That night, Greg lay awake after Sherlock had fallen asleep. He tried to decide the best way to convince Sherlock that he did want children. After tossing and turning and arguing with himself almost until dawn, Greg finally decided that simply telling Sherlock would be best. The blunt approach often worked well with the younger man.

Sherlock opened his eyes, blinking his vision into focus as he stretched. He noticed Greg lying beside him, watching him, and mentally frowned. It didn't look like his husband had gotten much sleep last night, if he slept at all. Something was bothering him. Before he could ask (or deduce) what that was, Greg spoke.

"I've changed my mind," Greg said.

Sherlock frowned. "Changed your mind about what?" Really, Greg with no sleep made less sense than Greg normally did. Always starting at the end of the conversation.

"About kids," Greg clarified, realizing that Sherlock had no idea what he was talking about. That was more than likely an unusual feeling for the younger man (unless popular culture or the solar system was involved).

"What about kids?" Sherlock asked.

"I've changed my mind," Greg repeated. "I've been thinking about it a lot lately, especially yesterday when Dimmock brought his son in, and I realized…"

"You realized…?" Sherlock prompted. He could see where this conversation was going, but deducing Greg's thoughts wouldn't do the other man any favors.

"That I want kids," Greg said softly, looking down. "I always have, I guess, but between one thing and another, it's never been possible. Now, though…"

"Mm," Sherlock agreed, thinking. "We would need to come up with some sort of plan for what to do with the child while we were both working, and you'll need to apply for leave as soon as you start to show…"

"So you think it could work?" Greg asked, looking up at his husband.

"Yes, I think it could," Sherlock replied thoughtfully. "We'll both need to be more careful at work however. The last thing we need is to leave our child an orphan."

Greg nodded. "So…"

"I suggest we continue with our previous plans for the day, and tomorrow we can decide when you will stop taking your birth control pills, alright?" Sherlock asked, and Greg nodded, relieved that they didn't have to plan everything at once. Rome wasn't built in a day after all, and Greg had several plans for what he was going to do to his husband on that particular day.

3 months later

Greg was retching in the bathroom when Sherlock came home, smelling of the Thames and dripping wet.

"What happened to you?" Greg asked weakly, leaning back into Sherlock's soothing hand on his back.

"Unplanned dip in the Thames. Unimportant," Sherlock replied, looking at Greg with concern. "Are you sure you're alright? This is the third time this week this has happened."

"I'm fine Sherlock," Greg said, groaning as another bout of nausea had him worshipping the porcelain once again. Sherlock got up to wet a washcloth for his forehead, settling back into place beside him a moment later. "You know, you'll catch cold if you don't change."

Sherlock waved that comment away absentmindedly, his eyes unfocused. Suddenly though, they snapped back to focus on Greg. "Does all food repulse you, or is it only certain things?"

"It depends," Greg sighed. Sherlock couldn't convince him to go to a doctor, so he was playing doctor himself. Better than bothering John, I suppose. "Some days, it's all I can do to keep anything down, and the slightest thing sets me off. Other days it's better, but still some things will make me nauseous."

"Hm," Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. "Greg, how long has it been since your last heat?"

"About two months," Greg said, eyes narrowed. "You know my heats as well as I do. Why are you asking me now?"

"Because," Sherlock said slowly, "It has been exactly two months since your last heat, and you should be half-way through it again now. Instead, you are vomiting into the toilet, the nausea similar to…"

"Morning sickness," Greg said, catching on. "I just thought I caught a bug."

"Well," Sherlock said dryly, "This particular 'bug' will probably no be going anywhere for another seven months."

Greg glared weakly, too tired to slap Sherlock right now. He'd do that later.

Another 3 months later

Greg huffed as he shifted on the couch. He had been growing steadily more bored as the weeks without work progressed, and today it seemed like he would die of boredom, especially without his husband to entertain him.

Sherlock had been supportive thus far, and Greg wasn't sure what he would do without the other man. Knowing Sherlock felt the same way just made everything better. Still, almost two months without work had him nearly ripping his hair out. Sherlock had given up taking cases that would require visiting crime scenes or leaving Baker Street for more than two hours. He had felt it was unfair that he could continue with his work while Greg had been forced to take temporary leave. It amazed Greg that the younger man hadn't gone spare yet, since Sherlock was the one who usually proclaimed his boredom from the rooftops, but he had seemed willing to find other ways to occupy his time than cases, if only to keep Greg from feeling left out.

A kick from the baby had him rubbing the spot absentmindedly, a small smile on his face. They had decided against knowing the gender, although Sherlock swore it was going to be a girl. Greg didn't argue, happy with either option and glad that his husband was more involved than most Alphas would be. He was glad he'd found Sherlock, glad he'd found a bond and family he had barely realized he'd wanted.

Sherlock's return had Greg sitting a little straighter, worried as he heard his husband's footsteps on the stairs. Instead of running up them, taking them two or three at a time, Sherlock was moving more slowly than Greg did now, seeming as though each step was an effort. When the door finally opened and revealed Sherlock, Greg could see why.

Sherlock looked exhausted, sleepless nights worrying about this case catching up now that it had been solved. He was resting most of his weight on his right leg, clearly favoring his left. There was a gash on his right arm, although it didn't look too severe. It was his eyes that worried Greg the most though. Empty, hollow, devoid of emotion and life.

"What happened?" he asked, struggling to his feet and moving to Sherlock's side. He led the younger man to the kitchen table, Sherlock not resisting even when Greg grabbed the first aid kit. Not good.

