More Johnlock mpreg for your pleasure/annoyance. This will be about 3 chapters. My previous one 'Months' was set in some kind of AU (I don't even fucking know when it was set, I didn't think about it) where "The Fall" never happened, so I wanted to do one that followed the TV series' storyline. Sort of.
Sherlock glanced over to John from his microscope.
His lover was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room with a laptop on his knees, typing away.
Typing with only one hand to be accurate, the other one rested on his swollen stomach, absentmindedly rubbing it.
Sherlock felt a lump rise in his throat as he observed the man.
He could feel his 'alpha instincts' surfacing everytime he looked at his pregnant mate. He felt the overwhelming need to protect them.
It was a new sensation to him. He had for long thought he was incapable of experiencing these ancient 'instincts'.
Or, to put it in another way, he had feared he wouldn't feel anything.
John leaned back in the chair, flinching a bit and rubbing his side.
He looked at Sherlock's direction to see the alpha staring right back at him, mesmerized.
"It's okay," John smiled at him, thinking that his expression was why Sherlock was staring at him. "The little one's kicks are just starting to get stronger."
He smiled lovingly down at his belly.
Sherlock rose up and walked over to him. He didn't really know why, he just felt like it.
He knelt down before John and reached out his hand to touch John's stomach.
A grin spread on his face as he felt movements under his palm.
A text message sound buzzed.
"Sherlock…the phone…" John said, staring at the man drawing invisible patterns on his bump.
"Yes, it keeps doing that," the detective answered not even lifting his gaze.
John sighed and reached to Sherlock's jacket pocket to pick up his mobile.
"I'll get that then, shall I?"
When he read the message, his face paled.
"Sherlock…" he said, voice slightly trembling.
"Hmmh?"
"He's back."
"Look up."
John lifted his gaze to see Sherlock standing on top of St. Bartholomew's.
"I can't come down, so we have to do it like this."
John could feel panic rising inside him. Sherlock sounded so hopeless.
"What's going on?"
"An apology."
There was a pause. John could barely progress the words he was hearing.
"It's true. Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."
John couldn't believe it. Not for a second.
"Why are you saying this?" he said, his tone of voice unable to hide the despair.
"I'm a fake, and I want you to tell that to Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson… our son…"
Unconsciously, John placed on hand on his protruding middle.
"Okay, shut up Sherlock, shut up," he snapped.
"First time we met you knew all about me…"
"Nobody could be that clever."
"You could."
Sherlock let out a nervous laugh. It sounded like he was crying. John could feel his heart shatter into little pieces.
"I researched you, I found out everything I could about you. It's a magic trick John, just a magic trick."
John had had enough.
"Stop it now, I'm coming in."
"No!" Sherlock exclaimed desperately. "Stay where you are and keep your eyes fixed on me!"
"Okay…" John said, now too scared to move.
"Please… will you do this for me…?" Sherlock's voice pleaded.
"Do what?"
"This phone call… is my note…That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note…"
"Leave a note when?" John said, now in full on panic.
He knew when people left notes. He just chose not to believe that was what Sherlock was talking about.
"Goodbye John… I love you… I love you both."
"No…Don't…" John managed to say.
The next thing he remembered was running as fast as he could with his 7 months pregnant belly in the way towards the man lying on the ground.
He remembered vaguely grabbing Sherlock's wrist as other people tried to pull him away.
There was no pulse.
After that his memory of the next few days was hazy.
He somehow got back to the flat, but couldn't remember how.
He remembered Mrs. Hudson taking care of him, when he was too crippled by pain to function.
He went back to his therapist but couldn't remember anything he told her.
Eventually it got a bit better.
He organized Sherlock's funeral with Mrs. Hudson's help about a month after his death.
"I'm angry," John huffed as he stood in front of the grave stone with Mrs. Hudson.
He felt the woman wrap her hand around his arm.
"It's alright John, that's how he made everyone feel… all the marks on my table, the noise… bloody specimens in my fridge, imagine just…"
John wanted nothing more but for Mrs. Hudson to shut up at that point. Of course she didn't do it on purpose, but everything she said just reminded him more about Sherlock.
"Okay I'm not angry…" he said, even though he was angrier than anyone could ever understand.
"Okay… I'll leave you alone, will you be alright?" she said, gesturing at John's middle.
John nodded sternly. He was 8 ½ months pregnant and Mrs. Hudson fussed over him constantly. It was annoying, but John was also glad about it. He could've not managed alone.
Sometimes John feared the child would look like Sherlock. He wasn't sure if he could be able to live with that kind of daily reminder.
The woman walked away, sniffing.
He took a few steps towards the grave.
"You told me once you weren't a hero… and there were times when I didn't even think you were human…" he said, in a shaky voice.
"…but let me tell you, you were the best man, the most human…human being…and no one will ever convince me you told a lie…"
He placed a hand on top of the stone.
"I'm naming him Hamish…Hope that's okay with you…? It's a name that's been in my family… I…" he took a few deep breaths.
"I was so alone when I met you, and you made me the happiest person on earth by becoming my bondmate… and gave me a family…and I owe you so much."
He turned to walk away, feeling like he couldn't take it any longer.
"Just one more thing," he said, turning to face the grave again. "Just one more miracle for me Sherlock, just… don't be dead."
He felt tears forming in his eyes again.
"Just for me… for us…" he said, placing a hand on his bump.
"Stop this."
He took more deep breaths, feeling the emotions which he had managed to keep in bay for the whole day breaking out.
After a few heaving sobs, he managed to turn around and started walking towards the cemetery gates.
Halfway there, he felt a cramp grip his stomach.
John stopped, clutching his middle and took a deep breath before continuing walking.
He had been feeling strange pains all day, but was simply too depressed to take notice or care.
As he reached the gates, he leaned on the stone wall, panting.
The pang of pain surged through him again, this time it was so strong it made John finally realize what was happening.
"Oh shit…" he muttered, frantically scanning the area. He could see no people. Mrs. Hudson had probably already left.
Suddenly, he could feel something warm trickle down his trouser leg.
"Oh nononono, fuck, shit," he cursed, realizing his water had broken.
Another contraction hit him, and he fell on his knees to the ground, groaning in pain.
His vision started to spin.
Passing out while in labour on a church yard was not a very good plan, he thought to himself, before everything became blurry.
Just before everything went completely black, he could see a face hovering over him.
It was familiar Very familiar.
"Sherlock…" John mumbled, before passing out.
So... What do you think?