"Hyperemesis gravidarum." Sherlock declared when his brother arrived at their flat with a folder in his hand. He looked exhausted and had lost a significant amount of weight, the healthy glowing look of pregnancy now completely gone.
"Don't remind me." Mycroft grimaced as he sat down, confirming his brother's diagnosis of severe morning sickness.
"Afternoon Mycroft." John greeted as he sauntered out of the kitchen, "You're not looking well. Is morning sickness taking its toll?"
"You have no idea." Mycroft replied with a sigh, putting the file down on the coffee table, "I have a case for you, Sherlock. I'd be very grateful if you'd look over it, I haven't the energy for an argument today."
"When was the last time you ate something?" John asked, sitting down beside Mycroft on the sofa.
"Ate something?" Mycroft scoffed with a laugh devoid of humour, "I can't even swallow the anti-nausea tablets."
John reached out and gently took his wrist, feeling his pulse, "Have you had any water?"
"Not since last night." Mycroft admitted with a slight shake of his head.
"You really should be in hospital if the symptoms are this severe." John said gently, worry in his eyes.
"I have to work." Mycroft snapped, pulling his wrist out of John's grasp, "I haven't got time to be unwell."
Sherlock watched the encounter from his chair, his face blank as deductions rushed through his mind. He reached forward and picked up the case, wanting to appease his distressed sibling. He couldn't help glancing up at Mycroft as he read through the case. The solution was easy and should have been obvious to his older brother.
"Well?" Mycroft demanded, frustration clear on his face. It was rare that he lost his temper or visibly looked rattled so Sherlock knew his brother must be struggling.
"You should be looking at the husband." Sherlock said, putting the file back down on the coffee table.
"Thank you." Mycroft said, standing up too quickly and making a grab for the file. He was upright for barely a few seconds before his knees buckled beneath him.
John jumped up and caught him gently, lowering him back onto the sofa before he could hit the floor, "Still haven't got time for a hospital?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I would roll my eyes at you but I fear that it will only make the dizziness worse." Mycroft murmured, clamping his eyes shut and taking deep breaths to hold back the wave of nausea.
Sherlock hovered awkwardly nearby, not sure whether to approach or to leave. He'd never seen Mycroft so vulnerable and he didn't know how to respond to it.
John gently reached out and rubbed Mycroft's back, trying to help the nauseous feeling to dissipate.
"Ready to stand up again?" he asked after a couple of minutes.
Mycroft nodded, but his expression revealed his uncertainty.
"Sherlock, will you help?" John asked, meeting the worried gaze of the other Homes brother, "We both need to help him out to the car."
Sherlock nodded, seemingly agreeing that getting Mycroft in the car was logical. He pulled on his coat and scarf before he went to his brother's side. He couldn't remember when he'd last touched Mycroft. He carefully helped his brother up, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him. He was shocked for a moment that Mycroft's skin was warm and not the block of ice that part of him was expecting to feel.
John pulled on his own coat and hooked Mycroft's umbrella over his arm before he moved to help Mycroft again.
"Okay, let's take this steady. Just close your eyes if you feel dizzy again, Mycroft." John advised.
It took some time for them to maneuver Mycroft down the stairs and out to the car, but they did it with no disastrous consequences.
"Take us to whichever private hospital Mycroft uses." John advised the driver.
"A hospital, Sir? Is Mr Holmes unwell?" the driver asked, unsure whether he needed to report the situation to his superiors.
"Of course I'm bloody unwell!" Mycroft shouted, "Drive already!"
"Yes, Sir." the driver replied, not saying anything further as he drove them to the hospital.
"I apologize for my tone, Walter." Mycroft murmured as they pulled up outside the hospital, "I haven't eaten in a number of days and it's beginning to take its toll."
"I understand, Sir." the driver replied, "I'll be here when you're ready to leave."
"How long has he been in hospital?" Greg demanded as he flew through the door of the hospital room, his eyes on Sherlock and John, "And why the hell wasn't I told?"
"Gregory, you were working." Mycroft murmured as an explanation. He was propped up in bed with pillows, drips in his arms and monitoring devices attached to his torso.
"And I thought up until 15 minutes ago that you were working too!" Greg shouted, "I've been nothing but patient with you, Mycroft. I've been up with you at all hours over the last few days and I'm just as exhausted as you are! The least I expect is to be notified when you are hospitalized!"
"I'm sorry, Gregory." Mycroft said softly, his eyes welling up with tears as his husband ranted. Tears began to roll down his cheeks and he made no move to wipe them away.
Sherlock couldn't help but stare at his brother, having not seen him cry in over 30 years. It was shocking to watch the Iceman fall apart, but both Sherlock and John couldn't resist the spectacle.
"Mycroft, don't cry." Greg murmured, rushing over to his side, "Why are you crying, love?"
"I'm so sorry, Gregory." Mycroft sobbed, "I never imagined that this would be so difficult."
"I know. None of this is your fault." Greg assured as best he could, "I'm sorry for having a rant, I'm just worried about you."
"Are we doing the right thing, Gregory? Should we even be having a child?" Mycroft sobbed, "Clearly the pregnancy isn't agreeing with me."
"Mycroft Homes, you stop that talk right now." Greg ordered with a stern expression, "We have had this discussion multiple times since our wedding. We both decided to try for a child and now we have one, we are not giving up."
"If it helps, you can listen to the baby's heartbeat?" John offered, cautiously approaching them both.
"We'd like that, wouldn't we Mycroft?" Greg replied, glancing down at his partner.
Mycroft nodded and hurriedly wiped away his tears, embarrassed by his show of emotion.
John smiled and fiddled with the volume on the monitoring machines until the strong, healthy heartbeat could be clearly heard. He then moved away to the edge of the room, not wanting to leave but not wanting to be in the way either.
"That's our child, Mycroft." Greg murmured with a smile, "I know you're ill and it's been an awful few weeks, but it's all going to be worth it."