Chapter Text
“I still don’t know how you convinced me to marry you!” I shouted. I had been anxious all day, which, of course, made the problem even worse. I hadn’t a case in two weeks, and John was driving me up the wall with his useless platitudes about how something would come along soon.
I flung myself on the sofa and glared at John. He let out a long-suffering sigh before he went back to his blog. I picked up a stack of paper from the table and began crumpling them into balls. John watched me suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, after my stack of balls had grown rather large, he turned his attention back to his laptop. I picked up one of the balls and flung it at his head. It hit the tip of his nose and bounced off.
John looked at me and raised his eyebrow in a very ‘I am not amused’ way before turning back to his blog again. I continued to throw paper balls at him until he finally put his laptop down. “What do you want?” he asked.
“Bored,” I said petulantly. “And not feeling well. Probably your fault.”
“What do you want me to do about it?”
I arched an eyebrow. “What do you think?” I asked in a seductive tone.
“Oh no! Not after insult me and then pelt me with paper.”
I crossed the room and put on my best begging face. “Please,” I whined.
John watched me for a moment before his posture relaxed. “Oh fine,” he said, pulling me into his lap.
~SH~
A while later, after our clothes were replaced, John went into the kitchen to cook. I followed him and rested on the edge of the table; watching John cook had become one of my favorite pastimes.
“Indian sound good?” he asked, pulling a pan out.
“You know I don’t care.”
John grunted and bustled around the kitchen, pulling out various ingredients as he went.
“Harry called today,” he said eventually.
“Oh?” I asked non-committally. It was always hard to tell if her phone calls were good or bad.
“Yeah. She said that she’s been clean for a month.”
“You don’t know whether to believe her,” I stated.
“Nope. I want it to be true, but you know how it is.”
I walked up behind John and wrapped my arms around his middle.
“Thanks, love,” he said. He took the chicken off the plate and put it into the sizzling pan. The scent wafted up to my nostrils, and my stomach lurched at the smell. I untangled myself from John, willing myself not to vomit on him. He wouldn’t forgive for that for at least a week. I bent over the bin and vomited, the bile leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Sherlock?” John asked sounding alarmed. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just turn that pan off.”
John took the pan off the heat then turned back to me. There was a puzzled look on his face. He stared at me, a frown firmly in place.
“What?” I asked sullenly.
“I’m trying to figure out what’s wrong with you,” he said, his frown deepening. “You haven’t shown any sign of the stomach flu, and the-oh!”
“What?”
“When was your last period?”
“Two months ago,” I replied, confused by the sudden subject change. I was really not feeling well. “You know they’ve always been irregular.”
“Sherlock,” John said, pausing for a moment. “Sherlock, I think you might be pregnant.”
“Preg-what?” I asked. I felt my jaw drop. I couldn’t be pregnant, could I? I retreated to my mind palace, calculating the likelihood that I could be pregnant.
I was vaguely aware of someone leading me toward the sofa and pushing me down into a sitting positions. Apparently, there was about a 25% chance that I could be pregnant, based on the timing of my menstrual cycle, the frequency that John and I had sex, and my age. I cross-referenced this with the symptoms that I had been experiencing. The most like option that explained everything was that I was pregnant.
I pulled myself from my mind palace, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that I was pregnant.
“Have you ever seen her like this?” John asked, his tone slightly panicked.
“No, never,” Mycroft replied, puzzled.
I blinked twice and looked around the room. John was pacing nervously back and forth across the flat. Mycroft was standing over my protectively, and Lestrade was sitting John’s chair.
“Sherlock?” John said, rushing over to me and placing his hand on my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
I swallowed nervously and said, “I’m pregnant.”