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Mycroft oneshot - a tragedy

"Of course."

As he left the room, you placed both hands firmly on your bump. Something was wrong... you could feel it...

---------- 3 days later ----------

John had barely left your side since Mycroft departed for Russia. You hadn't heard from your husband so you could tell he was extremely busy. As you perched on the end of your bed, you tilted your head to take in the evening view. The pinkish clouds where whipped up like clumps of wool and the copper sun was barely visible from behind the houses. You placed your hands behind you and leaned back slightly on the bed, inhailing deeply and shutting your eyes. Suddenly, you experienced a stab of pain in your stomach...

"Agh.." you coughed, leaning forward. The pain intensified... "Aghh! God!" You stood up and tried to walk to the door but your legs weakened and buckled under your weight...

"JOHN!! SOMETHINGS WRONG WITH THE BABY!!!"

---------- in the hospital ----------

The speed in which John had come to your aid was remarkable. Remarkable but futile.

Your body felt paralyzed in a cold sweat in the white sheets of your hospital bed. Your hands juddered uncontrollably and tears were pouring from your eyes. You couldn't stop it. Two hours of painful contractions and pushing... a stillborn son lay in your arms. Time of death, technically 8:17pm but who knows how long the mass was sitting lifeless inside you... You felt his cold little body up against yours. He was tiny. Barely recognisable as a child... little Pierot...

John sat by your side on a metal chair. His head was resting in his hands; he was traumatized.

"Mycroft called..." he whispered, "i told him what happened, he will be here soon..."

You shut your eyes, allowing the darkness to consume you. The towel in your arms held pain itself... slowly, a nurse entered the room.

"Ma'am... would you like me to take them back?..." she spoke softly and professionally. She had probably seen this a thousand times or more. Still, it never gets any easier.

"No..." you murmured, "my husband's coming... he deserves a chance to meet his son..."

She nodded her head respectfully and left. Leaving you and john in silence.

Through the silence, you heard footsteps approaching. They clipped against the laminated floors, filled with fear and sorrow. Mycroft soon pushed open the door.

The moment he laid eyes on little Pierot, he broke down. John quickly excused himself, leaving you alone. Mycroft collapsed to his knees by your side and began to cry until ugly, detached sobs distorted his breathing and he let out an anguished cry. A cry so filled with sorrow that hell could have frozen over...

"Mycroft..." you whispered, tears still clawing all over your exhausted face.

"(Y/n)... i should never have left... I'm, I-I'm so sorry..." he produced an oaky groaning noise from the bottom of his lungs. He was distraught...

"Mycroft." You stated firmly, "don't you dare blame this on yourself! You take the blame for a lot of things that arent your doing but this is too far... there was nothing either of us could do... i'm sorry..."

Mycroft's face was damp and red with tears... he bent over you, kissing your cold, shaky lips and cupping your face in his hands.

"(Y/n)... can I... c-can I... hold him?..."
Mycroft uttered, barely audibly through the ebbing tears.

You looked up into his eyes, nodding solemly as you passed him the near weightless bundle. Mycroft nearly lost controll again. His spasmodic diaphragm pulsated irregularly betwixt his ribs, causing his whole body to shake. He spoke as if he and Pierrot were the only two things on earth...

"Hello little man... I- I... why did you have to go?... we could have made you so happy... you could have made us so happy... why?... whh..w- w-why...?"

Tears once again streamed down his face as he handed the towel back.

You called for the nurse...

It was over...

---------- 2 years later ----------

"PUSH! Keep going! You're doing great!" The nurse encouraged as you strained for the last time... as you finally relaxed, you heard the best sound in the world... a cry, then two, then three. The baby was crying. That meant she was alive...

Mycroft leant down and hugged you excitedly

"Congratulations mummy... you've done it!"

You cried out in an immense weep of joy as the nurse passed you a small bundle... 7 pounds 2 ounces. Her hot little body pressed aginst your chest felt exactly as you imagined it would and you smiled through the tears at Mycroft who was resting his hand on your weak shoulder. He sighed with relief before speaking:

"Well baby Elizabeth... welcome to the family.."
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