Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belong to Sir ACD and in this reincarnation Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC. We own nothing and are only writing this for fun.

Tell Me This Night Is Over.

Chapter Twelve.

John woke up to soft touches and a soft, low, purring murmur. When he opened his eyes he was greeted by a head of dark, curly hair bent over his belly and warm, gentle hands touching it as Sherlock talked to his son. John wasn't quite awake yet to make out just what Sherlock was saying but that didn't matter, the scene itself made John's heart ache with love.

"And of course the idea that moss only grows on the north side of a tree is a fallacy. Ideal conditions for moss growth is dampness and shade so if the west or south or east side of a tree would happen to be shadier than the north then the moss would grown on that side." Sherlock kept his voice at a soothing rumble though he did know that John had awakened. He had already noticed that their son seemed to still, as if listening, when he spoke and, since he was certain a great deal of movement would awaken John, he'd settled down to tell the baby whatever came to mind to both acclimate Benjamin to his voice and allow John to get some undisturbed rest. Scientific facts, historical data, and the occasional tale from his own childhood.

Reaching out, John ran his fingers through Sherlock's hair carefully, carding through thick, glossy locks. He loved Sherlock's voice, it made his stomach flip and shivers run up and down his spine. It had since the very first day John met him. Listening to Sherlock talk to Benjamin had an entirely different heat spread to him. Sherlock would be an amazing father and John would get to witness it happen. "I love you Sherlock Holmes, more than science could ever measure."

Sherlock just turned his head so he was looking at John, cheek still pressed to the mound of their child, and gave him a smile, "Love has never been a quantifiable thing, because it grows in unpredictable patterns and at unpredictable times," one hand curled around John's wrist, "Did I ever thank you John?"

John frowned in confusion. "Thank me for what? You have nothing to thank me for love."

He rubbed his thumb over John's pulse, "I do though. You showed me that I could love as well. That I was capable of it and more, that I could be loved."

"Oh love, it would be impossible not to love you Sherlock. I've never met someone more amazing in every way. I'll always love you for just who you are and you never, ever have to thank me for it."

Sherlock just brought John's hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. John might think that but he knew different. He knew that no one, even his mother, had ever been capable of loving him just as he was. Only John did that. Everyone else tried to change him, to force him to conform to their expectations and desires, or to control him. John...John just loved him.

John smiled and stroked his fingers over Sherlock's face, mapping out all the lovely angles and planes with the tip of his fingers. He would have loved to stay like this for a very long time but sadly his bladder had a different idea. "I'm sorry love, need the restroom."

"Okay," Sherlock sat up and moved so that John could lever himself out of the bed.

John huffed and squirmed and finally managed to get his feet on the floor so he could get out of bed. He'd only taken a few steps toward the bathroom when a stabbing pain went through him, nearly causing his knees to buckle. Oh that wasn't right at all, something was very clearly not as it should. One hand went to his stomach and the other reached out to flail for something to steady himself on if his legs would go out on him.

"John!" Sherlock was beside him in a second, a hand resting next to John's on his stomach, his other arm going around his waist. His eyes took in everything in record time, the ripple under his hand adding to the data, and his mouth went dry, his stomach flipped, and he turned an impressive bone white. He allowed himself one tremble, one simple tremor, before he met John's eyes, "The baby's coming." It wasn't a question. "Do you still need to urinate?"

"Nope, it seems it wasn't my bladder after all." John's teeth were clenched around the rather staggering amount of pain he found himself in. "This is too fast, it's happening too fast. Shouldn't there be a gradual build up? I'm a doctor, I should know this, why don't I know this?" An edge of fear had crept into John's voice. Then he stood stock still as something went through him again. "...Fuck, Sherlock, I think my water broke, that or I just pissed myself in a very awkward angle."

"Shh, it'll be okay. We just have to get you to Dr. Weisz," He kissed John's temple then Sherlock's jaw flexed and he snatched his phone up, turning it back on and dialing Mycroft, the hell with it being morning. He helped support John to the dresser and as he changed into another pair of pajama trousers.

"I thought you would be busy getting reacquainted Sherlock so what honor do I owe this phone call?" Mycroft sounded awake and up even though the sun had barely risen. He'd spent the last half hour watching Greg sleep.

"This is not time for any banter Mycroft," Sherlock's voice was a bit sharp but it was understandable, "We need a car at Baker Street now. John is in labor."

"What? Already?" Every sign of amused drawl disappeared from Mycroft's tone. "A car will be in place when you get downstairs." Mycroft always had one stationed near Baker Street on stand by. One never knew when it would be needed.

