AN: Short chapter this time, because I felt that telling the yard about the pregnancy was important but I don't have any plot for it
It was seven a beautiful Monday morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, everything was perfect-
-and Sherlock was once again on the floor in front of the porcelain throne, sick to the stomach.
"You okay?" John asked from the doorpost, Sherlock had been morning sick every morning since the test and despite Sherlock's obvious suffering John hadn't got the heart to tell him it would take six weeks or so before it disappeared.
Sherlock glared at John in response and, not for the first time, John wondered if Sherlock had mastered the art of killing with looks.
"I'll go and make breakfast." John sheepishly walked away from the bathroom, sounds of Sherlock's retching following him all the way to the kitchen where he filled the kettle and started making breakfast.
Halfway through he heard the shower starting and five minutes later Sherlock emerged from the bathroom in one of his bathrobes (seriously, the man had like five of them).
There had been one positive outcome of the morning sickness though, Sherlock had begun eating more. Although, now that John thought about it he wasn't sure if Sherlock's new found interest for eating was because he was sick every morning or because he was pregnant.
To John's amazement Sherlock, the most self destructive person he knew, had begun taking changing his habits for the better, asking John about what he should eat, how much he should sleep and what was best for the baby. John had been happy to oblige and now Sherlock ate at least once a day and slept a minimum of five hours a night. Not perfect, but slowly getting there.
Sherlock sat down by the table, pulled up his phone and began fiddling with something. John placed a cup of tea and a plate with toast in front of him and Sherlock mumbled something John pretended to be a 'thank you sweetheart'.
John sat down opposite and began munching on his Jam toast. After a couple of minutes Sherlock's phone chimed and, without so much as a bite on his toast, Sherlock flew out of the chair and rushed into the bedroom.
"Lestrade, double homicide!" He called to John who still hadn't fully grasped what had happened. With a sigh he downed his tea, walked over to the door and pulled on his shoes.
When he was halfway through tying his second one Sherlock entered the living room, fully dressed and a huge grin on his lips. It was their first case in weeks and John couldn't be more grateful, actually he could if Lestrade had waited until Sherlock had eaten breakfast but you can't have everything in this world going your way.
Sherlock quickly pulled on his coat and stepped into his shoes but before he could rush out the door John grabbed his arm.
"Your toast."
Sherlock sighed and walked into the kitchen only to appear a second later, toast between his teeth and pulling on his gloves.
"I told you we should've taken the tube." John remarked when Sherlock heaved his third sigh in just as many minutes. They were currently stuck in the morning traffic jam and Sherlock was growing more and more impatient.
John had suggested that they take the tube, knowing how bad the traffic jams were in the mornings, but Sherlock had blank out refused and after a bit of arguing John had given in and jumped into the taxi with Sherlock.
Sherlock gave him a glare and they spent the next two traffic lights in silence.
"You know Sherlock." John said after a while and the detective turned his head to look at him. "We should probably tell the yard."
"Why?"
"They're going to find out eventually anyway so why not?" John answered with a shrug, hoping that Sherlock would give in just this once.
Sherlock looked at him for a long moment then his eyes flicked down towards his stomach. John can see the gears turning inside Sherlock's head and just before they're about to settle for no he adds, "For me."
"...Fine"
John gives Sherlock a small smile and a nod but in his head he's doing a little victory dance.
If John were to describe the way Sherlock had told Lestrade that he was pregnant John would use the word smooth, in the most sarcastic of ways. Because, ending a knife sharp monologue of deductions with the words 'and John and I are having a baby' couldn't really in John's mind be described as anything else but smooth.
And it was just in this ever so smooth situation he found himself right now.
"You and John are what?"
"Having a baby. Honestly Lestrade you heard me perfectly well the first time."
Lestrade stared at Sherlock with open mouth and if John were to look a little to his left he would have seen Anderson and Donovan making perfect replicas of the shocked expression Lestrade was wearing.
"Smooth" John commented, because truth be told, he could not describe it in any other way.