Come home – SH
John, sitting in a secluded corner of Regent's Park, glances at his phone. He's not crying. He's absolutely, definitely, not crying.
Come home, John – SH
This isn't how it's supposed to go. He's an omega for God's sake, he's built for breeding. Hell, his body wanted this so much it managed to overcome the inherited effect of Hitler's most effective biological weapon. He's supposed to be happy.
Come home, John, please - SH
So why does he feel so frightened? Why can't he be like Sherlock and be thrilled about the new life he's bringing into the world? Instead he's only hanging on by a thread, overwhelmed by the alien cells that have taken over not just his body but his whole life.
Where are you? I'll come to you - SH
Except that's not the only thing overwhelming him. Sherlock's like a man possessed; measuring, recording and making John feel more like a container than a person. Just something to hold Sherlock's greatest creation until the child is born.
I love you – SH
But it's not just any child
I love you both - SH
It's their child.
I love you both and I want to hold you - SH
Created by their love.
Look up - SH
And Sherlock's there, holding out his arms. Suddenly the world doesn't look so bleak.
