Sherlock Imagines

PREGNANT😱 - Mycroft X Reader

You wake up and look to the other side of your bed. Empty.

This isn't unusual, as your husband usually gets up early and heads off to his home office or to work. You climb out of bed and slip your bedroom shoes on. You know that he's at work, because you don't smell coffee as you head down the stairs. You shuffle into the kitchen, finding bacon and eggs for breakfast.

You begin to make the bacon, placing it into a pan. It starts to pop and sizzle. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hits you. You abandon the bacon and sprint to the bathroom. You immediately wretch into the toilet.

When you finish emptying your already empty stomach, you brush your teeth and feel your forehead. You don't feel warm, so you assume the best.

In the cabinet, under the sink, you shove your feminine products to the side and grab a pregnancy test- put in the cabinet for a time like this- and study the instructions on the box.

"Shouldn't be too hard," you say.

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You finish cooking and place the eggs on the plate. The bacon was black and unedible. You'd left it unattended whilst taking the pregnancy test. You eat the eggs in silence.

You finish your breakfast and clear everything. Then, you remember the test. You swallow thickly as horrible thoughts run through your mind.

You close your eyes.

Steadily, you pick the test up off the counter. You open your eyes, panicking when you see two pink lines. You drop the test, covering your mouth with your hands and sinking to your knees.

"What am I going to do? How will I tell Mycroft? How will he react?" you ask yourself. You slowly get up and grab the test from the floor. You decide to get advice on the matter, so you put the test in a small box and get dressed.

You pull your hair up into a messy bun and slip some Vans on. You pull your coat on and slip the box in your pocket.

:::::::::::::::::::::

You hesitate to knock the door. Can Sherlock be trusted? Can Sherlock offer any advice on the matter at hand?

Deciding that this is your only option, you knock. Once. Twice. Thrice. The door opens and a small, old lady stands there, smiling. "Are you a client?" she asks kindly. You clear your throat. "Sort of. I'm Sherlock's sister in- law. I need advice," you say quietly.

"I'm Mrs. Hudson. The boys are upstairs," she says. Mrs. Hudson moves out of your way. "Just up those stairs, dear," she says, leading you. She opens a door at the top of the stairs. "Sherlock, your sister in- law's here," Mrs. Hudson says.

"Let her in," you hear Sherlock say from inside the door. Mrs. Hudson moves and you enter. Sherlock is facing a window, violin set on his shoulder. John is in his usual seat. You sit in the client's chair and remove your coat. You neatly fold your coat and place it on your lap.

"(Y/N) have you gone to the doctor? You are looking quite pale," Sherlock remarks. You laugh half-heartedly. "Although I admire your concern, I will not be going to the doctor," you say. Sherlock turns around to face you, eyebrows furrowed. "You're sick," he says.

You clear your throat. "Actually, quite the opposite. I am perfectly healthy. I just need advice on a matter that needs to be kept confidential- amongst the three of us- just until I can find a way to tell Mycroft," you say, pulling the box out of your coat pocket.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow at the box, but holds out his hand to accept it. John observes this, brow raised. You place the box in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock opens the lid, eyes widening at the object inside. Sherlock replaces the lid. He hands the box to you and goes back to the window.
"May I see what's in the box?" John asks. You give the box to him. He opens it and smiles. "You're pregnant. This is great news, right Sherlock?" John asks. You turn to Sherlock, who is watching the window.

"You want to know how to tell Mycroft," Sherlock states. You remain silent, knowing that Sherlock's in his mind palace. "Why don't you just give him the box? Put a ribbon on it, tell him that you got him a present, he opens it, voila," John suggests.

"But John, do you have any idea how he'll take this? We almost didn't get married because he wanted to put his job first. He works constantly and without ceasing. Do you truly believe that he'll take time off of work to care for this child?" you ask. Sherlock turns around and strides to his chair, plopping down in it.

John scratches his chin, contemplating your question. Sherlock folds his hands in a prayer position. Neither one of them answer. Silence fills the room. You sigh and get up. "You know what, I'll just tell him. Mycroft will react however he chooses," you say. "Wait!" Sherlock says, getting up.

He embraces you awkwardly. "If Mycroft ends up being himself, come to me. John and I can help you," Sherlock says. You smile slightly, awkwardly wrapping an arm around him. "Thank you, Sherlock. I will be here if it comes to that," you say.

Sherlock releases you from his hug. You put your coat on and head to the door. "If Mycroft doesn't react in a nice way, I'll be back. Until then, goodbye," you say, leaving the flat.

++++++++++

You hear the door close, signalling the arrival of your husband. You don't look up from your book, but you do smile slightly. "Hello, dear. How was work?" you ask, turning a page. "Dulling. I believe that my IQ went down a few points," Mycroft says, sitting in his chair. You hum in content.

You close your book and get up from your seat, causing Mycroft to pay attention to your movements. You go to the coat rack and take the box out of your coat. You hand it to Mycroft and sit down in front of him. Mycroft raises an eyebrow, but opens the box.

He doesn't express any emotion, but replaces the lid on the box. You bite your bottom lip, wondering what's going on in his mind. He gets up from his chair and goes upstairs, into his office. You sigh, knowing that Mycroft simply needs time. So, you reopen your book and continue reading where you left off.

His office door closes.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mycroft has been in his office for two hours. He hasn't come out once. By now, you've made dinner and sat down at the table. You put your head in your hands, sighing.

Being the nice and loving wife that you are, you take both plates to Mycroft's office. You gently knock the door, balancing two plates on one arm. You hear Mycroft's "Come in," and open the door.

"I brought your dinner," you say. He moves a pile of paperwork over to clear a place for his plate. You place his plate in the spot clear of paperwork. "Thank you, dear," he says quietly. You nod, although he can't see you, and turn around to leave.

"So, I'm going to be a father," Mycroft states, causing you to turn around. "Yes. I understand if you would like for me to get rid of the child. I mean, you may not be able to part from your work long enough to raise him or her," you say, heart breaking at the the thought.

Mycroft stills his writing and looks at you: the way your eyes are on the verge of releasing tears, the way your bottom lip is trembling, then looking at your worried gaze, and seeing a heart shattering in two at the words that you allowed to leave your lips.

Mycroft turns back to his writing. "Actually, I would like to keep it," he says, surprising you. You actually do cry, but silently. Mycroft looks back to you. By now, you've placed one hand over a smile, the other holding your plate. He stands and carefully embraces you.

"Don't worry, (Y/N). This is our offspring. Half of me, half of you. I'm not going to get rid of half of us," he says. You remove your hand from your mouth and put it behind Mycroft's head. You bring his lips to yours and press them together.

Mycroft places a hand on your abdomen, not breaking the kiss. By this gesture, you know that Mycroft will be a wonderful father. No matter what.