bakerstreet | Rabbit Done Died Meme

A half-Targaryen? Will wonders never cease?

[She stands before him, unflinching in the presence of the man who had killed her father]

Why should it matter to you? I'm the only Targaryen left.

Not if you push that screaming babe out.

He's hardly a threat to you.

[She seems so certain it will be a boy and yes, she intends to get back her father's throne, but it would be stupid to declare these things openly]

Or would you slay an unborn infant and mother?

I'd have no compunction killing you if it benefited my House, Targaryen. Or your half-horse.

[She splays a hand protectively over her stomach]

If you do so, you'll have the wrath of the entire Dothraki horde.

Never tested my blade on a Dothraki. Should be fun, but it would not benefit my House to kill you now. I'll leave that to Robert.

[It's not as if she can run away at this point anyway. She's so big and swollen that she can hardly move. There's no way she could safely ride a horse at this point]

So there is some honor in you after all.

Don't let on.

Your secret is safe with me.

[She won't smile in his presence, but she does seem to be less tense, still on guard, but more relaxed]

[He is so used to people being on guard around him that he barely takes notice. He is aware but it is no matter. A pregnant woman would have no chance against him. While he is here, he might as well get information.]

What are you to name the child?

[His question catches her off guard, but instantly makes her suspicious]

Rhaego. His name will be Rhaego.

Rhae. For your brother?

[That made her laugh, hand still splayed across her stomach]

Never. He held a knife to my stomach and threatened me. He was no dragon.

Rhaegar was the last dragon. Or so they say. [He raises an eyebrow. Had he missed something?]

Yes he was. I hold my brother Rhaegar in high regard. Forgive my confusion. It has been a long day.

They say a half-Targaryen can't be a true dragon, but I disagree.

[He waves it off.]

Rhaegar was a great man, it is a great shame Robert killed him. [For the oddness of the statement, he does seem to be genuine]

They say Robert's son, Joffrey, is a lion, yet he is half-stag. The boy is all lion. [Literally. Also a little shit. Sometimes he wondered how such a boy came from his own seed.]

I can't remember. I was only a baby....but I've heard the stories of him.

[She's not sure she should be discussing such things with the King Slayer]

A horse and a dragon. I should be happy just to have a healthy child.

Our paths crossed a few times. [A man worthy of a certain amount of admiration. Shame his father was touched.]

Both are noble creatures. The child should be strong; I'll be interested to see what it will bring.

I'm sure you'll cross paths with him eventually. One day when he's strong and grown.

[When he was strong enough to take the iron throne. Or perhaps even sooner if Khal Drogo took the thrown for her]

I can't promise you'll look fondly upon that day.

Promises are only made to be broken.

[Uh... he is seventeen years old, this is not supposed to be happening to him. It's madness. He's just going to apologise again, if that's alright.]

My apologies, Lieutenant Uhura.

[Yes, you're carrying his child and he's still addressing you by title.]

Please just call me Nyota.

[They had been in bed together. Formal titles tend to go out of the window at that point. Uhura feels like he apologizes twice every day for what was essentially both their faults. The contraceptive had obviously failed, leaving her in her current condition. With a belly that was only just beginning to show. She has to push her chair back slightly from the communications station]

[His brows furrow, slightly confused, like he's been asked to solve a complicated mathematical equation. Yeah, that's not going to happen.]

Aye, ma'am.

[And, to clarify, they had been in bed together on the Enterprise.]

And you can stop staring at me like I'm going to combust at any moment. Pregnancy is very natural and Dr. McCoy said everything is going along just fine.

[She's trying to make herself look busy, a bit uncomfortable with conversing on the bridge. She could feel Kirk's eyes on them every time they spoke. Spock was trying to look uninterested, but he wasn't much better at covering his tracks]

Yes, aye. I'll -- do that.

[Uhura may not combust, but Chekov might. It's just so... awkward, everywhere. People walk around them like they're on eggshells (old Russian saying, fyi). Luckily, Kirk hasn't tried to talk to him about that night -- he can barely remember it, anyways -- and Spock hasn't killed him yet.]

[He's looking so nervous that Nyota takes pity on him and flashes him a soft smile, hoping to put him more at ease. It's just he's so young, she feels like she practically took advantage of him. Too much to drink that night, that's for certain]

You can come with me to my next appointment if you like.

[He's able to pause in his daily freak out to notice her smile and returns one, albeit an uneasy, small one.

That... sounds quite nice actually. It'll make him feel like he's contributing productively and not just being Ensign Awkward Awkov.]

Yes. I vill come to the, uh, next appointment.

( ooc; will roll for each. )

((Because this worked out SO well the last time I threw her in here))

[Shall we have four months since the last truce?]

[Four months and a few days. She's needed some time to ~~not chicken out~~ track him down and make sure John isn't around. Which is why she shows up unannounced, well, except for the text that gets sent to Sherlock's phone.]

Door.

New lock. Like it? SH

[Because texting is easier and she cannot help but think the moment she actually speaks he'll know, sight unseen. Maybe it's the hormones talking.]

I'd like it better if it were open.

[A moment. Another text.]

Please.

[He could play like this all day, just texting her out of victory of his new locks. Unpickable, they said. It took him fifty-three minutes to pick it, so that was good enough for him.

All the same, that 'Please'...it shakes something in him. That's not like her. That reminds him too much of the way she said 'please' when she begged him to spare her. He steps over to the door and opens it.]

You weren't followed.

