I make my way over to the room that Mary, John, and Sherlock were in, after my encounter with Moriarty.
My throat is sore from throwing up, and my eyes sting.
Sherlock walks out of the room and stops when he sees me.
"Aren't you gonna stop by and say hi?" He asks.
"No...I thought you were talking about a different John and Mary." I lie. They don't remember me so what's the point?
"Did you throw up?" He places the back of his hand on my forehead.
"No. I just...had to use the ladies room." I lie again, removing his hand from my forehead.
"Don't lie." He stares at me intently.
I look at his face blankly.
"You have my child in you. If there's something I can do to help, do not be hesitant." He tells me.
I watch as he enters the room John and Mary were in, and I take a seat on a chair that was placed near the door of the room.
I stare down at my feet as I develope a headache.
Minutes pass and it worsens. I hear Mary, John, and Sherlock exchange jokes, and laughs. Sympathy in general.
I don't want to disturb them, so I stay put.
After sitting for about an hour more with my headache I hear Sherlock say his goodbyes.
I can't think straight with my headache. My hands are tightly pressing against each side of my hand, my eyes are shut tight to stop tears that have already fallen, and my bottom lip is bleeding from biting down on it too much.
"Y/N?" I hear his soft voice, and open my eyes to see him standing in front of my shuddering self.
"It's j-just a headache." I try to sound calm and collected, when in fact I failed.
He crouches beside me and wipes my tears.
"What do you need?" He asks me.
"Nothing." I say coldly, glaring at him.
"Stop being difficult. Can't you see I'm trying to help you?" He scoffs.
I whimper in pain as the headache worsens.
It's absolute hell.
"I need to get you to the emergency." He says quickly, taking my hand and leading me to the front desk.
"No!" I yank my hand away.
He stares at me, confused.
"I'm fine." I lie, wiping all my tears, and keeping a hand on my head.
"What's wrong with you?" He asks coldly, raising his voice,
I feel a pain in my chest at his words.
I should be used to it by now.
"Everything." I tell him.
I cover my face with my hands and let it all out.
I feel arms wrap around me in a hug, and I get a whiff of the familiar tobacco ash scent that is provided from Sherlock Holmes himself.
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to get you pregnant. I didn't know what I was doing, and I can't remember anything." He says softly, rubbing my back.
His comfort isn't the same. He feels so distant.
I feel like a burden.
He thinks he accidentally got me pregnant.
This hurts even more than the truth...
but I'll go with it.
Just a few more months my child... A few more months until your freedom.
