyes on. And in Sherlock’s words, “the greatest mystery I ever saw.”
Unfortunately, even perfect mysteries sometimes cry so much that their parents feel tempted to re-open the finally repaired bullet holes in the wall. Joanna was at her wit’s end, trying to get Francesca to stop crying, with every effort coming to complete failure. As soon as Sherlock returned from Scotland Yard, she handed off the baby and was out the door with a terse “We need milk.”
The walk around the corner cleared her head. No one bothered her on the way to the store, which was good. She was too tired to talk to anyone, and did not feel like fielding questions about how she was feeling or how Sherlock was doing as a father. The last few weeks had been challenging, but immensely rewarding. She had been right; Sherlock was not a horrible father by any means. He had patience for miles, and his “studies” of the baby meant that he could hold his attention on Francesca long after Joanna was about to pass out from exhaustion. And his total lack of squeamishness was also rather useful in changing diapers.
She lingered a bit in the store, but finally she could think of no more excuses to not return to the flat. Milk in hand, she headed back. It had started snowing and they were bound to be stuck inside for the rest of the night.
When she stepped back into 221B, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was quiet. Quiet, except for the soft tune of a lullaby. Joanna froze, watching as Sherlock played the violin for Francesca. The baby was sleeping calmly in her cot, with her father entirely focused on the song.
Creeping around to the kitchen, she put on the kettle. She would leave them to it for now. And then, she and Sherlock would sit down for a cup of tea--same as always. Somehow, she knew everything was going to be just fine.
Title: A Logical Progression
A gift for: marlee813
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock/femJohn
Category: Het.
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: Joanna and Sherlock are having their first child; three vignettes about how they got on.
Author's Notes:
-No Britpick, and I sincerely apologize for any Americanisms.
First Comes Love
Joanna Watson-Holmes stood in front of the bathroom mirror, leaning against the sink, the porcelain cold against her shaking hands. Her face was haggard, with rings under her eyes, her hair dirty and pulled back into a rough ponytail. Looking at her reflection made her feel even more sick.
She pulled back, shifting her weight off of the sink, and pushed the pregnancy test into the bin. Then, she reconsidered. Sherlock would obviously discover it. Unsure of what to do, she wiped it off with a bit of tissue and stuffed it into her pocket. That served as a reminder of how tight her trousers were getting these days.
Reaching into the plastic bag from Boots, she pulled out another test. Unwrapping it, she sat down to try once more.
Positive. Joanna had served on the field of battle. She had faced Jim Moriarty. She had once thought that the one person who meant most to her in the world was gone forever. But somehow, the plastic stick her hand struck as much terror into her heart as any of those things.
She was a doctor, and even if obstetrics weren’t her specialty, she had guessed almost immediately what her condition was. The only reason she had managed to hide it from Sherlock was because he could sometimes be so oblivious to her when they were around the flat. It was funny how he could sometimes not even notice she was there. But she’d long ago learned to accept that as a good thing-it meant he trusted her enough to stop observing. This time, it worked in her favor. If he actually paid attention, he would immediately deduce that she was pregnant.
They hadn’t been trying, of course. The idea of raising a child was ludicrous, with their professions, even without their temperaments. They were careful; Joanna was taking birth control, and if she forgot the pill, Sherlock would never fail to remind her. And sex with Sherlock was such a…precise thing. She didn’t understand how a mistake could be made, but it had.
She could image how people would react. Sherlock, a father? But Joanna wasn’t worried about that. Sherlock would raise any child in his own particular way, but he wouldn’t be a bad father. Joanna had too much faith in him to doubt that. She was doubtful about her own ability to be a parent. She didn’t have a maternal bone in her body. And as she thought back to how Sherlock’s disappearance had nearly broken her a few years ago, she knew she wouldn’t be strong enough to support a child through all the struggles that might happen.
“Joanna!” Sherlock’s deep voice on the other side of the door startled her. Joanna dropped the test, her heart pounding. “Hurry. There’s been a murder.”
“I don’t feel well.” She pushed the pregnancy test packaging back into the bag and shoved it into the cupboard beside the sink. Turning around, she opened the door and slipped out.