[It's amazing what difference four months and change can make. She's leaning against the hallway, looking visibly tired, and while she's still as impeccably dressed in designer clothing as always, it's all cut differently now, no longer emphasizing the slim neat waist, more subtly loose in the bust and belly. Oh and she's gone up two cup sizes. There's that. She manages a small, dry laugh.]

Only by your housekeeper. She might insist on bringing tea. I suspect anyone else who has an interest in it is too busy laughing themselves sick.

[He knows the Woman's body intimately--even prior to their tryst in the cabin. He notices the change in her bust and waist, though the reasons why aren't immediately clear to him. Then again, perhaps they are. Perhaps he's simply being purposefully ignorant. It has happened before]

You never say 'please'. I presume it's important.

[he takes a step away from the door to let her in]

No cryptical games, no climbing through the window.

[She's willing to bet that he's being purposefully ignorant. Well, that or in denial. Either way she's grateful for it. Staring at her current state of being would not have been helpful. She enters the moment he steps back, as smoothly as a dance.]

I do hope that lock is housekeeper-proof. The woman is remarkably perceptive about some things. [Yes, she's pointedly ignoring his non-questions. Because now that she's here it's too late to leave, and she still cannot find the words.]

And the last thing I need is someone fussing about the current state of affairs.

She'll fuss no matter what the issue.

Though if she's more likely to work it out than I am...?

[That, in his mind, is extremely doubtful.]

[Irene stops, turns around, and looks at him, searching his face for the telltale signs, the clues that could and would give away that he's playing the game.

But there is simply skepticism, the honest, unwavering pride of someone who doubts his housekeeper can know better than he can.]

Call it women's intuition, if you'd like. [And because dancing around the truth is hard and irritable and she really does not want Mrs. Hudson to follow her up the stairs and fuss at her and him, Irene just spits it out.]

I'm pregnant.

[This should be obvious, of course, and the moment she says it, the way her clothing is cut and the tired appearance around her eyes click into place.

Deliberately ignorant. He wants to snap at himself for not noticing.]

You're here because there's no doubt in your mind who the father is, so I won't bother insulting you by asking that.

[His voice is calm, but his heart appears to be racing. It doesn't want to calm down. His personal carelessness has created another consequence. The Woman is unreadable, apart from her exhaustion and clear agitation at the situation.]

Do you need a new identity? Somewhere to settle down?

[She almost laughs at that. Almost.

Mostly she is just relieved that it's out in the open. Without waiting for him, she walks into the main room of the flat and takes a seat on the sofa, slipping out of her heels as she does.]

I'm pregnant, Sherlock, not an invalid. I have a new identity waiting, and a new place to hide. [A small smile tugs at her lips.] I'll even endeavor to behave.

Then why are you here?

[He sounds more curious than anything, no insult meant towards the Woman, but no earthly idea why she'd be here. Well, no. Three ideas. Maybe six ideas.]

You don't need money, you're more than capable of acquiring that yourself. Considering the last four months, I doubt you'd be using this for some sort of gain.

[Is she playing the game? Is that what this is about?]

[No, she isn't playing the game, not to gain any advantage at least. Playing the verbal game, though, trying to confound and irritate him, that was still on the table.

Irene tilts her head, watching confusion grow and creep across his face, and a moment of hesitation flickers over her own face. Could she have overestimated his ability to even cope with the idea?]

Do you really think no one will ever notice? Especially if the child grows up with certain proclivities?

[Like calling his teachers idiots. Or dissecting the class pet.] I expect by giving you time to make arrangements of your own for if anything unforeseen occurs in the future it might skip the part where you look at me like a particularly unhealthy fish.

[She leaves the 'like right now' unsaid.]

No one knows you're alive. I doubt anyone would connect me with you or---

[The idea of a child, of her child, of their child, it's a bit too much to think about. He's barely able to keep himself alive without the constant help and nagging of John and Mrs. Hudson. And now he has produced another living being, one that would require assistance and growth.]

I---I would not be an adequate father.

[She stares at him. Just when she was almost certain he had utterly missed the point, he says something that surprises him. It's almost like their regular games, their endless tête-à-tête albeit the subject matter is one that she is as uncomfortable broaching as he is. Which might explain why her temper is shorter. That and the growing fear that she is even less suited to role than he is.

Or it was all hormones and the child can go hang for all she cares.]

'Consulting detective' is a far more respectable profession for school interviews than 'dominatrix'. [A pause.] Perhaps I should just pretend to be you for those.

You could always give it away.

[Strange, but despite her ambitious nature, he has a feeling that option has never been in a forefront of the Woman's mind. She is everything that he prefers about her sex, including those touches of sentimentality he can never really understand.]

No, no, it would never end up being understood.

[She had thought about it, when she first found out. But it had been a short-lived thought. Whatever it was she and Sherlock Holmes had (Irene wasn't quite sentimental enough to call it a 'relationship', that was far too simplistic), it had always been characterized by the tension between sentimentality and intellect. It was no surprise that it would be the same in this case.

She tucks her legs beneath her and watched him, her expression a touch too calm, too smooth to be genuine.]

I thought it best to be prepared, so I came to tell you before I left.

Of course.

[He didn't bother asking her where she was going. He wanted to, of course, but he knew that if she truly wanted to hide, she would. He would never find her again.

Her, and now this child. This child that she's incubating, that he helped create.]

Have we run out of truce?

[Pride tells her that she can disappear if she wants to, thoroughly enough that even he wouldn't be able to find her. Or the child. But a part of her wonders if that's still true, if it had ever been true after Karachi.

