Hello again. Sorry for the delay but I've been busy with real life and my other fics.

Anyway I just wanted you guys to know that. Now on with the chapter

Over the week Sherlock's mood swings hadn't gotten any better, what so ever, at all. He constantly shifted between happy, euphoric, horny, sad, angry and hysteric and although John didn't mind the first three (especially not the horny periods) he did, however, mind the last three. So far Sherlock had burst into tears over things like him trying to help with the dishes and dropping a plate, John getting a paper cut, once again throwing up some of John's cocking and John's personal favourite, not being able to open his package of crisps.

The worst time however, had been a couple of days ago when John was late home from work. Sherlock had somehow got the idea that John had left him and as soon as John had walked in through the door he had let loose a wrath so great John was sure the whole of England had heard him.

When the message that no, John hadn't left him and wasn't going to had gone through he broke down into soul wrecking sobs, convinced that after his attack John would leave him. It had taken John another fifteen minutes of no, I'm not leaving you Sherlock and No, I'm not going to leave you Sherlock before the detective had calmed down.

Luckily Sherlock had begun to grow accustomed to the sudden changes in his behaviour and the weekend had been...rather controlled.

It was now sunday evening and John had just turned off the television and was on his way to the bedroom, yawning while doing so. He had already done the whole bathroom routine and was looking forwards to changing into pyjamas and slipping in under the covers. Sherlock was in the bathroom, doing whatever and John hoped he would be done soon.

Since Sherlock started sleeping more the late night cuddles had increased and John found that yes, he was indeed very fond of those cuddles. He pulled his night t-shirt over his head and climbed under the covers. He reached over to his nightstand and grabbed the book he was currently reading. It wasn't very good but that didn't matter, he only read because reading made him sleepy.

Finally Sherlock exited the bathroom, a big smile on his lips and his right hand absently fingering on his stomach. John looked up, saw Sherlock biting his lips and frowned, hoping that Sherlock wasn't going to burst into tears.

Sherlock took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but the words were stopped by a laughter. John frowned even deeper and put down his book.

"Sherlock...Are you okay?"

"It shows."

"What?"

"My stomach. you can see the babies."

John stared at Sherlock for a second and then began tearing at the blanket, trying to get it off him and to get him out of bed. With a forceful tug he throws away the blasted blanket and walks up to Sherlock, his hands hovering uncertainly in front of the others stomach.

Sherlock pulls his t-shirt out of the way and places on of John's hands underneath his belly button and John's eyes widened. He was right. On Sherlock's before almost concave stomach was now a small bump, barely noticeable but still there.

John let out a breathy laugh and crunched down to get a better look.

"Oh god, this is really happening." His fingers ghosted over Sherlock skin and he slowly bent forwards and placed a kiss on the bump.

When he looked up Sherlock is crying, but tears of joy this time.

Sherlock woke the next morning with a gasp. He had dreamt something but he couldn't for the love of god remember what it was. John was laying by his side, snoring slightly, and Sherlock shuffled a bit closer, hoping not to wake his partner.

After a minute or two he looked over at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him. It was ten past six in the morning and in about twenty minutes the alarm would go off and wake John.

Sherlock was usually busy throwing up this time of morning. Oh right, he was yet to feel nauseous. Joy filled his chest, much stronger than this situation called for but by now he was almost used to the mood swings and could control it a tiny bit better. Smiling broadly he placed a hand on the little baby bump and silently thanked its inhabitants for allowing him a break from his morning routine.

He snuggled further into the blankets and pillows, deciding he would stay here with John until the other man got up. His brain, however, did not agree. A need suddenly filled Sherlock, a need for...something. He didn't know what but he knew that if he didn't get it soon, someone was going to pay for it.

He untangled himself from the blankets and walked out the door and into the kitchen. With determined eyes he reached for the kitchen door but then the scent of bead hit his nose and he swirled around and grabbed the bread instead.

But no, it wasn't bread he craved, it was bread and...something more. He yanked the fridge door open and searched the shelves.

Ketchup? No.

Pickles?...No.

Any of John's jams? No.

Marmite?...Yes, yes Marmite. That's it.

Feeling satisfied he made to close the door but then it was still something missing. His eyes once again roamed the shelves and Oh!

John awoke with a groan, his hand smacking down randomly in a try to silence the alarm.

"I'm up, I'm up. Just calm down." He mumbled to the alarm and finally managed to hit the correct button. He yawned, dug the heels of his hand into his eyes and arched his back. Blinking a little to get used to the light he listened for any sign of where Sherlock might be. He didn't hear retching so he assumed Sherlock had already taken care of his morning routine and was now sulking on the couch.

John swung his legs over the edge of the bed and yawned again. He really wasn't a morning person. Deciding to get on with his morning he got dressed and walked into the kitchen, startled to find Sherlock sitting on a chair and munching on a sandwich.

"Morning John." He greeted and took another bite of his sandwich.

"Morning" John leaned down and gave Sherlock a peck on the lips but then grimaced as the taste of Sherlock's sandwich hit him. What the hell was the man eating? He looked down and saw, wait. What the actual fuck?

"Sherlock, are you eating a Marmite and tuna sandwich?" John stared wide eyed at said sandwich and felt a little sick when he saw Sherlock take another bite.

"Yes." Sherlock answered simply as if there was nothing strange about the situation what so ever.

"But that's disgusting!" John exclaimed.

"No, it is not. And besides, I needed it."

"Needed it?"

"Yes John, needed it. Didn't you hear me the first time."

"What do you mean needed it?"

Sherlock shrugged and put the last piece of the sandwich in his mouth, licking his fingers afterwards.

"I just, needed it."

"Like a craving?" John really hoped it wasn't a craving. He wasn't sure he'd be able to live with a Marmite and tuna craving Sherlock.

"Obviously."

"Oh god." John groaned and collapsed into a chair. If there was a god John was sure that said god had made it his personal goal to torture him. There was nothing, nothing, John hated more than Marmite and the only reason he allowed it in his home was because sometimes, and now we were talking about a maximum of twice a month, Sherlock would like a Marmite sandwich. A sacrifice John was ready to make if it meant Sherlock would actually eat. But if Sherlock were to start eating it every day, well John could feel his guts turn at the thought.

"Do we have any cottage cheese?" Sherlock asked and began searching the fridge once again.

So, the cravings were kind off based on the ones I experience during PMS.

Will be more of this story tomorrow
Love
/Phin