She had a doctor's appointment booked in two days, and she had no idea how she was supposed to struggle on until then. Another wave of nausea hit her and she pressed the palm of her hand against her mouth, desperately willing her queasy stomach to settle down.

Mr Holmes stopped mid-sentence and swept his gaze all over her, as if assessing her condition. "How far along are you? Three to four weeks, I take it?"

Andrea merely nodded, weakness washing over her like a tidal wave. She would see to it soon enough anyway.

"Congratulations are in order, I presume," he added then, disregarding her feeble attempt at disagreeing. "Your airline captain will be overjoyed at the news."

"I'm not planning to tell him," she admitted as soon as she felt fairly sure that nothing but words would come out of her mouth. "It'll be fixed by the day after tomorrow, he doesn't need to know."

"Why ever not?" he probed firmly but gently, as a friend would do. The ghost of a smile tugged at her lips, and for a moment she was tempted to inform her boss that his caring was showing.

"We're just casual, not to mention that family and my line of work don't mix well."

Mycroft Holmes raised a sceptical eyebrow at her. "You are entitled to your personal life, Miss Somers. And rest assured that any child of yours would be under my protection."

Her mischievous side took over at last, and she shot him a teasing smirk. "Is this the part where I express my gratitude by kissing your cheek?"

"I don't think so," he warned her, distaste apparent on his features.

If the child was a boy, she was definitely going to call him Mikey. Mr Holmes would roll his eyes until the end of time, and that alone was completely worth it.