Whether or not some part of her will always want to ensure that she can be found, if necessary, that will leave clues that her subconscious is certain only he can read if he chooses to.

That is a distinctly uncomfortable thought. She considers his question for a long moment, and a wild, hormonal, utterly sentimental part of her wants to say that the truce will have to last, for at least eighteen years and five months now. But she is still Irene Adler, still The Woman, and that will never do.]

Seventy two hours once I leave, by my last count.

Seventy-two hours.

[He tracks in his mind how long that means she intends to stay here. Not long. He shouldn't be sentimental, he shouldn't think about the fact that he wants her to stay longer.

Alone is better for him. He reminds himself of this, because it's important to know, especially now. Especially now that she holds this new, important key. No, no, it isn't important. It's just a thing, it's just a thing they've done. It's not important.

Except it is.]

Tea?

[Funny how that initial twenty-four hour truce had grown, had wormed its way into a subtle constant in their endless, eccentric orbit.

It was an idle thought, far too poetic and overwrought for Irene Adler's tastes but it kept her from thinking how despite the careful consideration, the endless calculation of how this would fall out, the confidence with which she always approached any encounter with Sherlock Holmes, the weight of the knowledge that was now in the open made her feel small, vulnerable.]

How about dinner?

[Because maybe this was the end of the world.]

[He found, not for the first time, that he desperately wanted to say yes. He wanted to just sit down and accept that this, whatever it was with them, was happening and he couldn't really fight it.

But the fight was part of it.

He took a step towards her and slipped a hand to her waist, just above the hipbone.]

I don't cook.

[If he had said yes, Irene might well have lost what little composure she had left. In the wake of everything between them now, it would have been an irrevocable change in their interactions, in the tenuous balance of the power play.

Because, even with proof positive of the fact that something had changed between them, the banter, the game, needed to remain the same. It was a frustrating, comforting constant.

Still, at the touch of his hand, warm against her hip, she smiled and rose to her full height (which was considerably less without the stiletto heels), stepping closer to him as she did.]

Not even if it were the end of the world?

It's not the end of the world. We're still alive.

[Read: She is still alive. He'd be just fine if he wasn't alive, and imagines that even with this unexpected wrench thrown into her life that she'd be fine as well.

The world would end, again, if Irene Adler died.

While he's not adept at making the first move, even in the months of this strange half-truce between them, he does manage to move to kiss her. Something brief, quick, but clearly sentimental. Reserved for moments of truce only.]

[At the kiss, her smile softened into something far more genuine than she would normally allow, though despite the softness it never lost its hint of arch amusement. Their little truces were always interesting, oscillating between moments of indomitable will and sentiment, of cool intelligence and silent warmth.]

Is that offer of tea still open, or is John on his way back?

We've got time.

[Tea is something he can do, though the idea of pulling away from her just yet seems---it doesn't seem like something he wants right now. Sentiment is very confusing like that.

He does, though, after a moment, and heads over to the kitchen.]

[She doesn't follow, but she does linger along the periphery of the room, her fingers tracing along a bookshelf piled high with all manner of things. There's order in the shelving of books, but then a barely contained chaos of things piled on top of them. Bits of shattered bone, some sort of rock. Research, no doubt. And the books' organization John Watson's doing.

As she looks, a familiar sight catches her eye and Irene's fingers run along a length of black leather. No doubt Sherlock Holmes made different use of a riding crop than she did, but the fact that it is here amuses her. She picks it up, testing its pliancy with a practiced hand, just to occupy her hands, if not her thoughts.]

Whose idea was it, to hide your school records, you or Mycroft?

[A guess, purely a guess on her part but his reaction would tell as much as anything he said. And for the first time Irene found herself curious just what he had been like as a boy.

Call it research.]

Neither. Our mother never did like people researching us without her knowledge.

[he steps into the kitchen and finds two fairly clean cups and a pot. He sets the kettle to boil as he prepares the teapot. He glances back over his shoulder at her, determines what he's fairly certain is her preference in tea, and sets it next to the cup.

She's got his riding crop, and he raises an eyebrow.]

Your personal inventory will have to change in five months.

[The answer actually does surprise her, and she lets the surprise show through an arched eyebrow, and a faint dry laugh.] Well that makes things difficult.

[Not impossible, but considerably more difficult in some ways. A challenge.

The crop is not as supple or pliant as her own, obviously nowhere near as cared for, but it's clearly been used. His raised eyebrow earns him the sharp dominatrix smile that made men and women ache to bend the knee, and she runs her fingers along its length again.]

Earlier than that, I expect. I did say I'll endeavor to behave.

[He smiles, and then narrows his eyes, his gaze curious]

Nature or nurture?

[She meets his gaze steadily] Why does it have to be either/or?

Because it can't logically be both.

And a child of mine would be even more difficult if it's more nature.

[A touch of humour touches her eyes, banishing some of the tiredness, at least momentarily.]

And mine isn't likely to play by your rules. Interesting, isn't it?

My intellect, your cunning. I doubt the world would be ready.

[But it would have to be. His gaze drifted down to her midsection, where said child was growing. Cells dividing. Chromosomes replicating.

The water began to boil and he turned away, back to the tea.]

[And for a moment, Irene considers staying in London. Letting the plane and the carefully laid plans and new identity go without her. Because the world won't be ready, and it would all be far more interesting to see up close.

