Expectant Moments- Reader x BBC Watson- Part 3

You flopped on the couch, feeling a lot like a breaching whale, and exhaled upwards forcefully to remove the hair from your face. It had been a bit over three months since you had found out you were two months pregnant, putting you at nearly six months along. You had only started to show about a month ago but since then you’d ballooned up to a size that you compared to a small planet.

December had crept up on you without you even realizing, awaking one day to a smattering of snow on the buildings outside. It was snowing now as you sat, confined to the flat, because both Sherlock and John insisted you shouldn’t be running around, much less in the snow.

You had accepted that there was no way you were going to worm your way out of that fate, instead resigning yourself to thoroughly cleaning the flat while they were gone, a task that had left you exhausted. You had just relaxed into the couch and were slipping into a much-needed nap when the little being inside you chose to make itself known.

You sighed, “Seriously? First thing I’m going to do is sign you up for football.”

This had been going on for the past few days. You hadn’t told anyone yet but the baby had started kicking and shortly after it started it seemed to fall into a sort of schedule… and that schedule was every time mom laid down to sleep or rest baby started a round of belly kick boxing. You groaned and tried to ignore it, throwing an arm over your eyes, when the door suddenly flew open.

John and Sherlock were bickering as they came in and pulled off their snow-covered coats but stopped abruptly when they noticed you on the couch.

“(F/N) is something wrong? Are you feeling well? Is it-“ You waved an arm to halt John’s mini panic session, “I’m fine John. Just tired.”

Sherlock looked around, it had been a proper mess when they left-papers, books and dishes everywhere- and now not a single thing was out of place, “You cleaned.”

John let his focus wander from you to his surroundings and then sort of gaped before turning back to you to scold, “You’re supposed to be taking it easy, not taxing yourself by cleaning our mess.”

You didn’t respond, blocking out the rest of whatever lecture you were surely receiving in an attempt to nap again and again a little foot smacked you, causing you to let out a little growl.

John didn’t notice, continuing to pace and rant, but Sherlock did, coming to lift your legs and sit underneath them before letting them slide into his lap. You opened your eyes to look at him and found his blue-green eyes searching yours questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

You let your eyes flick down to the little mountain that was your stomach and then back up to him, communicating with him wordlessly. He hesitantly placed one of his long elegant hands on it just in time to feel one of the more forceful kicks and then quickly pulled away, eyes wide.

You closed your eyes again, letting out a long frustrated and tired sigh, and you felt Sherlock's hand go back to your stomach.

“How long has it been doing that?” Sherlock asked quietly, not wanting to draw John’s attention.

You put your arm over your eyes again, feeling a headache coming on, and in an equally quiet voice responded, “Since I laid down. It has been happening every time I try to rest since about a week ago.”

You sat in silence again and you felt yourself starting to drift off, happily relaxing into the darkness that approached as the baby’s kicks slowed and softened. You were jarred out of it when, as if on cue, it’s little feet picked up their pace and determination, pounding on your insides like there was no tomorrow.

You groaned loudly, entirely fed up with this cycle of events, causing John to stop and look at you, confused. Sherlock had been observing you the entire time and placed his hand on your stomach again, surprising you when he addressed it in a soft but firm voice, “Little Watson your mother is very tired and would appreciate it very much if you would cease your activity so that she may sleep.”

The baby actually did as he asked, very abruptly stopping its bombardment of the inner wall of your belly, and you let out a sigh of relief, “I don’t know how that worked but thank you Sherly.”

John was staring at the two of you, still entirely confused, “What activity?”

You exhaled slowly, “The reason I’ve been so tired is because every time I try to sleep your child decides that it’s time to practice karate. It seems it’s quite good at it too.”

John grinned widely then, bouncing over to kneel beside you and place a hand on your stomach, “It’s kicking?”

“Not anymore. Thanks to Sherlock… maybe I can finally get some sleep now.”

John looked at you, noticing the indicators of fatigue in your face that he hadn’t before, but was still disappointed.

You knew he was and felt bad enough to offer, “Little one you have my permission to continue your activities.”

Sure enough, as soon as you said it the kicking started again. You tried to stifle a groan rather unsuccessfully as John beamed, laughing happily as the baby kicked at his hand.

“You are so lucky I love you. That was the first time it’s left me alone in a week.” You grumbled and that caught his attention.

“A week? You haven’t slept well in a week?”

You nodded and he looked back at your stomach frowning before laying a hand on it, “Please stop baby. You’re running your mother ragged.”

Nothing changed and you chuckled, “It’s already stopped listening to you John. What are we going to do when it’s a teenager?”

He frowned at your stomach again, displeased that it was causing you distress, and Sherlock placed his hand gently at its highest point, smirking slightly, “That’s quite enough Little Watson. Your father has had his fill.”

The kicking stopped almost instantaneously again and he grinned proudly, “It looks as if your child likes me more than you John.”

John let out an exasperated sigh and began arguing with him over whom the unborn child loved, and would love, more but you hardly heard any of it, drifting off into the first restful sleep you’d had in a long time.