Hey all! So, I've been studying for finals like crazy (which are taking place tomorrow and Thursday), and in an effort to take my mind off the craziness, I wrote up a cute little fluffy chapter. Hope you like it! Have a great week guys! Oh! Also, thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and/or reviewed! They're so encouraging and make writing this fic so much more enjoyable and easy! So thank you all very much! =)

Chapter Four: Just A Feeling

19 weeks

"John, will you please hurry up?"

"Agh, I'm trying, I'm trying," the doctor cried, quickly fumbling with the keys before sliding one into place and clicking open one of the hospital doors.

"Finally!" Sherlock groaned, quickly pushing past his friend and hurrying into the room, coat billowing gracefully behind.

"Impatient much?" John chuckled, quickly clicking on the light switch.

"Only when it's in the middle of the night, and I am thoroughly exhausted and not in the best of moods," the detective hissed between his teeth, quickly yanking off his coat and tossing it onto one of the mint-green hospital chairs.

Suppressing a smile, John merely gave a quick nod of his head and hurried over to the cabinet, rummaging around for an ultrasound machine. Though he would never admit it, the doctor was secretly pleased that Sherlock would only allow him to do the ultrasounds and check-ups (in the middle of the night) so no one else would see or know. It meant quite a bit that the detective trusted him that much.

"Just... Hop up?" Sherlock asked awkwardly, gesturing to the cot.

"Hmm? Oh. Yeah. I will need you to take your shirt off, though."

"Hmm," Sherlock mumbled unhappily, turning his back to the doctor. With a small frown, the detective quickly yanked off his t-shirt (one of the few left that still fit) and then immediately crossed his arms over his belly, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. His steadily growing middle, which had once been flat and sculpted, was now bulging with the growth of his child.

"Right, then. Up you go," John said cheerfully, pulling his friend from his thoughts.

"What? Oh. Yes."

Cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment, and keeping his arms wrapped so they were still concealing his bump, Sherlock turned and hopped onto the cot (as best he could), still not removing his hands.

"Okay. Here we go," John sighed gently, pulling a chair over and sitting down as he pulled out the gel. "Ready?" he asked, gesturing in a way that suggested Sherlock was to remove his arms.

"Oh. Well—I—can't you just—"

"Sherlock?" John asked softly, furrowing his brows at his flat mate. "Are you really embarrassed?"

The light pink flush turned into a dark red, and Sherlock pressed his lips into a tight line as he stared at the floor, arms curling even tighter around his middle.

"Sherlock," John murmured gently, placing a comforting hand on the detective's arm. "Look at me," he urged, slowly pulling one of Sherlock's arms away from his stomach.

Worrying his lip with his teeth, Sherlock reluctantly turned, forcing himself to meet the doctor's eyes.

"Sherlock, you have absolutely nothing to feel silly about, do you hear me?" John murmured gently, giving the detective a pat on the arm. "What you're doing, what's happening to you, it's completely normal and natural. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Your stomach is growing and that's supposed to happen, I promise. It's showing that your baby is growing and doing well. Okay? Don't feel silly about it, all right?" John murmured softly, giving his flat mate a reassuring smile and a quick pat on the hand.

Gazing earnestly up at his friend, Sherlock managed a small smile. "Thank you, John," he whispered, sliding his hand from his stomach to expose the small baby bump. "Sorry."

"That's all right. Ready?" John murmured, pulling out the gel from its slot.

"Yes."

"Good." Gazing at the ultrasound screen, the doctor slowly squirted some of the gel onto Sherlock's stomach, which received a quick intake of breath, and then massaged the liquid-substance into the detective's skin before swiping the wand across the pale flesh. "Ah. There we are," he whispered, smiling at the screen as the image of the baby showed up.

Eager to see, Sherlock turned and stared at the screen, unable to help himself as the corners of his lips quirked up into a small smile. "Beautiful," he whispered, so quietly he was sure John hadn't even heard.

Still smiling, the doctor turned his attention to Sherlock, eyes softening as he saw the detective's smile, saw the utter amazement and joy dancing in his friend's usually cold and calculating eyes. "Yeah," he murmured, moving the wand to hear the baby's heartbeat.

Sherlock gasped quietly at the sound and couldn't help but grin lovingly at the image on the screen.

"Well," John sighed quietly, turning his attention back to the image. "Let's see… There's the little one's legs, you see?"

"Yes."

"And… There's its arms, its body. Looks like both of you are doing well."

"Look at its fingers," Sherlock murmured, making a gesture towards the screen "They're so…"

"Yes. I know. They're very tiny. And then there's the head."

Sherlock nearly gasped aloud as he saw his child's face. In the beginning, the baby had been moving, yet not in any distinguishable way. But now his baby's lips were moving back in forth in a movement that sent a paternal flutter through the detective's stomach and chest. "What… What's it doing?"

"It's practicing sucking," John chuckled fondly, smiling at the amazement in his friend's eyes.

Sighing in sheer wonder, Sherlock's striking eyes traveled from his baby's lips and looked at the entire image on the screen, his child's face. "Oh," he breathed, having never truly seen his baby's features. "Look at her… She's beautiful," he murmured aloud, mouthing hanging open slightly as he drank in the image of his child.

