I Am Offering This Scarf

Chapter 9- Talks and Robbers

He never stops walking. Just continues to talk while he walks. "Yes, I do believe that we need to talk about us, John. About where this is going. I'm not really one to have these kind of conversations- please understand that."

"Okay. There's a main point of concern here, I can tell." I say quietly, urging him to get it out.

He take a deep breath like he's about to say something embarrassing. "I- I don't feel like I can give you exactly what you need. Or even want John." His face pinkening. This must be embarrassing for him with never doing it before.

I smile, despite the serious subject and shake my head. "Sherlock..." I told him last night. I've told him many times. But he's still so unbelievably insecure about this. Most likely because he's never been in a real relationship.

"No I'm serious! John, you can't be satisfied with this. I can't give you...I don't know...kids or-"

"Kids?!" I interrupt. I begin to trip over a part of the side walk but steady myself. Technically, where we are in our partnership should be about a year of being together. If you count all the months I denied it. "Are you...wanting kids Sherlock?" I ask with a nervous laugh.

He shakes his head. "No John. I'm talking about the future. What you might want later. And I can't give you that. There's no way you can be satisfied with just this." He bends down and picks up a stick I'd not seen in the dark and begins using it like a walking stick. Actually something he's done several times while I walk with him. "You were going to have a kid with Mary." He says quietly. Not wanting to upset me, I suppose. "You could have had several. You were going to have a life."

I laugh. The amount of irony in the air is enough to cut with a knife. "Sherlock," I says quietly, "wanna know the name of Mary and my child?" I ask, feeling shaky.

He raises an eyebrow. "Shoot."

I suddenly am actually very nervous to tell him. What if he hates it? Awe well. "It was Irene Sherlock Watson..." I say, my voice wavering. The name took a few days to get used to, but Mary wanted me to choose. Probably to make up for what all had happened before.

He stops on the sidewalk. His face is completely blank.

Oh no. The fact that her name was Irene might have hurt him. "Sherlock, I'm sorry, I should have waited to tell y-"

Suddenly his face bursts into a grin. He picks my up by the torso and spins me around, my hands on his forearms.

I let loose a huge laugh. "Sherlock!"

He sets me down on my feet and kisses me before touching his forehead to mine. "John," he says quietly. His voice sounds like a great weight has been lifted, "do you know why I said you should name it Sherlock? Do you honestly want to know why?"

I rack my brain, unable to come up with an answer. My hands don't leave his forearms. "Why?"

He smiles an immeasurable smile. "Because I wanted someone to be named Sherlock Watson. Even if it couldn't be me."

I pull back and blink. "Seriously?"

He nods nervously.

I let go of his arms and grab his right hand, swinging it as I pull him along the sidewalk again. "Well it doesn't have to be someone else anymore, I suppose."

He's the one that swings our arms this time. Back and forth, back and forth. He is so extremely happy. A smile is plastered on his face and he can't stop himself a soft chuckle every once in a while.

He kisses me and walks through the door. He sets me on my feet and keeps his arm wrapped around my waist. "Oh nothing. You'll see eventually."

An overly excited scream rattles our ears. Looking over to the entrance of Ms. Hudson's flat we see her hugging herself with glee. "You're getting married! I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!"

My face reddens and I open my mouth to tell her that she's wrong, he hasn't even asked me. Did she just bust a secret? Was Sherlock going to ask?

Sherlock interrupts before I have the chance. He covers my ears pretending to block out his words. "Shh, Ms. Hudson I haven't even asked him yet!" He smiles wide and uncovers my ears.

She squeals. "Look at you two!" She turns around to go back into her flat and practically skips through the door shutting it firmly behind her.

Sherlock grabs my hand and drags me up the stairs, rolling his eyes. "Everyone will know within two days. She's all about gossip. You know how old ladies are." He pulls open the door and we walk inside the flat.

Sherlock's completely oblivious to the symbols on the windows. He walks into the kitchen with a dazzling showing of teeth, not letting anything touch his attitude.

I stop and stand terrified, staring at the windows. "Sherlock." I say, apparently not loud enough. "Sherlock!" I yell, something shaky corrupting my voice.

He walks in concerned.

I point to the windows. White paint displaying the letters UOI drip down the panes and run onto the window sills. It looks fresh, like the someone who did it had only just left as we walked in downstairs.

His face morphs from the happy and likable detective to one of great anger.