Sherlock was standing there, already dressed, bundled up in his black coat with the collar pulled up. What if he was holding the baby and it got sick on the coat? Her eyes flickered across the room as she avoided Sherlock’s gaze. While she had been in the loo, he had been working on an experiment on the table, and there were dead animals and scalpels still laid out. How could they have a child here, in 221B?
She decided not to look too closely at the carcasses. Her stomach was not what it used to be. Fortunately, the look on her face was genuine enough to convince Sherlock that she really was not well.
He frowned; touched her shoulder. “I hope it’s not contagious.” He cared, she knew that by now. Joanna was no detective but she had learned to deduce Sherlock’s feelings as well as he could hers. He was already leaving, coat whirling around him as he strode towards the door. “I’ll update you later.”
Once Sherlock was gone, Joanna puttered about the apartment, trying to put her mind at ease by tidying up. It wasn’t long before she grew tired, however. She sat down in the familiar armchair and curled up, dozing off.
She hadn’t meant to sleep for long, but the next thing she knew, she was being woken up by a beeping mobile. A text from Sherlock glowed on the screen. “Feeling better? Dinner?”
Joanna quickly typed a response. “Yes. I’m ravenous.”
A few minutes later, she walked into Speedy’s. Sherlock was already seated at their usual table. Joanna settled into the bench across from him. He was looking at a menu, although after years of coming here, both knew exactly what they would order (if Sherlock ordered anything at all). “How was the murder?” Joanna asked when he didn’t say anything for a few moments.
Sherlock dropped the menu. “Easy. It’s already solved.” He met her eyes. “Unlike you, Joanna. Your behavior as of late is something even I cannot fathom.”
Joanna took a sip of her water, trying to ignore the way her heart jumped to her throat. “What do you mean?”
“You’re tired. Ill. You have been gaining weight, despite remaining fairly physically active as we investigate cases…yet your disease matches none I know of.”
She wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. Joanna loved how stupid her genius could be. “Sherlock, I’m pregnant.” There was no sense keeping it a secret any longer.”
At first his face revealed no emotion, even to her. But then she thought she caught a trace of…a smile? “Fascinating.”
“What?”
“A 98 percent chance of success and we defeated the odds.” Sherlock chuckled. “What will you call this case for your blog? The two percent problem?”
Joanna’s hand tightened around her glass. “You’re not taking this seriously. What will we do when the…” She leaned in. “When the baby gets here?”
“Raise it, I suppose.” Sherlock put his hand over hers. “Mrs. Hudson and Molly will help. Mycroft probably won’t, but that’s all right. He’ll give it money on Christmas every year. This is only logical, isn’t it? First comes love, then comes marriage, then…”
Before Joanna could respond, their usual waitress approached, looking concerned. “Is everything all right?”
“Perfectly.” Sherlock didn’t look away from Joanna. “My wife is pregnant.”
“Sherlock!” Joanna could feel her face growing hot.
The waitress beamed at them. “Congratulations! You two will make great parents.”
Joanna stared after her in puzzlement as she walked away agin. What was the waitress talking about? They were going to make horrible parents. It was just that the waitresses at Speedy’s were used to them. No one else would ever say they would make good parents…
“Eat quickly. We have things to plan.” Sherlock was all but cackling with glee. He was taking this so much better than she expected…but only because it seemed like a project. Joanna rested her hand on her stomach, thinking for the first time about the real possibility of bringing this child into the world. She had a feeling it was going to be an interesting ride.
Then Comes Marriage
Joanna woke on the edge of a scream, biting back her cries just in time. Her heart was pounding, and she was drenched in sweat. She had always wondered when the nightmares would end, but now she knew they never would. But now, she had Sherlock beside her, and she always felt safe again once she woke up.
He mumbled something and Joanna told him to go back to sleep. She knew that she would be awake for the rest of the night, though. Sleeping was difficult enough when she couldn’t find a comfortable position. Once she felt steady again, she heaved herself out of bed and waddled out into the front room.
She flicked the light on and blinked as her eyes adjusted. The room wasn’t much messier than it had been before; but now it looked like an abomination. Joanna set about cleaning, doing anything she could that wouldn’t make too much noise. The place needed a good vacuuming, but that would have to wait until morning.
