When he saw John he stopped to growl, “Where have you been?”
John ignored him, his eyes locked on you, and his heart broke when he noticed the tear streaks that still marked your cheeks. He realized then that he’d left without saying anything, a terrible mistake on his part, and that you had probably thought he didn’t want it or that he was mad or something equally horrible.
Sherlock stepped in front of him, to block his view of you and loom over him menacingly. John stuttered, “I-I went to…” he trailed off worriedly, leaning to get a look at you as he held up the bag from the pharmacy, “get this.”
Sherlock’s eyes flicked between John and the bag a couple of times before he calmed slightly and snatched it from him as he spun.
Mycroft started to protest, “Leave her be. I’ve only just calmed her enough for her to sleep. It can wait.”
Ignoring him Sherlock dropped to his knees beside you and poked you gently before bluntly stating, “Key wake up. You need to pee on this stick.”
You bolted up with a gasp, choking on your own spit slightly, and fell into a fit of coughing.
“I only spoke the truth, blame it for being crass.”
You grabbed the bag and left your brothers to argue without even sparing a glance toward John, who was glued to his spot by the door.
“She’s angry…” John stated after you slammed the bathroom door.
Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh and then flung, “What ever gave you that idea John?” at him sarcastically.
The clock ticked loudly while they waited for you, Mycroft and Sherlock glaring angrily at John who still hadn’t moved, both out of fear and of not knowing what exactly he would do if he did.
After what seemed like an eternity, you flung open the door and hurled, what they soon found to be, the pregnancy test at John, hitting him in the chest before slamming the door again and locking it with finalizing click.
Mycroft sighed, running a hand over his face, “She’s crying again. I told you we should have just let her be for a bit.”
“That would have only been delaying the inevitable.” Sherlock mumbled, eyes on what you had thrown as John bent to carefully scoop it from the floor.
He stared at it in disbelief for a minute before announcing in a voice barely above a whisper, “It’s positive.”
No one said a word, while they had all pretty much known that would be the case this was much more final.
John made to move toward the bathroom but Sherlock stepped to block his path, glaring down at him angrily, allowing Mycroft to go knock on the door instead, “Kheiland please come out.”
“My dear we have things to discuss. You aren’t alone in this. Please?”
Still no answer.
John pushed past Sherlock and gave Mycroft a little shove out of the way before laying his own soft knock on the abused door, “(sF/n) it’s me. Would you please-“
You opened the door, quickly grabbed the front of his jumper, and yanked him in with you before shutting the door again.
He looked at you, unsure of what to say that wouldn’t just make it worse, so he settled with the obvious, “I’m sorry for leaving earlier.” You studied the tiling of the floor, tears still rolling down your cheeks, and said nothing.
John just wanted to make it better somehow, continuing, “This isn’t necessarily a bad thing… I love you (F/n) and being a father will be fun. If you want to keep it that is… I mean I’d like you to keep it but I’ll go with whatever-“
“You want it? I mean you're not going to leave me or-“
He enveloped you in a warm hug, kissing the top of your head, “Of course I do. It’s my child. Our child. Equal bits of you and me all wrapped up in one wondrous little being. I love you more than anything (F/n) and I’ll love our baby just as much, besides I think your brothers would kill me and get away with it if I said any different.”
You chuckled through the tears, “Probably,” and then pulled back to press your lips against his. John reciprocated, one of his hands sliding to cradle your head as he returned the kiss fiercely.
When you surfaced for air, you were beaming and, nuzzling into his chest, you stated, “You are going to make a fantastic father Watson.”