I Don't Want To Believe

Parental Predicaments

    "John, sorry, I...what are you doing?" it was Molly's voice, so when John rolled over to see her, she was looming above him, looking quite concerned.
"What you guys don't do this on your planet?" John asked, messaging his chin as he struggled to his feet.
"Well, no, not really." Molly admitted, looking a bit worried for the human race's mental stability.
"I was kidding; I was trying to get the soccer ball." John assured, kicking the ball back into the table and standing at attention. "So, what do you need?" he asked.
"Well, I saw Sherlock going into the baby's room; where it's growing you know? Wondered if you wanted to see it as well." Molly decided.
"Do I have permission to?" John asked, a bit apprehensive with taking the word of a mere servant, no matter how nice she was.
"Well, as long as you're with Sherlock I'm sure it's fine. I can't think of anything else you have to do, then maybe he could take you to lunch from there." Molly decided. John nodded, thinking for a moment.
"Molly, is Sherlock, like, you know....?" John asked, trailing off his sentence so that she could hopefully fill in the blanks. However, the only blank thing was the expression on her face.
"Is he what?" she asked. John sighed, looking rather awkwardly down at the floor so that she couldn't see the small blush forming in his cheeks.
"Is he gay?" he asked very quickly.
"Doesn't that mean happy?" she muttered, still looking very confused.
"You're not making this very easy." John decided with a laugh.
"I'm sorry John; I don't know what you're asking." Molly insisted.
"Do you think Sherlock likes guys? As in, not...girls." John muttered. Molly just laughed a little bit, shaking her head. That could mean two things, that no, he wasn't gay, or that John was so oblivious that it surprised her.
"Well, I don't want to go spreading rumors now, do I? I've heard that he's going to be assigned to Irene Adler, back home. She's very prestigious on our planet, and honestly, she's a nightmare. But then again, it's just a rumor." Molly sighed. John nodded rather skeptically.
"You didn't answer my question." John insisted.
"How am I supposed to know what Sherlock likes? He doesn't seem to like anyone to be honest." Molly decided.
"What do you think?" John asked.
"Why do you ask?" Molly decided, crossing her arms and looking a bit guilty. Even though she was expertly dodging these questions, they didn't clear anything up.
"What do you think?" John repeated. Molly heaved a great sigh, as if she really wasn't supposed to be saying anything.
"I think...yes, I think he likes guys. I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you." Molly decided. John groaned, as if this were some great tragedy. His speculations had been true.
"Well that's just great." John sighed.
"What's wrong with that? He's a relatively nice guy, I mean, sometimes, I'm sure he'll be a fine date." Molly decided.
"Yes well, I'm not gay, and I feel like if he ever does ask me out he'll kill me if I refuse." John pointed out.
"He's not going to ask you out, he has zero confidence around you." Molly decided.
"He seems plenty confident to me." John laughed. Molly just sighed; looking around as if she were afraid Sherlock would jump out from behind the table.
"He never shudders with us, he never apologizes, he never tries to think of our point of view, he's very egocentric when it comes to anyone except you. He's always so nervous, skittish around you, like one of those, oh, what do you call it?" Molly muttered.
"Guinea pig?" John recommended.
"No, but that works." Molly decided. John nodded, thinking of what she had just said. So Sherlock was trying extra hard to be nice, to be human around John. Well that made him feel very special, very special indeed.
"Can we go now?" Molly suggested. John nodded, taking one last look around to the room to see if he was forgetting anything. He was in his human clothes now, but he doubted anyone would care all that much that he wasn't in his leather jumpsuit.
"Are all doors invisible on your planet?" John asked as Molly groped through the air to open the door.
"No, of course not. It's like baby proofing really, to make sure you don't go in anywhere you're not allowed." Molly decided. John thought about that for a moment, looking around the seemingly deserted hallway.
"So you're saying there could be doors on every side of this hallway, right now, and I just think them as empty walls?" John asked, running his hand across the metal and feeling for any handles. Of course, he couldn't feel the one in his room either, it must only respond to alien hands.
"Yes, I know for a fact that most of these walls have doors on them, having used them myself." Molly decided.
"Well, what's behind some of these doors?" John asked. Molly just laughed, shaking her head.
"That's for me to know and you to never find out." she decided. As they turned the corner, Molly stopped, and John only had to assume that there was a door there, because she gave him a rather encouraging look.
