It was just an inkling, a niggling thought, a dared hope that Anthea immediately quashed. She chalked it up to over-indulgence while on holiday.
"You're rounder, my love," Mycroft observed with a loving smile. While he himself was sensitive of his waistline, he preferred to see Anthea a little softer. Besides, Ashwini sometimes protested 'Mummy was sometimes bony'.
"Too many sweets while we were away, most likely, your mother loves to feed me."
"Humph."
The snort of derision was ignored, and Anthea turned back to the mirror as she dressed, studying her belly. Bloated. That's all she was. It was not…that. It couldn't be.
She'd made up her mind to forget it, and she did, she was awfully good at making herself forget things if she put her mind to it. She busied herself with the day's work, and soon enough the thought that she'd gained weight was out of her head, that is until in the middle of the first meeting of the day, the scent of the passing coffee cart made her so ill she excused herself from the board room. She managed to walk sedately to the washroom before hurling herself onto the nearest toilet and heaving up her breakfast.
Coffee had never made her ill in her life. And certainly not the mere smell of it. The thought of ingesting the stuff made her want to heave all over again. Something was very queer indeed, and so that afternoon while Mycroft was busy and Ashwini still in school, she snuck off to the doctor's to figure out what the matter was. She couldn't go around smelling various foods to determine which to avoid for the rest of her life, she may as well have the doctor take a look. But then, if she went to her regular, Mycroft would know and worry. She was sure there was nothing to fuss over, but for now she needed someone who wasn't as high up on Mycroft's radar. That narrowed it down to one doctor she knew she could trust.
"Sorry, what?" John Watson asked, baffled.
"You won't examine me?" Anthea asked in turn.
"No, of course I will, of course," he said. "I'm just…don't you have a primary already? Someone I'm sure Mycroft would prefer?"
"I do, but I'd like to keep this from him for now, he's enough to worry for at the moment without having a panic-attack mid-board meeting. I'm sure it's nothing, just stomach flu or something, but that wouldn't explain the weight-gain."
"Right," John nodded, quizzical to be sure, but who was he to turn away a patient? "Just us girls then," he promised and patted the paper-lined bed. "Up you go, and we'll run a few tests."
Of course Mycroft knew she went to the doctors, it took him longer to figure out which doctor, in fact he had narrowed it down to a few clinics (John's was among them) by the time she'd gotten home. Ashwini was down for her nap, so Anthea guided her husband upstairs where they could speak without fear of waking the child.
"Why didn't you tell me, for heavens' sake?" Mycroft asked, quite upset. "For goodness sake, a simple text would have sufficed!"
"Because you always make more of it than is necessary," Anthea said, her tone was light, placating, and Mycroft noticed she had not stopped smiling since she came through the door.
"Well?" he asked finally. "What is the matter?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?!" he scoffed. "You slipped out of six meetings, three of which I rather did need you on, snuck away to John Watson's clinic without telling anyone, and nothing is the matter with you?"
"That's right," she replied. She headed to the closet, stepping inside to change out of her work clothes. "Nothing that won't solve itself in a matter of months. John asked to be my follow-up if I wasn't comfortable going to my primary again, and I actually agreed. I think I prefer him in this case. He's got a terribly good bedside manner, I felt quite safe with him-"
While she talked, Mycroft was studying her. She was rounder, to be sure. Her breasts were larger, and her belly was softer, expanded by at least five inches.
'Nothing that won't solve itself in a matter of months'
Before she could pull her sleep-shirt over her head, Mycroft had stepped up to her. He suddenly knelt, hands covering her stomach.
"Anthea," a kiss to her belly, followed by another. She wove her fingers through his short hair, smiling down at him. "Are you certain?"
"Doctor Watson had suspected it right off, and the first thing he did was run a blood test."
"How far?" Mycroft asked hoarsely.
"About three months," she laughed, feeling tears spill down her cheeks.
"Three months?" he echoed, shocked. "And is it- will it-"
"Everything is going beautifully, according to John, I'm healthy and so is the baby so far. He suggests that I take an early maternity leave though, at five months, rather than seven, is that alright?"
"Yes, yes, of course, whatever you need," Mycroft said, blinking hard. Anthea smiled, thumbing away the tears in the corners of his eyes.
"John gave me a copy of the ultrasound, so you can watch it, if you like, and in another month we'll know what sex."
"Boy," Mycroft said immediately. "It's a boy." He smoothed the flesh of her belly tenderly, and pressed another kiss there. "It is a boy." Anthea smiled, not even bothering to put up a fight that it may well be a girl. Whatever they had, Mycroft would adore it no matter what. For now they could revel in the good news, and Mycroft admired the small bump, barely visible on his wife.