But the water boils and he turns back to the kitchen and Irene Adler sets the riding crop back on its shelf with a momentary twinge of regret.]

And maybe that's the way she'll want it.

[he brings the tray of tea over to the side table by John's chair]

Maybe he'll embrace it, maybe not.

[She laughs softly at that and follows, perching on the arm of John's chair. She shifts a little as she does, still not used to the changes in balance, in body weight and where it all is.

The conversation sounded light to her ears, almost normal. Which was utterly abnormal for them. But given the reason for her visit, it seemed appropriate. And still, the tension simmered behind the words, unspoken but present.

She pours, two cups.]

May want to start keeping an eye on the papers in a few years.

I keep an eye on them as it is.

[But he understands her implication, of course, and he can't help but smile at it. His child, part detective and part criminal. His child. A thought more frightening than he'd expected.

[Irene picks up one of the cups, adds a little lemon, but just holds it. More for the sake of having something to do than actually wanting tea. An excuse to be here, like the truce.

There are words on the tip of her tongue. Things she wants to say before she left, things that should probably be said. Things that are sentimental, that are practical, that are things that either close this chapter between them or leave it open to something more than these tenuous moments.

But the words on the tip of her tongue don't come, because she likes this. This game, this unpredictability, this tension that never quite leaves no matter how many times they meet like this.

The sentiment is probably a sign that she would make a terrible mother, but Irene had never been very good at playing by the rules.

She smiles.]

Then maybe I should continue to misbehave. The papers are terribly dull.

Try something a bit more interesting than political intrigue. That requires a level of knowing who's-shagging-who that I just don't care about.

[he adds a bit of milk and sugar to his own tea and stirs it slowly. Once the tea is over, he imagines she'll leave and move on, and he might not see her until the child is born, or starting to grow up. Part of him is honestly relieved by that, because the stress of a new thing in his life that isn't a case---a new permanent thing without a solution or foreseeable end---could throw his entire world upside down.

But another part of him, the part that is, perhaps, a bit more mature than the former part of him, is disappointed. There are things he never did with his own family that would---that should be rectified in the future. John would be excellent at that sort of sentimentality. Sherlock is lacking.]

[That gets another smile from her.] It's never really about who's shagging who. That's just the clue.

[It'd always been about the balance of power, of information and who gets what when. Sex is just the most reliable way of gaining that.

She sets the cup back on its saucer, untouched. There's no logical reason to be here. She should have left the moment she'd said what she'd wanted to say. "Hello. I'm pregnant. Goodbye Mr. Holmes."

But she had and she really should salvage the whole thing and leave]

Well, Heathrow is waiting.

[She rises and, as she does, wonders idly what he'll make of it. Whether he'll think it's a bluff, that she's deliberately obfuscating the trail, or if it's a bit of sentiment, or an actual clue.

But it doesn't really matter. He won't tell her even if she asked, and she won't ask. They'll find each other again. She rests a warm hand on his arm as she passes him.]

Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.

Irene.

[his hand goes to her wrist. He could easily stop her by simply physically overpowering her, but he won't. He won't hurt her. He wouldn't, even before all of this. But he would take her wrist, hold her there if he could.]

[His reaction genuinely surprises her, and she stops, said surprise written clear on her face. Because it is a deviation from the script, the familiar way in which these moments of truce end. That one of them will slip away and the other will not stop them.

She tries to read his expression, but either he is at the moment just unreadable or deep down she doesn't really want to be able to read his expression at the moment. So instead she just looks at him.]

It's been a long time since you've called me that, Sherlock.

[He can't give in. There's part of him that never will, but---but right now---]

Where will you go?

[The fact that he asks is far more proof of sentimentality than she would ever ask for. She considers refusing him, telling him it's a puzzle to solve for later, but she of all people knows how significant the question is, and for once playing the game doesn't hold as much appeal as telling him.

She leans forward and kisses him lightly on the cheek, warm lips against cool skin. There doesn't need to be more, not when his question and her answer are far more intimate.]

New York City. Nobody can find me in that mess.

[Except him.]

[He's memorized those lips. He knows the way they feel against his mouth, against his skin. Yet, the way they feel now against his cheek is different than any other time. He can't quite understand why.]

Do you want me to rise to that challenge?

[He says the words with no fight, no teasing. Nothing but an honest question: Does she want Sherlock to appear in her life? He doesn't doubt that she will raise the child and be brilliant at it in ways that he would be utterly incapable. But would she want him to just arrive? To appear and exist in either her life or the child's?

He could never be a proper father. He could never promise that. But he could find her. He could exist, for her.]

[She doesn't pull away immediately, instead Irene lets her eyes close briefly, as if savouring the momentary closeness. Her hand rests on his shoulder for that same duration, before she does inevitably draw away. She doesn't break his loose grip on her wrist, but she does step away enough that it is the only point of contact between them.

She tries not to think of how that would even work, with whatever life she was going to shape, with the child. She knows neither of them are meant to be parents, that they are both far too extraordinary, far too disconnected from the rest of the masses to really be trusted with something as innocent and shapeable as a child.

But if not them, in whatever fractured unconventional capacity, who else could? Especially this child.]

I always want you to rise to the challenge, Mr. Holmes. [A fleeting, wicked smile plays at her lips and her eyes sweep over him from head to toe, tempering the bare, vulnerable honesty.]

In all senses of the word.

[There were things he might have to tell another woman. He might have to tell another woman that he didn't want her to leave (though the likelihood that there would be another woman he might want not to leave is extremely slim). He might have to tell another woman that he would always follow where she would go. He might have to tell another woman to expect him there.