"Good luck." She decided, pulling open the door. John nodded rather fearfully, but walked inside. When Molly had said baby's room, John had imagined a room with storks painted on the walls, a large crib, maybe a mobile dangling from the ceiling. He certainly didn't imagine a large, white amphitheater, with sloping white benches leading down to where there was a large podium. There was a small tan on top, filled with some sort of circulating yellow fluid. The room was enormous, enough to fit everyone on the entire ship, and John wondered just how big the space ship there were in was if it could fit a room this massive. All of the benches were empty except for one; all the way at the bottom was Sherlock's very distinct figure, sitting alone and staring at the tank. John walked down the stairs slowly, not wanting to disturb whatever sort of trance Sherlock was in as he watched the growing of his child.
"How did you get here?" Sherlock asked as soon as John was nearly five steps away. John sighed, walking down the remainder and lingering near the bench. Sherlock kept his eyes on the tank, as if not wanting to be bothered with looking at John.
"How did you know it was me?" John asked, walking over and sitting next to me.
"Your heart beat is very distinct." Sherlock decided.
"You can hear my heart beat from all the way up there?" John asked in amazement.
"It's a quiet room, and a beautiful sound. It's much faster than ours; it's a lot more like a melody." Sherlock decided.
"A melody, you think my heartbeat sounds like a song?" John asked rather doubtfully.
"If you could hear it, I think you'd agree." Sherlock decided. He looked over at John for the first time since he had arrived, his large eyes looking rather sad. John sighed, looking up at the tank to try to avoid making any unneeded eye contact with this alien. There wasn't much, just that yellow fluid circulating around in the tube, it seemed to be empty.
"It's supposed to be in there?" John asked doubtfully.
"Yes, it's there. Very small, I doubt your human eyes can see it from here." Sherlock guessed.
"Thanks. Well, me and my human eyes are going to go and have a look." John decided, getting up from his chair and approaching the large glass tank. It looked no more impressive from up close, but this time John did think he saw a little something floating around, no bigger than a grape, being tossed around gently by the flow of the fluid. John took a deep breath, trying to imagine that little spec growing into his son, his biological offspring, that little spec was going to be his heir. That sort of blew his mind, more than the whole alien abduction, more than the tests and the discovery of another inhabitable planet. John was going to have a son, and right now, it was floating around in what looked like artificially colored lemonade.
"So that's it?" John asked, putting his hand on the surprisingly warm glass, as if he could touch the tiny child.
"Yes, that's it." Sherlock agreed from behind him. John sighed, looking at it very closely, trying to make out any distinguishable features. But no, there were no limbs or anything; it just kind of looked like a floating dot. The tank was no bigger than John's quad, big enough to hold the baby when it grew to be full sized, but small enough to be carried if need be.
"That's...wow." John decided with a smile. He heard Sherlock laugh gently behind him, and saw his reflection in the glass. Sherlock got up, walking over to John and taking a place by his side, very close, as if he wanted this to be a fatherly experience.
"Have you ever imagined yourself as a parent?" he asked.
"No, not really." John admitted.
"I have. I've constructed all sorts of ways this could go, from the moment I volunteered, to when I found you, to when it happened, all of the scenarios, the what if's, I've calculated." Sherlock decided. John nodded, staring at the spec and then at Sherlock's reflection right more, right now, he was staring at his entire extraterrestrial family.
"What have you concluded then?" John asked.
"Well, there's nothing to be determined yet, I've just...well, I've seen what it might be like to be a parent, to be alongside you, to have a family of our own, on my home planet." Sherlock decided.
"How am I?" John asked with a smile. Sherlock sighed, staring blankly at the glass as well, so John could only assume he was staring at the reflection as well.
"You're amazing." He breathed. John nodded rather awkwardly, trying to picture just what was going on in Sherlock's head right now. "I only wish it could be true." He muttered.
"I'm sorry, you know I'm sorry." John insisted. Sherlock nodded silently, but obviously it wasn't forgiven yet.
"Yes, I know." He agreed. John was trying to figure out if there was even a head to their little spec of a child when he suddenly felt fingers on his hand, brushing his skin ever so softly as if trying to interlock. On instinct John jerked his hand away, not necessarily wanting to hold hands with Sherlock right now, or, you know, ever. Not after he had been given confirmation on Sherlock's likely intentions. John took a small step back and looked over at Sherlock, who hadn't moved his head at all, staring determinedly at the tank as if he broke his eye contact, his life would break as well.
