Sherlock blinked at her in the Holmsian way, his grip loosening on his glass to the extent that it nearly slipped through his hand. "Wh-what? You'll have to say that again, because I think I misheard you."
"I'm pregnant." Natasha's voice shook but she pressed forward. "I'm pregnant. Pregnant." And then the dam broke, and a tumble of fear and panic and terror flooded out. "But it's impossible, right? I told him it was impossible, but he assured me it wasn't. Assured me, like he'd checked. I told him to check again. I told him there must've been a mistake. I mean, he knows my history. He knows I can't—I can't—"
Sherlock wobbled with the glass and set it down instead of dropping it. "You're pregnant." He repeated, as it really wasn't computing yet. "You're pregnant. You. With...my...child. How…what? But I thought it…I thought you couldn't…is he sure?" His brain was already sorting through, attempting to explain the impossible. Coming up short save for a tiny little hint. "Wasn't there that…that one mission last month, you came back feeling…odd? It healed you, didn't it."
Natasha followed suit with her own glass, setting it down beside his to free her hands before she took to anxious pacing. "Odd is an understatement, but yes," she confirmed, wringing her hands. "I figured it was to be expected, considering I was technically healed over with Asgardian magic or whatever they call it. Jane says it's science. Doesn't matter. I'm rambling. Sherlock," she raked her hands through her hair, "I'm rambling. I don't ramble."
She took a deep breath and padded over to the couch, sinking into it and doubling over to press her forehead to her knees. "I should've asked," she said shakily. "I should've checked right away, I just figured it wasn't possible. Stupid. So, unbelievably stupid of me."
Sherlock hesitated, but followed her to the couch. This was not a situation he had ever planned for, the contingency and next steps did not exist. Sherlock Holmes didn't know what to do. He nimbly sat next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder when she sat up straight, and pulling her close. He slipped into Russian. "Hey, I've got you."
Natasha turned her face towards his neck and threw her legs over his lap, tucking herself close to his side with a quiet sniffle. "I know. I know, I'm sorry I'm..." she brought a hand up to angrily swipe at her cheek. "Are you okay? I've been panicking like the idiot I am and I didn't even stop to ask." She pressed her hand to his chest, hesitant, slow, fearful. "Are you angry? You have every right to be angry here. Sherlock," she swallowed thickly, "I'm so sorry."
"I'm not angry, Natasha, I'm terrified. I think…" He cleared his throat. "…I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."
Natasha chewed on her bottom lip, swiping at her cheeks one more time and dabbing the inside corners of her eyes with shaky fingers. "Okay," she said finally, drawing a deep, calming breath to pull herself together. "Okay, here's what we're going do." Pause. "First thing when we get home, I'm going to pay my doctor a visit," she began. "I'm going to need you to come with me, because I'm as terrified as you are... second thing we're going to do is research the hell out of this, as if we were working a case or a mission."
She pulled back and sat up to meet his eyes, legs still stretched out across his lap and hand once again pressed to his chest. She was terrified but so was he. She needed to be level headed. She needed to not panic, because Sherlock needed her to not panic and eventually the baby—their baby, she mentally corrected with a new pang of what was unmistakable affection—would need her to not panic too. She took another deep breath and anchored herself to reality with his beautiful but scared blue eyes. "We can do this. Together, we can do this... right? We just need to be patient with each other. We need to have each other's backs. We need—we need to be a team, and that's something we're actually good at." She hesitated a beat and then gently took his face in both hands, moving in closer. "Third thing we need to do—we need to do right now, actually. I need—I need you to tell me you love me."
"I love you." Sherlock replied without hesitation. Against the cold logic he held so dear, against the work, against decades of drug-abuse and estrangement, he loved her. Love meant teamwork, and self-sacrifice, and commitment. All things he could apply to the little life that they accidentally created. "I promised, whatever happened I'd love you."
Natasha expelled a relieved breath. "I love you too," she replied.
