Entertain the thought that she is dead serious here.
The moment she turns 18, she leaves for a rich college. Her goal isn't graduation, though; all she wants is to get knocked up and have a kid named Sherlock. Once she gets to college, though, her desperation manifests itself in many red flags for a variety of men. She's always way too willing to bang and will fight the few men who she managed to coax into bed who try to use a condom.
After three to four frustrating years of desperate sluttery, she's going to finally find a beta NuMale who is willing to bed with her. She learned from her past failing, however. She wasn't going to ask him not to wear a condom. She's been so close and lost her chance too many times like that. "Can you turn off the light, babe? I'm self conscious about my weight." As he excitedly shuffles toward the light attempting to hide his obvious election through his Big Bang Theory boxers, she grabs a safety pin and carefully pokes a hole through the tip and throws it into the pile of clothes in the corner of her room. He was excited, it was his first time. She is excited too.
Before you know it, she missed her period. She's so excited she forgets to hide it, which scares her new mate. At this point her nails are in deep and he's stuck. Marriage is an oppressive system, you can't brand love. "You have to drop out of school and stop perusing your sociology degree, you have a baby to care for now. Of course I am staying in school, I have to be a positive role model for our child if it's a girl." But she knew it wouldn't be. Sherlock was her life, and the universe will respond to me because o deserve it.
Months pass and she finally graduates with her Art History degree. She's ecstatic! She goes to the doctor for an ultrasound. Congratulations, Mx.! It's a girl!
Her world froze. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. She goes hope and sits on her bathtub rim for two hours staring at the door. Her husband will be back from his shift at Taco Bell soon and he knows she went to the doctor today. Her plan has been in motion for too long, it can't end now. Through watery eyes, she grits her teeth and begins punching her stomach as hard as she could.
When he comes home at 11:35, he follows the sounds of banshee wailing into the bedroom. She had a miscarriage and lost the baby. She needs consoling. Come to bed, please just hold me. Fuck me. I need this.
Seven more months pass. It's a boy this time, luckily. Her bae saw the bruises on her stomach but she told him she was attacked by a Nazi in the street. He starts involving himself more and more into AntiFa, which started as a response to this horrible fate that befell his women but was driven by his subconscious desire to escape. By the time the baby is born, she returns to find the apartment empty. Her man left her for a moderate tranny he met at a Trump 2020 protest and is on track for a happier life.
But this works out in her favor. Now there's one less variable in the way between her and Johnlock. She's not stupid, though. She knows that the chances he'll be gay are slim. But she is confident she can lead him in the right direction. He's her greatest work of art, after all.
As Sherlock grows up, she slyly nudges him towards homosexuality. Leaving her dildo out on the nightstand when they go into her room, making sure every room has at least one kind of lubricant in it. As Sherlock grows into his preteen years, she becomes more worried it's not going as she planned and steps up the game. She starts regularly talking to him about sex, how gender is a social construct, even leaving gay porn open on the family computer. Go to glee club, go into drama, go into everything even remotely homosexual. Who do you like in school honey? He always nervously says nobody to which she presses him more.
She goes to see his first play and she's reading the leaflet when she spots the name of the kid in the lead role: John Redrug. Her eyes bulge out of her sockets. The universe is answering her. She begins asking Sherlock more and more about John. Constantly. He has a girlfriend. But she knows that can't be true. The universe is extending her an olive branch and she knows John is gay. She just has to prove it.
That night, she followed John's family car home. She made sure Sherlock would have a ride home from their neighbor Sheila who went to the play with them. Her phone rings, it's Sherlock. She ignores the call. She didn't get to talk to him after the play but that's okay because she'll be home soon and made sure he wasn't going to be stranded anyway.
She parks across the street and sneaks into the family's backyard. John's window curtain is open. She sees he's on the computer. He's masturbating. She carefully creeps closer, eyes fixed on the young boy cranking himself off through the glass. When she's right up close to the window, she can see he picture on his screen. It's an anthropomorphic crocodile sodomizing a bunny man.
She was right. The universe was answering her. Johnlock was going to be real. As she ecstatically stared through the window, her excitement coupled with the arousing scene before her manifested itself in her loins. She was getting wetter than she ever had before. She slipped a hand down her pants, forcing it past her greasy fat rolls and into her sex. She watched the boy intently, as he laid his head back and started going faster. She imagined her son and this boy together, in her bed. She came harder than she ever had in her life, losing control of herself as she writhed against the side of the house. Her dream was a reality.
She malted up the pressure on her son. Take flowers to his house, slip notes into his locker. She was truly desperate at this point that she didn't consider the repercussions on her son's life. She was so close to victory she could taste it, so when her new attempts at securing John yielded no results she became increasingly frustrated. Angry, even. Her emotions clouded her mind so much that she didn't notice the growing bags under Sherlock's eyes.
On the night of 8th grade graduation, her son returned from the dance with his eyes red and fluffy. She asked him, did you talk to John tonight like I told you to do? He ran up to his room and slammed the door shut. Out of everyone who would fuck this up for her, she never expected Sherlock to get in the way of her dreams. How could he?! It meant so much to her and she knew he would be happy. She waited until the sounds of muffled sobbing through the walls died down and the crept into her son's room at 2 in the morning. She carefully took off the blankets and lowered his boxers, exposing his insignificant member. She unlocked his phone and opened snapchat, taking a snap of the image before her and then left. That would do it. The next day at 4 PM, Sherlock went missing
A week later, she gets a call from the Sherriff's office. Sherlock's body was found on a riverbank ten miles out of town. They suspect he jumped off of a bridge and his body was carried down river quite a ways.
She couldn't believe it. Her vision went red, and the next thing she knew, she was inside of John's bedroom as John was panicking trying to open his window. "You're even more of a freak than your fucking kid!" She grabbed him by his hair and smashed his face into the window until it cracked and shattered, blood dripping down the wall onto the floor. John fell to the ground simpering as she began kicking him in the ribs. Suddenly, her ears rang. She could feel her back was wet, and her front was getting wet too. She felt weak and collapsed on the ground, turning her head towards the doorway to show a woman with tears running down her face as she kneels next to the bleeding child. As her vision faded and the colors drained from the world, she watched the mother crying before her holding the bloody body on the ground. But wait, it wasn't a woman... it was Sherlock. Sherlock, tears flowing down his face, holding the body of his trusty sidekick John. Sherlock closed his eyes and lowered his face, kissing the forehead of the body in his arms. She did it, she thought as her mind shut down. She made Johnlock canon.