Once upon a time in a world only creepy fangirls wish existed...

"That's impossible." Sherlock was being a know-it-all. Because usually, he really did know it all. This was not the case today.

"Apparently, it's not!" John had just taken a pregnancy test.

"Males can't get pregnant, even if they could, why would you be? Preposterous!"

"I'm so confused what is my life!" John was already getting mood swings.

"I dunno. Maybe it's like the Sims. Top gets pregnant. Bottom gets to be the guy for once." Sherlock's deduction was retarded.

"SINCE WHEN ARE YOU THE STUPID ONE?!" he can't handle all this pregnancy.

"About ten minutes ago when you broke my brain, because now it has to deal with the fact Mpreg is a thing." Sherlock's bored.

"Mpreg?" John was already considering names, really lame ones.

"Male pregnancy. Fangirls like this. They probably 'ship' it, as they say. Or something."

"Right. Well, maybe you should get Mycroft on the phone to tell him the good news." John rubbed his tummy even though it just looked really creepy.

"Like I'd tell that douche drag queen anything." Sherlock played with his hair. His phone rang. Mycroft. "Speak of the devil." Answering. "What do you want?"

"Brother dear, I heard what you said. I'm always watching." Dammit Mycroft you prick.

"Dammit, Mycroft. Where's the camera this time?" Immediate search.

"Haha, no. I'm downstairs you idiot. Drinking tea. You guys are loud." he took a really loud sip because he's an asshole.

"I hate you." Sherlock hung up.

"Soooooo now that that's over. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE WE GOING TO DO, SHERLOCK?"

"Hey, you're the mom. Not me. Maybe ask a lady opinion, or something. I'm no lady. Mrs. Hudson?!"

"NOT YOUR HOUSEKEEPER CLEAN IT UP YOURSELF."

"Well I guess that's out of the question. Unless..."

"No. We're not calling Irene." John pouted.

"Stop being such a jealous bitch, John." Mycroft walked in with all his sass.

"I'm allowed. I'm pregnant. And it's Sherlock's – Okay that sounds really weird, is anyone else weirded out by this?"

"Not the slightest bit." Both the Holmes' at the same time. "I hate you." Again.

They turned away from each other and crossed their arms in a cliché fashion because sibling rivalry.

Mrs. Hudson came upstairs. "What exactly is going on?"

"John's pregnant with my child because apparently that's possible." Sherlock hated this.

"I-in my flat? Oh I guess I'll make tea also I'm not your housekeeper bye."

"Well she's no help. So I'm guessing abortion is out of the question?" Tummy rubs.

"JOHN! How dare you even suggest doing that to my child! Even if it isn't in child form yet! MINE!" he put a protective hand on John's completely flat stomach.

"Thought so. I guess this is going to happen, then."

"Yes, yes, my baby will wreck your man-gina." Sherlock nodded.

Mycroft made a face. "I think we're all gonna pretend you didn't say that."

"Agreed." John smiled. "Cool so I wanna name it Ethel."

Everyone hated it but didn't want to tell John his choice of names sucked ass.

"Well I gotta run, Greg's supposed to pound my ass in an hour." Mycroft left, with the entire room feeling about a million times more uncomfortable than they thought was humanly possible.

And so even though John was top, he was pregnant.

And when the baby was born and it was magnificent and when it came out the doctor held it like it was Simba and one day all the lands will be his. Or hers. Or Mycroft's.

THE END