The tone of Mycroft's voice had Greg awake between one breath and the next, his hand curling over his fiancé's bicep, brows furrowed in concern.

Sherlock handed the phone to John so he could use the speaker while he bent to help John on with his shoes, "Thank you. Will you call Dr. Weisz and let him know we're on our way?"

"Of course, I'll call him right now, take care of John and we'll meet you at Dr. Weisz's." Mycroft hung up so that he could call Bradley. He turned to meet his lover's eyes. "John's gone into labor, he needs to get to Bradley quickly."

"Oh bugger me," Greg rolled out of bed and began dressing, "Is it too soon?" He frowned and thought hard, "Thirty eight weeks now right?"

"I don't think it is dangerously early. The baby should be fully developed." Mycroft replied as he waited for Bradley to answer his phone. "What worries me is that it will happen too fast, that John will be pushed into a natural birth that will be very dangerous for him and for Benjamin...Oh pick up!" He raised his voice at the phone in his hand. He didn't like this, didn't like being worried.

Greg zipped up, tossed on a t-shirt and went to stand behind Mycroft, rubbing his shoulders. It was a scary prospect, John having a natural birth, but he had a genius with him and two doctors who could be put into a Skype call on the smartphone if it got that desperate. He didn't tell Mycroft to calm down, just stayed there, rubbing his shoulders when the phone was finally answered.

"Hello yes?" Dr. Weisz's tenor came a bit sleepily over the line.

"Bradley, this is Mycroft. John's gone into labor; he and Sherlock should be on their way to you as we speak." Mycroft fought to keep his tone calm and cool as usual. Inside though he was very concerned. Concerned for John, for his brother and for his nephew.

"Oh, impatient isn't he? I'll get Janice and have the surgical room ready for them." Despite his age and the ungodly hour, the man sounded alert, "Has Dr. Sawyer been notified?"

"I'm not sure, I don't think so. I believe John and Sherlock have other things on their mind." Mycroft turned to Greg, covering his phone with his hand for a moment. "Greg, could you call the lady doctor?" Then he turned back on the phone. "I've asked Gregory to call her."

Greg nodded and got out his own phone, dialing Sarah's number. It was answered on the first ring and Sarah began speaking before Greg could even say her name.

"They've called; I'm already on my way to Weisz's. Get your fiancé and get moving, family in the waiting room is a must, especially if we wind up having to send Sherlock out of the delivery room."

The line clicked off and left Greg blinking, "Bloody Christ that woman moves fast when she's stirred to."

Mycroft only raised a brow and finished his call with Bradley by letting the doctor know that they would be there shortly. Then he walked over to his closet and selected his suit for the day, just because they were in a hurry there was no excuse not be well dressed.

Greg shook his head and smiled, "I love you." He went to press a kiss to Mycroft's jaw, "I'll be waiting in my car. we'll get there faster with the sirens."

Nodding, Mycroft continued to get dressed, slipping gold cufflinks through his shirt and tying his tie perfectly before putting on a pin striped waistcoat and flawlessly pressed suit jacket. He doubted that Greg's sirens could get them there faster than Mycroft's car could but he wouldn't tell Greg that. Sometimes his fiance could be such a stickler about breaking the law. He hesitated by the door and then he grabbed his umbrella and walked out to join his lover in the car.

Greg slid a look over at Mycroft. He knew what his lover was thinking about the car. However Mycroft had never been a passenger in Greg's car when he was in a bloody hurry. All he said though was, "Buckle up." If John had been in the back seat he'd probably have snorted and told Mycroft to buckle up and hold on to his bloody arse.

oOo

John grunted in pain as the black car finally turned in on Dr Weisz's driveway, he held on to Sherlock's hand tightly even as he did his best to hoist himself out of the car. He had not screamed when he was shot and he wouldn't scream now though he wanted to...He really wanted to because this did not feel good in any sense of the word.

Sherlock had only managed to convince John to let him carry him down the stairs, after that he'd gotten a look of such violent warning he was left wondering what would have happened had Moriarty tried kidnapping John in the middle of labor...Jim bits all over the sidewalk probably. So instead he let John grind the bones in his hand and walk as he liked. Sarah might pitch a fit but he'd just direct her to John.

Speaking of the woman, she poked her head out of the clinic door and scowled darkly at her friend. "John Hamish Watson!" She came out, pushing a wheelchair, "Reckless, stubborn, prideful idiot."

