Sherlock glanced up and she was smiling that little cheeky smile of hers. The one that made her look like she knew every secret in the universe and he knew absolutely nothing. She was trying to murder him. Cause of death: love and cuteness.
"I'm telling you, the agency they were sending in just kept getting worse. I had no idea where they were getting them, the week before I went on maternity leave this bloke–" She paused while Mary said something that made her lips twist into a half smile half grimace. "Oh, she was an idiot, but wait until I tell you about this one, they were scrabbling around to find me a replacement and–" Mary was speaking again and Sherlock heard her cackle through the phone. "Exactly! Anyway, this bloke. Such a creep. Stevo– yeah, I know, right?– spent the entirety of his first morning staring at my tits like he was trying to make eye contact with them and assert his dominance or something. You'd think the fact I'm very obviously pregnant would put him off, but clearly not."
'Pregnant with my child' Sherlock thought, a mildly possessive feeling creeping in.
His own eyes drifted downward, her braless breasts bouncing a fraction under her t-shirt when she laughed.
Evelyn did eventually find a way to sort out the issues at work and arranged the appropriate cover while she was off, but if she hadn't he was more than willing to arrange for that dunce Stevo to accidentally fall down some stairs or something else equally violent and debilitating. That, he'd decided, would not have been a hardship.
Eve snapped her fingers in front of her chest to get his attention, then gestured rather pointedly to her eyes while narrowing them. 'They're up here' she conveyed without uttering a syllable.
Shit. She'd caught him looking. And rather than being, best case scenario, ready to throw the phone down and whip her t-shirt over her head to let him have a go at them, she just looked annoyed.
She snorted amusedly at something Mary said and he relaxed, hoping he was out of danger. "Alright– Yeah... Yeah. See you tomorrow, bye."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her when she sunk into the sofa next to him. It took all his strength not to watch her breasts move as she did, as if thinking about her naked form didn't already take up a significant amount of his time anyway. "What's happening tomorrow?"
"Hm? Oh, lunch date."
"One of those..." He wiggled his hand in the air. "Girls days or something?"
Eve frowned. "Not really, but you won't be here so..." She trailed off at the confused look on his face. "I thought you were going to Cambridge in the morning for that blackmail case?"
"Yeesss..." he tipped his head, thinking. "Forgot about that."
Evelyn pulled her knees up underneath her and scooted closer to him. "When you boys go off god knows where we usually go out, I suggested a museum but Mary vetoed that for brunch instead. Did you think I was going to abandon you for Mary without a word?"
Sherlock went to protest vehemently, but the smile on her face made him realise she was teasing. "Minx."
"Can I make it up to you?" She tickled her fingertips down his cheek bone. "I could let you stare at my boobs if it makes you feel better."
The tips of his ears were burning pink. "Ah. Yes, I was admiring them." She bit into her lip and Sherlock felt like his heart might actually explode in his chest. "We can go to a museum, if you like. Had one in mind?"
Her eyes brightened at him. "Really? The Science Museum has an event on this month for medicine through the ages, it even has a model breakdown of the nervous system! I thought it would be– Ah. I see why Mary maybe wasn't interested."
"But I am," Sherlock doesn't know how she does it, but everyday Evelyn makes him fall more and more in love with her. The mental visual of walking hand in hand with his pregnant wife around a medical exhibition made him realise once again that she truly was perfect for him. "I'd enjoy taking you. I'm interested to see how accurate the model is."
"They have a display of microscopes!" She said excitedly. "All the way back to the first ever one, and an interactive poisons unit. In fairness, I've had enough poisons in one lifetime, but still fascinating!"
"Dinner?" He blurted it out before he could stop himself. She looked so beautiful and animated he wanted to snog her senseless, but decided on a gentlemanly route.
She narrowed her eyes. "Is that a euphemism?"
"No. I thought we could go to Angelo's, have a meal, just us." He pressed his palm against her belly. "We've been so caught up in the baby and getting ourselves organised I thought it would be nice to try getting in some time for us. We can do the museum tomorrow, but dinner tonight?"
"Like the last supper."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's a baby, not a death sentence."
She giggled, tracing the shell of his ear. "Angelo's would be lovely."
