(A/N: Sorry for the lack of updates... Been busy with life and all that!)
FIFTH MONTH
"John?!" Sherlock called, his voice shrill as he talked over his phone. "John?! Pick up!"
On the third ring, John Watson answered. "Hel- Sherlock, what's going on?"
"Is everything okay, John?" Mary said, noting the worried look on her husband's face.
"What did... Fine! We'll come over." John snapped, ending the call.
"What was that? And what do you mean 'we'?" Mary asked, her arms crossed on her chest.
John sighed, shaking his head with an amused smile on his face. "Irene's having a fit. Sherlock needs help."
The doors of 221B opened and John and Mary found Sherlock's clothes scattered on the foot of the stairs. Mrs. Hudson was nowhere in sight and a loud banter echoed along the place.
"What in the bloody wor...?" John hissed as he climbed the stairs with his wife behind him.
The Watsons saw Sherlock banging his hands on the door, a tired look on his face. "Irene! Irene, open the door! This is irrational!"
"Go away! I hate you!" Irene shouted back, her voice muffled behind the closed door.
"Well, it's my flat!" Sherlock replied angrily.
At that, Irene opened the door with her eyes blazing. "Is that a challenge?!"
Sherlock walked past Irene, striding inside his flat angrily. John and Mary stood where they are, eyebrows raised at the scenario they just witnessed. Irene stomped her feet and was almost surprised to see the couple.
"What are you doing here?" Irene hissed.
Almost in unison, Mary and John stifled a laugh. John cleared his throat and replied, "Erm... We're... Sherlock called us."
Irene threw her hands up, exasperated. She turned towards the door and shouted, "So you called for backup? Can't handle this on your own? Hmmmp!"
"I'll go talk to Sherlock, you handle the pregnant monster." John whispered to his wife.
"It's the hormones. I got this." Mary replied, taking Irene by the arm. "Come dear. We'll talk about this somewhere else."
Irene eyed Mary, somehow calming down at her touch. "A pub would be nice." Mary shook her head. "You're pregnant, dear. How about Speedy's?" Irene huffed and Mary steered her towards the door, leaving John with an amused smile on his face.
The doctor started to walk towards the door, welcomed by the image of an annoyed Sherlock Holmes. The detective's eyes were closed but his forehead was lined with agitation, mouth forming a scowl.
"So... I reckon you have no plans to gather up your clothes from the foot of the stairs?" John mused, internally laughing.
"You sound amused." Sherlock replied, not looking at John. "Well, you asked for my help but clearly you're handling it quite well." John pitched as he sat across Sherlock, who rolled his eyes at the remark.
"Was Mary that stubborn?" Sherlock asked, gritting his teeth. John shook his head. "Well, half the time Mary was pregnant, we weren't talking because of the whole 'CIA' thing. Then the next half, everything was almost fine. But then we're much more normal than... You know."
Sherlock considered this for a moment, slamming his hands on the armrest. "I don't understand what's wrong with her!"
"Did you do your research?" John asked, grabbing the morning paper. At his question Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "What?"
"That's what you're good at: research, experimenting... Why can't you use it on her?" John simply said, browsing the newspaper casually.
Sherlock huffed. There was nothing to research. All the signs was clear: Irene was being irrational.
"She just doesn't want you to go. All these cases keeping you from her... And I assumed you gave a remark about her weight? Bad move." John explained when he saw that stubborn look on Sherlock's face. "Mary also got into that whole moody phase..."
"Not quite like this, I presume." Sherlock muttered.
"Well, you and Irene have been together for quite a long while but we still haven't figured out how you two managed not to blow up the flat with your bantering..." John said, putting down the paper.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "We? Who's 'we'?"
"Basically everyone." John said pointedly, heading over the kitchen to prepare himself some tea. Sherlock turned to the window, wondering where Irene and Mary went. He figured that they were just down at Speedy's, having what John referred to as "bonding".
And of course, he was right. Mary took the seething Irene Adler down to Speedy's and grabbed a sundae for each of them.
