The next morning, Sherlock opened his laptop to find a message from Dr. Stapleton. It was much the same information that his brother had told them, and asking which of them would provide which cells. When John got up, he'd ask him. Since neither of them had any genetically carried diseases, it shouldn't matter too much, but he wanted them both to be satisfied with the choice. As long as he wasn't to be called "Mummy," Sherlock didn't mind, to be honest, smirking a bit at just the thought. He rather thought he might weather it better than John, though, who was sometimes rather fiercely masculine. After all, he was the one who had sworn he was "not gay" for so long. To be fair, neither he nor John were really sure that term fitted either one of them. They both loved each other madly, but they didn't really seem to fancy any other men - or women, in Sherlock's case. The notion of binary sexuality was one that Sherlock did not personally subscribe to, believing that for nearly everyone, there was more of a sliding scale of attraction and desire.
By the time that John woke up an hour later, Sherlock was almost bursting with excitement, his hands and feet keeping a steady rhythm on the floor and table. He didn't want to wake John with the violin, so he settled for quietly 'drumming' on any available surface. Dr. Stapleton had also said in her email that if they wanted, they could come up and see the developing foetus in a few weeks. Sherlock knew they should talk about it and decide, but he thought they would probably wait and go up for the 16 week mark, when they could find out the baby's sex - if they didn't specify - should they specify? Why hadn't he thought about that?
"John! Good morning! Dr. Stapleton has emailed me this morning, and the cells will be ready by Monday. Can we decide who will provide which cells? If you don't mind, I'll provide the eggs, unless you have a preference -?"
"Whoa! Good morning to you, too, love! Any chance of me getting some breakfast before we start in on all of this?" asked John, kissing Sherlock on the cheek, filling the kettle and turning it on as he spoke.
"Oh! Of course, I'm sorry, John - I have just been mulling over this email from Dr. Stapleton, and she wanted to know who would provide the cells, and..." Sherlock trailed off, looking like he was slightly afraid he had done something a 'bit not good'.
Seeing his husband's crestfallen face, John smiled at his husband. "Of course, that will be fine, Sherlock. I didn't really have a preference, and this way we are decided. We'll have a fine-looking, genius child either way with your DNA included, I am certain. This is getting really exciting now, isn't it? I'm just over the moon, love, and I know you are as well - just don't get caught up in those doubts that your brain is feeding you, all right?"
"You're right, John, I'll try my best not to second-guess everything. I know I can be my own worst critic as well as my own best advertisement at times. Now - did you want some toast, and maybe bacon, beans, and scrambled eggs? I can fix that for us. Now, the other thing to decide is - should we choose the sex, or leave it to develop as it will, and be surprised when we visit for the 16 week mark, when we can find out?" Sherlock asked, still walking around in circles, he was so excited.
"That sounds great for breakfast, sweetheart. What do you think? I'd be just as happy to let it happen, and be surprised. I don't think we really had a strong leaning toward one or the other, did we? I know you get on very well with Emily, and of course, a boy would also be fine," John answered seriously, looking straight at Sherlock, trying to discern if he had any strong feelings about the matter.
"I think that will be the best, also - this way we can be like other parents-to-be. It will be a bonus to find out when we visit the facility again. Good, then, I'll email Dr. Stapleton so she can begin as soon as the cells are completely ready. Then maybe we can work on the list of what we'll need to do to baby-proof the flat - I bookmarked a list of health and safety recommendations. Is that okay to do now, John?"
"Of course, that is a great idea. Might as well see what is in store for us as far as what we need to buy - let's see that website, all right, love?" queried John.
Sherlock opened the page and turned his laptop around so they both could view it easily. He had to be reminded again that he was fixing them both breakfast, but soon had their plates filled, and they ate while searching the page he brought up. There was a convenient list on the page that Sherlock downloaded into a file so they could reference it later. All in all, it didn't seem too daunting, since they had plenty of time to do all the rooms. He then emailed the list to Anthea, who replied in a few minutes that she would take care of the whole task for them, including sending a couple of people to make sure all the items were ticked off, and the flat was properly wired and child-proofed.
Sherlock grinned at this, saying to John, "Well, that's one thing taken care of, courtesy of my brother's soon-to-be fiancée. He must really be afraid he'll have to become a father sooner rather than later. And to think he once told me that sex shouldn't alarm me..."
"Yes, he must do," replied John, also grinning. This started a whole new round of both of them giggling until they were holding their sides. Well, much better than Sherlock having another panic attack, thought John. "I just hope that Anthea doesn't have other plans..." which started them off again.
"Oh, please, John, that is one woman who can make the British Government himself toe the line when she wishes, never underestimate her," Sherlock said gleefully. "Mycroft won't know what hit him when she decides that it is time for them to have a child of their own. I knew I always liked her..."
" Getting back to OUR situation, lovely – I have to say, you are improving with your cooking by leaps and bounds here." John said, smiling, while eating his breakfast with enjoyment. He ran his hand through Sherlock's curls, " Do you think we can ask for curly hair? I really fancy seeing your curls on a little one, I have to say."
"Honestly, John, I don't think they've worked out every single gene, do you? Besides, your hair is much nicer, not always going every which way like mine does..." Sherlock started, then realising that John was having him on, just a tiny bit. He put his empty plate in the sink, walked over to the sofa, nose in the air, hummed and stretched out on it, feigning irritation - not very convincingly. He did like his hair, but only when it was tamed for the day. Getting it there was another thing entirely, as John well knew by now. He didn't know how they'd manage a little one with a riot of curls.
"All right, then, you great giraffe, budge over some, I can't fit with you taking up the whole couch! Anthea sent us some links for shops for us to look at online as far as the furniture goes - why don't we take a look at that, yeah?" John asked, grabbing Sherlock's laptop and sitting it onto his own lap and bringing up the page from the first furniture shop and selecting baby and nursery items from the menu.