they just seem a little weird
by Pearl-o
Elementary, Sherlock/Joan, PG, ~700 words. Not actually kidfic.
Summary: In which Sherlock offers a proposal and proceeds to monologue, and Joan reacts fairly well, considering how early it is.
*****
"I have a proposal for you, Watson," Sherlock said. They were his first words as she entered the kitchen that morning, and they were spoken around a mouthful of cereal.
"Good morning to you, too," Joan muttered, making her way to the sink. There was a clean mug lying on the drying rack, joy of joys, and she grabbed it and filled it immediately with coffee before sitting down across from Sherlock.
"Okay," she said. "Proposal. Shoot."
"I think," Sherlock said, "that I should father your child."
Joan set down her mug and carefully folded her hands on the table in front of her. "What?" she said calmly.
"First, it's obvious that you want a baby," Sherlock said. He made a gesture with his spoon.
"Right," Joan said, "of course. I forgot. I'm a grown woman without a child, of course I must be longing for one."
"It's not obvious that you want a baby because you're a woman," Sherlock said dismissively. "There are any number of women with no interest in childrearing. No, it's obvious because you're you. You're a caretaker, Watson, it's in your bones. I expect you always assumed you would be a mother one day, but the right moment just never arrived. Every since your friend's child's birthday party last week, there's been a certain change in your demeanor, particularly when we pass by any sort of small children. With your training as a medical doctor, too, you are well aware that the later you wait to become pregnant, the more likely it is that there may be complications or even birth defects. Your biological clock is, as they say, ticking."
Joan stared at him for a few long moments, then took another swallow of her coffee.
"Now, you may ask," Sherlock continued, "given that you desire a child, why would I be the best candidate for fatherhood? Clearly, Watson, you are an intelligent and independent woman, and I have the utmost faith that you would do an excellent job parenting a child on your own. I can assure you that if I did help you to conceive, there would be no danger of me later insisting on various tiresome parental rights or custody or any of that nonsense. You would have no worries on that front; the child would be yours. That said, you are my partner and - I might be so bold as to say - my friend, and I would be happy to support you throughout your pregnancy and beyond in what manner you found appropriate." Sherlock was keeping track of his points on his fingers; at this point he unfolded a third. "Next, there is the question of the genetic material, which I think I can promise you you would not find lacking-"
Finally, Joan started to interrupt. "Sherlock-"
"I could see, perhaps, how the addictive tendencies might be a concern to you," Sherlock mused, speaking over her, "but given your own history I think it would be less of a danger, and at any rate the benefits of the high level of intelligence the child would receive from both of us is still a strong argument, I believe."
"Sherlock," Joan said, more loudly, and this time he did stop talking, tilting his head and looking at her expectantly. "I don't- I mean. This is all very... sweet. Thank you. But, um. It's a little sudden. Maybe give me some time to think it over, all right?"
Sherlock nodded briskly. "I thought you might feel that way. I'm going out to meet a colleague now. I won't be back until later this afternoon. Take all the time you need to think it over. In the meantime-" He rose from his chair. "-I took the liberty of getting you this."
He took a small box from his pocket and set it down on the table, nodded at her again, and disappeared from the room.
"I - is that a fertility monitor?" Joan asked aloud to the empty room, but of course there was no answer.
Time, Joan thought, for more coffee.
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