I stared at my lover in shock, trying to comprehend just exactly what he was saying. "Come again, Sherlock?" He looked up at me, from where he was sitting across the room reading the morning paper.
"I said I think we should have a child, John." As nonchalantly as he would say we should get eggs, or a new jumper. I spluttered in shock, at his outward statement.
"A- a child, Sherlock? Do youeven know how much responsibility that is? I mean we would have to feed it, and we would have to be home all the time, and of course there would be the diapers, and-" I paused in shock, not quite sure what to say. A child? Sherlock could hardly take care of himself, how would we take care of a baby? Sherlock rose from his seat, and crossed the room, to stand in front of me. He reached out and took my hand, his face close enough, that I could smell the coffee on his breath, feel the heat radiating off of him. He stared into my eyes, and suddenly I couldn't think. I stared into his deep, alert eyes, dimly aware that he was trying to say something. I couldn't concentrate. I wanted to memorize the way his eyes looked. The way the light streamed into his eyes, highlighting the flecks of gold, and the splashes of green. I blinked, and tried to clear my head.
"… And if you think that I don't know that by now, John, you're crazy. I know exactly what having a child entails. " I was surprised by the intensity of his voice. I suppose he really wants that. And that surprised me. I never would have imagined Sherlock as the type of person who wanted kids. Not in a million years. I glanced at our little flat, then back at Sherlock.
"I guess I could clean out the spare room…" I started to say more, but suddenly my lips were very occupied.