Beautifully Stormy Skies (Johnlock mpreg)

Chapter 17

One month later...

Sherlock heard his husband knock on the locked bathroom door while he dry-heaved into the porcelain bowl.

"Sherlock? Love, are you alright in there?" John asked from the other side of the door. The detective weakly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Standing up and holding the sides of the sink while he looked at himself in the mirror. He was pale from the strain of the vomiting but he was fuller in the face. Sherlock realized what this might mean.

Hands shaking, he scrambled to open the mirror and take out the box that held one last pregnancy test.

"Sherlock, can you open the door for me? Are you alright?" John tried to twist the knob but no prevail.

"Leave me alone John! I'm....I'm busy! Go away!" Sherlock demanded. He heard his husband sigh before stepping away and going God knows where in the flat as his footsteps faded off.

The detective sighed a tired sigh, knowing this will change everything. Again. Even with Joan. He opened the test and sat on the loo.

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Every minute that passed felt like an hour. He steepled his hands under his chin, pacing the floor as the test sat on the edge of the sink. Mocking him with the possibility of being pregnant again.

The time required had passed. But the detective didn't dare look at the test. It scared him to see how his future would turn out. He already saw his future planned out with his loving husband and beautiful daughter and that was it. He didn't need any other interferences. He had what he was granted and loved every minute of it.

But now the possibility of another path in his life was sitting right in front of him; the results of the pregnancy test. How could just one or two lines make someone so relieved or angry or even sad? If baffled the detective.

C'mon Sherlock, just flip the damn thing over. There's nothing to it. A simple flick of the wrist is all it needs. He thought to himself. Being alone does strange things to his thought process and it was pretty self-explanatory. Sherlock knew John was getting suspicious, hearing his footsteps pace back and forth just on the other side of the door. But they were faded, more thumps than actual foot steps.

He's trying to tiptoe around, though that would sound more like actual steps. He must be wearing socks by the sound his feet make-oh for God's sake Sherlock! He mentally yelled to himself before flipping the test over in spite to his own thoughts. A wave of relieved anger washed over him.

He looked at himself in the mirror, eyes as stunned as he was while they were blown wide with the test still in hand.

Another bang on the door by John startled the detective as he dropped the test on the floor. Scrambling to pick it back up, he heard the usual words of concern come from the army doctor again. "Sherlock! What the hell is going on there?!" John yelled.

"Nothing! Nothing is going on! Just...I'll...I'll be right out!" Sherlock stuttered, finally grabbing hold of the test and burying it in the trash along with the box. He gave a sigh of relief, straightening himself up and leaving the bathroom but not before being stopped by John. A look of anger and annoyance written across every inch of his face.

"What the hell were you doing in there?! I thought I heard you throwing up! You had me scared half to death!" John worried. Though it sounded more like nagging to the detective, rolling his eyes before brushing passed his blogger with a fake smirk to go sit in the sitting room.

"I'm fine John. It was, uh, just something I ate earlier and it didn't sit with me well. That's all. I promise." Sherlock lied. But he couldn't tell John quite yet, still trying to wrap his mind around it. John raised an eyebrow, wondering why his husband was acting so strange.