He didn't have to tell any of these things to the Woman. It was what made her special. It was what made her more than any other woman he had met or, in all likelihood, would ever meet.]

Can we extend the truce one more night?

[She should say no, because there are a myriad of reasons to say no. The plane at Heathrow. The new identity waiting. The housekeeper. The flatmate. The fact that she has overstayed already. The fact that Irene Adler is known to everyone to be dead and gone and the fact that the charade is in danger of collapsing with every moment she stays.

Well, that last one was a bit dramatic.

But he is asking. Simply asking, without the game between them. Twice, even. She knows that is as close to begging as he will ever get.

And she wants to say yes.]

Until sunrise.

[He's letting sentimentality obscure himself. He doesn't beg for people to stay, he doesn't extend truces. Of course, prior to the Woman's entry into his life, he never offered truces, either. It feels like hes begged for mercy. It feels strange.

A lot of what happens with the Woman feels strange, however. He's getting used to that.

John will be home at some point, so Sherlock mentally takes note of the time they have in this room, and at what point he should adjourn them to the bedroom for privacy's sake.]

Shame you're dead. The look on Mycroft's face if he knew would be worth more than I could probably mention.

[The smile that spreads over her face at his words is pure conspiratorial sin. It's more than the dominatrix smile, the one that keeps the submissive in line, that promises sex and pain and pleasure. Those had always been trappings. This was a smile that was more than the dominatrix, that was pure Irene Adler, The Woman, full of intellectual wit and cunning pleasure.

The smile of someone who has found not only an equal but a partner.

It doesn't happen often, even between them.

She takes a step back into his personal space and runs a finger along the line of buttons down the front of his shirt.]

It's almost enough to tempt a woman to come back from the dead, just to see that.

[Sherlock's own grin is a slow, careful spread across his face as he thinks about the ways Mycroft would "handle" the situation. It would be beautiful. The way the Woman smiles as she steps into his personal space---a place that she belongs right now---tells Sherlock that she thinks the same.

It's so infrequently that he can feel someone absolutely understand where his mind is going.]

You could, you know. And he'd have no choice but to protect you.

Of course, that would mean family Christmases.

[For a moment, she is almost tempted. Because protection is better than being in hiding. Because it would be easier to have and to raise this child around people who have some idea what he or she could be like. Because watching Mycroft Holmes trying to swallow his tongue three times over would be quite possibly the most fun she's had in ages.

Because he would then be close by.

She is too independent, too strong-willed, and far too fond of misbehaving for that.

But she is almost tempted, all the same.

So instead of answering either honestly or flippantly, she takes him by the back of the head and pulls him to her, in a kiss that is as much sentimentality as it is unspoken, unadmitted fear for what will come.]

[He doesn't expect her to say 'yes', but he's surprised to find that he honestly wants her to. He wants her to say 'yes', and he wants her to stay. He doesn't want the child to be here, all the time, because that's just disaster waiting to happen. But he doesn't want---

She kisses him, and he easily kisses her back, wrapping an arm around her waist and holding her close. They are so different, and yet so very alike. If nature really is the key to life, what sort of child could be produced by this? Some sort of a mixture of his madness and her unpredictability? Something woefully socially inept but longing to control everything?

Difficult to tell. Impossible, actually, from where she is at this point. Easier to tell once the child is older.]

[She doesn't melt against him. That's too simple, too easy, and they are anything but. But when he kisses her back some of the tension does leave her. Because this part of the script is still the same. They still fit each other in ways that matter, even with the new wrinkle in the way.

And maybe it is sentimental to think so, that it is enough to hang the life of a child on. A child who will no doubt be far too intelligent for his peers, and far too cunning to follow the rules. Who will know parents for whom sentiment is a thing rarely admitted or shown, who will learn from first breath that deduction and discernment are the instruments to navigate a world that cannot hope to catch up.

No, the world was definitely not ready for this.

But then maybe it hadn't been ready for either of them either.

Still, the idea he's planted refuses to leave and Irene hears herself murmuring]

Ask me again in four months.

[Because it really would be priceless.]

[She wouldn't vanish forever, then. Of course, considering the Woman's unpredictability, he could only wonder if she would be gone forever the moment the sun went up. Or if he might see her again, ready to go to the hospital. Or if she'd only reappear at birthdays or Christmases.

But the strangest thing of all was, he cared what would happen to her. She was one of the only people in the world that could invoke that in him.]

I won't forget to.

[If he'd been able to predict how things would fall out in four or six months' time, Irene would have been impressed. Especially given that she still didn't know what she was going to do, besides catch a flight to New York City tomorrow morning.

Four months. Four months to decide whether or not to stay in whatever life she'll have carved out for herself in the States, or to come back to England. Or maybe neither, and she'll disappear again, to Paris or Milan or Montenegro or Algiers for another year, three.

And it should all matter, she feels, that she should have some idea what she wants to happen, where she wants to go.

But all that she can really think about mattering is the now, how the two of them fit, mentally and physically, and how she is pleased, glad, that he asked her to stay.]

You could always text.

You know how I can be, Irene, I can't even guarantee I'll reply to a text.

[Part of him wanted to promise it, of course. But he knew himself. He knew his mercurial attitudes and days of ennui where he'd realize it was suddenly November. It was part of his list of the Very Many Important Reasons He Could Not Be A Father.