First light was edging through the window by the time she was satisfied enough with the living room to move into the office. This was Sherlock’s domain, and she didn’t usually mess with anything in here. But she was twitchy with the need to keep cleaning. Surely, if she just straightened up a few papers…
Before she knew it, she was rooting around at the boxes piled up under Sherlock’s desk, because she just couldn’t resist. This area probably hadn’t been touched since before she moved in. She couldn’t imagine all the dust lurking underneath those boxes. She tugged one of them out and leaned back on her heels, pulling the lid off.
It was filled with photographs. Compelled more by curiosity than cleaning now, Joanna flipped through them. A younger version of Sherlock starred in most of the images. She guessed that he had been in university when these photographs were taken. He would have been just beginning with his criminal investigations…as well as with his drug use. Joanna felt a pang of sympathy and affection for the younger Sherlock.
And then, Joanna saw a picture of him with his arm around a red-haired woman, standing stiffly while she rose up on her tiptoes to kiss her cheek. The warmth she had felt moments before dissolved, replaced by cold foreboding in the pit of her stomach. She started going through the photographs more quickly, throwing aside picture after picture of different women with her Sherlock. Fear turned to rage, and she dumped the box over.
“Joanna? What are you doing?” Sherlock appeared in the doorway. “No, I know what you’re doing…I believe it’s called nesting. But what is this?” He motioned at the overturned box.
“Sherlock…” She breathed deeply, willing herself not to sob. “Who are these people? These women? You never told me about them.”
“Those women are nothing to me.” Sherlock came and knelt beside her, sweeping the photographs together. He picked up the one with the ginger. “It was when I was in university. They seemed curiously interested in spending time with me.”
“And you didn’t have the heart to tell them that you weren’t interested in return?”
“It didn’t occur to me.” Sherlock frowned and set the picture down again. “I don’t even remember her name…”
Joanna laughed, even though she felt a bit sorry for the women of Sherlock’s past. She had been silly to feel jealous, even for a moment. “That’s a relief.”
Sherlock shook his head. “Look, you don’t have to worry about that, ever. You’re mine, and I’m yours. Especially now that we have this.” He patted her stomach fondly, and then his eyes widened. “She kicked again! I have to add this to my notes.” He jumped up and hurried out of the room. Joanna, deciding to leave the boxes of old papers a mess for now, headed back to bed. She finally felt like she could rest.
Then Comes Baby in a Baby Carriage
They named her Francesca. She was--in Joanna’s opinion-the most perfect thing she had ever laid eyes on. And in Sherlock’s words, “the greatest mystery I ever saw.”
Unfortunately, even perfect mysteries sometimes cry so much that their parents feel tempted to re-open the finally repaired bullet holes in the wall. Joanna was at her wit’s end, trying to get Francesca to stop crying, with every effort coming to complete failure. As soon as Sherlock returned from Scotland Yard, she handed off the baby and was out the door with a terse “We need milk.”
The walk around the corner cleared her head. No one bothered her on the way to the store, which was good. She was too tired to talk to anyone, and did not feel like fielding questions about how she was feeling or how Sherlock was doing as a father. The last few weeks had been challenging, but immensely rewarding. She had been right; Sherlock was not a horrible father by any means. He had patience for miles, and his “studies” of the baby meant that he could hold his attention on Francesca long after Joanna was about to pass out from exhaustion. And his total lack of squeamishness was also rather useful in changing diapers.
She lingered a bit in the store, but finally she could think of no more excuses to not return to the flat. Milk in hand, she headed back. It had started snowing and they were bound to be stuck inside for the rest of the night.
When she stepped back into 221B, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was quiet. Quiet, except for the soft tune of a lullaby. Joanna froze, watching as Sherlock played the violin for Francesca. The baby was sleeping calmly in her cot, with her father entirely focused on the song.
Creeping around to the kitchen, she put on the kettle. She would leave them to it for now. And then, she and Sherlock would sit down for a cup of tea--same as always. Somehow, she knew everything was going to be just fine.