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At nine months you were entirely fed up with being pregnant, you couldn’t get up on your own, you had actually lost weight since the baby refused to let you eat anything, and you had to pee like every five minutes.
You sat in John’s chair cross-legged, with a cup of tea balanced on top of your round belly, in an entirely horrible mood. You couldn’t even get up from where you were because John and Sherlock had gone out on some case a couple of hours ago and likely wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, not to mention your phone was across the room.
You briefly considered yelling to see if Mrs. Hudson would hear you when there was a familiar knock on the door.
“Oh thank god.” You grumbled, before yelling, “Come in. It’s open.” The door swung open and Mycroft popped his head around it, you didn’t bother to try and look at him, at this angle, in your state, it was impossible. You just called, “You have the most impeccable timing. Get over here and help me up would you?”
He chuckled and came to do as you asked, grabbing both of your hands to pull you out of the chair and into a warm hug. You returned it gratefully, “Thank you Mysie.”
“How are you my dear?” He asked, planting his usual kiss on top of your head.
“Well, other than having been stuck in that chair for two hours and being a nine month pregnant whale, Fantastic.” You knew your brother didn’t appreciate your sarcasm but you were beyond caring, he simply frowned as you stretched your sore muscles, “John and Sherlock left you alone?”
You shuffled toward the kitchen, “They have a case. Some murder. John said it would likely be another few days before anything happens so they went. Would you like some tea or something?”
Mycroft followed you, “Thank you, but no. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself over me.”
You shrugged, putting the kettle on for yourself. Miraculously, tea was one of the few things that didn’t make you sick.
“Have you and John decided on a name?” Mycroft asked curiously, leaning against the counter.
“Not really,” you said, pausing for a moment to think about that yourself, and he continued on the subject, “Will it be a Holmes or a Watson?”
You chuckled, this had been an ongoing argument in 221B. John of course wanted it to be a Watson, Sherlock insisted it be a Holmes, and you remained as neutral as possible, “That is still to be determined. Sherlock insists that because it responds to him it should be a Holmes, reasoning that it is a sign of advanced intelligence. John on the other hand wants it to be a Watson as it has his blood and in hopes that it won’t develop the Holmes mentality.”
Mycroft chuckled softly, “What do you want it to be?”
“Honestly I don’t care. It makes no difference to me whether it carries our last name or John’s… maybe Holmes-Watson. What about you Mycroft? Do you have a preference?”
“Obviously I would prefer it to be a Holmes, though I rather like the sound of Holmes-Watson.”
You smiled, leaning lightly against your eldest brother’s side, “Homles-Watson. It seems rather fitting.”
The door swung open just then and you could see John panic when he noticed you weren’t where he’d left you. You called to him a little bitterly, “In here love. A heroic knight came and rescued me from that prison of a chair you left me in.”
John came to give you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’m so sorry, we got a little carried away. Thank you for coming to her aid, Mycroft.”
“Mycroft had better not be in the kitchen” came a call from the other room, and you and your brother both rolled your eyes.
“Go sit.” John demanded ushering you out.
“But-“
“Go. I’ll finish up the tea.”
You nodded gratefully and kissed him softly before going into the living room with Mycroft in tow.
Sherlock glared at his brother, “What is he doing here?”
“Can I not visit my pregnant little sister? Besides it seems I came at just the right time as you and your flatmate left her stuck in a chair.” Mycroft countered. He had been around much more often in the past months, helping you whatever way he could, and, while you appreciated your eldest brother’s presence, Sherlock did not.
Sherlock was already reaching for the nearby violin and you groaned, “Not the violin Sherly. Please.”
It was too late. He had begun to pluck at his violin in the most annoying way possible and was likely seconds away from adding the bow to create a sound comparable to nails on a chalkboard.
You exchanged a weary, entirely unamused look with Mycroft who looked back apologetically, before growling at your brother, “Sherlock. Stop.”
He continued and even looked a bit amused that it was annoying you both to no end, so you repeated it louder, “Stop Sherlock.”
Still nothing. What little patience you had evaporated and you yelled at the top of your lungs, “Sherlock I swear if you don’t quit it right now I will throw that thing out the window!”
Still nothing. You moved to make good on your threat, causing him to lean back slightly to keep away from you, when you abruptly stopped, “Sherlock…”
There was something about how you said his name, softly and with more urgency, that caused him to stop and look up at you. Your eyes were wide and a little panicked, “Sherlock I think my water just broke.”
“What?” Mycroft said from behind you.
“You heard me,” you snapped and Sherlock called for John, trying to keep his voice even. When he didn’t responded Sherlock called again louder, “John!”