"We caught him," Sherlock replied, his voice low. He wasn't looking at Greg, staring instead over his shoulder.

"That's good, right?" Greg asked cautiously, easing Sherlock's shoulder out of his jacket and shirt and tossing them aside.

"We didn't get there in time," Sherlock whispered, meeting Greg's eyes finally. Greg was surprised to see a tear sliding down his cheek. "The little girl…there was so much blood…she was so small, how was there so much blood? He heard us coming and killed her. She would still be alive if we had found him sooner."

"Sherlock," Greg sighed. "It's not your fault. How many times have you told me that, when I came home wondering what good I was doing if there was still filth like that out there? What was different with this case?" Thinking about it, this was the first case Sherlock had solved involving a serial rapist and murderer targeting children. It wasn't his first case with a kidnapped children, but it was the first time he had failed to save the victim.

Sherlock said nothing, raising his free hand to place it on Greg's swollen stomach. He doesn't need to speak, Greg understands. That could happen to our child. They'll be in more danger than anyone else, people trying to hurt them, and you, to get to me. Sherlock wasn't being arrogant in his assumption that more people would be targeting him than Greg. He was becoming famous, solving high-profile cases and receiving commendations from several important dignitaries.

"We'll keep them safe," Greg says, rather than promise that nothing like that will ever happen. He can't make that promise. "We'll keep them safe," he repeated, half to himself. Sherlock hadn't been like this in a while, his black moods less frequent after their bonding and marriage, and even more infrequent now. This was the first he had had in months, and it honestly worried Greg.

"C'mon," he said, holding out a hand after he had put the first aid kit away. "Everything will look better tomorrow." It was an empty platitude, but Sherlock made no protest as he was led to bed by his husband, changing into pajamas and pulling Greg into bed with him and wrapping his arms around him. Neither spoke any more that night, but that was alright. Greg understood, and Sherlock knew that.

3 months more

"She's beautiful," John said, stroking one finger down the baby's pale cheek.

Greg beamed, looking exhausted but happy. He held his daughter in his arms, Sherlock sitting beside him with an arm around his waist.

"What is her name?" Mycroft asked, stepping up beside his bonded and gazing down at his brother's child.

"Annabelle," Sherlock said, smiling as he looked down at his daughter. "It means 'loveable' which she certainly is." He flicked his eyes up to look at his brother and noticed that he hadn't looked away from Annabelle since he entered the room. It seems Mycroft is finally considering children, Sherlock mused, lightly nudging Greg and indicating his brother. Greg got the hint.

"Mycroft, would you like to hold her?" he asked, startling the politician.

Mycroft hesitantly stepped forward and carefully took her from Greg. Looking down, he saw her eyes open, noticing they seemed pale, even for a newborn. "It appears she has inherited your eye color brother."

"You think so?" Greg asked. He remembered his fantasy from months ago, of a little girl with light blue eyes and dark hair running around Baker Street, and smiled.

"I believe so," he said, not taking his eyes off of Annabelle. "Her eyes are the same color as Sherlock's were when he was born, and they have yet to change," he said, briefly meeting his brother's pale eyes. "I haven't been around a child this young since Sherlock grew up."

Sherlock heard the longing in his tone, and wondered if Annabelle would have a cousin soon. With Mycroft, anything is possible.

Mycroft and John return home after visiting with their new niece for a little longer. Mycroft kept thinking about how happy his brother and Greg both looked. Mycroft and Greg gad gotten on fairly well, as both had similar ideas about an Omega's place. They loved their husbands, but they weren't doormats or breeding machines.

Mycroft had never believed that he would find an Alpha who respected him, aside from Sherlock, and John took him completely by surprise. He fell head over heels for the other man, and was thankful that his feelings were reciprocated. They had been married and bonded for over a year now, and Mycroft had begun to think about other things his mind had previously shied away from.

Ever since he had first held Sherlock, he had known that he had wanted children of his own one day. He took care of his baby brother as best as he could, but it didn't replace his longing for his own child to raise, a longing that intensified as he got older. He had ruthlessly shoved the longing away, knowing that it was impossible.

When he met John and he defied all of Mycroft's expectations, he began to hope. After they bonded and married, and John put no pressure on him to leave his job, Mycroft began to consider his previous longing.

When he heard that Greg was pregnant, the longing had intensified. Every time he visited his brother, he would see Greg positively glowing with happiness. Seeing his little niece in the hospital today had been the final straw.

"John," Mycroft said, watching his husband bustle about making tea for both of them, "Have you ever considered having children?"

John pursed his lips in thought as he poured water into two cups. "A few times," he admitted. "I've tried not to, because I didn't want to pressure you, but I've thought about it."

Mycroft smiled slightly. "I have considered it as well," he conceded, his smile widening at John's grin.

"Seriously?" he asked, forgetting about the tea as he moved to hug his bondmate. "I'd have to take different shifts at the hospital, and you'd have to stop working so hard. You'd have to stop working completely for a couple of months."

"I know," Mycroft replied, nodding, "But it would be worth it."

"Yes, it would be," John replied, before kissing his husband. "It definitely would be."

A/N: Thank you everyone who read this, and thanks to those of you who reviewed. There is a sequel, which is just a oneshot detailing Mycroft's pregnancy and picks up shortly after this one ends. There is Johncroft and Sherstrade, as well as Sherlock & Mycroft actually getting along. It'll be up either tomorrow or the next day, and will be called "A Welcome Change".