Beautifully Stormy Skies (Johnlock mpreg)

Chapter 18

Sherlock breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. The door looked and felt intimidating to the detective.

Just a piece of wood that separated himself and Vincent.

Note to self: cut John off from sex. Sherlock thought to himself, a smirk playing on his lips as it gave him just enough confidence to knock. It was his husband who forced him to go there, facing his demons is what John called it. Though it was all rubbish to Sherlock.

A broad man answered the door, eyes wide and colorful with a spectrum of different greens. He towered over Sherlock, the detective thinking he was tall. Sherlock swallowed hard and gave a startled gasp. Looking to the man who had a surprised awestruck look in his wondrous eyes.

"Sherlock?" The man asked. The feeling in the detective's stomach went from pity and heartbreak to anger and distrust. The same feelings he felt when he was left alone and pregnant.

"Hello Vincent. It's been quite a while hasn't it?" Sherlock tried his best to hold himself together but he was starting to lose control of the thoughts of beating this man senseless. Vincent nodded his head, giving a small open-mouthed smile.

"Yeah, it has been a while. Please, come in." He ushered Sherlock in as the detective gave a pursed lip smile of anger and annoyance.

"Have a seat." Vincent insisted but Sherlock gave a fake smile and declined. "No thanks, I won't be needing to as I won't be staying long." He put on his sociopathic mask that everybody knew him as.

Vincent knew what was happening. He was being Sherlock, a person he knew to be stubborn yet wild and determined. He saw Sherlock came here for a reason and that reason was to set things from the past straight. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and sighing to only cast his eyes down to the floor.

"Sherlock-"

"You left me." The detective responded in a deadly whisper, eyes now trying to meet those of Vincent's. "You left me, alone and pregnant and you didn't even have the decency to give me a goodbye! You left me!"

"I had no choice!" Vincent rose his voice as well as from his chair, his built frame towering over Sherlock once again. Though it seemed intimidating for other men, it was never for Sherlock. He loved him once. He loved feeling that lean figure against his, supporting one another in the darkness between the sheets, both naked and drunk. He was used to it. He loved how they would sneak away from school and be with each other, whether it was getting high or getting drunk, he didn't care; he was in love with him and wanted him. He was used to the fights that broke out between them, screaming and shouting that erupted from their throats like volcanos of young love. The fights of verbal abuse that turned into fist fights and eventually makeup sex fueled by adrenaline and endorphins. It was a routine to the pair many years ago.

The air in the room came to a standstill, both men feeling as if they were being suffocated by the words they spat and hung in the place above them like dead flies. Sherlock was physically taken aback, stepping away a good foot or two.

"What do you mean you had no choice? You could have at least-"

"I had to go. My parents were urging me to come with them back to Ireland, I refused many times because I wanted to be with you. I wanted to stay with you. I've never grown up in Ireland, it was all new and unfamiliar to me. I had no choice but to go, they wouldn't let me stay here with you." Vincent had lowered his voice and was talking in a hushed tone, his ancestral accent coming through and being even more prominent.

Sherlock had started to pace the room anxiously, like a cat playing with its prey before stopping in his tracks. Gazing back at Vincent and breathing in a deep sigh.

"Just one question then."

"Of course, anything." Vincent answered back.

"Would you have stayed if I told you about the baby?" The words that spilled from Sherlock's lips hit him like a brick wall, his voice shaky and breaking a bit towards the end. The larger man ran his hand over his face in thought then looked down to his shoes, sucking his teeth in a means of thinking over the question.

"Do you want the answer you want to hear or the answer that I would've given you all those years ago?" He asked. The detective thought over the words. What did he want to hear? Did he want to hear what he wanted to hear or the answer that were self-evident years ago?

"The answer you would've given me when we were stupid, lovestruck teenagers. Our innocent lives shattered by the news of a baby on the way. What would've been your answer then?" The detective asked.

"No." Was the quickest answer Sherlock has ever heard in his life. The quickest answer that shattered every window and pane of glass in his mind palace, glass spraying everywhere and destroying anything in its path by scrapes and tatters. "I would've left you, it wouldn't have made a difference if I was there or not. You said it yourself, we were young and stupid, we had no right being fathers."

"Funny, you would've made a terrific one. I, on the other hand, my husband does most of the work." Sherlock gave a breathy snicker, absentmindedly setting his hand to the side of his stomach.

"Oh? So mister-never-gonna-marry Sherlock Holmes actually got married? Fascinating I say." Vincent joked, earning himself a more forceful push from the detective.

"Piss off! And that's mister Sherlock Watson-Holmes to you." Sherlock proudly jolted his wedded name to the taller man.

"So how many kids you got?" Vincent asked.

"A ten-month old daughter Joan and another on the way." Sherlock replaced his hand to the side of his stomach while Vincent gave a slight curl of the lips, acknowledging his happiness for the detective. "But, we have a twenty year-old daughter. Her name is Peyton."

Vincent's face froze, soon being washed away by the realization that he had a daughter. A twenty year-old daughter who he never knew about.

"She's studying in crime scene investigations with an undergrad in psychology. She's extraordinarily bright Vincent, you wouldn't believe the uncanny resemblance between the two of you." Sherlock chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"I would think she would look more like you than anything. Those unruly curls of yours would definitely have something to do with that." Vincent responded. Sherlock chuckled again.

"So what about you? Married? Kids?" The detective asked.

"I was married once, had a lovely son who is now almost sixteen. Bright one he is, all good grades and not a single blemish on his record. I get him every other week though on the account that his mother a bit of a lunatic. I don't know why I even married that woman. No wonder I'm gay." Both men gave a hearty laugh before quieting down. The air turned to lighter and much more breathable but going to still once again, with only a smile on either man's face.

"It's good to see you Vincent." Sherlock wrapped his arms around Vincent then gave him a small kiss with accordance to the ties they made with their past to their present and a hopeful friendship in the future.

Sherlock left the taller man stunned with a smile on his face as he walked out the front door and hailed a cab for home.