A Gift and A Curse

Twenty minutes – in, test, out. Get it over and done with quickly and carry on. Twenty minutes was all she had, that was before he'd look up from his chemistry set and notice something was amiss.

But she sat, across the room from him, from that man, in his chair actually, watching his every move like a hawk. His attention, mind you, was solely fixed on the experiment in front of him, the complexity of which she hadn't even bothered to listen when he tried to explain.

She took a deep breath, and loosened her grip on the arms of the sofa when she noted they had become painfully white. She rubbed the front of her jeans quickly and licked her lips. It was a nervous tick she'd had since childhood which comforted her ever-so-slightly.

It was now or never.

Oh God, wouldn't never be nice…

It had to be done. Had. To. Be. Done.

And quickly.

And subtly.

"I'mgoingtothetoilet." She blurted out.

Perhaps not subtly.

Sherlock, or Le Git, as she'd decided to nickname him when he was being a bit of arrogant, posh, know-it-all bastard, didn't even flinch.

"Won't be long." She practically ran out the door and up the stairs, ignoring the spasm in her leg that only happened when she was stressed. She almost slammed head first into the bathroom door when she tripped on the loose carpet end on the top of the stairs.

"Sherlock! You said you were going to fix the bloody carpet!" She called down the stairs, clutching the banister for dear life.

The response she got was an automatic 'Uh-huh' from downstairs. She rolled her eyes, she probably have to do it herself especially since it took six fucking months for her to train Sherlock to go and get milk.

She growled as she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her, locking it a bit more forcefully than she should've done really. Well, subtlety had just shot itself in the head and fallen out of the window; thank God Le Git's attention was on something else.

She leant against the door heavily. She closed her eyes and breathed softly in and out…in and out…in and out…

Her eyes flew open at the sound of a soft knock at the door. In seconds she regained her composure and opened the door, peeping through the crack. Mrs Hudson stood just outside, beaming at her and waved a blue pharmacy bag in her face.

"I got it, just as you said, dearie. I also bought some pads so I could hide it underneath. Sherlock didn't suspect a thing." She giggled shamelessly. "Oh, I can't wait to see his face when you tell him, Jane!"

Jane paled and smiled weakly. "Yes, well…we'll see what it reads, eh?"

"Oh but what about the symptoms, love? You said yourself –"

"Yes, but I could be wrong!" Jane hissed. In a moment the anger had vanished from her eyes and she shook her head. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Hudson. I didn't mean to snap at you, like that."

Mrs. Hudson rubbed her arm gently. "It's alright, dear. It's scary and your hormones are all over the place. Oh, I tell you, if a man went through what we do, they'd be a much better race!" She said as she pressed the bag into Jane's hands.

Jane genuinely smiled. "Thank you, for everything."

"It's no problem, Jane. Call me if you need anything." Mrs. Hudson smiled and quickly disappeared down the stairs.

Jane closed the door softly and pulled the pads from the bag first, she smiled at the old woman's resourcefulness. She chucked the pads underneath the sink.

She took a deep breath in before plunging her hand into the bag. Her stomach churned slightly when her hand closed around a box. She breathed out shakily as she pulled the box out.

Clearblue Digital with Contraception Indicator

Pregnant: +

Not Pregnant: –

Jane's first reaction was to tut good naturedly at Mrs. Hudson's habit of buying the most expensive brand of whatever she was asked to get. She toyed with the box in her hands; a feeling of complete dread slowly washing over her.

The feeling of dread soon developed to one of overwhelming terror. There were only two other occasions when she'd felt like that. The first was when she was in the Afghan desert with a bullet through her shoulder and the second was when she watched the most brilliant and fucked up man jump of the roof of Barts.

"Oh shitting hell, this is actually happening." She choked out, her voice a mixture between a sob and a whisper.

She quickly wiped the impending tears away with the back of her hand; silently scolding herself for being so ridiculously emotional. She rolled her eyes because of her overreaction.

It. Was. Going to be. Fine.

In those next few minutes Jane appreciated the lengths she asked a patient to go to when she asked them to give a stool sample. It was messy and disturbingly unhygienic.

After scrubbing her hands twice and reciting 'Happy Birthday' in her head each time she sat on the toilet lid and waited. And waited. And waited.

And then she saw a blue cross.