So, here I am back with the promised pregnancy fic as prompted by mychakk. We've had some brilliant discussions about various aspects of this story and she has been an encouragement and has helped to inspire me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as we enjoyed coming up with it.

Chapter 1

It was almost two months after the events on Sherrinford when John finally twigged. He came into Sherlock's flat already hyped up with excitement, itching to tell Sherlock the news that he thought he hadn't already picked up on.

Sherlock came out of his bedroom yawning and scratching his ribs through his pyjama top to find John in the kitchen making coffee, his eyes alight.

'I have news...something I know about Molly that you don't.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'If you mean her pregnancy I already know.'

John visibly deflated. 'What the...how, how do you know? She said I was only the third person she'd told, after her mother and Mike Stamford.'

John had to wait ten minutes as Sherlock ignored him, trudging into the bathroom for a shower before his coffee. By the time he emerged from his bedroom again, tucking in his tailored shirt, he was looking a little more like the Consulting Detective known and loved by the media but John didn't care about that he wanted to know how Sherlock knew and why he hadn't said anything.

Sherlock was happy to enlighten him. 'She stopped wearing perfume no doubt because it was making her feel sick, she changed to drinking non-caffeine tea and whilst she's lost weight from the morning sickness her breasts have gone up a size.'

'Her breasts...I didn't think you looked at women's breasts.'

Sherlock just raised an eyebrow. 'Whatever gave you that impression?'

'But why didn't you tell me?'

'Because I seem to recall you, after your honeymoon, quite vehemently tearing a strip off me for telling you and Mary about her pregnancy. I figured she would tell people as and when she was ready.'

John huffed. 'Well, I suppose that was good of you. Do you know who the father is?'

It was quick but John thought he saw a flash of disgruntlement on Sherlock's face. 'No...no I don't.'

'What about Tom?'

'Who?'

'You know, meat dagger, that guy she was engaged to last year.'

'Maybe; she didn't tell you then?'

'No, just said it was unplanned, a one night stand and that she didn't want to burden him with it.' John took a sip of his drink and sighed. 'She seemed sad, said she hadn't ever imagined she'd be a single mum. I...yes, I told her we'd both be there for her. After all she was there for you when you faked your death and she's done so much for me with Rosie that I thought it was the least we could do.'

Sherlock nodded but seemed distracted and John soon set about trying to find him a case.

It was only later, after John had left, that Sherlock let himself think about Molly again and her current situation. He had been battling with himself ever since he had found out she was pregnant. He seemed to be obsessed with wanting to know who the father was...it was driving him mad. It didn't help that it was also making him think of that nameless, faceless man having sex with her. The dreams had started just after he'd noticed her symptoms and they were getting worse rather than better. He could almost feel her skin under his hand, the urge to thrust into her deep in his own groin. He couldn't understand it, he had never had this sort of obsession before. He had almost mentioned it to John but he couldn't face the inane ridicule. The only other time he'd felt this put out was when Molly had told him that she'd been having 'quite a lot of sex' with Tom. And yes, of course he had remembered who he was, how could he forget? He just didn't think it would be good for John to know he'd retained that knowledge when John still couldn't grasp why he had deleted the solar system.

In fact, he'd spent the last two weeks compiling a dossier on Tom, including following him in the evenings but as far as Sherlock could tell from his movements and his phone calls he hadn't been in touch with Molly or her with him. It didn't seem that he could be the father which left a one night stand...but that could be anyone.

He steepled his hands under his chin, he needed more information.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

He found Molly working in the labs, a whole heap of files at her side which she seemed to be working her way through reluctantly.

'No autopsies today Molly?'

He saw her jump slightly at the sound of his voice, she obviously hadn't heard him come in.

'Morning Sherlock, no...umm..there are autopsies but I'm not allowed to do them.'

'Ah, because of your pregnancy?'

She blushed and Sherlock was struck by how pretty she was, pregnancy seemed to suit her, gave her a glow.

'I see John told you.'

'He didn't have to.'

'You already knew, what gave me away?'

Even Sherlock knew better nowadays than to tell Molly her breasts looked bigger so he mentioned the tea and the perfume and enjoyed the look of amazement on her face, he so rarely seemed to get that from anyone else nowadays. Even John was more likely to call him a show off and an arse rather than praise him.

'So, umm is the father anyone we know? I hope he's supporting you through all this.'

For some reason Molly's blush had deepened and she seemed to be avoiding eye contact with him and he found himself stepping forward and placing his hand on her shoulder. She felt so slight and he knew she'd lost more weight than even he had noticed. He felt a sudden and unexpected surge of protectiveness.

