#tom-verse

“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.”

“Oh.”  He thought for amoment it was something interesting, like a group of Russian mobsterswith automatic weapons or maybe a rampaging lion escaped from thezoo.  "Is he with anyone?“

“Some bloke in a business suit,probably a client or a new employee or something,” she said,sliding down in her seat as much as she could.  

“Molly, you’re not a heroine in arom-com, you’re going to slide off the chair and end up flat on yourarse on the floor.  Here, hold my hand so he gets jealous.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?”she hissed, straightening and lacing her fingers with his over thetable.

He let his expression soften intosomething affectionate, besotted; it was the way he felt around hermost of the time anyway, so it wasn’t hard to fake.  "There’s afine line between cliche and classic,“ he flirted.  "Youcould make a bit more of an effort.”

Molly gave him a flat look that spoketo just how unimpressed she was, which actually worked rather well inits own way because it’s a look he’d seen her direct at The Ex ratherfrequently.

“So we’re actually doing this? You know this is exactly why he and I split in the first place.”

“No, you split because he was aninsufferable dullard and quantity didn’t make up for quality in thebedroom.”  At her incredulous look, he added, “Your words,not mine.”

“My words to Mary Watson,”she gritted out.  "Fuck-fuck-fuck, here he comes.“

"That’s what she sai—” Molly kicked him under the table.  Hard.

“Molly, hi,” Tom enthused,loping over to the table like a poodle on stilts.  "Sherlock,“he smiled, sticking out his hand.

Nothing for it, he supposed, slippinghis hand from Molly’s (rather conspicuously) and standing to shakeTom’s hand and be introduced to his very dull, boring,non-Russian-mafia-or-zookeeper shadow.  Molly got a very quick,polite hug and a handshake from the [something finance, banker’shours, has a car, boring boring boring] probably-school-friend.

Introductions; oh, your name is Tomtoo, oh Thom with an ‘h’, haha; small talk small talk; yes, we werejust at the British Museum, Molly was looking over some bones with acolleague, even ancient murders can shed light on modern forensics;The Work is always interesting, always something new; oh, you’ve beenkeeping up with the blog, John does so love to exaggerate, hahaha;yes yes, good to see you again.  His face felt like it was going tofall off from all the plastic smiles.  Tom and other-Thom moved tofind themselves a table and Molly almost collapsed with the relief ofit.

"You could have put your armaround me or something,” Molly said after they were safely outof earshot.

“That would oversell it, make melook insecure.  Obviously I have nothing to be insecure about,considering I won.  I’m a gracious winner.”

“Right, because you never gloatabout anything.  Like the time you won Uno.  Or Snakes and Ladders. Or Battleship, which you only won because you cheated.”

“Everyone cheats at Battleship. It’s like poker, it’s all about the bluff.”

She gave him another Look, so he tookher hand again.  He was keeping an eye on the Toms-squared just tomake sure they were watching.  They weren’t.  The Ex didn’t reallyeven seem to care, too absorbed in his old school friend to noticemuch of anything.

She didn’t need to know that.  Shecouldn’t see them, after all.  "You could fawn over me a bit,“he said.

"What about not overselling it?”

“Well I couldn’t oversellit, but it’s almost expected of you.  You want to show you’ve movedon so you’ll overcompensate to prove it.  It’s what you do.”

“Do I?” she asked, cockingher head an raising her eyebrows in a way that said he was skating onthin ice.

“'Jim wasn’t my boyfriend, we onlywent out three times, I ended it,’” he said, doing his bestimpersonation of her.  It was actually rather good, he thought,almost as good as his John.  Always harder to nail a falsetto,though.

“You can’t remember GregLestrade’s name, but you can quote something I said three years agoverbatim.”

Bollocks.  He only remembered becausehis comeback had been particularly witty.  And because he’dinadvertently committed as much of that day to memory as possible andreplayed it in the two years he was away, as it was a turning pointof sorts.  Not that he was in any way sentimental about that kind ofthing.

“It was about Moriarty, Iremembered everything about Moriarty in case it was useful.” Decent save.

“Uh huh.”  She stared at him.

“He keeps glancing over here—”it was a lie “—you should do something.”

“Like what?  I’m already holdingyour hand.  Shall I come sit in your lap?”

Oh God yes please.  "Idon’t know, laugh or something.  Look happy.  Like you actually wantto be here with me.  Or maybe just like you don’t want to reachacross the table and strangle me.“

"Those three things aren’tmutually exclusive.  It’s pretty much its own state of being, theGermans probably have a word for it.”  

