New chapter, sorry for taking my time but a lot of work to be done with both fictions and studying. Here it is anyway, hope you'll enjoy.


Two days later Greg climbed the seventeen steps to their flat and was met by the sight of Sherlock laying sprawled on the sofa with a thick duvet wound around him and watching a documentary on mute.

"Hello." he frowned, not seen the detective this lazy in many years. "Everything alright?" Sherlock blinked and turned his head, his curls spreading out on the pillow and a tired smile on his lips.

"Well Lestrade?" he chimed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. "Just leave those files on the table and I'll have a look at them later." The DI furrowed his brow and stepped over the threshold, placed the files on the edge of the side table and cleared his throat as he ran a hand through his hair.

"You, um... gave us quite a scare the other day? You alright now?"

John padded out of the kitchen, still in his pyjamas and slippers and two bowls of soup in his hands sloshing around with the spoons. The doctor blinked and felt awkwardly over dressed in his suit and coat, these men was clearly not in the mood for work.

"Hello Greg." John smiled and placed and put the down soup next to the file. "Fancy some lemony chicken soup." It wasn't often the DI was given cooked food, many evenings was often spent with microwave food or take out and he had heard rumours about John's chicken soup from mrs Hudson's dozens of times. He was not going to pass this opportunity.

"Alright." he shrugged, slinked out of his coat and fetched a bowl in the kitchen. When he returned he saw Sherlock do something he'd never done in his presence before. The man ate. Now sitting up he scooped up spoon after spoon in his mouth and before Greg managed to sit down on the armrest the detective asked for second. He hardly believed it when Sherlock dug in on his second portion.

"So..." he began and saw John rub Sherlock's back that seemed to be hurting. "What did they say? At the hospital I mean?" The day Sherlock collapsed on the crime scene would always feel fresh in his memory. Never in his life had he seen the detective sick without it being his own fault. All those poisons passing through his body had made Greg see his friend in the worst states and the day he fell he was sure he was back on the stuff. But then he heard the word preeclampsia. He'd heard the word before but couldn't place it. He kept it on his mind and search the web the second Sherlock and John left with the ambulance and almost fainted when he saw the results. Could it really be?

"Fine." John answered with a sigh and sipped the broth. "Everything's fine. Rest is good right now." Sherlock hummed and brought the last spoon to his lips while reaching his bowl out again. The doctor said nothing but made his way out to the kitchen to fill on a third time and Greg had enough and took a big breath before asking the detective.

"Are you pregnant?"

Sherlock tore his gaze from the silent telly and looked sharply at him.

"Yes." he answered simply and blinked. Greg swallowed thickly and felt like a complete idiot.

"Okay..." He didn't know what to say or ask to keep the conversation going, he hated to into a personal conversation with Sherlock, it was a road with many warning signs and dangerous turn offs so he waited for John before continuing.

"Two thirds there." John chuckled as he hurried out from the kitchen. "I guessed you suspected something by now."

"Jesus christ!" Greg exclaimed and put away his plate. "Two thirds?" Sherlock dug into his third serving of soup and leaned back in the sofa, the duvet sliding down and exposing his stomach and Greg got a look of the bump that he thought he'd just imagined on the crime scene.

"Would you like to feel?" he asked while looking very relaxed now when the secret was out. "He's kicking away like a manic right now. Not a big fan of lemon I presume." With fingers swollen by the pregnancy he poked back at the spot where a foot was kicking hard.

"No, I-I should.." he stammered and raised his hands in protest when John chuckled.

"He's not gonna bite." he laughed and joined Sherlock's hand. "C'mon Greg."

The DI swallowed and took a deep breath before slipping down on the seat beside Sherlock, eyeing the bump just to make sure that it was really there. Before making himself mentally prepared John grasped his hand and pressed it to Sherlock's soft bumps and it was just seconds before he felt the first prod. All he could do was gasp and John laughed at his surprised face.

