Notes: Thank you for my wonderful betas, iced-tea-and-blankets and theunderdogfan, for the much needed hand holding and making me realize that, though proofreading can be a bitch it can really make all the difference in the world.

All remaining mistakes are mine.

Enjoy

Pregnant

They've only just decided to get married, quite literally, when Sherlock dropped the bomb and told her she's pregnant. She initially brushed his statement with a laugh and told him 'no, that can't be, love. Though it might happen eventually considering our recent activities.' To that, he gently took both her hands in his and gave her a look that said 'no, you really are'.

He stood his ground, ticking off facts faster than she could blink. While she was aware that her period hadn't came yet and that she has been feeling sick over the past couple of weeks, she had chalked it up to stress from work and the flu plaguing her colleagues.

Between the Moriarty fiasco, the bombings, and frequent threats to their lives, not to mention the bodies piling up for autopsies, she barely had time to sit down and get a breather, let alone think of late menses.

She decided to humor him when he handed her three pregnancy box kits, though she did find it odd that he had them on the ready.

She stopped laughing when the first one came back positive.

She turned the box twice, searching for expiration dates, determinedly telling herself that things like these can have flukes in the real world. She decided to use the other two just to be sure.

She could've sworn the lines on the sticks were laughing at her.

"There's your baby."

Sherlock's grip on Molly's hand tightened just a fraction as Dr. Arthur Ralpheo-Saperstein, the surprisingly accommodating obstetrician Sherlock managed to procure at ten in the evening, pointed at a spot on the monitor. She looked up at him from where she's sitting and sees his eyes transfixed on the screen, the edges of his mouth threatening to curl up into a full fledge smile—

She barely had time to relish the moment when the doctor points and says "And here's another one!"

"H-how can a baby have two bodies?" she asks, dumbfounded.

"Twins" Sherlock replies, breathless, and regards her with the fondest of smiles. And are those tears in his eyes? "We're having twins!" there's no mistaking the joy in his voice when he exclaimed loud enough for the all but deserted floor to hear.

"No, you're not," the doctor cuts Molly in a sing-song voice just before she could form a response to Sherlock "cause there's a little bloke hiding right here!" he adds as he points to another spot in the monitor.

"Triplets?!" she cried, head snapping from the monitor to Sherlock, her tone rising a few more pitches as she repeated the words "Triplets?!" She would vehemently deny the panic in her voice, when she recaps the story to Mary.

The words rang hollowly in Molly's ear as Dr. Saperstein pointed out another head on the screen. Her mouth dropped wide open and she could've sworn her heart stopped beating for a few seconds when the doctor jokingly pointed to a smudge on the screen and called it the fourth, totally oblivious to her inner fright. She had half a mind to not throttle living daylights out of the man's neck because that's not the kind of thing you joke about – not to her at least.

Sherlock, in contrast, deflates and looked mildly disappointed at the prospect of a fourth child being dashed.

"Congratulations! You're having triplets." the doctor says of triumph, as if he had contributed to the fact that she's housing three children inside her. "You really dodged a bullet there. Can you imagine raising four children at the same time?"

She could only stare in horror at that, while Sherlock looked more than up for the challenge and replies with an enthusiastic "I could raise an armada should the need arise."

She was at least thankful for having already been seated on the bed as the doctor gave them the news. She didn't trust her knees to work. Frankly, she was surprised she didn't faint right there and then. Any conversation Sherlock and Dr. Saperstein might have had after that completely went over her head as her mind tried and failed to process the situation. She simply did not have the mental faculties needed to wrap her mind around this. Everything is happening too fast too soon.

An hour later, the cab ride from Bart's to Sherlock's flat barely registered in her brain. It's when he carefully drapes the covers over them and eases her head on his chest that the gravity of their situation truly hit her.

She could feel the panic rapidly rising in her, hot fat tears rolling down her cheeks in great succession. She weakly tried and failed to get up as the need to bolt and run consumed her because of the arms anchoring her to her spot. Later, she finds that she's more than grateful for it. She knows the hurt it would've inflicted on him had she succeeded in turning away from him. She could faintly hear him telling her to breathe and him gently rocking her back and forth as she ride out the last of her tears.

