The next week at 221B Baker Street was filled with angst and tension. Mycroft did not appear to be in a huge hurry in getting back in touch with the boys, who kept the phone near them every hour of the day. Even Sherlock was overjoyed at the thought of having a child of his own, though he explained off his excitement by saying that he was just fascinated with the science involved.
Mycroft never called. He showed up at the door one morning uninvited, and John and Sherlock were still in their pajamas, snuggling on the couch. Mrs. Hudson answered the door and stalled enough for the boys to change into something a little more respectable.
Once dressed and settled in, they sat down at the table with Mycroft, who had brought a stack of forms and papers the width of a short novel. Sherlock searched his face for clues, but found nothing. Mycroft had gotten very good at hiding his emotion.
Finally, after what felt like hours, he said, "My team has agreed to your terms and will be over some time this week to take DNA samples and tell you a little more about the project."
Sherlock grinned in spite of himself. John sat in shock for a couple of seconds, his mouth wide open. "Oh. My. God." Sherlock's pat on the back snapped him out of it, and he too smiled wide at Mycroft, who still wore his usual neutral expression.
Mycroft placed the stack of papers in front of the couple. "These are forms- insurance, liability, guardian forms, so on and so forth. They need signatures from both of you before the scientists come over."
"Yes, of course, thank you. Thank you so much," John said as Mycroft collected his things. He reached his hand out to Mycroft for a handshake. Mycroft looked down at John's hand, stood up and walked out of the door. John looked over at Sherlock, somewhat insulted.
"Dear Mycroft didn't get what he wanted for once in his life. I wouldn't expect him to be in a good mood," Sherlock said with a smirk.