"What? I'm not an idiot just because I don't want to be carried by someone who could break in half from the weight of me." John did sit down in the wheelchair though without any complaint. He wasn't entirely sure he would have made it all the way inside on his own two feet but he would bloody well have done his best. He did not release his grip on Sherlock's hand even though he was sitting down.

"I saw him lift you up to carry you up those stairs, he's twiggy but I doubt he'd break."

Sherlock just let the two bicker and kept pace with the chair as Sarah wheeled it into the building and toward the back. He slid a look over and saw Mycroft, a rather paler than usual Mycroft, sitting next to a smirking Greg just before they moved into another room where Janice was clearly prepping a needle large enough to make Sherlock want to squirm.

John got out of his clothes and into a hospital gown with Sarah and Sherlock's help; he was beyond modesty at the moment. He didn't even flinch at the sight of the needle, John just wanted the sweet relief the needle would bring when he was given the epidural.

Sarah took the needle from Janice after sterilizing the area it would be inserted into and injecting the local anesthetic, "Do you want to hear the joke about a tiny prick?"

Sherlock noticed that the nurse looked scandalized but couldn't help his chuckle.

"Don't make me laugh now Sarah, not when you're about to plunge that thing into my spine." John was smiling though, hearing Sherlock chuckle, really chuckle and not acting always put a smile on his face.

Janice went to see if she could help Dr. Weisz with anything, actually just wanting to get away from the giggling loons in the room for a while.

Sarah hummed softly, "Okay deep breathe in," when John complied she slid the needle in, fed the catheter through, then slid the needle away, epidural in place, "and there we are."

"Thank you." The words came out low and heartfelt as John felt his spasming body relaxing. He wasn't a big fan of drugs but he wasn't fool enough to pass on any help he could be given.

She pat his shoulder and gently directed him down onto the surgical cot, "Oh you're welcome luv. Weisz is scrubbing up, he'll be in as soon as he's done and we'll get this circus taken care of."

"Okay, that's good." John nodded; feeling both fuzzy and too alert at the same time if that was possible. Sort of like he'd felt in the army when he knew he would face battle. "I don't think it's too late for a C-section, it doesn't feel like Benny's moved too much...Well right now I'm not feeling much of anything but you know what I mean..." He was babbling and he knew it, he just couldn't stop.

Sherlock bent to bring their joined hands to his lips, kissing John's fingers and stroking his other hand along his arm, "I don't think he moved much at all. Your contractions are still eight minutes apart."

"I'm not even the slightest bit surprised that you're timing my contractions...It's comforting really." John squeezed Sherlock's hand. "I'm glad I can still be sliced open, less stress for Benjamin, his safety and health is what matters."

Sherlock's thumb stroked the side of John's hand, "Of course I am timing them. That is what one does when attending a pregnant person in labor is it not?" He looked earnestly questioning.

Just then Dr. Weisz came in with Janice, "Ah well most without a medical degree just panic. Trust your son to be impatient young man."

Sarah worked in concert with the nurse to set up the sterile field and curtain that would block John and Sherlock's view.

As everything was set in place, it hit John that this was happening, it was really happening. He and Sherlock would be parents after this. They would have a whole new person to take care of, shelter, teach and love. It was bloody terrifying but John thought they were ready for it, as ready as they would ever be in any case. He looked up at Sherlock. "You can go look on the other side of the curtain if you want." He couldn't imagine Sherlock not wanting to witness everything that was happening; besides this would be an opportunity for him to see how a person with chimerism might look on the inside.

Sherlock was certainly curious but he shook his head, "No. I'll stay here." It was one thing to see John in danger and keep himself calm and controlled in the heat of a moment, it would be another thing entirely to watch as someone cut into him layer by layer with the intention of pulling something out. After so long being worried about John's safety, it would be a more than a bit not good for him to witness that.

"Indeed you will young man as you are not looking over a sterile field unless you're wearing scrubs." Dr. Weisz's tone was calm, almost jovial, as he took up his scalpel and began his work.

It was an extremely strange sensation to be awake and being cut open. It didn't hurt but John could feel it, feel his skin tense and give away as the scalped slid through it. He was glad that Sherlock was staying on this side of the curtain with him. He knew the room was full of people but he would still have felt alone if they were all where he couldn't really see them. As long as he had Sherlock, all was well. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and focused on his breathing.

Dark brows drew down in thought as Sherlock listened to the business of them getting the baby out of John and something important occurred to him, "John I didn't see a crib or bassinet. Where will he sleep?"

"Eh...um...sock drawer?" It was a joke of course but John really didn't know where Benjamin would sleep. He had been meaning to get a crib but then he'd put it off and put it off and time had just slipped away from him.

