"How's Mycroft?" John asked casually as he stood beside Greg at the edge of a crime scene, watching Sherlock do his thing.
"His Highness is driving us all mad." Greg chuckled, sipping at his coffee, "He can't keep his emotions in check at the moment. It would be funny if he didn't find it so difficult. One minute he's laughing, the next he's crying."
"And the morning sickness?" John asked, thinking back to the days they'd all spent with Mycroft in the hospital.
"It's much better now. They've given him some tablets that seem to be working at the moment." Greg replied, "Anthea tells me that he's now even more feared in that department of his."
John laughed softly, "He's scary enough as it is, never-mind with raging mood swings." he agreed, "Do you know when he's planning on going on leave?"
Greg shook his head, "Anthea and I keep telling him to pick a date so it can all be properly planned, but he just avoids it." he sighed, "He's probably planning to have the baby at his desk for all I know."
"I doubt even Mycroft could work through childbirth." John replied with a slight smile, "So you don't know what his plan is after the baby arrives?"
Greg sighed, "As soon as he can fit into his suits again, he'll be back to work." he said, "I'm going to keep him prisoner in the house for as long as possible, I think. He barely takes any holiday as it is."
"Are you going to end up being Mum?" John teased.
"Probably. Mr British Government is hardly going to say no to the PM in favour of the school run, is he?" Greg laughed, "Could you bring Rosie over at the weekend? Mycroft has Sundays off now and I think he'd like to see her. He wouldn't shut up about her last time he saw her."
"Sure. I'll bring her over." John agreed.
There was a slam of a car door a few metres away and a slight commotion at the crime scene tape.
"Boss, your Mrs is here." Donovan said, rushing over.
"Let him in. He'll only cause a scene." Greg replied with a roll of his eyes.
"Your Mrs, eh?" John teased quietly as Mycroft stormed over to them. His strides weren't as quick as usual, as he was now slowed down by a very visible bump.
"Gregory! I do not expect to be held at the tape as though I am a member of the public!" Mycroft snapped.
"Hi Mycroft, nice to see you." Greg replied calmly, "They're only worried about you and the baby."
"Worried?" Mycroft virtually spat the word, "Why would they be worried?"
"Did Anthea send you home again?" Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair.
"It's a disgrace the way I am being treated, Gregory." Mycroft complained, his voice now lower in volume, "I don't see their logic at all for not letting me be a part of, or a witness to, interrogations."
"Maybe it's because the last time you witnessed an interrogation, you fainted." Greg pointed out with a look.
"A minor, trivial occurrence that they insist on-" Mycroft complained until he suddenly stopped. His face went oddly blank for a moment before he looked down at the bump, resting his hand on it gently.
"Mycroft?" Greg said, watching his husband worriedly, "Mycroft? What's wrong, Mycroft? Do you need to sit down? Or to drink some water?"
Sherlock walked over to them, finished with the crime scene. He looked over each of them before his gaze fell on the bump.
"Nothing's wrong. He's just realized that he's experiencing quickening." he declared, looking very pleased with himself for working it out.
"Mycroft? Please talk to me." Greg pleaded, stepping closer and resting his hands on the bump too, "What can you feel, love?"
Mycroft finally looked up, an expression of awe on his face, "Our child is moving." he said, "It's alive, Gregory."
"Of course it's alive, just look at how fat you've become." Sherlock muttered.
"Let's get you back to the car." Greg murmured, gently leading Mycroft away from the crime scene.