Seven months later
I was sitting in my flat when the doorbell rang. I heaved myself off the couch, my stomach swollen with human life. I made my way down the stairs, and when I answered the door, I just about vomited.
“Hello, John.” I said sourly. I hadn’t been talking to anyone close to Sherlock except for Della Freeman, my best friend. He smiled.
“Hello, Elizabeth. I was just wondering if you’d like to come over for tea tomorrow.”
I rolled my eyes. John had been coming by every other day for the past seven months to ask me to tea. He claimed it was because he hadn’t seen Sherlock this depressed since he first met him, but it was probably just because he liked when Sherlock was out with me all day and he got to stay home all day.
“Sorry, but I have plans. I have a doctors appointment.” I nodded towards my abdomen.
“Oh, well, see you later then.” He waved and walked back towards the taxi that was waiting for him. I closed the door and lumbered up the stairs. I turned the TV back on and got settled for an afternoon of watching cooking shows and eating ice cream. A couple of my friends had come by in the last few of weeks to see how I was doing. They told me I needed to get out more, but it had gotten really hard to do that after my baby bump grew larger. Now I practically spent my days in front of the TV. My mum came over every once in a while to go shopping and make dinner for me. Sometimes she gave me tips on how to care for a baby. They sounded useful. Maybe I would use them. Most of the time that I didn’t occupy with TV was spent coming up with baby names. Herald, Hillary, Andy, Annie. I had a full two pages of girl names and two pages of boy names. A couple of days before Valentines Day, I was sitting at my dining room table making valentines for my friends at work when something happened.
My water broke.