Beautifully Stormy Skies (Johnlock mpreg)

Chapter 11

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John asked in his usual sleepy husk of a voice, seeing his husband crawl out of bed with one hand on the edge of the bed and the other under his belly.

Sherlock passed the 9 month mark almost 2 weeks ago and was ready to go into labor at any moment. As both men decided Sherlock would have a natural home birth, it was just a matter of waiting for when he would be ready.

"Yeah, just going to relief myself. I'll be alright." He answered back, hauling himself and the overdue child off the bed and into the restroom. Sherlock could barely get to the toilet before white-knuckling the corner of the sink and baring down with a short contraction.

"John!" The detective could barely get out his blogger's name before the contraction hit a bit harder and cut off the voice before it left his throat. John came running to his side as he held his arm and tried to lift him from the bent-over position.

"Contractions?" John asked as Sherlock nodded his head, his overgrown curls bouncing against his already clammy forehead. John pursed his lips then gave a quick peck to Sherlock's cheekbone.

"It's alright love, let's get you comfortable. We've been waiting for this for a while now. Let me go call Mrs. Hudson." John helped his husband to his feet as he led him back to the bedroom, pulling out his phone and dialing their landlady's number as he told her the situation and practically heard her scream through the phone. Sherlock chuckled.

"Somebody seems excited about my pain." The detective added as he was helped back into the bed and surrounded with fluffy blankets and pillows as heating pads were being placed across his lower back as well.

"She's on her way now, boarding the next train to London. Is this good?" John asked, stuffing another heating pad under his back and a pillow under his knees. Sherlock nodded as he sat himself up a bit more in bed as he sighed in relief at the warmth on his aching back. "Yes, that'll do just fine. What time is it?" He asked. John looked to the alarm clock on his nightstand. "Almost 6 A.M. You want a cuppa?"

"That'll be wonderful, thank you." Sherlock wearily smiled of the early hours and his tired body as he took John's hand in his and gave a soothing rub with the pad of his thumb to John's palm. The blogger smiled as he got up and went into the kitchen to start the kettle. Sherlock leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes for a moment before setting his hand to his stomach and rubbing it contently.

"Oh baby girl, of all the days you choose to come. You choose Valentine's Day. Let's just hope you don't change my mind." Sherlock whispered through the lighting up of the darkness as another short yet equally painful contraction rippled through his lower half and he let out a small whimper.

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John yelled from the kitchen as the scream from the kettle started to fill the silence with its usual song.

"I'm fine. Just another...contraction." The laboring detective forced from his throat as his urge to push was becoming increasingly obvious. But he only knew it would get worse from here, he's just forgotten how much it hurts and how much it will hurt in the hours to come. Just as fast as the contraction came, it stopped as he breathed in relief and sat back against the headboard again. His hand never leaving his belly.

Shortly after, John entered back into view of the detective with a cup of Sherlock's favorite tea in hand. He gave a somber smile, seeing the laboring form of his husband writhing in bed for some kind of numb relief from his on-again-off-again-and-getting-worse pains, as he joined him bedside and handed him his cuppa. With shaky hands, he took the cup and brought it to his lips as he drank the warm and almost hot liquid as it slid down his throat and brought relief to his aching muscles.