Molly’s thumb brushed over his, sendinga shiver down his spine that wasn’t just from the too-light touch. He chewed the corner of his lip, thinking that now would be eitherthe best or the worst time for The Ex to actually look over at them.

“Have we sat here long enough forit not to be weird if we left?” Molly asked.  

“You haven’t finished yoursandwich,” he pointed out.  Really, now that he had the chance,he was going to make the most of it.

“Kinda not hungry any longer. I’ll just take it home and finish it later,” she said, slidingher hand free from his to get her handbag.  She produced an evidencebag and stuffed the rest of her sandwich and chips into it, then tookthe chips he had left on his plate.  

He was pretty sure she wouldn’t do thaton an actual date, but she would in a long-term relationship.  Heshot a smug look to Tom-and-Tomtoo, but they still weren’t payingattention.  

After they stood, he held out his handfor her to take while Molly twisted and gave The Ex one last littledorky-polite wave (God she was so cute he couldn’t stand itsometimes, he just wanted to chew on her head like a lion,which—oddly—seemed to be the theme of the day for him, maybe he’dask her to go to the zoo sometime).  Molly interlaced her fingerswith his and he led her from the cafe with his own parting look toThe Ex; the thinned lips and narrowed eyes were every bit assatisfying as he thought they’d be.

*

“Oh, what a cutie!  Is she yours?”

“No, just sitting for a friend,”he said, turning and pacing back toward the windows, patting Rosie onthe back in the vain hope of a burp that was only air this time. “Now, back to why you’re here…”

“Oh!  Yes, sorry.  Well, you see,I think my stepfather is trying to kill me.  I found this in my bed,”she said, opening the carrier bag she’d brought and producing anempty plastic box.  "Bugger.  It was still there when I was inthe cab…“

*

"Molly!  Shut the door and get upon a chair.  Quickly!”

“Wha—?  Why?” she said,pulling the door closed.

“Because the floor is lava,”he said sarcastically.  "There’s a venomous snake loose in theflat, probably Agkistrodonpiscivorus by the client’s description.  They’resemi-aquatic and not prone to climbing, so this should be relativelysafe.“

She gave him a flat look.  "Beserious for two minutes, please.  You don’t even have a client.”

“Because she ran when she figuredout the snake was loose in the flat and that it actually waspoisonous.  Now get. On. The. Chair,” he hissed, pressingRosie’s head against his shoulder and covering her ear just in casehe was louder than he thought he was being.

Finally, finally, she realized he wasbeing completely serious and clambered up on the chair next to thesofa.

He heard movement behind him, comingfrom the bookshelf; he thought it best to be on the other side of theflat just in case they could climb.  Probably safe to walk across thefloor, considering its position, but one could never be too careful. He pushed the side table a bit closer to the desk to make bridgingthe gap to the desk easier.

“What are you doing?”

“Fairly obvious,” he grunted,thinking he really needed to fix that wobble sometime, beforelevering himself onto the desk.

“Oh my God,” Molly said,throwing her hands in the air.

“Always knew you thought highly ofme, but that’s really a bit much,” he said, stepping down ontothe second desk chair before preparing for the leap to the coffeetable.  Rosie seemed to be enjoying herself at least, if all theshrieking baby-laughter in his ear was any indication.

“So this is where you impress me,right?  You hand me the baby and then you find the snake and wrestleit like Steve Irwin?”

“Noooo, I called a herpetologistfrom the London Zoo to come and collect it,” he said slowly. “Is it like a cartoon inside your head all the time, or is justwhen you’re with me?”

Molly scowled, then cocked her head asthey both heard the front door.  "Wow, your friend is reallyfast.  I mean the Zoo isn’t that far, but the traffic right now—"

“It’s not the herpetologist,though she’ll be delighted to find a second reptile in the flat,”he said.

“Wh—”

“Don’t come in!” Sherlockshouted, covering Rosie’s ear again.

Mycroft, idiotic and arrogant asalways, mistook that for an invitation to stroll right in as thoughhe were the guest of honour.  He surveyed the room, smiling in hisstupid condescending way.  

“Oh, the lava game.  And you lethim pull you into it, too.  Honestly Ms. Hooper, aren’t yousupposed to be the adult?”

