Chapter Text
It was true that Sherlock Holmes could often be rather brash. His comments could be brutal in their honesty or simply intense in their onslaught. Still, it was rare that he actually succeeded in reducing Molly to tears. She understood that he often didn’t realize that his words could cut her to the quick. John had helped a bit. He both seemed to temper Sherlock and offer the needed condolences to anyone subjected to the detective’s rapier of observations. Still, it had been a bad week and his offhand comment on how she must be a bad pathologist indeed to not know exactly how her cat had died last month had been the blow that finally burst the dam.
Her eyes prickling furiously, tears welling, threatening to spill over at any moment, Molly turned in a swirl of white lab coat and shoved past John into the hallway. She bolted to her office and locked the door behind her. She threw herself into her desk chair, had a bit of a sniffle and kicked her trash bin a few times until she calmed down. Molly drew a deep breath and blew her nose, then righted the bin she had knocked over and straightened her lab coat. It was just Sherlock, after all. And she could have performed a necropsy on Toby but that just didn’t seem important. He had been getting on in years. And Molly was a very good pathologist.
Once again composed, Molly Hooper stood and walked back down the hall to the lab where she had left John and Sherlock. It was rather late in the day, as it usually was when Sherlock would sweep in and demand blood samples or body parts, and so the halls had gone rather dark as Bart’s closed down.
She was just planning what to say to John to excuse her rapid retreat, when she heard a loud bang and clatter followed by a smack and a moan that sounded like- oh crumpets! If Sherlock had gotten hurt in a lab he wasn’t even technically allowed to be in, Molly could very easily loose her job. She shuffled quickly up to the lab door and was about to push her way in when she heard something else that made her stop dead.
“Look at you, Sherlock. Rude and greedy. What am I supposed to do with a complete hog like you?” Another loud smack, and something that sounded remarkably like a squeal. Was that? It had to be John but… oh dear. Molly had seen John angry before but she never would have thought him capable of-
“Y-yes Captain! Such a hog! A rude and greedy hog!” Sherlock wailed. Molly felt herself blushing bright red but her feet seemed pasted to the floor.
“Maybe I can teach you some manners,” John continued, his tone crisp and firm and deep. He walked past the dark window of the door Molly was watching through but didn’t see her. He was shirtless, the fluffy jumper discarded to reveal nothing but strong lines of hard muscles under tan skin. Molly felt her mouth go a bit dry. John picked up a box from one of the lab benches. It looked rather like the big box of doughnuts leftover from the break room.
“Come here,” John growled, tucking his chin down, beckoning with his fingers as he set the box down on the exam table. Sherlock waddled over from the other side of the room obediently. Molly blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Waddle was exactly the right word. The almost inhuman paleness of his skin had become flushed and pink The usually impeccable curls were a mess, the hard cold eyes were huge and dark, the firm line of his mouth was gone.. Instead the man’s lips were parted, his tongue wetting them as he crossed the room. And it wasn’t Sherlock’s normal powerful stride, his steps were slow and hesitant, almost lazy, his stance wide to balance the pale bloated belly arching out over the hem of his trousers. If Molly had been in disbelief before, she was now certain that she was experiencing some sort of hallucination. Sherlock Holmes looked pregnant. His belly was distended quite heavily from under his slender rib cage. His belly fought visibly with the buttons of his shirts, skin squashing out between them, his navel looking stretched and tight.
“J-John please… I’m so full-“
“Course you are,” John murmured, closing the distance to the detective and shoving him onto the exam table. The motion caused Sherlock to release a loud belch as he sat. The usually fierce detective was watching John with wide eager eyes.
“So fucking rude, Sherlock,” John rumbled, jabbing at his bloated belly, and the detective shivered and nodded.
“Open,” John directed, lifting a large sugary doughnut from its box. Sherlock obeyed, plush pink lips parting and allowing John to shove the doughnut into his mouth. He chewed sluggishly then swallowed and leaned back, belly gurgling audibly even through the door.