"My goodness." Greg beamed and pressed a little harder. "Are you messing with me right now?" He knew they weren't, but he still couldn't believe that his friends had actually created a new human together. During his quick search he'd stumbled upon male pregnancy and he had heard it being mentioned during his school years, but he didn't quite believe it. Until now. "Is this real?"

"Don't be an idiot, Lestrade." Sherlock groaned pressed down on the small head as the baby tried to stretch. If it was uncomfortable now he couldn't even imagine how it would feel at the end of this condition. "This is something to hard to fake."

"Yes but..." he chuckled. "It's just hard to believe. "You're pregnant, Sherlock. Who saw that coming?"

"Least of all me." the detective murmured and pushed both their hands away, now done with their touches. "Very well. I need to use the bathroom." John smiled and placed a hand on the small of his back and pushed him up from the sofa and Greg got a good look of the big bump as he strolled away, almost waddling. Greg would never forget this.


Normal things was getting hard for Sherlock now when he'd entered the third trimester. Chairs and sofas was now dangerous for him. Not to talk about the bed. A soon as he sat or laid down he was pretty much stuck. He feared every moment John left the flat. The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in bed the whole day, starve to death as the baby kicked him in anger as he lacked nutrition.

No shoes fitted his feet anymore. Ankles were swollen and so was his fingers. He could spend minutes eyeing the violin, nearly crying as his swollen fingers stopped him from playing.

This morning it finally got to him. John found him, crawled up the best he could, in the sofa wiping his tears and sniffling between sobs and the doctor stiffened in the doorway. He'd never seen his husband in so much pain before.

"Sherlock?" he quaked and pulled himself out of his frozen state and hurried over to the sofa. "What happened?" Sherlock bundled up his face and choked on a powerful sob while bowing his head as a try to hide. "Hey?" John fell down beside him and gathered him in his arms, stroke his curls and hushed him gently. "What's going on? Why are you so sad?" The detective refused to look at him, now shaking in sorrow and hand smothered over his mouth and John started to fear that something very serious had happened. "Sherlock, please speak to me. Tell me what's going on?"
"I can't play!" he sobbed and gave in to his body's need and melted into John's touch. He buried his nose to the nape of John's neck, smeared snot and tears over his pyjamas and gripping him tight.

"What are you talking about?" John exclaimed and smothered his wild curls.

"My fingers are to swollen!" Sherlock belted and breathed hard into his skin. "I can't use them properly! They're useless!" John clenched his jaw so he wouldn't laugh, he couldn't understand the pain Sherlock felt for not being able to preform his best. But he knew how much his husband loved to play that violin, it was the best thing he had after a good case and sex and right now every single thing of those were hard. Cases was getting to stressful and strained his back, sex was hard to position and not as impulsive. He thought he at least could have the violin to comfort himself on until the end of the pregnancy but no. Everything had decided to go hard on him.

"Oh, love." John murmured and nuzzled his temple. "Let me have a look." Sherlock lifted his head, hiccuping by the awful sobbing and held out his hands. He was not lying, they could hardly bend properly and he took them both and massaged them gently. "Oh, Sherlock." he sighed with a calm smile. "I'm so sorry." The detective continued to cry with the fringe hiding his eyes. He was miserable to the bone and John bent his head and kissed his fingers. "Two mote months, love. Just two more and it will go back to normal again. But Sherlock shook his head.

"I don't like it." he bawled and whimpered. "I'm useless. I can't do anything."

"You're far from useless." John said quickly and cupped his chin. "Sherlock, look at me." He tilted his head up and Sherlock looked at him behind messy curls and tears to see that lovely smile on John's lips. John just held his gaze, soon seeing the twitch in the corners of his mouth as ever so slowly the smile infected him and soon a small laugh passed his lips. "See." John chuckled and pressed his lips to his forehead. "With that smile you can't be useless." He wiped his face with the sleeve of his pyjamas and Sherlock continued to smile while tears was still falling.

