Basically everyone wants to kick John's butt for not answering his phone
"Men," Mary Watson gritted her teeth, her legs bent as she keened, feeling another contraction.
"Never mind them, they're tossers," Molly Hooper flipped her hair over her shoulder. "I'm going to give them such a talking to when I get my hands on them. For now, let's just get you to the hospital." Carefully, she eased Mary back into an upright position. "I texted Mycroft, he's got a car waiting downstairs."
"Mycroft," Mary rolled her eyes, grinning. "John's not going to like this."
"Then he should have been here, not gallivanting off on a case he didn't have to join."
"He should have his fun," Mary said, feeling a little generous, now that she wasn't doubled over in pain.
"Mary!" Molly nearly stopped, but Mary's groans made her keep them heading down the stairs. "It's your first child! Your baby daughter is about to be born and he's nowhere to be found, is not answering his calls, I'd call that irresponsible, uncaring, and deplorable!"
"Oh, believe me, I'm having words with both of them," Mary grunted. "He knows better than to have his phone on silent."
They made it down to the car, and were surprised to see Mycroft actually waiting at the open door.
"I didn't know it was your car," Mary said.
"I was closest," Mycroft replied, giving a hand to ease her into the back of the limousine. "Feet up or down?"
"For the moment down, I hope you're not fond of the interior, I may not make the trip to the hospital."
"We have assistance," Mycroft nodded to the police cars waiting with lights flashing at the front and rear of the limo.
"I make no promises."
"What can my brother be thinking?" Mycroft asked, following Molly into the car, once Mary was settled.
"Don't start," Molly rolled her eyes. "He's due a good thrashing from me once I get hold of him."
The trio of cars pulled into traffic, Molly and Mycroft both angrily hammering a final text to Sherlock and John before turning their attention to Mary.
Across town
"Uh-oh." John was looking at his phone.
"What is it?" Sherlock asked, then heard his own phone buzz.
"Fifty missed calls and about thirty un-read messages."
"Why is your phone on silent?!" Sherlock roared, taking off for the exit.
"Why is yours?" John shot back.
"Mine is always on silent, now I'm going to be blamed for this! You're going to get such a thrashing when we get there!" Sherlock bellowed over the noise of traffic as he hailed a cab.