Something Beautiful- Nine

A few weeks after their first scan, when Irene was about 5 months along, Sherlock had a nightmare.

He flailed and shouted, so much so that it woke his sleeping lover, and when she realised what was happening, she carefully propped herself up against the headrest, before stroking his hair gently.

'Ssh darling, it's alright. I'm here.'

His eyes flew open, his breathing ragged and shallow.

'Irene!'

'I'm here darling.'

He sat upright and began examining her with his eyes.

'Irene, are you alright? Please tell me you're alright...'

She half laughed in wonder.

'I'm fine Sherlock. Absolutely fine. Are you alright?'

His eyes darted back and forth, and he mouthed the word 'Moriarty'.

'Oh bloody hell. The baby. Irene, is the baby alright?'

She placed her small hands on his pale, bare, shoulders.

'Darling, the baby is fine.' She gasped and her hand flew to her stomach, as if the unborn infant had responded to its mention. 'In fact...'

She grabbed his hand, and placed firmly it over a spot on her protruding stomach, her own over it.

'Can you feel that?'

'I can.'

His voice was barely a whisper, as his eyes met hers, twinkling with some strange emotion, a mixture of love and astonishment.

She smiled and let out a puff of laughter.

'I think its saying 'Hello'. And also, 'Stop worrying Dad, I'm fine'. Don't you?'

He grinned, and pulled his hand away from hers.

'Can I...?'

'Do you really need to ask?'

He grinned again, running his hand gently over her bump.

'Hello baby. I...it's Daddy here.' His voice trembled a little, an odd concoction of fear and excitement. 'I'm sorry for the rude awakening. It won't happen again. I promise.'

He pressed a light kiss to her stomach, and clasped her hand in his, his eyes wide and sparkling in the low light from the outside street lights.

Irene kissed his forehead and beamed at his unusual display of uncensored affection.

'Oh darling. You really are getting quite sentimental...are you well?'

He gave an amused look and nodded. She shuffled herself back into a lying position, and he lay beside her, allowing her to rest her head against his sharp collarbone.

'You're not funny.'

She smirked and snuggled up to his chest.

'Oh, but darling, I am.' He raised his eyebrows and looked down at her. 'Do I need to use the persuasion whip?'

Sherlock laughed.

'I've hidden it.'

'In the boiler cabinet, under the hot pipes.'

Sherlock exhaled loudly.

'You really are giving me a run for my money...'