Sherlock Imagines

Pregnant🤰🏻Greg

Prompt- You're about to tell Greg you're pregnant, but Sherlock does it for you. Btw, Sherlock is your brother.

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You hear the door open, handle clicking as the door is closed. Footsteps sound on the stairwell. You smile to yourself, joy radiating off of you in waves. The door sounds again, signalling someone else's entrance.

You scrunch your eyebrows together, wondering who could possibly be entering your home after Greg.

A figure appears in the doorway to your sitting room. You look up from the telly, smiling. Greg enters the room, donning a wide grin.

"Hello, love. How was work?" you ask, making small-talk. Greg gives you a peck on the cheek, before pulling his coat off.

Another figure enters the doorway, taking in the scene. You notice Sherlock hovering, and bid him to sit down.

Sherlock analyses the scene around him, studying you, Greg, and the room. He smiles slightly, taking a seat across from you. You roll your eyes at the antics of your brother. Greg gives him a confused glance, before turning back to you and smiling.

"How was your day," he asks. You shrug.

"Well, there was one teeny detail to it that made my day. Other than that, my day's not been eventful," you say. Sherlock smirks. He knows exactly what's going on.

You dismiss his smirk.

"So, why did Curly-cue follow you home," you inquire. Greg sighs, plopping down on the sofa.

"Can I not see my dear sister and her unborn child," Sherlock questions, giving you a shit-eating grin.

"I was going to tell him! Sherlock! You ruined it!" you exclaim. Greg looks as if he's spotted a ghost.

"You're pregnant," Greg asks, eyes wide and a faint smile gracing his lips. You sigh, disappointed with Sherlock.

"Yes! I was about to tell you, but it seems my dearest, most wonderful brother had to do it first," you say. You cross your arms, pouting in the way only Holmes' do.

Greg grins widely, placing his hands on your cheeks.

"You really are pregnant," Greg states. He gives you a peck on the lips, then places his right hand on your stomach.

"Our little baby is in there," he says, gently rubbing your still flat tummy.

"Well yes. It's not in her arse," Sherlock retorts. You give him a look.

"Does Uncle Sherlock want to put a hand on my tummy," you ask, smirking. Sherlock frowns, an expression equivalent to that of a deer in headlights on his face.

"Oh look at the time! John must be home by now. I would love to stay and chat, but....ehrm....bye." Sherlock leaves.

You laugh, leaning into Greg. He smiles fondly at you. Greg places a chaste kiss upon your lips. When he pulls away, he leans toward your belly.

"I'm your dad, little one. I don't know whether you're male or female, or if you can hear me yet, but I love you. Your mum loves you too," he says.

You smile fondly as Greg lifts your shirt up just enough to expose your belly, and he gives it a small kiss.

"You are going to be a wonderful father," you say. Greg pulls your shirt back down. He smiles fondly, like before, and presses his forehead to yours.

"And you will be the best mum," he says. He taps your nose.

"What do you say we order dinner, love..."