“Can’t-“
“Sh,” said John, reaching down and beginning to undo Sherlock’s shirt buttons. “You just need a bit more room. Keep eating.” The tortured clothing sprang apart almost as soon as it was released. The mass of swollen belly sank almost visibly as John undid the man’s trouser button. Sherlock groaned, his head lolling, his big fat belly rounding into his lap as he continued to chew and swallow.
“Good boy,” John praised, smoothing a hand over Sherlock’s navel. “Apologize.”
“M’ sorry,” Sherlock mumbled, almost too softly for Molly to hear.
“Sorry for what?”
“Sorry for being so rude and greedy,” Sherlock amended, now visibly panting as John’s hand began to slowly shift and rub over his overfull belly. “S-So sorry.”
“You’ll apologize to Molly tomorrow morning. In person,” John growled, crowding into Sherlock’s space, his other hand squeezing at Sherlock’s thigh.
“Y-yes, John,” Sherlock whimpered, spreading his legs and then wrapping them around the shorter man’s hips.
“Good,” the ex-army doctor rumbled, kissing and nibbling at Sherlock’s neck, “Have another doughnut.”
Molly realized her mouth was open and that things were likely to become very personal and private very soon. She closed her mouth and hurried off as quietly as she could as soft sounds of rhythmic grunting and thumping signaled Sherlock obtaining his reward.
Molly sat down quickly back in her office, still blushing wildly. She knocked a few papers off of her desk and swore politely at them before settling herself in front of her computer and trying to do a few hospital forms rather than thinking of what was happening on her exam table. That would need a good clean in the morning. Though John was a doctor himself so he knew- Molly quickly thought of something else as a hot and muscular, thrusting and very naked John Watson suddenly popped into her mind. Well. It had rather given her an idea in regards to managing Sherlock’s rudeness. She would have to try implementing it tomorrow. Just stop by his favorite chippy on the way to work and… yes. Worth a try at least.
As it happened, Sherlock did arrive at the morgue the next morning to apologize. Molly had to do her best not to blush as she accepted it. Before long however, Sherlock was back to his old tricks, trying to get yet another liver or gallbladder out of her. Now once or twice she could write it off as a fluke, but twice in one week?
“Sorry Sherlock, but I really can’t give you-“
“Molly…” Sherlock rumbled, giving her just the right look. But she would not melt today.
“I said no. Sherlock,” Molly repeated firmly, trying to copy the tone that she had heard John use, a tone that wasn’t louder or harsher, but one that clearly expected that it would be obeyed. She kept her gaze level and tipped up her chin. “Not for the rest of the month. Understood?”
Sherlock had frozen the moment Molly had spoken. She saw the second that it worked. Sherlock’s cheesy grin sank and his lips parted. He blinked a few times.
“I-yes, ca- yes, Molly,” Sherlock responded, dipping his head slightly in submission, eyes slipping to his shoes. “Sorry to have bothered you.”
“Quite alright,” said Molly primly, her mind racing as she realized what she had just done. Oh. Wow. She managed to pick up the basket of chips beside her without her hands shaking too badly. She lifted one of them up, hot fresh and greasy and pressed it into Sherlock’s mouth. He chewed it slowly.
“Good. Here. Have these.”
Sherlock accepted the large basket of chips and munched through them quite happily. He was utterly pleasant for the rest of his visit. Molly was going to have to continue this new method of interaction. She’d just have to pick him up a little treat before going to work every day. Maybe she could keep something extra in the refrigerator in case of a surprise visit.
And so she did. Before long the refrigerator at Saint Bart’s hospital was well stocked and practically overflowing with Sherlock’s favorites. Little cakes and packs of biscuits or crisps were stowed here and there, ready to be seized and shoved into Sherlock’s mouth as a reward for following her directions. Soon it seemed almost as if Sherlock had become an overlarge puppy, eager to please Molly and get a treat for his troubles. That impression was rather confirmed when one day, the detective’s stomach started to growl the moment he set foot in Molly’s morgue. He was hardly rude anymore and was far more polite when it came to asking for organs or blood samples. Oftentimes they perhaps went a little over board. Molly was willing to give Sherlock another pack of biscuits if he asked politely. That was part of his ‘training’ after all so she didn’t see the harm. Although nowadays, Sherlock often left the morgue burping softly with a hand on the swell of his stomach.