“There’s actually a snake on thefloor, you should, ah, probably get on a chair,” Molly said,eyeing the distance between all the raised surfaces in the room.  Shewas going to give up her chair and try to make it to the sofa.

Mycroft rolled his eyes so hard hiseyelids fluttered, jaw going slack from the sheer tedium of his verycoexistence with mere mortals.  Molly hopped onto the coffee table.

“North American swamp adder, alsoknown as a water moccasin or cottonmo—” Sherlock clarified,holding out his hand to help Molly onto the sofa.

“Yes, I have taken biology, I’mfamiliar,” Mycroft said, hauling his bulk onto the chair Mollyhad vacated.

“Mm, I’m sure.  Wouldn’t besurprised to find copies of Snake Lover’s Digest shoved underyour mattress.”

“Says the man who has a stack ofGuns & Ammo next to his bed.”

“They’re not next to the bed,they’re next to the toil—” he cleared his throat and lookedaway.  "Nevermind.“  Really, he had nothing to be ashamedof, Molly kept the Journal of Clinical Pathology (and a fewothers) next to hers.

"Quite.  Mother always said you’dget haemorrhoids, but you never did listen.”

“You’re a haemorrhoid,”Sherlock retorted.

“And you’re both setting a shiningexample for Rosie,” Molly said, giving Sherlock a Look beforeturning one on Mycroft.  

“She’s only five months old,”Sherlock dismissed.  "Right.  Sorry,“ he said when Molly’slook went from ‘you’re on thin ice, mister,’ to 'I’m going to startcounting in minute, do you want me to get the spoon?’

*

"You’re not going to breathe aword of this to Mary and John,” Sherlock said after Dr. Lacertaleft the flat.  He’d phone Lestrade later to see about an attemptedmurder charge for the stepfather.

“As much as I would love to seethe look on their faces when I tell them their only progeny was putin mortal peril by her Godparents—”

“Hey!” Molly interrupted.

“You are an accessory,”Sherlock reminded her, sotto voce.

“Pfft, what else is new?”Molly said, throwing one hand in the air and walking back to thekitchen with Rosie.  "Mycroft, are you staying for dinner?“

"Seeing as I know the kinds ofthings my brother keeps in there, no, but I thank you for your kindoffer,” Mycroft smiled tightly.

“A little medical waste never hurtanyone,” Molly cooed at Rosie, leaning into the fridge.  "Well,maybe some people, but that’s only because they don’t follow properstorage and disposal procedures.“

Mycroft lifted his eyebrows.  "Atleast this one won’t be at the centre of an international incident orcausing a sex scandal, though one involving the trafficking of humanremains isn’t exactly a step up.  Really, brother mine, your taste inwo—”

“Don’t you have somewhere else tobe?” Sherlock snapped, looking nervously at Molly’s back.

“At the moment, no.”

“Fine.  Why are you here, anyway?”

“Mummy and Daddy will be in townagain at the weekend.  We have dinner reservations for seven onFriday.”

Molly came into the lounge with a platebalanced on one hand, keeping it well away from Rosie.  "Are yousure I couldn’t interest you in some finger food?“ she asked,serving Mycroft like a cocktail waitress.  

Sherlock bit his lip; the look onMycroft’s face was priceless.  She’d put the fingers from the saladdrawer on crackers and garnished each with a half of an olive.

"Do consider a vasectomy.  Ishudder to think of what the two of you would produce,” Mycroftsaid once he’d regained his composure.

“And I’m sure the polar bears willthank you for doing your part to ensure they all drown when there’sno more sea ice for them to live on.  Oh, wait.  They won’t.”

“Oh, so we’re doing carbonfootprint now, Mr.I-take-cabs-everywhere-because-I-can’t-be-arsed-to-wait-for-anything-ever-including-public-transport?”

“You know that in my work, livesoften depend on my expediency.  I buy recycled loo roll—which isterrible, by the way—and I don’t drink bottled water.  It’s anoffset.”

“Mrs. Hudson buys your loo rolland—Oh fuck, are you kidding me?”

“Wha—Again?  Did he have youchipped while you were sleeping?”

“We live in the sameneighbourhood, it’s bound to happen,” Molly hissed, pushing backagainst Sherlock’s shoulder when he nudged her aside to walk next toher, resting that giant paw of his on the handle of the trolley.

“This is why I don’t do my owngrocery shopping.”

“So you don’t run into myex-fiancé in the Health & Beauty aisle.”

“Close enough.  Now smile.  Andfawn.”

“Still not fawning.”