He couldn't even promise to try. Promising to try was as useless as promising nothing at all.]

If you're here, you know I can't ignore you.

[That makes her laugh, soft and knowing and deeply amused. She pulls away just far enough to look him in the eye.]

You used to be better at ignoring me.

[He was better at not responding, but he's never been good at ignoring her. Every text was immediately memorized, and never forgotten. Even now, he knows he can recite her text history and the times she sent them. He can even recite what he was doing when that breathy moan came over his phone.]

Did that bother you?

Only after John said you always respond. [But even that had been short-lived, once she realized he had never changed the text alert noise.]

[He smiles at that, but doesn't respond. Even now, he can't really say why he never responded. It's not that he didn't have a response, she often left herself with a wide-open area for response, he just didn't know what would be appropriate. No, it was more than that. Pride was involved somehow.]

You never did answer the question. [She wondered idly if other people, normal ~~boring~~ people, exchanged words like they did. Bantered and flirted with that same careful edge of tension, of wills and pride.

She doubted it.]

Does that make me special, Mr. Holmes? [She had more than ample proof of it. But she still liked asking, just to see his response. Or lack thereof.]

[he knows this isn't about knowing, it's about having him tell her. That's very her, verymuch the Woman. He can't stop the smile tugging on his lips.]

Make a deduction.

[She smiles at that. It had been that precise challenge that had gotten them here in the first place, hadn't it?]

No, I'm already indulging you by staying.

That you are.

[See that? Question avoided.]

And you won't do the same. [The smile becomes a laugh, but she still makes absolutely no move to leave his personal space.] Did I ever manage to make you beg twice?

[And he does the same, staying close to her, keeping no distance between them. To move away is to accept defeat, and truce or not, he's not accepting any defeat. Not giving up the battle.]

Never.

[Out loud, at least.]

[She idly wonders if that will ever change. If things between them will ever be anything but a battle, every interaction some sort of war of wills.

She hopes not.]

Guess I'll have to keep trying.

I don't suppose you know any alchemy to induce? [Ginny was, by this point, enormous. Her belly had distended to the point of making her look comical. Not that it was wise to laugh, girl still could cast a mean bat-bogey hex.]

Uh.. no.

-=Dear God, she's going to pop out a litter!=-

I mean, there's spicy food, jumping jacks, I guess...

Jumping jacks? I can barely stand without help! [She looks about ready to murder every living thing within reach.]

Spicy food might work.

-=Tries to pat her belly in a soothing manner.=-

I could bring some peppers?

Peppers are fine. [Have a foot to your hand, Ed. Baby is restless.]

-=Oh god he still jumps at that! He lets his hand linger there for a moment, waiting for another kick before he gives both belly and Ginny a quick kiss.=-

I'll be back, then.

[That soothed her a little, but she still wanted the bundle out of her, already. She had no idea of the gender, where they lived did not exactly have ultrasound and she wanted it out of her belly and in her arms.]

Don't be long?

I won't!

-=Cream cheese stuffed jalopenos. That should work! And if not, there was always banana peppers and the like. If not, then he'll have to hit the books to find out what else could be done.=-

[She sat and rubbed her belly idly as he was out getting her the snacks.]

You need to come out and see Mummy and Daddy soon, you know. Auntie Hermione wants to see you, too. [Uncle Ron was still a bit iffy about the whole situation, but oh well. He'll come round.]

-=Uncle Ron could stuff it. It wasn't like he was all virginal and pure with 'Auntie Hermione.'=-

Here. -=He comes back with a tray and a smidgen of cream cheese on the corner of his mouth.=-

...you ate some? [Statement not a question, but she expected nothing else from Ed by now.]

... Yes?

-=He has to be careful now.=-

I uh-had to test the quality, that's all.

-=He'll make it up to her by feeding them to her?=-

... [She ponders his 'excuse'. Deemed acceptable.]

They'd better be good, now.

Of course they are! -=And he hovers one by her mouth.=-

[She eyes him, but then opens her mouth.]

-=Hey, he's not making airplane sounds. That's good, right? Bite into that pepper, Ginny. It'll make the world better.=-

[She bites into it with gusto, hoping this works. Please work!]

-=if it doesn't they'll have to bring out the big guns.=-

Good, huh?

Very. More. [Pregnany Ginny is Hungry Ginny.]

There's a whole plate of them.

-=Hopefully they won't give her heartburn.=-

You don't want any more, right? [She looks like she will eat the whole plate, heartburn be damned.]

I got them for you!

-=He'll offer another one!=-

[She opens her mouth for it again, rather enjoying this, even if the baby had shown no inkling to move at all.]

-=he's more than content to feed her. And he'll be really impressed if she polishes off the plate, being as big as she is.=-

You sure you're just eating for two, there?

I've always had a big appetite, but I feel like I could eat a hippogriff right now.

That's a lot of griff! Uh, hippo...whatever. You have room for all of that?

[She giggles.]

A hippogriff. Yeah, despite my tummy being full of baby, I can eat all of that. You think it'll have your appetite?

I dunno. But if it does, we're in trouble and we'll have to start farming big time.

At least we'll be okay until it gets onto so- solids? [She pauses when she feels something inside. What was that?]

Still have to feed you! -=See, breastfeeding's perfectly fine. That's normal. Drinking cow's milk? Not normal.=-

...You okay?

I just felt something. [She touches her belly curiously.]

The baby kicking, I'm sure. Probably trying to roll over. -=He does the same.=-

No, it didn't feel like that. Maybe the hot food worked?

