It was unseasonably warm for April. Irene was absolutely miserable, having gone on maternity leave three weeks earlier. She hated being cooped up, and she wasn't handling the last few weeks of her pregnancy well.

It was about ten in the evening when Irene came into the bedroom and flopped onto the bed next to Sherlock, who was busy reading an article on his computer. He glanced over at her. "Hi…"

"Never. Again," she growled.

Sherlock turned his attention back to his computer. "What?"

"I'm never doing this again. You're never touching me again after this baby is born."

He smirked. "Well, we'll see about that one."

"Dead serious."

"Again, we'll see about that one."

She propped herself up on her elbows and glared at him. "You did this to me."

"I thought we established that a few months ago."

"I need to have sex."

This didn't elicit any reaction from Sherlock, which irritated Irene. She felt like a bomb ready to go off, and she knew that Sherlock could help with that. "Oh, come on!" she exclaimed. "Nothing?"

He looked at her with a look of amazement on his face. "You're serious?"

"Dead serious," she answered solemnly. "I'm losing my mind."

"I thought I was never going to be allowed to touch you again."

"After the baby is born. I never said anything about right now."

Sherlock laughed. His laughter was short lived, as immediately after he started chuckling, Irene had his computer out of his hands and was on top of him. Her spryness came as a surprise to Sherlock, who had been under the impression that Irene was not able to move that quickly given her condition. "What?" he exclaimed in surprise.

"I need to have sex," she repeated slowly and quietly.

"Right now?"

"Yes, you idiot."

"Irene… I don't like this. I do not like this at all."

"Then propose a different solution to my problem."

"Um…"

He was at a loss for words. He had no idea how to help Irene with this. These sorts of situations where he and Irene would have sex were few and far between, and never had they had sex when she was this pregnant. Sherlock thought that this was rather unnecessary. The procreating part was done with. (Though, when she hadn't been as far along, he hadn't minded her insistence upon sex. He wasn't sure when this had become the case.)

"I'm waiting," Irene murmured as she started dotting his neck with small kisses.

"Irene…" he mumbled as she started kissing his face.

"If you really do not want to do this, we won't. I'll retreat and deal with it on my own. But, if you want to help a girl out, by all means, jump in at any point," she informed him.

All the signs of lust and arousal were present in Irene. She was very flushed, her light eyes were dark, and based on her breathing, it was clear that her pulse was elevated. Much to Irene's delight, Sherlock was exhibiting the same physical response. "Um… what about this?" he asked, poking her belly with one of his very long fingers.

"We'll work around it."

The expression his face was absolutely priceless. Irene was certain the only other time she'd seen Sherlock flustered was when the first met, and she had reliably informed him that smart was sexy. That had been eight years prior, and she held that belief even stronger now.

It took a moment for Sherlock to decide what he was going to do, but once he committed, he committed fully. Although he was clumsy as he tried working around the rather cumbersome obstacle between them, he and Irene quickly adjusted and things got heated.

Eventually, Irene rolled onto her back and gasped for air. She murmured a string of curse words as she tried to catch her breath. Sherlock smirked. "Feel better?" he asked her arrogantly.

"My, my… eight years under my tutelage have done you well, Mr. Holmes," she replied.

He snorted. "Well, based on the yelling, I'm guessing I've received high marks?"

"Smart is sexy," she sighed as she turned onto her side to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. "Any sign of disapproval from in there?" he asked as he gestured vaguely at the bump.

She prodded around for a moment and shook her head. "Probably asleep."

"Even with all the movement?"

"Probably rocked the baby to sleep."

"An added bonus," he remarked.

She nodded and drew in a deep breath before she rested her head on his shoulder. He reached over to get his computer from the nightstand and resumed reading the article he had been reading before Irene insisted that they let off some steam. A few minutes later, Irene fell asleep.

This became a routine they carried out every night for the next three weeks. Sherlock found that it kept Irene from losing her mind and it helped him keep his focus. During that three-week period, he figured he was three times as productive than if he and Irene didn't have their nightly round of sex.

On the Monday of the fourth week, Irene was ready. She was already stripped bare and on the bed by the time Sherlock came to bed. She had been anxious all day, and had been looking forward to this activity all day. Sherlock seemed to be ready too.

Things were getting intense when Irene stilled whilst on top of Sherlock. Her eyes widened and she blanched. "What?" Sherlock asked worriedly.

She shook her head, but made no movement. It was as if she was waiting for something. A moment or two later, it appeared as though what she was waiting for happened again. "I guess what they say about sex inducing labor," she murmured quietly as she climbed off of Sherlock and walked off to the bathroom.

It was Sherlock's turn to blanch. He followed closely after her into the bathroom. "Are you sure?"

"I'm going to take a shower and see if this keeps up. I'd hate to go to the hospital and have to come back because it was false labor."

"Okay. I'm going to go get dressed and call John to let him know what is going on."

Twenty minutes later, Irene came out of the bedroom, freshly showered and dressed, carrying her overnight bag. "It's show time," she announced as she walked into the kitchen. Sherlock was on the phone with John and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Okay, John. We'll see you as soon as you get there…. Right, it's the National Maternity Hospital. Okay. See you then." He hung up the phone and looked to Irene, who looked nervous. "Ready?"

"Not sure."

"It's okay. I'm not sure either."