"She?" John chuckled, raising his eyebrows at his friend.

"What? Oh. Yes."

"But you don't even know what the gender is yet."

"No, but… I don't know, it's just a feeling," the detective murmured, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.

"Please," John scoffed. "It's not something you can just…" The doctor trailed away as he felt his heart all but melt at the fond, loving look in his flat mate's eyes. "All right, all right. Well… Let me just check." He squinted slightly at the screen and leaned forward. "Ah," he sighed softly, before a wide grin spread across his face. "You're sure you don't want to know?" he asked slyly, giving Sherlock a sideways glance. "Just to either confirm or disprove?"

"What?" the detective murmured absently, still staring in amazement at the ultrasound screen.

"The sex, Sherlock," John chuckled. "I can tell whether it's a boy or girl. You're sure you don't want to know which it is?"

"You can?" Sherlock gasped, tearing his eyes away from the screen to stare wide-eyed at the doctor.

"Of course. Would you like to know whether you're having a son or a daughter?" John asked gently, smiling fondly at the screen.

Turning his attention back to the image of his child, Sherlock took a deep breath, smiling at the baby. "No," he whispered, fighting the strong urge to cradle his stomach. "I don't want to know… Do you know?"

Smiling with soft eyes at his friend, John whispered a quiet, "Yeah. I know."

"Wait. Can I… Can I still call it a her?" Sherlock asked, staring nervous and wide-eyed at his flat mate.

"Of course," John chuckled gently, amazed at how incredibly innocent the detective looked and sounded. "You can call it whatever you'd like."

Sherlock sighed quietly to himself, feeling a bittersweet longing in the pit of his stomach to know the true sex of his baby. Swallowing the feeling, the detective gave a small nod of his head, scanning his eyes over the image, drinking in the amazingly beautiful sight, as he knew it was about to disappear. "I still think it's a girl."

"Uh-huh," John chuckled skeptically. "Ready?"

"Mmm."

"Alright," John whispered, slowly pulling the wand away and feeling a strange sadness as he saw the glow and joy dim in Sherlock's eyes.

Though the image was gone, the detective continued to stare at the blank screen, barely noticing as John started to wipe and clean the gel from his middle.

"Sherlock?" the doctor asked once he was finished. "You ready to go home?"

"What? Oh… Oh. Yes. I'm just… Yes."

"Good."

Taking a deep breath and placing a hand on his bare middle, Sherlock slowly slid off the cot and made his way towards his shirt and coat. Slipping the fabrics on, the detective tucked the long folds of the coat around himself and shoved his hands in the pockets, waiting patiently for John, lulled into a state of contentment by what he'd just witnessed on the ultrasound screen.

"Right, then. I think that's all. Ready?"

"Mmm," Sherlock hummed, the corner of his lip twitching up into a tiny half smile as he allowed himself to press the palm of his hands to his stomach through the fabric of the pockets.

"Okay, then. Let's go!" John sighed cheerfully, tugging on his own coat.

"Yes. Oh... Yes," he added more firmly, trying to sound like his normal self.

The two hurried out into the brisk night air, and John hurriedly hailed a cab as he saw Sherlock tuck his coat even further around his middle.

Snow had just started to fall and the white, airy flakes were beginning to nestle themselves in the detective's perfectly groomed curls. John couldn't help but smile as he glanced over at his friend while the cab rolled up. Sherlock looked simply radiant; his usually sculpted face with its hard edges and sharp planes, was now soft with the hints of a smile playing over the detective's lips. His posture was completely relaxed, arms hanging loosely from his pockets, where usually every stance and position was precise, calculated, sharp.

Chuckling silently to himself, John opened the door and allowed Sherlock to slide in, quickly following suit.

"Hmm," the detective hummed tiredly to himself, quickly ruffling his raven hair to rid the snowflakes from his curls. He turned to John, and paused, letting his hand fall to his lap as he found the doctor staring at him. "What?" he asked accusingly.

"Hmm? What? Oh! Nothing, I was just uh... Sorry, nothing," John apologized quickly, turning back to the window as his cheeks flushed a light pink at having been caught staring at his friend.

"No, it's... Fine," Sherlock chuckled, voice a low rumble as he raised an eyebrow at his flat mate. "What was it?"

"Nothing, I was just... Uhh..."

"What?" Sherlock asked again, genuinely curious.

"I was just... You looked different, that's all. Happier... Almost radiant, if you'll please excuse the cliché."

"What cliché?" the detective asked confusedly, brows furrowing together.

"You know... Pregnant women are always described as looking radiant."

"Oh. Right," Sherlock mumbled, though it was clear he did not still quite understand.

"Nevermind," John chuckled. "You just looked different, that's all. It was a nice change."

"Ah. I see..."

Still smiling at his friend, John turned his attention to the window, and Sherlock quickly followed suit, gazing out at the freshly fallen snow. The detective barely noticed as he gave into the urge to touch his stomach, and gently slipped a few fingers inside his coat, allowing them to rest ever so slightly just above the tiny bump. Almost instantly, there was a small flutter of movement and Sherlock couldn't help but gasp out loud at the sensation, still unused to the feeling of someone, a baby, shifting around in his middle.