Maybe! We'll just have to wait and see.

Yeah. I think I want to sleep for a bit, been a long day.

Alright. Do you want anything else? Pillows? A blanket?

Both - and a hot water bottle if we've got one.

I'll transmute one.

-=He's gone but a few moments and returns with all of those things, including a hot water bottle.=-

[She has settled herself by now and is as comfortable as she is gonna get, very happy to see the hot water bottle]

Thanks.

You're welcome.

-=He fluffs and fusses until she's comfortable, offering the bottle and a kiss.=-

Just call if you need anything else.

[She takes that offered kiss, lovely.]

I will. Very loudly.

Alright. I won't be far.

( ooc; will roll for each. )

[ WELL. You know him. He's ten times enthusiastic for any tired that Tomoe's dealing with at this stage. Punching criminals extra hard. Bustling around the house ten times as often. Not at all frantic, nooo. ]

[Honestly, what tired she might be dealing with is masked by the amusement of watching his sheer, frantic insanity.

Settled on the couch, she's currently watching him buzz around like he's got the most dire of missions when it comes to the house.]

You're really fired up, aren't you.

Riku! Did you see that? [There had been a movement, like the baby had just rolled over and poked it's butt out. Very odd watching something like that, even when it wasn't your own belly moving about.]

[He had been busy tidying up when he heard her voice. Moving across the room, the crawled onto the bed, laying on his stomach beside her.]

Did I see what?

[She felt the bed depress a little as he lay beside her and it made her happy. They had made this together and while it had been most definitely unplanned, this was nice.]

The baby moved.

[Nice, right. More like nice and scary. He was pretty sure he was going to fail horribly with his being a father thing. But luckily for their child, he was also pretty sure Kairi was going to be a wonderful mother.]

I'm not sure that's something you can see, Kairi.

[She smiled at him warmly and then lifted her top so that he could see the expanse of her swollen tummy. After a few seconds, the perfect shape of a footprint appears]

[Bright green eyes watch carefully, fully expecting to see nothing. So when the little footprint appears, it causes shock to pass over his features.]

Whoa... doesn't that hurt?

Not at all, actually. Here. [She reaches her hand out for his, hoping he will let her place it on her belly.]

[He let's her take his hand, a little hesitantly, allowing her to guide it as she wishes.]

[They'd created a baby together, touching her tummy was nothing now. She gently lays it on her stomach, her own over his. Waiting. She knew it would do it again, the baby had been restless today.]

[He's still getting used to the idea of there actually being a baby. His hand freezes for a moment, the only thing keeping it from moving away is the weight of her own on top of it. It relaxed a moment later, after nothing happened.]

Come on, Kairi. Don't be silly.

Just wait a moment more, for me?

[He sighs lightly, but he continues to hold his hand there for a moment, if for no other reason than to humor her.]

[She wills the baby to do it again, hoping it won't stop just when she wants it to.]

[After a minute or so, he's ready to give up.]

Kairi, I really don't think it's going to happen again.

[She looks sad]

Maybe it is done for now. [She addresses her bump] You not going to kick for Daddy?

[His eye go slightly wide at being called daddy. Yeah that's... going to take a while to get used to. But then he notices that sad look on her face, and he sighs once more, leaning down to press his lips against her cheek softly.]

I thought you'd be glad when he finally decided to settle down.

I am, but I wanted you to feel it. [She gently touches his cheek in return for the kiss] To feel our baby.

There's plenty of time for that, Kairi.

I know, but it is only three months until it comes, too. It has gone by so quickly...

It hasn't gone by that fast.

Mmm, six months already, but I did only find out three-and-a-half months ago, maybe that is why it feels so short?

It doesn't feel that short.

Really? [She wonders if maybe it felt like it was dragging for him, to her it felt like a blur.]

[Will roll each tag.]

[Why.]

-=Feeling sick again, she's in bed with a cool towel on her forehead. There's a pile of saltines and ginger ale on the small table beside her.=-

[Sean was wondering quite how they had gotten themselves in this mess. Well, no, he knew exactly how they'd gotten into this mess. Fun as it had been, the subsequent morning sickness was not fun to deal with even on his end.]

You need any more saltines?

-=yeah, fuck the birth control companies and their failure for quality control. Stupid pills.=-

No, thank you. -=Her voice was quiet as her nose wrinkles.=-

What is that stench?

What stench? [His not-pregnancy-enhanced nose could not smell anything untoward]

Ugh-I don't know. Like... cat pee.

-=That musky colonge's going to go mister just as she makes a sudden bee line to the bathroom=-

Cat...pee? [She had dashed off before he got the second word out and he sniffed his own collar. Did she mean his aftershave? It didn't smell like cat pee to him.]

-=She returns five minutes later with a damn cloth to her mouth. Wren's brows are furrowed as she looks at him.=-

Yes. I'm sorry, but that smells revolting.

-=Funny, the last time she smelled it, she said she couldn't wait to tear his clothes off.=-

You don't like my aftershave?

-=She looks almost ready to cry as she shook her head slightly.=-

[Oh crap, crying girl. He darts off into the bathroom and a few seconds later, the shower can be heard.]

-=He brushes by her quickly and she tries to hold her breath. A small smile plays on her face as she slowly makes her way to the sitting chair. She'll wait, nibbling on some crackers as she thinks about how this will all sort out.=-

[He scrubs himself clean and manages to resist using shower gel so that he can't smell of anything else to her. After he gets out, he towels himself dry and even manages to come out of the bathroom without gel in his hair. The clothes have been discarded in the hamper and he pulls on something clean and smell-free.]