"Good. Great. Please stop touching me like that or we won't get anywhere–"
"Ooh!" Evelyn grabbed his hand, moving it to the top of her stomach, wide eyed. "Feel that?"
A slow smile was spreading over Sherlock's face. "They're really– Oh." He laughed, shifting on the sofa so his head was closer to her middle. "Careful, you don't want to bruise your mummy." He looked up to meet Eve's gaze with eyes full of wonder. "What does it feel like?"
"It's hard to explain... It's sort of like a slow swirling sensation. Sometimes it can be a bit uncomfortable compared to before, not much room in there now." She grinned down at her bump that wasn't really a bump anymore. "They move around a lot, usually feels like they're stretching out, but it's not always this forceful. I like it when you can feel them."
"Me too." The baby kicks out again. "Hello, it's your dad here. I'm taking your mother out for dinner tonight, you'll probably get to enjoy a nice fettuccine al burro con pollo with her. That's her favourite."
Eve hums, twisting his curls around her finger. "Daddy knows me very well."
"Could even share a slice of lemon polenta cake if you like."
She huffed. "I'd rather have affogato. Once this baby is out I'm going to consume coffee like I've been on a desert island."
Sherlock chuckled, pressing a kiss to the bump. "See what Mummy has given up for you?"
"Worth it though."
The grin on both their faces was enough to light up the room. Definitely worth it.
———
Evelyn grabbed her shoe, stretched down and attempted to hook it on the end of her foot. She dropped it. "How the hell–"
"You ready–? Ah." Sherlock looked at the difficult position his wife had gotten herself into. "Why didn't you shout for me?" He crossed the room, kneeling to the floor and picking up the trainer. "Let me."
She sighed. "I wanted to do it myself."
He held the back of her foot, pulling the laces loose. "Stop being so stubborn," he slipped the shoe on, tugging the back up, then settled her foot on his thigh to tighten the laces. "I want to help."
"Sherlock..." He looked up at her, concern filling his eyes at the pained expression on her face. "We might need to reschedule our dinner plans."
Sherlock glanced at the leg he'd pulled up to tie her laces. A trickle of liquid was running down her thigh as it breached her shorts, and she was now sitting in a puddle. "Your waters have broken."
"MmHm," her grip on the arm of the chair was so tight her knuckles went white. "Think the sofa cushions need a wipe down now."
"Don't worry about that. Contraction?" She nod. Sherlock eased her one shoe clad foot to the floor. "Okay. Okay, what do you want me to do?" He instinctively offered his open palm towards her and she took it firmly, resting their hands on top of her stomach. Sherlock looked at their intertwined fingers with a lump in his throat. "Three weeks early," he murmured. "Are you okay?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and nod. "Three weeks isn't uncommon," she said. "Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking."
"You are, I can hear it in your voice." She let go of a long breath. "Can you call Mary? Just to have her on stand by."
"I'll do that. Anything else?"
"Clean pants would be good, and a pair of jogging bottoms or something? God, it's too hot in London for this... I dunno, a towel, too, maybe." Her eyes opened and the expression on her husband's face made her laugh softly. "I'm alright, hun, honest."
"Should I call the hospital?"
She shook her head. "Not yet, let me get cleaned up and we'll see what the contractions are like. I don't want to get all the way there just for them to send us home, and I'd much rather do as much of this as possible in my own comforts. It's our first baby so this could be a long wait yet," she shrugged half heartedly. "I've been having twinges but I thought it was Braxton-Hicks..."
"You never said anything."
"Didn't think it was anything serious. You worry enough already."
"Evie, it's my job to worry." He kissed her forehead. "Would you like me to help you out of your shorts?"
"Hm. Please." She attempted to use his shoulders to push herself up. "Maybe we can still go to Angelo's? I am hungry."
Sherlock laughed, taking grip and moving her arms to settle around his neck, helping her stand. "Might be better to get Mary to stop by on her way over. I'm sure she won't mind."
Embarrassingly, Eve felt herself tearing up. "I'm sorry our date has been ruined."
"Evie–"
"You were being so sweet, it was such a lovely idea, and now I'm in going into labour!"