“If you don’t want to sell it,”he said in a no skin off my nose tone.

And then there was Tom, all earnestsmile and fancy seeing you two again so soon, ha-ha-ha, just doingmy weekly shop (ready meals and a plastic tub of hummus, even hisjunk food was healthy and boring).

“Just picking up a few thingsourselves,” she said, master of stating the obvious.

Which must have been Sherlock’s cue toreach across the trolley and grab three (!) boxes of condoms and atube of lubricant.  "Going away for the weekend,“ heexplained.

Tom’s eyebrows raised but he was amature adult (unlike Sherlock) so said nothing.

“So, did you ah, have a nice lunchwith oth—uh, Thom?”

Tom said something about oh, yes, yes,a school chum, just moved back from Adelaide, meeting him tonight atthe pub, actually, you two should swing by.  She wasn’t really payingattention because Sherlock had rested a casually possessive hand onthe curve of her hip, crowded into her space to keep the aisle clearenough for another trolley to pass.  He was eerily good at actinglike a normal person when he wanted to.  They parted rather quicklywith a handshake and a yes, maybe we’ll all grab drinks sometime.  

“Three boxes?  Really?  Thatwasn’t very subtle.” she said after Tom had left the aisle.

“Alright, yes, it might have beena bit over the top, but they’re on offer.”

“Well, go put them back now.”

“Can’t, he might see us when we goto the till.”

“So then we’ll just wait a littlebit until he leaves.”

“If I wanted a milkshake, I’d havegone to a shop that sells milkshakes,” Sherlock said, indicatingthe ice cream in the trolley.  "Just buy them and return themnext time you do your shopping.“

"I’m not returning them!  I don’tneed some perky-breasted dewy-skinned twenty-something judging my sadmiddle-aged life choices when I return three boxes ofjohnnies!  You return them.”

“Can’t, they’re on your card andthey get sniffy about that sort of thing.  Never ends well,” hesaid, gazing off into the distance looking like he was rememberingsomething.  She probably didn’t want to know.

Molly sighed heavily, giving in.

**One Week Later**

“Okay, yes, fine, we’ll get thecheese and onion this ti—are you fucking kidding me.”

“Chipped,” Sherlock said. “You should get some kind of scan done.”

Tom was looking at his receipt with afrown on his face, carrier bags looped over his forearm.

“Just get in the queue and hope hedoesn’t see us,” Molly said quickly through clenched teeth,herding Sherlock toward the Customer Services desk.

Of course there’d been a mistakeon his bill and he needed to straighten it out.  The small talk wasexcruciating, as always, but luckily there was only one other personin front of them.

“And what can I help you withtoday, sir?” the girl (what was she, like twelve?) behind thedesk asked Sherlock when Mr. Wetmop-in-aisle-three stepped aside.

He dialled the charm up toneed-a-new-pair-of knickers, smiling like real people.  "We justneed to return these,“ he said, dumping out the three boxes ofcondoms onto the counter.  He’d kept the lube for use in an‘experiment’ (she didn’t ask).

"Is there, um, something wrongwith them, sir?  We don’t usually accept returns on, ah, personalcare items.”

Molly could see the annoyance in theline of Sherlock’s shoulders.  She was hit with a sense offoreboding, like she was watching a mini-her in a disaster filmtrying to outrun a tsunami.  

“As you can see, the boxes arecompletely intact, seals unbroken.  They haven’t been tampered withand are in perfectly resalable condition,” Sherlock arguedthrough his smile.

The girl looked them over and seemedsatisfied with their condition.  "I still need a reason for thereturn, though.  Company policy.“

"Don’t need them any more, decidedto start a family.”

Oh. my. God, she thought,watching the wave crash right over mini-her in the film in her head. Tom looked at her, startled.  "Eh-heh.  We’re not trying-trying,but, y'know, if it happens, it happens,“ she tittered, trying tosmile.

"At the rate we’re going, can’timagine it taking very long,” Sherlock said, giving her thatkind of mock-leering smile one of those all-wit-and-charm types wouldgive.  She wondered if he’d been practising John-looks.

“Best of luck to the two of you,then,” Tom enthused, his grin (mostly) genuine.

*

“You could have just told her wegot the wrong kind,” Molly hissed as they walked toward theproduce section.

“Then they’d exchange them andwe’d be stuck with them, because taking them back would just looksuspicious.”

“Could have just used them,”she said without thinking.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her butsaid nothing else.