Note:

I do not own these characters. Begging does nothing for the rights and I believe that Moffat lives off of my tears and is secretly feeding them to Gatiss, driving him slowly insane. Interesting to watch, but I fear for season three. I have a feeling that rat, bow, and wedding are going to be twisted and manipulated so much that we will be crying within seconds.

I know that in this fandom we don't do Femlock too much but here's my little experimentation with it. More may come if I decide to write more after I finish this off. I do hope you enjoy my writings of my two things I like writing about. Reviews really are appreciated!

None of this was good and Sherlock knew for a fact. It was so far from good and okay that even she, the queen of dealing with things all dangerous and somewhere stationed in the not good spectrum, didn't know what she was supposed to do. There were options that she could take, but they all weren't things she wanted. Either she could get rid of it, which would be a coward's way out, or ride it out, using bravery that she was going to have to find somewhere. Riding it out even meant she was going to have to talk to John, something she wasn't keen on doing after what had happened between them. Now, instead of living with her, John was off in some other flat in London with his wife, Mary. They had recently married, but he had left before that. The friends had a falling out.

And that left Sherlock without anyone besides her elderly landlady and overbearing brother that really just wanted piss her off. Not to mention her little problem that just wasn't going away. by using her mind to make it so. If she had that ability she would go ahead and abuse it the most she could. Her long fingers raked through the dark curls that spiraled down her back, instead of up in a tangled ponytail or a messy bun to hold them up. Sherlock tapped a nervous rhythm on her leg for a few moments before picking up her mobile and opening up a new message to John. Technically, it was right to let him know what they had done by pure mistake.

We need to talk. -SH

I have nothing to say to you. JW

Still mad. Perhaps she did deserve it since, after all, they had sex and once the thing finished she had told him to leave. Not something one should do to a man who had practically confessed his true feelings towards her apparently. That had happened a month ago now, not a few days or weeks ago. She had her reasons to do that; sleeping with a man engaged to be married wasn't something that she wanted to be known for. Things like that stuck more than her ability to deduce. It ruined women even in these times. The last thing she wanted was to be known as was the woman who had split up a marriage. According to her thoughts, it was still going to happen. Mary always had been a jealous woman and never had liked that John had lived with a woman known for going to Buckingham Palace in nothing more than a sheet.

You may not have anything to say to me, but I have something to say to you. -SH

Then go on and say it. I'm on break and I haven't got all day. JW

Niceties are gone since you said that. -SH

Always with the dramatics. JW

Always with the rudeness. -SH

Look who's talking. JW

I'm pregnant. -SH

There was a delay of a few minutes between texts that made worry fill her and again she ran her fingers through her hair to try and soothe herself. It didn't work but it had been worth a try.

Are you sure? JW

Very. -SH

Symptoms? What are they? JW

Nausea, vomiting, fatigue, hunger more than my average, breasts hurt like their growing, and areolae darkened. Then there's the part of no period and that I took a pregnancy test and tested positive for it. -SH

Another pause.

Fuck. JW

Articulate as always. -SH

This isn't the time, Sherlock. JW
I'm coming over. I have the rest of the day off. JW

You're taking another test. I want to be sure. JW

Fine. I'll take another if it'll make you happy. -SH

Won't make me happy unless the test comes back negative. JW

So polite to the woman who might be carrying your child. -SH

I'm giving you what you deserve. JW

Come over when you can. I'll see you when you get here. -SH

The text sent and after she turned off her mobile, tossing it away from herself. It would take John about thirty minutes to get to Baker Street according to the distance, day, time of day, and stop that he was going to take gave her time to get dressed and shower. But, Sherlock didn't shower, she got dressed in a sleek, black pencil skirt, a dress shirt, and a black cardigan thrown over it all. She added a swipe of deodorant and a spritz of her usual perfume. From there she put on the kettle when ten minutes remained. Still, she knew how to make John's tea and by the time he came back up it was ready and waiting for him by his side table near the chair he immediately went to.

John said nothing to her, crossing one leg over the other as he fixed her with a look that would make most women shiver, but not Sherlock for his intimidation wouldn't work on her as always. The chair had sunk under his weight - he had put on some weight since she had last seen him, from Mary's cooking no doubt - and stayed silent still as they sipped on their tea. Her eyes were on the test for most of the time in the silence. The cup was set down when she was halfway finished with it to pull her hair up into a ponytail. Tightly she pulled it so nothing would be able to escape save for a few strands that were looser than the others. She felt more in charge over this and at least that would be one thing rather than nothing on this playing field.

"Are you going to say anything," she questioned, back straightening as she sat there in her chair. "Anything besides saying that we have nothing to say would be nice. We do have things to discuss, such as what we're going to do when that test there," she motioned in its direction, "Turns out to be positive."

"I'm not going to believe that you're pregnant until the test I bought turns out to be positive," he replied, switching one leg over the other. "These tests can be faulty at times depending on so many factors. But I'm sure you already know that. You're going to take it and we're going to find out for sure. I'm going to stay neutral. Your symptoms can mean that you are, in fact, pregnant, but they can be misinterpreted. How late are you for your period. Be honest with me, Sherlock."

Doctor voice was in play as a way of coping with stressful situations. Since she had known him, a few years at least, she had heard it, usually pointed towards her and her little habits that weren't healthy in his eyes. Sleep or food were the things used the most, never her menstruation cycle. Between friends that are a man and woman, those things aren't typically discussed, even considering how odd their own relationship could get. His eyebrows were raised expectantly, waiting for something to come out of her mouth. Playing this act-like-an-arse game was something two could play at.