'Molly...' his voice held a warning tone to it. '...do I need to go and see this wretch and make him step up?'

She turned at this glancing up at him briefly and smiling, though he knew it was a fake smile; there to try and appease him. 'No, no it's nothing like that...honest. He...he doesn't know. It was a one night stand and...well, I don't want to burden him with it. I...err, I know it's something he wouldn't want and I don't want my child growing up with a forced and reluctant parent.'

Sherlock couldn't help but push her. For some reason, that he hadn't quite got to the bottom of, he wanted to know who this man was that had impregnated his friend. Whenever he thought about it he had an urge to punch something or preferably someone.

He tried to keep his voice casual. 'So, it's not Tom then?'

'Tom...no, what ever made you think him?'

He shrugged. 'Well, I believe using exes for sex without strings is a bit of a thing nowadays.'

Molly frowned and turned away from him. 'Well, it's not a thing for me. I haven't seen him in months and have no desire to. Now did you come in for anything in particular or just to quiz me on my love life?'

Given that that had indeed been his only reason for coming in Sherlock had to scramble quickly and make up some tests that needed to be done. He had no particular desire to go back to his temporary flat on Montague Street. He'd been there ever since Baker St had been blown up and he hated it. The furniture was cheap and uncomfortable and there was no Mrs Hudson to look after him. She'd relocated to her sister's for the time being though her flat would be habitable again later this week and Sherlock's in another month's time. It couldn't come soon enough.

He spent the rest of the day at Barts chatting to Molly, updating his findings on some long term tests he was running as well as solving a case for Lestrade without even leaving his seat. It was probably one of the most satisfying days he'd had in a long while. For once he could put the relatively new knowledge of his sister out of his head, forget the pain of losing Victor and the nightmare he went through at Sherrinford and just be himself again.

He found himself at one point watching Molly as she moved about the lab putting away unwanted equipment and he found his thoughts drifting back to that phone call that had changed how he thought about her. For the first time he had found himself considering her as a woman and not just as a friend and colleague. Maybe that was why it still bothered him that he didn't know who the father was? He thought that maybe if he knew who it was he could get rid of those images in his head and go back to just seeing her as a friend.

The one thing he did want to do though was encourage her to eat more, he was worried about how thin she looked so as she started to pack up her things he did too and he joined her at the door of the lab ready to walk out.

'Chips Molly?'

'Sorry?'

'I'm offering to buy you some chips; they're quite bland and shouldn't be too heavy on your stomach. You never did try that chippy I told you about.'

'I don't know Sherlock; I'm really tired at the moment. This baby is really taking it out of me.' She put her hand on her slight bump and he had a sudden urge to hug her. He frowned at his strange reactions and turned, leading the way.

'Then we'll get them to take away. Let me...let me look after you for once; I think it's about time it was my turn.'

He smiled at her and crooked his elbow towards her, sighing in relief when she gave in, sliding her arm through his as they walked towards the lifts. 'OK, I'm too tired to say no so I'm trusting you not to have some ulterior motive.'

'No motive Molly, I promise.'

By the time the cab made it to her flat she was pretty much asleep. Her whole body was resting against his and he felt a little cruel having to wake her up. As she opened her eyes she looked up at him and he found his eyes drawn down to her lips. He wondered whether she was giving off hormones that he was reacting to and he let his mind get diverted away from her onto tests he could try and papers he could read to see if it was a possibility. Whatever it was he knew he was reacting oddly around her at the moment and he felt very disconcerted about it.

When they got to the flat she went to have a quick shower whilst he put the food out onto plates. He checked around her kitchen and saw that she didn't have much in by way of food and he realised she mustn't have felt well enough for shopping. He started putting a list together that he could send to Billy...maybe that was something he could set up for her, a regular delivery of food, even if it was just some basics.

As he carried the plates through to the front room his mind was in full on deductive mode. He noticed everything, the congratulations card from an aunt, the doctor's appointments on a scrap of paper on the mantelpiece, her dad's old cardigan left out that she must be using as a comfort blanket of sorts. But none of these things was what he was looking for; he was trying to find signs of a man in the flat and there were some, the problem was they were all signs of him. His dressing gown on the maiden, drying after being washed, a belt he must have left behind one time, some photos from an old case left on the side for him if he still needed them. There was nothing that he could pin to this mystery man and he growled in frustration. Dammit, he needed to know who this guy was.

Anybody want to hazard a guess as to who the father is? And do you like the start? I hope so, let me know xx