Better?

-=Honestly. They haven't known each other for very long, but he just has that way to make her heart melt.=-

Thank you. You did all that for me?

[Having grown up with an older sister that he was extremely close to, he knew that keeping a woman happy was a very good idea.]

I didn't want you to feel sick.

-=Okay, starting to look a little teary eyed again.=-

Thank you-that's so sweet!

[He looks a bit embarrassed by this. People rarely find him sweet. Usually because he has just scammed them out of a lot of money, but this girl had wormed her way in in a way no one had in many, many years.]

-=She sets her cracker down.=-

Come sit with me? I feel a little better, now.

[He does so, settling himself in a comfy armchair.]

Did I tell you Emma was hoping to visit soon. Mickey'll be with her, of course.

That sounds great. I'm really looking forward to meeting her.

-=Family is everything.=-

My family's away for the time being. They won't be able to visit until later. Unless we go and visit them sometime.

You'll like her, she pretty much raised me. Just the two of us.

[Yes, it is. Emma comes first, or well, it used to be. Now Emma, Wren and baby-bump came first.]

If you want to visit them, let me know and I'll do what I can.

I'd like that.

-=Still her smile's sadly wistful. There's only so much of her family she can visit considering Sean doesn't know much about her at all.=-

And it's good to have close family like that. Taking care of each other is important. -=She grows quiet again.=-

Sean, what you're doing is really selfless. I know we really didn't mean for this to happen--I don't want you to think that you need to do this out of duty-you know? If you want to go, I won't find you at fault for this.

[He shakes his head]

It isn't selfless. It's selfish. Other than Emma, I've not had a family. The people I worked with were my surrogate family instead. Now I am to be a father, I want to be there.

We both created it, I can't abandon it now.

Good! Because I want you here because you want to be here, not because you have to be.

-=It definitely settles some worries in her mind.=-

And I'm glad you want to be here, too. -=She reaches out for his hand.=- Not everyone can be so gracious and accepting.

[A self-deprecating smile, he hardly thinks of himself as gracious.]

Not to mention there's still a lot we don't know about each other.

-=Her family's history has her worried. There's a LOT.=-

Well, if we are to raise this child, we have time to learn.

We do.

-=His sensibility definitely calms her and she smiles, leaning over to give a kiss. This time there's no morning sickness creeping up, either.=-

I don't want to have this baby in a hospital.

[He kisses her back, lightly. Had someone told him a mere year ago, while sitting in Eddie's bar that this would be his life, he would have thought you a scammer.]

Any reason?

It's not a good place. A baby should be welcomed by friends and family, not by strangers in masks and weird blue gowns.

-=Wren has been very accepting of all of this. This had to have meaning and she'll learn of it soon enough..=-

If it means that much to you, then okay. You're the one who gets to choose on stuff like that.

Thank you.

What do you want to choose?

Er... I'm not sure. I hadn't really thought about it.

Let me know when you do, okay? -=Communication is key!=-

Maybe name? I'd like it to have my last name, if that is okay.

-=The thinks about it. She has her mother's last name, but is it because Kohl didn't have one or because it was a cultural thing.=-

I think so. -=She certainly doesn't want to fight about something like a last name.=- It wouldn't be a bad thing, after all.

[He looks relieved. Goodness knew how much the boys and Emma'd rib him for eternity if he had gotten her pregnant and not even managed to have the child inherit the Kennedy name.]

-=Not that she'd get all that. Names were very important and for the time being she wasn't going to think about it. The baby would be named when it was ready to be named.=-

Did that worry you?

A little. [He admitted, feeling silly.]

-=She manages a smile.=-

I'm sure there is a wonderful name out there for the baby and you're a part of it. Don't worry.

When does Emma want to visit?

[That makes him happy.]

Soon, I think. She and Mickey have been sunning it up in the Caribbean.

Oh, they'll have smoking tans, then.

-=A small grin.=-

Think they'll bring you back something good?

Emma will, at least! Mickey'll just look the same, I think.

Probably something tacky. [He'll love it anyway]

Are you one of those collectors of snow globes? Or is it shot glasses?

No, but they'll probably get me something horrible to see if I keep it.

[DOCTOR.]

Rabbit Done Died Meme

River Song | Doctor Who | Will roll for each tag

Irene Adler | Sherlock (BBC) | 3

Kurt Hummel | Glee | 2

Helen Magnus | Sanctuary | 4

Soul (fem AU) | Soul Eater | OTA | 3

Crowley | Supernatural | Will roll for each tag

this okay?

Sookie Stackhouse | True Blood | 2

Bo | Lost Girl | 3

Daenerys Targaryen | Game of Thrones | 5

it just wouldn't feel right to be anything other than 'enemy'

It's all good XD

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Nyota Uhura | Star Trek (2009) | 2

1; so somehow this happened XD

Poor poor boy...XD

I'm surprised he's still alive at the four month mark

Me too, he's just so adorable!

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Belle | Once Upon A Time | 3

inara serra ☆ firefly

Nagi | SMT: Devil Summoner 2 | OTA | Six Months

Irene Adler || BBC Sherlock || Open || 4 months

I have no idea

looool we are terrible people <3

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Tell me that letting John find out would be a horrible idea.

It would be horrible. IT WOULD BE AWESOME.

Clearly needs to happen sometime

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