A/N: Back again! I'm so sorry for taking such a long break, just been so busy. But not to fear, I'm not giving up on this story, just having to do a bit when I can. As always, please leave a review :)
"This is a ridiculous idea," Sherlock muttered under his breath, to which John Watson responded with a sympathetic nod.
"What was that sweetie?" Molly called from the kitchen, where she was busy baking with the help of Mary.
"Nothing!" Sherlock hastily replied, adding to John in an undertone "Does pregnancy increase women's hearing ability?"
"Not that I know of mate, but it does mean that they're way more hormonal, so whatever you do, don't piss her off."
After returning from their honeymoon (Sherlock had been banned from using the phrase 'sex holiday'), Molly and Sherlock had been faced with breaking the news of her pregnancy to their friends and family. Sherlock had suggested a mass text, stating that it would be "simple and efficient." But Molly had disagreed, and much to his dismay decided that they should have a get together at Baker Street where they could tell everyone their news in a "more personal way".
So it was that Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective and high-functioning sociopath, was sitting in the middle of the lounge with John, carefully crafting origami dummies to put in the gift bags that had been made up by Molly.
"I don't see why we need to make up gift bags. I didn't think we'd be doing this until it's at least five" Sherlock whispered, careful to make sure that his wife didn't hear.
"She's excited Sherlock, she's wanted kids for years, let her enjoy it," John admonished, shaking his head. "In fact, I'm amazed you aren't more excited, first time father and all."
After his initial reaction to Molly's pregnancy, Sherlock had remained rather calm and unflustered by the whole affair.
"I am excited about becoming a father, I just don't understand the point of all this commercial nonsense," Sherlock replied sarkily.
Just then, Molly gave a cry, a sound that vaguely resembled her husband's name. In an instant, Sherlock had sprung over the kitchen worktop, and was frantically attempting to deduce what could possibly be wrong.
"Nothing's wrong," Molly stuttered, smiling. "I'm being silly, it's just that I felt the baby kick from the outside for the first time."
At these word's, Sherlock pressed both hands against her stomach, a look of awe coming over his face as he felt his child kick for the first time. "I-" he began, unable to continue.
Sensing the privacy of the moment, John and Mary excused themselves downstairs to Mrs Hudson's flat, citing the need for more milk.
When Sherlock could finally bring himself to move his hands, Molly giggled. "Look," she laughed, pointing at her rounded stomach, where a set of floury handprints had marked her black dress. "You must have got flour on your hands leaping over the work surface. I'll have to change, this dress is ruined."
"Well, in that case, I must assist you, Mrs Holmes," Sherlock replied with a sly smile, glancing towards the bedroom. "We've still got another hour until the guests arrive..."