"You okay?" John asked worriedly, having heard the gasp.

"What? Oh. Yes, yes… I'm... It... She moved," Sherlock murmured, staring at his flat mate with wonder in his steel-grey eyes, lips parted slightly with a small smile.

"You did?" John cried excitedly, eyes falling to his friend's hidden stomach. "Is this the first time?"

"No, a few days ago I first felt it. But it hadn't moved again up until now."

"Ah," the doctor sighed in amazement. "That's incredible... What does it feel like?"

"Sort of like... A fluttering, gentle pops. I keep wondering if I've actually felt it, the movement is so quick and fleeting."

"Hmm. That's amazing, though. But it's also good news; right on track. Mean's the baby is doing well."

"Yes," Sherlock murmured just as the cab pulled up outside of 221B. The two hurried through the brisk night air and into the silent flat.

Sighing softly to himself, Sherlock quickly tugged off his coat and hung it on the back of the door. "I'm going to bed," he declared tiredly, suddenly remembering how exhausted he was now that he was wrapped in the darkness of the homely flat. "I must admit," the detective huffed, hurrying into the kitchen and grabbing a slice of bread. "I will not miss needing this," he stated, gesturing to the bedroom.

"Enjoy it," John chuckled, leaning against the doorway as he watched his flat mate butter the bread and then eat it. "Once the baby's here, you won't be getting much sleep at all."

"Mmm. Yes. Well. Goodnight." Not even bothering to wait for a response, the detective turned on his heel and hurried into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Crossing his arms over his chest, John smiled smugly after his friend, his words eliciting a small chuckle: I will not be missing this... The doctor turned, heading up to his own room and smiled at the thought that Sherlock had all but admitted that he would be missing some things about the pregnancy...

Smiling at the thought, John closed his door and crawled into bed, too tired to bother taking his clothes off.

Downstairs, Sherlock was doing just that. Murmuring to himself, the detective slowly pulled off his shirt and trousers, finding that it was becoming more and more difficult to move quickly with the ever-growing bump now forming around his middle. Tossing the fabric away, Sherlock all-but-fell into the bed, quickly pulling the covers over his almost-naked body.

"You demand a lot, I hope you know that," he murmured affectionately, running his fingertips over the gentle swell of his stomach. The detective's breath caught in his throat as he was met with a flurry of flutters beneath his skin. "Beautiful." Smiling to himself, Sherlock rolled onto his back, knowing he would regret it soon, and reached down to pull out his laptop. Propping the computer up on his knees as that seemed to be more comfortable, the detective quickly pulled up one of the internet pages, the one that was now constantly on a pregnancy site. Sherlock clicked the next tab until the screen shifted forward to nineteen weeks and instantly started scanning information, eager to discover what was happening inside him.

The detective couldn't help but smile and absently cover his stomach with his slender fingers as he read that the baby was now about eight inches long. "You're so tiny," he murmured in amazement, subconsciously curling his fingers over the skin on his middle. Skipping over the section about things the mother would be experiencing, Sherlock's eyes quickly fell to an image at the bottom of the screen where he read that some believe the baby is able to hear a distorted version of their parent's voice. "You can hear me… You can hear me?" he spoke aloud, shoving the laptop away and gazing down at his bare stomach. "Oh uhh… Hello. I'm Sherlock. I'm your uhh… Father, I suppose. Hello. I don't… I'm afraid I don't really know what I'm doing. I do apologize for that… But, I think we'll be all right. I suppose soon you'll be meeting John. And Mrs. Hudson. They live with us. And then Lestrade… And Donovan and Anderson." A scoff. "I apologize in advance. Just don't listen to them when they speak, hmm?" the detective murmured. Yawning and the huffing slightly at how tired he felt, Sherlock closed his laptop and placed it on the ground.

With a sharp intake of breath at a sudden pain that coursed down his sides, Sherlock rolled onto his side, curling protectively around his middle. The pain was quickly replaced with a warmth, however as the soft fluttering of his child's movement in his middle made him smile. "So you really can hear me," he sighed in amazement, deep baritone voice rumbling through the room as he spoke. "I hope you like it," he chuckled, not even noticing when he closed his eyes as his arms curled around his middle. "You're going to be stuck hearing it for a while."

Then, almost as if in response to its father, there was another flutter of gentle kicks and movements. Gasping quietly again at the sensation, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open as he tried to catch his newly-stolen breath. "Breathtaking," he whispered, smiling down at his concealed middle. "I'll assume that was a yes," the detective chuckled, squirming for a moment as he tried to find a comfortable position. "Goodnight," Sherlock whispered, running a thumb over his skin as he settled into the pillows, taking the opportunity to actually try and get a good night's sleep, having found a comfortable position. "Sleep well."

Quickly slipping away and giving into his own tiredness, Sherlock took a deep breath, finding a strange calm had washed over him as he continued to feel the tender flutters and pops underneath his skin...