"Evie." Sherlock tried again, firmer. "Look at me." She met his eyes, her lips quivering, cheeks rosey from frustration. "You had no control over this. We have the rest of our lives for dates, right now our child has decided they want to meet us a bit early, and I'd like to focus on looking after you." He touched her cheek. "I'm going to help you out of your bottoms, settle you in my chair, and make myself useful. I will get you clean clothes, call your best friend to bring us dinner, and then we'll time your contractions." Sherlock surprised himself by how much he sounded like he had it together, because inside his mind was a bunch of red flashing lights and loud alarm bells going off.
It seemed to soothe Evelyn though, and that was the main thing. "Okay," she hiccuped. "Thank you."
He kissed her quickly. "You've got this. You're brilliant."
A little over six hours later, nearing midnight, Evelyn was still pacing up and down the length of their living room. She'd managed to eat the majority of her dinner, thanks to John and Mary collecting it, occasionally picking at the remaining pasta on the kitchen side. John had gone home with Rosie at nine thirty after the contractions had started to pick up more violently, noting that the last thing Eve needed was a one and half year old constantly clawing at her leg while suffering immeasurable pain. Mary stayed under the impression it was for Evelyn, but it was just as much for Sherlock, who went through stages of calm to hysteria. He was remarkably out of his depth, poor thing.
That was the current stage, back to hysteria, pulling at his hair while counting the contents of their hospital bag.
"Have you lost your mind?" Mary hissed.
"Not recently. I don't think. Have I?"
Evelyn laughed so loudly at that it made them both jump. "Sherlock, the bag is fine, put it all back." She sipped on her water, her face screwing up in a grimace as she felt another contraction coming. Her hand flailed aimlessly. "Sherlock."
"Here," he flew across the room, grabbing her arm, smoothing his palms over her soft skin before lacing their fingers together. "I'm here."
She dropped the glass on the table inelegantly, desperate to have both her hands on him. "Shit... Shit. Ow." Her breath caught as the pain became sharp, twisting into him further. "This one hurts."
Mary was repacking the bag, watching them carefully. "They all hurt, Evie, don't downplay it. Does it feel different?"
"Yea–" Eve gasped, gabbing hold of her husband's shirt tightly. "Fuck me."
"That's what got you into this mess." Mary snorted at her own joke, catching the glare sent her way from the curly haired detective. "Am I wrong?"
Sherlock ignored their friend, despite the breathy giggle that escaped from his wife. "Just focus on me and try to breathe."
"I'm trying."
"Should I keep talking? Would that help? Distract you maybe?" She nod. He kissed her head. "You're magnificent, you've been doing beautifully, my love, but I think we should head to the hospital now. You're becoming incredibly exhausted and I can't pretend it's not scaring me, because it is, I'm bloody terrified. I want us to be in the best place for your health. The contractions are getting closer together and if the pain is changing then it's time to go."
"Okay," she sighed. "It's easing. Should probably go now while I can actually walk properly."
Mary was stood with the car key in hand and the repacked hospital bag over her shoulder. "Ready when you are. I'll drive."
Eve scoffed, leaning into Sherlock for support. "You just want to have a go in Sherlock's pride and joy."
She grinned. "Little bit."
He gaped. "It is not my pride and joy."
"Wait. Did we fit the carseat?"
"Yes," Sherlock said. "That thing isn't going anywhere. It's safe and secure, Mycroft even checked it over."
"Right. I need... I need shoes." Mary, apparently still one step ahead, pulled a pair of trainers from behind her and handed them over to Sherlock. Eve laughed. "Anything I've not thought of, Mary?"
"I think you're good. I'll make sure you're settled then head home, but I'll be on stand by if you need anything, I'll keep my phone on."
Sherlock was lifting each foot and sliding them into her shoes, tugging and tying the laces slightly looser than usual so she could kick them off fairly easily once in the hospital. "Thank you, Watson, you're a blessing."
"If you're still labouring in the morning I'll come see if you need anything. Make sure you let me know if you're nearing the end so I can haul John out of bed and get down to the maternity ward, I'm not missing this for the world!"
"Of course, I'll keep you updated." Sherlock looked up at his wife, eyes filled with trepidation and excitement. "You ready to go have a baby?"
Evelyn smiled nervously. "Let's go have a baby."