"I'm sorry, did you, where you...?" John asked. He cut off his sentence when he saw yet another tear slide down Sherlock's cheek, as if the pain of rejection was leaking out through his eyes. John panicked, looking around desperately for some sort escape. Obviously there was no one to walk him out, or nowhere really to go, but he had to think of something.
"You know, I think, um, I think I should probably go." He decided very quickly, suddenly the idea of being in this room with Sherlock didn't seem appealing at all.
"Yes, of course." Sherlock agreed, still not moving. Was he about to break down, go crazy? Did he need his alone time or did he need a shoulder to cry on? Well, that was the last thing John wanted to be, so he looked around rather quickly, nodding for a moment before deciding to make his leave.
"I'll see you." John decided, and with that he scampered up all of the stairs of the amphitheater, leaving the crying Sherlock at the bottom, alone with his soon to be child. When John escaped the room (Thankfully the door had been left open, easily accessible for any human escapees), he found himself alone in the middle of the ship, with nowhere to go and no one to let him into his room. John had always had alien help, Sherlock, Molly, even Mycroft to open doors for him and tell him where to go, but John decided that under no circumstances was he going to go back and beg for Sherlock's help. He had made his exit, and he wasn't sure what condition he had left his fellow parent in. Sherlock was probably crying right now, and John didn't know if he would get violent if John went back. So he walked through the white metal hallway, his footsteps echoing across the many unseen doors on the walls. Honestly, John had no idea how this ship even was. He kind of imagined it a three roomed like spaceship, round with a little window on the top to pilot it, but upon exploring and coming to understand the whole door thing, he could only imagine it was massive. If this ship was so big, then why on earth did they choose to send their alien spy down right in John's backyard? They could've easily flown a couple of miles and go to Canada, or Mexico, or any other state than John's home, why couldn't they have just done that? They could've picked another person to run their little experiments on, maybe someone who would appreciate Sherlock's romantic advances and possibly not leave that poor boy all alone in the end. Of course John felt bad for Sherlock, I mean, who wouldn't? That poor kid was an alien, born into a family that kicked him out at eighteen, following around his rich, successful brother for all of his life. This was probably Sherlock's first shot at fame, he might've considered this his defining moment, when the Three Leaders would recognize him as a member of their creepy alien society and not just Mycroft the Great's little brother. But Sherlock must've made a fatal mistake, because he got attached to his human, he finally got a taste of family, of his own life away from Mycroft with someone that he loved, and he didn't want to give that away. John didn't want to be responsible for Sherlock's broken heart, but he was sure he'd have a lot of hearts to repair when he got back to earth. The longer he was on this ship, the more and more his family suffered, his real family. He had obligations to them, not to Sherlock and some alien offspring. John was walking through the hallway, trying to remember all of the proper twists and turns to get back to his room. Honestly John had no idea what he was going to do when he got there, probably just sit on the floor and wait for someone to let him in. He hoped it would be Molly, not only because he wanted to talk to her, but mostly because she was the only friendly face around here anymore. Mycroft just made him uncomfortable, and Sherlock, well, we don't need to go there again. John was just about to turn the corner he thought was correct, down the hall to the right, when he noticed that the usually empty and barren hallway had a new feature to it. There was a door, partially opened, just a crack. It probably wouldn't have been noticeable if the whole hallway was filled with doors, but considering that the doors disappeared when they were closed, an open door stuck out like a sore thumb. John looked around nervously; making sure no one was lingering in the hallway after him, as if this were some sort of loyalty test or something. But no, he was alone, or at least as far as he could tell, so John approached the door cautiously, as if it were going to house all sorts of wicked alien creatures or something. There was a faint green light coming from the slight crack in the wall, which could mean anything really, from alien chemicals to a disco party. John really doubted the latter, but he was curious as what the aliens got up to when they weren't making alien children or kidnapping humans. When he got back to earth, maybe he could spread the word, that aliens had a cure for cancer, that there was some great new pesticide that wasn't going to leak into the water supplies, or maybe that aliens didn't know how to dance. Either way, John was feeling quite sneaky when he pushed the door opened just a bit more, poking his head inside to see what in fact was causing that glowing light.