Sherlock heard Dr. Weisz's chuckle and Sarah's murmured 'idiot' but he was more focused on what to do about their son's lack of sleeping arrangements. "Was there a particular crib you were wanting for him that we can task Mycroft with having delivered and set up? He looked as if he might need the distraction."

"Not really no. There was one at...Babyland I think, dark wood, would fit in the corner of the bedroom...In that little nook you know." John sucked in a breath as he felt something stretch and rip inside him as the doctors worked to get Benny-Jo out. "Just no antiques that are worth more than the flat and no big monstrosities with lace and shite. Simple and functional please...Have Greg help him."

He leaned his head in, nuzzling John's cheek, the sharp breath making his stomach jump. He didn't like that; John wasn't supposed to be feeling this. "Alright." He sent a quick text with his phone to Mycroft.

'Need a crib. Dark wood seen Babyland, simple, functional, take GL to help. - SH'

Outside in the waiting room, Mycroft was most certainly not pacing, he was merely stretching his legs a little. He fished out his phone from a tailored trouser pocket and read the message. "Do you know the way to Babyland?" He turned and looked at his lover. "Apparently we need to go and acquire a crib." Mycroft showed Greg the text.

Greg, an old hand at waiting rooms, laughed, "I've got three kids, of course I know where Babyland is." He got to his feet, "Come on then, let's get the flat finished getting ready for Benny-Jo."

"Why put up getting a crib until the child is coming? I am very disappointed by John's foresight." Mycroft shook his head. "Also why by one when there's a perfectly good one at Mummy's? Both Sherlock and I slept in it as did father and his father and so on."

"And what's it look like?" Greg gave Mycroft a look, "And how much is an antique like that worth? Keep in mind this is John, likes things simple, no frills, and nothing that's worth more than he makes in a week."

Mycroft huffed out an annoyed breath. "It's brown and big, quite elegant actually. I don't know how much it's worth, it's been in our family for a long time, it was a gift to one of our ancestors from George III, before he went mad of course."

Greg's look spoke volumes, "Babyland it is then. Come on you," he caught Mycroft's hand, "And since there's no rush for this you don't have to claw holes in the door handle this time."

"Very funny, I tried to find a way to get out; hitting the pavement would be preferable to sitting in that deathtrap with you at the wheel." Mycroft followed Greg out to the car and got in. "Let's get in and out of this baby store as quickly as we can, I am not catching any infant germs that will keep me from holding my nephew."

Greg chuckled and started the car, returning to his almost sedate driving, "Bet you'll never assume I can't drive to somewhere faster than your minions again though."

"No, I doubt I will." Mycroft agreed. He would probably still prefer to ride with his minions though, at least then he would get where he was going without having a heart attack on the way. "I believe I prefer it when you take your time."

"Good job you never saw me on the track," Greg shot him a grin, "Used to race a bit in my misspent youth. Dad made me take a course on stunt driving even, keep me from crashing if something went off."

"I know." Mycroft was completely unembarrassed about admitting to having researched his lover. It had been done long before any sort of romantic attachment between them. Mycroft needed to know what sort of man Sherlock had latched on to. "I'm still glad I wasn't there when you raced, I probably would have sabotaged the other cars and wrapped you in cotton."

He snorted, "Oh and how very well that would have worked. You think it's hard protecting Sherlock when he doesn't want to be protected?" He slanted a look over at his fiancé, "Sherlock's got nothing on me when I was young, full of piss and vinegar and insistent on being a reckless twat. Mum gave in after I managed to sneak out a window that was welded shut without waking anyone up." He chuckled in memory, "I think both she and Dad hit their knees singing hallelujah when I decided I was better off catching the delinquents than being one of them." He knew that Mycroft had probably found that bit as well, it didn't bother him, but he liked telling him anyway. If he got bored of repeated information it was his own fault wasn't it?

Mycroft loved to listen to Gregory talk about his youth or his life. He wanted to know every facet of the other man, know everything that makes him tick. There was only so much you could learn from files and records. Mycroft loved hearing it from Greg's own lips. He knew that a small part of that piss and vinegar delinquent was still in Greg and Mycroft adored that part, the dangerous part of his lover. Oh he knew Gregory could be dangerous when he wanted to be, when the situation called for it. Mycroft needed that, needed someone who could match him and pull him back to the ground when he got too full of himself. "I had a bit of rebellion too when I was young, needed to try and do everything that I never had been able to before. Mummy was most displeased."

"What's this? Mycroft Holmes misbehaved at one point?" Greg's eyes lit up, "Tell me more. What sort of things did you get up to?"