"That doesn't make any sense." he snickered and blinked as John moved the curls out of his face.

"It does to me." the doctor beamed and leaned into kiss his lips. "That smile as so many function on me you can't imagine. I wouldn't call that useless." He managed to make the detective giggle again and John pulled him into another hug.

"It doesn't make me any more able to play the violin, though." he sighed into his neck and sniffled. "My hands are still useless."

"I doubt that." John murmured and suckled the skin on his neck. With a low moan his husband started to relax and John rubbed his back and waist, caught him as he sunk into his embrace. "I know they can work miracles on me."

"Stop." Sherlock smirked and made it sound like 'please, do go on' and John planned to.

"You're beautiful, Sherlock." he murmured and worked his lips up his jaw until he met his lips again. "You'll never be useless to me."

"You're an idiot, John." he giggled and kissed him deep.

"Aren't we all?" John chuckled and brought him down on his back in the sofa and straddled him. Slowly he continued to work his lips down his neck and mouthed his collarbone, nibbled his skin and head the hitch in the detective's breath, just what he was after. As always when Sherlock was in a bad mood it would end with them tangled together, sweaty and satisfied with a big smile on the detective's lips. This morning he was going to make that happen once more. "Sherlock? D'you wanna come with me to the bedroom again?"

"Only if you help me up." Sherlock answered with a smirk and stroke his fingers through his ashy hair. "Otherwise I'm stuck here." With a loving laugh John continued to kiss his way down until he his the curve of his belly and rolled up the t-shirt to kiss his stretched skin.

"Or maybe we should just stay here for a while." he murmured as a small but strong foot his him in the chin. "Hi baby. How you doing in there?" Sherlock groaned at his unintelligence but still enjoyed the closeness of it. To hear John communicate with their unborn child gave him a small insight of what their lives would turn into when he or she was actually born. He observed in silence as he continued to murmur to his skin, asking stupid questions and giving it all sorts of information about the outside. "I like the name Elise." he said suddenly and pressed his ear to the moving bump. Sherlock didn't answer, just smiling and thinking on the name for a second before wrinkling his nose. John chuckled when he saw him. "Alright. What about Alice?" The detective sighed loudly and pondered in silence.

"Better." he answered like he was grading the names. "Maybe." John turned to his bump again and pressed his lips to the skin.

"What d'you think, baby? Did you like Alice?"

"Oh for christ's sake." Sherlock scoffed and let his head fall back to the pillow. "What response d'you expect exactly?" The baby made a frightening turn and he stiffened on the sofa with hands pressed to his sides. "Oh.. hell."

"That is what I'm expecting." John laughed and rubbed his belly. "She's taking out her revenge on you for that." The detective groaned loudly and stretched his back.

"Right on my spine." he moaned in pain and tried to push back in the head at the bottom of his stomach as it stretched. "Damn.." To his relief the baby seemed to calm as John rubbed the head that pressed to his side.

"We should really start making a birth plan." he murmured and rested his head in the big bump. "Have you thought anything about it?" With a big sigh the detective nodded and John could nearly smell the anxiety on him. Something was going on in that big head of his and John frowned worriedly at him. "Love? You okay?" Sherlock nibbled his bottom lip and tapped his fingers to his bump.

"I.. don't..." he started and blinked nervously and John was only going more stiff on top of him. "I don't want to go to the hospital." He was ready for a massive shock from his husband, a tell off for how stupid he was for being so reluctant to being signed into a hospital. But somehow John would never stop to surprise him.

"Okay." he said with a small nod. "We can do that." He almost whimpered in relief by those words and he went completely limp underneath him. "But we're not doing it alone. We need to talk to the midwife first. I don't want to be the one handle everything while you're in pain. When you go into labour I want to take care of you as my husband, not as my patient." Sherlock smiled happily at that, very delighted with John's words and could finally breath out.

"Agreed."


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