Against a childhood of lessons to the contrary, against years of self preservation, against decades of abuse to rid her of every shred of her humanity, she loved him. And more over, against everything the Red Room had ever taken away from her; her innocence, her autonomy, her body, her feelings, her memories and her choices, she'd created a life with him. Accidentally, but it was still a life, still the beginnings of a family she'd been told she couldn't and would never have, because her purpose was another. No one could take that away from her.
Natasha was quiet a long moment, simply breathing him in while she worked on accepting this new reality. "I'm getting a little emotional here," she admitted, half embarrassed and half absolutely terrified.
"I noticed." Sherlock said, exhaling a nervous laugh of his own. He leaned in and caught her in a gentle kiss, pulling away a moment later. "I said I'd love you anyways." He quipped as he took a deep breath. "It's alright, we'll get through whatever comes our way together. I've got your back."
"And I've got yours," she answered solemnly. "Are you... still interested in that dance?"
"For you? Always."
Natasha smiled faintly. "I'd just like a little bit of normal while we work on processing the news," she admitted. "And I'd like to be held, so it works two ways."
"Logical." Sherlock said, loosening his hold on her as they pulled themselves off of the couch. He kept her close though, even as they shifted back towards the windows. He tapped the stereo on the way and the instrumental music filled the air again. It wasn't an elegant dance, he just wrapped his arms around his pregnant wife and swayed back and forth in the space. They were quiet a long time, just taking comfort in the physical reminder of them being with each other. His head was also spinning around, running in about twelve different directions.
"I'll be with you at the doctor's." He commented, seemingly out of thin air. "We need to get all the information, I deduce you're only about four weeks along, I would have deduced any later than that."
Natasha had her arms around his waist and her head against his chest, eyes half open. "Sneaky as a spy already," she joked quietly, even though her voice was a little shaky. "Your mom's going to be thrilled."
"She will be…but I think we should wait before we tell anyone else. Just to make sure it's all…normal. Considering the Asgardian healing device and all, there are a lot of variables to take into account."
"Mm, I agree," she said thoughtfully. "I should make a few calls, actually. Get the specifics of what was done to me, if possible."
Sherlock dropped a kiss to her head. "Everything's going to be different now, isn't it?"
Natasha lifted her head and tipped it back to meet his eyes. "I think so, yeah," she confirmed quietly. "I... don't think I mind, as long as I have you."
"You have me." Sherlock replied. "You both do."
"I know," Natasha replied with a bit of a hopeful smile, and raising herself up on tiptoe, drew Sherlock down for a tender kiss.
Sherlock stopped moving and wrapped her up in his arms. He'd hold her as long as she wanted. Illogical love, but there it was. Because not only had he promised to love and protect this amazing and spectacular woman, that promise carried to their unborn child. He was terrified, and still processing, but as long as they had each other, the details were manageable.
Natasha pulled back to catch her breath and her eyes quickly found Sherlock's silver blue in the dim light, hesitant but tenderly loving in the face of uncertainty. Sherlock was right, everything was about to change. Everything was going to be different. Before, a family had been a statistical impossibility. A slim chance to rule all slim chances, but that was their forte. Sherlock and Natasha, they thrived on slim chances and statistical impossibilities. Unlikely and improbable were a challenge instead of a hindrance, and every time they emerged stronger, quicker, sharper, better, because they had each other.
A family was just one more challenge in a long line of challenges they'd overcome already. Another slim chance. Another statistical impossibility. Together, it was a challenge they could undertake. Together, in a quiet room a thousand miles away from London; with a foreign city spreading out just beyond the window; with a new future ahead of them and years of history behind; in each others arms, vulnerable and scared but strong so long as they were tethered to each other; together, they were home.
A/N: And we're done! Thanks for joining us on this wild ride! This story is very close to our hearts and we're a bit in love with this pairing. Obviously we've left it open for a sequel and will likely be posting that by the end of the year. Keep us on alert, if you'd like. And check out the Natlock stories we have between the two of us, the links are on our profile here. Thank you so, so much for reading, reviewing, and favoriting our novel. Especially our reviewers, you all get cookies. We're chuffed to bits!