54 & 62 combo pls... but if you're also up for it, a 57 & 94 combo as well ❤❤❤
“Why’s there a pregnancy test in thetrash?”/ “I warned you. He warned you. Your freaking mom warned you.”
“…Why’s there a pregnancy testin the bin?” Molly asked, looking down into said bin at a boxthat looked like a bear had ripped it open. There were eventeethmarks.
“Experiment.”
“You don’t say,” she saidflatly. "That’s not apple juice, is it?“ In her favouriteglass, of course, the authentic midcentury one with thepixie-on-a-toadstool motif.
“Some of it is.”
“I don’t know if that’s better orworse.”
“Eh.” Sherlock squinted andbobbed his head side-to-side, then went back to whatever he was doingon his laptop. "Oh, I need a control, “ he said, producinganother pregnancy test in a sealed packet from literally up hissleeve and holding it out to her. It was like he lived for drama.
"You were one of those kids thatgot a magic kit for their eighth birthday and—”
“Sixth, I was precocious.”
“I’m sure that’s the word for it,”she muttered on her way to the loo. Best to just get it over with.
*
“Huh.” She stared down atthe two blue lines on the test. "So I’m assuming it’s for acase and has something to do with false positives, or…?“
"No,” Sherlock said slowly,having gone pale. "Disproving a client’s supposed method offaking them, actually.“
"Oh. Well, I mean… I don’t… Uh… Oh shit.” She looked over to Sherlock. "You’ve gotmore, right?“
He held up a carrier bag.
*
"Okay,” she said, lining upthe other four tests on the bathroom sink and setting the timer onher phone.
I warned you. He warned you. Yourfreaking mum warned you, the annoying Responsible Molly voicelectured inside her head.
“It was one time! This isn’t…telly, these things don’t happen.”
“Who are you talking to?”Sherlock said outside the door.
She pulled the door open. "Wereyou listening?“
"Not on purpose,” he saiddefensively.
“It’s just a fluke, I’m sure it’sjust a one-in-a-million manufacturing error or some quirk of my bodychemistry…”
“And you’re sure you’re completelyasymptomatic? No nausea, heightened sense of smell or taste, breasttenderness, darkening of your ni—”
“Actually a doctor, know thesigns,” she reminded.
Sherlock wisely shut up.
*
“Head between your knees, there’sa lad,” Molly said, rubbing Sherlock’s back as he sat on theclosed toilet lid. "It’s just a bad run, they’re all the samelot number, I’ll go online and look to see if there’s been a recall.“
"Already checked,” Sherlockcroaked.
She ran a flannel under the tap andsqueezed it out one-handed, thankful for the first time in ever thather bathroom was so small.
“You know whose fault this is,”she said, a bit giddy and outside herself.
“Mine,” Sherlock saidmiserably into the cold flannel.
“Tom’s. I mean, if we hadn’t keptrunning into him and making up the whole thing… Well, it’s karma,but it’s still Tom’s fault.”
“The term ‘karma’ doesn’tactually—”
“You’re really going to do thatnow?”
“Sorry,” he said.
He was really shaken, she thought.
“I did warn you. It’s hereditary. My parents hadn’t had sex for six years—I mean, of course theyhadn’t, just look at Mycroft, producing something like that would putanyone off of sex—then one night there were too many PiñaColadas and apparently nine months later there I was,” herambled.
“Pretty sure your Mum was beingfacetious with that story,” Molly said, still rubbing Sherlock’sback. She’d met his parents and the things his Mum said when hewasn’t around… she’d never look at her or Mrs. Hudson the same wayagain. Never had she been so glad she missed out on the seventies.
“I choose to think she wasn’t formy own sanity, thank you,” he said, obviously starting to feelbetter. He inhaled sharply.
“Right,” he said, sitting up. “So are we going about this the old-fashioned way and gettingmarried, or just domestic partnership, or a custody agreeme—”
“Whoa there, slow down, UsainBolt,” she said. "First, I’m having a blood test and anactual gynaecological examination—and no, you will not be the oneperforming it with me talking you through it.“
Sherlock’s open mouth clamped shut. "Wasn’t going to suggest that anyway, I don’t even own aspeculum. At least, anymore. Thanks to John.”
“It was his anyway, you stole itfrom his office.”
“Borrowed.”
“Right, so we were talking aboutthe fact that I’m probably pregnant—oh my God,” she said, herknees going weak.
“Just hitting you now?”Sherlock asked, his arm darting around her waist to steady her.
“I—oh my God,” sherepeated, her hand moving of its own accord to cover her belly. Talkabout a delayed reaction, the other Molly in her head snorted.
“Do you need to sit down?” heasked, genuinely concerned.
“No, I think… I think I’mgood,” she said, turning her face to actually look at him. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” he said. Hetentatively reached up and covered the hand on her stomach with his.