Y/N's P.O.V.
"If this gets any better, I'm going to get two knives." Sherlock sighed as he moved away from the mantelpiece that had just been stabbed once again.
"It pays to advertise." John reminded.
"Here." I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the folded pocket knife, tossing it to Sherlock, who held it up in the light.
"Russian made, clearly hand crafted and expensive." Sherlock smirked.
"Aww, you care." He teased.
"Tell anyone and I'll kill you." I joked, making Mary chuckle.
"So, what about Moriarty, then?" The pregnant woman asked as Sherlock pulled out his phone.
"I'm going to monitor the underworld, every quiver of the web will tell me when the spider makes his move." The curly haired detective muttered, typing away.
"So basically, your plan is to sit there, solving crimes, like you always do." John looked at Sherlock with a half smile
"Basically, yeah." I nodded and Sherlock jumped up.
"Awesome, isn't it?" He flipped open my pocket knife and stabbed it into the mantelpiece, next to the other one, before taking a case off the top of the pile.
"I sit here and do what I always do and Moriarty will come to me." Light footsteps padded towards us, before my puppy jumped up next to me on the couch, settling down with his head in my lap.
"Except, he won't." I pointed out.
"Because I killed Moriarty and people don't come back from the dead twice." Redbeard whined slightly, nudging my hand with his head, letting me know he wanted attention.
"Yes, of course." Sherlock nodded, giving me a small smile.
The next few weeks passed in a blur of cases and solved mysteries. As soon as one case was ending, another was beginning and at times Sherlock and I were working cases individually, at the same time. It was hectic, but the chaos was something I had missed dearly. When I worked for Moriarty, I rarely got a break, I was always doing something and I had missed that aspect of my old life. Talking of Moriarty, there had been no signs of his return, proving my theory that the broadcast across England was a pre-recorded message that was played just to scare us.
"A jellyfish?" John laughed as we made our way up the stairs to the flat, Redbeard racing ahead.
"You can't arrest a jellyfish!"
"You can try." Sherlock smirked.
"We did try." I corrected as we reached the top of the stairs.
"Didn't we, boy?" I petted Redbeard's head, before Sherlock kneeled down next to him to play with the puppy. I moved towards the kitchen, finding my phone on the counter, which I thought I had lost. Picking it up, I was shocked to see so many missed calls and messages.
"Boys-"
"Oh God." John muttered, looking at his own phone.
"Mary?" Sherlock asked.
"59 missed calls." John muttered and Sherlock's eyes widened.
"We're in a lot of trouble." My boyfriend mumbled, before racing back downstairs, John looking stunned.
"Redbeard, stay." I ordered, dropping my phone into my coat pocket. I tapped the soldier's shoulder.
"Come on, John!"
~
I typed away on my phone, quickly trying to finish the email that would be sent to the client to conclude the case I had been working on. Technically, I was working under Sherlock's name, but neither of us really cared. I wasn't too big a fan of the attention and I knew he'd read over the notes later anyway in case anyone asked about it.
"Has that come out?" Mrs. Hudson asked, nudging me slightly and dragging my attention away from my phone.
"Oh, they never come out when I take them!" Slipping my phone away, I took the camera from her, seeing a slightly blurry image.
"Have another go." I suggested and Mrs. Hudson gave me a thankful smile.
"What about a name?" The older lady asked.
"Catherine." John smiled proudly.
"Oh, yeah, we've gone off that." Mary interrupted, causing John to look at her.
"Have we?" He didn't seem surprised at all, making me laugh a little.
"Yeah." Mary nodded
"Y/N didn't like it anyway."
"Don't drag me into this." I held up my hands and Mary smirked a little.
"Well, you know what I think." Sherlock mumbled.
"It's not a girl's name!" The new parents replied in unison, making Sherlock smirk.
"Mrs. H, we would love you to be a godmother." John smiled at the woman as my phone buzzed and I checked it, seeing a mildly important text that could wait until later. Instead, I finished the email and sent it to the client.
"And, uh, you too, Y/N, Sherlock."
"You too, what?" Sherlock asked, not removing his eyes off of his phone.
"Godparents. We'd like you both to be Godparents." Before I could reply, Sherlock went on a mini rant about how God is nothing more than a fiction and I rolled my eyes.
"Yeah, but they'll be cake, will you do it?" John asked.
"What he means, is we'd love to, John." I gave my friend a small smile and Sherlock huffed, before I kicked his foot.
"Yes, what Y/N just said."