"Well, it was like any other that I've had. Lasted for about five days and was heavy for the first two then grew lighter until it was completely finished. All in all, not bad. You complained about my mood - I'm sure you remember - through it. Said I was being odd and, as a retaliation, I set your sheets on fire. A small one but it got the point through. And by the red face you have you're upset that it was me who did it. This month I was supposed to start around three weeks ago. No symptoms of my cycle, just a bit of nausea that I found odd," she said, her eyes on his now flushed face from embarrassment, "Then I noticed that my breasts looked odd and matched symptoms of pregnancy. Of course, breasts can hurt when a woman is close to their period so I waited a week more, that brought me up to two weeks late, and the nausea just increased and in another week my areolae have darkened. I'm sure you see why I think I'm pregnant."

She had cut right to the core. John Watson didn't like hearing about a woman's problems and she had taken advantage of it. Little things of information went a long way with her, this just being an example. Mrs. Hudson and her had been talking about how lucky her landlady was to have gone through menopause already. He had passed through at the wrong - well, right in her opinion - time and had immediately turned just as pink as he looked at this time. He had no problems with anything else a woman could have since he had gotten married. The fingers on his right hand twisted the gold band on his left hand's ring finger, eyes averted from her face. More than just upset over her talk of periods. Not that Sherlock blamed him for feeling that way.

"I'm staying neutral," he murmured to break the silence. "Once this test shows the results we'll start worrying about it. I just want to be sure, Sherlock. Rash decisions never turn out to be good."

Sensible as always. And to Sherlock it was annoying as always. "Hand me the test. Might as well start seeing if we need to worry about anything." She bit her tongue at the idea of adding that they really did. John wouldn't approve her words and wouldn't believe her until the proof was in his hands. That was how they differed. She didn't need to have solid evidence in her hands to know what was true or false, no matter how improbable it was.

He tossed her the test, which she expertly caught, and she stood up go to the closest bathroom. It took a few minutes to get the will to pee on the damn stick and when she was done she walked out with the test in hand. "Tell me the results when they show," she said, sitting back down after it was in his hands.

John gave a short nod as the silence set in. Sherlock could hear the traffic and Mrs. Hudson walking around in her kitchen, the clatter of a dish in the sink from blow, a loud horn honking and an angry shout from a pedestrian to the car. It was all eclipsed when the doctor in front of her said, pale-faced at that, "I guess you really are pregnant."

There it was all over again. Sherlock felt her stomach flip nervously and her eyes close. The news wasn't any better to hear a second time. It wasn't a good feeling, being pregnant; it was frightening, not joyful like it was usually depicted by everyone else. She was now Sherlock Holmes, the woman who slept with a married man and got pregnant from their stupidity to just rush into sex so they wouldn't cause any commotion and give Mrs. Hudson any hint to what was going on.

"Sherlock? Are you listening to me?" Her eyes focused in on the man who was now leaning in to try to get her attention. "I asked you if you want to keep the child? After all, it is the woman's choice and I'm not going to force you into it if you don't want to. This is all your decision."

"I've never been one to want an abortion, if that's what you're suggesting. It should be available, but I don't want to have one. So the answer to the question is that, yes, I'm going to carry the baby." She paused before going on, "But I'm sure you mean more than just carrying it. Adoption or not. That's the real question. The system for that is rather bad and I'd rather not put a child into the world to forever question if it was wanted. Even if most wouldn't consider me a fit mother, you included, I have wanted a child. My years of being able to safely carry a child full term are declining, especially with the harm I've done to my body. So, yes, I want to completely have and care for the thing growing in my womb."

John's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. That wasn't an answer he had wanted to hear, but it was the one he was getting. "You'll have to completely give up smoking, you know. And you're going to have to see a doctor regularly. I can get a benefit for you so it won't cost as much as it usually would since I am a doctor as well. And-"

"John, I know what I'm going to have to do. Tell people, sleep, eat, classes on this, push it out of me. This isn't a mystery to me like you think it is."

"I always have a problem when you say that you understand things but the statement before it contradicts it. You can't just call a child 'it'. After all, what you're carrying is technically a child since we're treating them as one according to your choice on keeping the baby. Nor can you talk about pushing the child out of it like telling me what you need from the store. That's just not done."

His eyes were still down to his lap and he was just shaking his head a bit. John took a few moments then cleared his throat and added, "I've got to get going. I'll make an appointment for you so you can get checked out. We'll discuss more things at a later date, especially with cases. The doctor I'll get you can tell you more about when you'll have stop taking them for the baby's sake. Text me if anything's wrong or if anything comes up. I'll text you if anything comes up on my end as well."

It surprised her how calm and steady his voice was in the face of all that was going on. In a quiet voice he thanked her for the tea then left her sitting there with dishes to do and yet another pregnancy to dispose of before Mycroft saw any of it. More questions were left in his wake and she definitely didn't feel reassured over this, like she hoped she would have been; John was good at making her feel safe in the light of danger, but that hadn't happened today.

Are you going to tell Mary? -SH

Not now. Miscarriages are high in the first trimester. I want to wait at least a few more weeks before I tell her. JW

And you're going to be around more? -SH

Only if you want me to. You did tell me to leave the last time we were really together. JW

I won't do that again. -SH
I promise -SH

Whatever you say. JW