Part I- Sherlock is Anxious
Sherlock was anxious. Really anxious. He was never worried about anything, but here he was. Anxious. Impatient. Worried. Stressed. Frustrated. Any thought of hiding his emotional state was a lost cause, it was clearly evident in his unusual behaviours.
There he and John were in the waiting room, waiting. (Obviously) but one was not waiting patiently at all. A stressful Sherlock snapping insulting comments to the staff did little to help the overall mood of the patient room. It was to the best arrangements for John to take Sherlock away until things had settled a bit more. So now they were here. In the waiting room. Waiting until 'someone' had settled his temper with the staff.
He sat down and crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. Stood up. Sat down. Stood up again. Paced the room. Then stood next to the chair. Next he squatted on the chair. Stood ON the chair and let gravity tip it over before he hopped off and started pacing the room. Again.
When he exhausted all means of abusing the poor chair, he settled with entertainment from his clothing. First his Belstaff coat. On. Off. On. Off. Buttoned then unbuttoned. Then a repeat with his suit jacket. At last he decided to leave both garments on, but not buttoned.
Then his scarf. Oh that scarf... That dreaded scarf...
He took it off and folded it nearly over his arm, then in the next minuet it was back around his neck tied in a different fashion. He adjusted the seams. Fiddled with the tag, detangled the fringe. He took it off in the following minuet, and crumpled it in the coat pocket. The next time John looked at his friend, the cloth was back around his neck. Again. Tied in a new style. He adjusted the seams. Again. Thrice actually.
John just about had it with his patience limit. He caught the mad man's hand from touching his scarf for probably the millionth time in the whole time the two were in the waiting room. John was about to strangle him with the "cloth rope," so dragged him to the previously abused chair by a tight grip on the wrist.
"Sit," he ordered sternly, "Don't speak. Don't move a muscle, and for the sake of sanity. Do not touch your scarf."
Sherlock subjected himself to Captain Watson, not John Watson. He merely gave a curt nod and folded his hands in his lap.
Gone was the Captain Watson persona, now Best Friend John Watson spoke, "Sherlock, do calm down. You'll give yourself a heart attack with the stress on you. It'll be fine. Ok? Just sit here quietly, calmly, and absolutely still. I will be right back with a drink."
John dashed off to the closest drink machine and came back to find his friend exactly as he had remained with his head titled back resting on the wall lost in his Mind Palace.
"Here," John placed a steaming cup of Earl Grey in his hand. "Drink this slowly, you will feel better. Once you're done we can go visit them. Ok?"
"Very well, as you say." Sherlock downed the hot liquid as fast as his throat could take it, so it was only a short bit later when the two left the waiting area for the room.
John rapped the door lightly before Mary answered it accompanied with a sympathetic smile. She took Sherlock's arm and led him to a chair seated close by the bed. John followed suit pulling out an additional chair for his wife.
"Sherlock, you look rubbish! What have you done to yourself? John, something for explaining you have?" Molly opened her eyes and was greeted with a sight of her husband in a very dishevelled stated due to his prior activity with the scarf, coat, and chair. His hair was ruffled into a mess coupled with the dress shirt having too many creases.
"I have done nothing to myself Molly. How are you feeling? Are the doctor's at least decent in their work? Mycroft assured me he only provided the best, if he didn't, then I will be having a serious conversation with him. One that may not go well with him."
She pulled his hand causing him to lean down over her bed, then ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth out the wild curls. "There, now you don't look as scary. Don't worry, I have faith Mycroft did well because everything here so far has been pleasant." The three others gave quizzical glance at the 'been pleasant', so she hastily added. "Well, you know what I mean." A sharp wince punctuated her sentence causing her to grimace in pain. "This isn't like before," she forced out trying to fight the pain, "I think it is..." Neither John nor Sherlock heard the end of the sentence before they rushed off to summon the doctor and midwife.
TBC. Part II is in progress. It will be added as soon as it is finished. Thank you for reading!