Mycroft wrinkled his nose and let out a huff of breath in embarrassment. "Oh you know, the usual things young men get up to when they get their first taste of freedom, booze, women, men...women and men. A spot of underground fighting perhaps. It was soon made clear to me that my behavior was not acceptable for someone destined for a minor position in the government."

Greg's libido perked up like a hunting dog, "Underground fighting," He licked his lips, aware that his voice had lowered an octave, "now that's a surprise." His Mycroft was a sensualist so threesomes weren't that surprising, so much more to touch and feel, but he now had a mental image of his lover in an underground fight ring, stripped to the waist and putting other blokes down on the mat and it was sexier than he'd have thought.

Turning his head to the side to watch his lover, Mycroft's brow rose. "Mmhmm, I had this inane need to prove my worth back then. To prove that because I might look and behave uppercrust, I could still hold my own. I could by the way, wasn't even that much of a challenge. I think that was what upset Mummy the most, that I didn't fight to my true potential."

He found he had to clear his throat before he could reply, "And changing the subject because it is not on to walk into a baby store with an erection, your mother," he flicked a look over at Mycroft as they waited for a light, "I have yet to meet her. Any particular reason that?"

Mycroft suddenly found the view out the window very fascinating. "Mummy is...a peculiar woman. I didn't want you running for the hills so I've done my best to put off that meeting. I suppose you'll meet her soon enough though, no way she's going to agree staying away now that she'll have a grandson."

"Mycroft, I'm in love with you, there is nothing your mother could say, do, or threaten that would send me running for the hills. So, arrange a tea with your mother so I can meet her." Greg turned into the parking lot and found a space close to the doors.

"She's more scheming than me and has even less social boundaries than Sherlock, just so you're aware. Other than that and her past as a cold war agent she's a lovely woman, makes the best tea you'll ever have the pleasure of tasting." Mycroft unbuckled the seat belt and got out of the car. "In and out remember, in an out, no time for the infant germs to stick."

Greg was grinning, "I think I'm going to like meeting your mother. Come on then, let's get a crib for her grandson." He caught Mycroft's hand and they headed inside.

Mycroft would never, ever admitting to clinging to Gregory's hand amidst the screaming children and harried looking parents as they navigated their way through the minefield of a store. He just wanted to get the crib and get out.

It really didn't take long for them to find a nice dark cherry wood crib that satisfied both the function and form requirements, pick up the number slip, and take it to the line to the checkout. The very long line to the checkout. Where one particular toddling carrier monkey with a messy lolly found it great fun to make faces and blow raspberries at him and Mycroft. He suspected it had something to do with the pinch faced sneers the kids mother was giving their joined hands. The imp in Greg couldn't help but just grin at the kid and say, just a bit loudly, "Oh I hope the line moves quickly, I don't want to miss the baby's birth!"

The woman got a scandalized look on her face but what made it even better was an old woman who was being called up next turned and gave them a bright smile, "Oh goodness you've got one coming right now?"

"Yes, ma'am. A bit early and we've been having a bit of a disagreement on the crib up til now. Silly," Greg made a light, self-deprecating laugh.

"Oh you dears, go on ahead of me," she waved them ahead, "after all this is an emergency."

"Oh thank you! Thank you very much! You're a wonderful person." Greg pulled Mycroft past the toddler's horrified mother and to the register, very quickly arranging emergency delivery to 221b, where he knew Mycroft would have minions ready to take Mrs. Husdon's orders on where to put it, paying, and then they were out of the store.

Greg managed to hold in his laughter until they were in the car but then he just let loose, "Did you see the look on that kid's mum's face? That was priceless!"

Mycroft had been shocked speechless by his lover's behavior but now hearing his laughter he couldn't help but join in. The thing that had shocked Mycroft the most was that he'd realized he wouldn't mind if it had been true. No matter his distaste for toddlers such as the one in the store he would not mind at all having children with Greg.

"It served that horrible woman right, bigoted imbeciles as her should not have a right to breed. No wonder stupidity is spreading." Not being able to stop himself, Mycroft reached over, grabbed Greg and snogged him senseless. "I love you even though you are mad."

He hummed into Mycroft's mouth, his hand coming up to curve around the back of Mycroft's neck as he angled the kiss a little deeper for a moment. Pulling back with one little nip to Mycroft's bottom lip. "I love you too. Come on love, let's get back to the waiting room so we can greet Benjamin when he's ready for visitors." He bumped Mycroft's nose with his and started the car. He wouldn't ruin the moment by tearing through traffic this time though.

To be continued…