"So, tell me what happened..." Mary said, the spoon twirling in her fingers.
Irene propped her elbows on the table, her chin resting on her hands. "Sherlock is a prick."
Mary laughed at that. "Well, he's your prick."
"I know." Irene replied, still annoyed with the man she was obviously madly in love with. The past few months had been peculiar for both of them, often sneering at each other whenever the other is being... Well, pathetic. She feels so different, all these changes in her body making her agitated all the time. Then, Sherlock being Sherlock, goes on his 'trance' every once and a while, making her feel even more agitated. She doesn't want to, she knows it's irrational, but that's just how her mind seemed to go these past few months.
Plus, the other day, Sherlock gave a comment: "You look rounder than what a normal pregnancy looks like." It was not intended to mean anything but a mere statement of fact, she certainly felt bigger than what she expected, but it sounded rather insulting at the moment.
Still, despite the changes in her body, which she despised most of the time (none of her old clothes fit her anymore!), a simple touch over the bump in her belly makes her forget all the worries. She often crooned, imagining the baby on her arms. For once, she and Sherlock opted for a mystery, not wanting to get it screened whether it's a boy or a girl.
At last, Irene sighed, raising her palms in a fake surrender. "I hate you, Mary. I just hate you. Good thing I'm already with Sherlock, otherwise, that charm of yours might just get me going." she joked, her heart already back in her home in 221B.
/
SIXTH MONTH
"Why are you so...oh!" Irene exclaimed, rubbing her eyes to focus. She was awaken by the sound of hammering and a lot of cursing, only to be greeted by Sherlock slumped by the fireplace with planks of wood, couches and tables moved to the side of the room. "What is this?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at the mess.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, settling the hammer rather harshly beside him. "It's obvious. Hardly a deduction is needed."
Irene spotted a piece of paper from the couch and picked it up, seeing that it was instructions on building a baby's crib. Sherlock saw the smile on Irene's face and he huffed. "You look amused." he said, clearly annoyed as he surveyed the lack of progress he was having.
"For someone as smart as you, Sherlock Holmes, it's very refreshing to see you stumped." Irene teased, leaning in to kiss Sherlock on the forehead. "Come on. I'll help."
Finally, Sherlock gave her a soft smile. "Sorry I woke you."
Irene kissed Sherlock again, this time on the lips. "I'll forgive you this time... Seeing what the ruckus is about, I'd say it's worth it."
/
SEVENTH MONTH
"Irene... Something came up. I'll be back soon..." Sherlock whispered, giving Irene a soft kiss as he headed out the door. There was something stirring, he was evidently sure of that as soon as he saw the flicker in Mycroft's eyes the other day.
And he wanted to assure that nothing would ever harm his family. Not now, not ever.
/
EIGHTH MONTH
"I'm betting it's a boy." Lestrade said.
"Definitely." John pitched in.
"Oh, but we can't tell for sure. It'll be lovely if it's a girl..." Molly mused, getting nods from Mrs. Hudson.
"We have enough difficult men to get along with, so a girl would be a nice addition." Mary said, eyeing the forming protest John was about to raise.
"I know! How about a bet?" Lestrade offered, rubbing his palms together, a smug look on his face. "What do you say, John?"
John nodded, raising his eyebrows at the ladies in the room. Mary rolled her eyes.
"I can't see why not." Molly said, smiling. "You'll owe us a drink, yes?"
/
NINTH MONTH
It was a lovely afternoon.
Irene and Sherlock just finished having their afternoon tea, the exhaustion from a 2-week case almost forgotten.
"I have reserved us a table at the Orrery tonight." Sherlock said, holding Irene's hand.
"Orrery? Are you mocking me?" Irene replied, raising her eyebrows, remembering how they saw each other again a few months back, Godfrey Norton at her hand at the time.
Sherlock laughed, rolling his eyes at her. "Not quite." And with that, Irene joined him.
Suddenly, he saw Irene wince, her had flying to her stomach. "Irene?"
"Sherlock... I think the baby's coming..." Irene said, her voice strained, hand still on her bump.