She doesn't know where the anxiety sprung from. She has entertained the idea of having children in the past, giving it enough thought that it warranted when it surfaced. But now, that it's real and happening, it suddenly hit her like a ton of bricks that maybe getting pregnant wasn't such a great idea after all. Who is she kidding? She's not equipped to be a mother. She barely has time to care for Toby much less a child! And Sherlock… oh, Sherlock–

His hand cups gently cups her jaw, tilting her head up so she could look at him.

She's almost afraid to meet his eyes, scared that he might, will, see her fears.

"I will be here. Even if or when you cease to want me, I will be here."

Sometimes it still catches her unawares, how he just knows what she's going through without needing to say a word.

And just like that, the doubt and fear in her mind decreases, the weight becoming a little bearable, as she realized that, barring his previous statements about sentiment being a chemical defect and love being a dangerous disadvantage, Sherlock Holmes is a man only capable of caring in the extremes.

He kisses her forehead with so much tenderness she thought her heart might break. He pulls her closer to him and just holds her.

She wasn't aware how long they stayed that way, only hearing the steady beat of his heart lulling her into a sense of security.

"I didn't even know you wanted children" she whispers, trying not to shatter the comfortable silence around them.

"I want them." He says, tone brooking no space for doubt "more so if you share the same sentiment." he adds. She could hear the vulnerability dancing just beneath the surface of his voice. He's giving her an out; giving her a decision to either terminate or keep the lives growing inside her. She's horrified at herself for making him think that she has even considered that option, because, terrified as she was, she knows she couldn't, wouldn't.

"If you have any doubts about my feelings towards children in general, I could give you a list of character references. I would recommend you ask Archie and Annabelle, the latter more so. She always tells me I'm her favorite uncle."

"You're her only uncle." She hears him give a noncommittal hmm and a shrug at that.

They stay that way, his fingers gently carding through her hair as the last tendrils of fear ebb away.

"We really knocked it out of the park though" she said, still sniffling a bit as Sherlock wiped the last of her tears. "Must've been one in a million"

"One in eight thousand, actually" he replies, gently rubbing her arms "Triplets are a lot more common than you think" He places a soft kiss on her head before he continues "especially with women in your age."

Molly's eyes narrow in response so he quickly supplies "Of course, that is to say that while you still are undoubtedly healthy and not look a day over thirty," he gets a raised eyebrow in response, he admits he is laying it on a bit thick. "Your body is preparing itself for a more sedate lifestyle while at the same time ensuring the continuation of your genetic line thus, being more prone to releasing multiple eggs. I believe the doctor's call it a 'going-out-of-business' sale."

The punch in the arm he earns in return told him what she thought of that last bit.

"Was that a bit 'not good'?" She mouths a no into his chest, and he chuckles.

"You didn't seem too surprised when the doctor said we'd have triplets."

"I was hoping for it. Not triplets, specifically. The possibility of having twins seemed much higher. Quadruplets, though. Now there's a number we could go for next." And now it's her turn to laugh at his forlorn tone, though something tells her he's not entirely jesting.

"We'll be terrible parents."

"Fair enough," he concedes "but we would have all the help we could possibly need. Mycroft and, consequently, mummy were over the moon when they found out."

"He knew before I did?" of course he did. That would explain the on-call doctor.

"It pains me to admit it but he is much more observant than I give him credit for." He brings her hand to his lips, lightly kissing each knuckle. "If we play our cards right, London might not even need a Scotland Yard in twenty years."

She pictures it, a future with the Hooper-Holmes children wreaking havoc in London, and it's absolutely terrifying and wonderful.

Suddenly, the prospect of having a family doesn't seem so daunting anymore.

End Notes: Spent the weekend a few weeks ago surrounded by mom-to-bes hence the fic. I shamelessly and heavily referenced a show close to my heart. Written because oft times, when I do see a pregnancy fic, it's Molly who wants the kids more than Sherlock. I rarely do see the opposite, hence the one-shot. I do hope you enjoyed it.

Disclaimer: I have no firsthand knowledge when it comes to pregnancies and any data I have used in this ficlet are from things I've read/seen in media.

Currently accepting prompts [my inbox is open if you have em]

Thank you for reading and lemme know what you think!

-June