From the kitchen, John couldn’t hear him the first time, and the second time he assumed that Sherlock wanted something trivial and ignored him.
By now both Sherlock and Mycroft were visibly panicking, Mycroft hovering around you not knowing if he should touch you or not and Sherlock frozen in his chair. Seeing them both respond this way sent you into a full blown panic attack of your own, your breathing began to speed up and your head spun.
Sherlock gave a final yell at the top of his lungs, “JOHN!” that caused the man to come bolting into the room, “What the bloody hell is going- (F/n)?”
He was at your side faster than ever, “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Her water broke. What should we do John? John?” Sherlock supplied, obviously freaking out.
John ignored him and Mycroft, who was nodding along with wide eyes, and cupped your face in his hands so you had to look at him and only him, “(F/n) I need you to take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm down. Ignore them. Everything is absolutely fine.”
You nodded, trying to do as he asked and after a few minutes you succeeded, John let out a relieved sigh before tugging you towards the door, “Alright good. Come on. Let’s get to the hospital.”
He scooped up the already packed hospital bag by the door, called over his shoulder to the Holmes brothers, “Once you two have calmed down you can join us. Not before then,” and shut the door behind him.
You sat in John’s chair cross-legged, with a cup of tea balanced on top of your round belly, in an entirely horrible mood. You couldn’t even get up from where you were because John and Sherlock had gone out on some case a couple of hours ago and likely wouldn’t be back for at least another hour, not to mention your phone was across the room.
You briefly considered yelling to see if Mrs. Hudson would hear you when there was a familiar knock on the door.
“Oh thank god.” You grumbled, before yelling, “Come in. It’s open.” The door swung open and Mycroft popped his head around it, you didn’t bother to try and look at him, at this angle, in your state, it was impossible. You just called, “You have the most impeccable timing. Get over here and help me up would you?”
He chuckled and came to do as you asked, grabbing both of your hands to pull you out of the chair and into a warm hug. You returned it gratefully, “Thank you Mysie.”
“How are you my dear?” He asked, planting his usual kiss on top of your head.
“Well, other than having been stuck in that chair for two hours and being a nine month pregnant whale, Fantastic.” You knew your brother didn’t appreciate your sarcasm but you were beyond caring, he simply frowned as you stretched your sore muscles, “John and Sherlock left you alone?”
You shuffled toward the kitchen, “They have a case. Some murder. John said it would likely be another few days before anything happens so they went. Would you like some tea or something?”
Mycroft followed you, “Thank you, but no. You shouldn’t be stressing yourself over me.”
You shrugged, putting the kettle on for yourself. Miraculously, tea was one of the few things that didn’t make you sick.
“Have you and John decided on a name?” Mycroft asked curiously, leaning against the counter.
“Not really,” you said, pausing for a moment to think about that yourself, and he continued on the subject, “Will it be a Holmes or a Watson?”
You chuckled, this had been an ongoing argument in 221B. John of course wanted it to be a Watson, Sherlock insisted it be a Holmes, and you remained as neutral as possible, “That is still to be determined. Sherlock insists that because it responds to him it should be a Holmes, reasoning that it is a sign of advanced intelligence. John on the other hand wants it to be a Watson as it has his blood and in hopes that it won’t develop the Holmes mentality.”
Mycroft chuckled softly, “What do you want it to be?”
“Honestly I don’t care. It makes no difference to me whether it carries our last name or John’s… maybe Holmes-Watson. What about you Mycroft? Do you have a preference?”
“Obviously I would prefer it to be a Holmes, though I rather like the sound of Holmes-Watson.”
You smiled, leaning lightly against your eldest brother’s side, “Homles-Watson. It seems rather fitting.”
The door swung open just then and you could see John panic when he noticed you weren’t where he’d left you. You called to him a little bitterly, “In here love. A heroic knight came and rescued me from that prison of a chair you left me in.”
John came to give you a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, “I’m so sorry, we got a little carried away. Thank you for coming to her aid, Mycroft.”
“Mycroft had better not be in the kitchen” came a call from the other room, and you and your brother both rolled your eyes.
“Go sit.” John demanded ushering you out.
“But-“
“Go. I’ll finish up the tea.”
You nodded gratefully and kissed him softly before going into the living room with Mycroft in tow.
Sherlock glared at his brother, “What is he doing here?”
“Can I not visit my pregnant little sister? Besides it seems I came at just the right time as you and your flatmate left her stuck in a chair.” Mycroft countered. He had been around much more often in the past months, helping you whatever way he could, and, while you appreciated your eldest brother’s presence, Sherlock did not.
Sherlock was already reaching for the nearby violin and you groaned, “Not the violin Sherly. Please.”
It was too late. He had begun to pluck at his violin in the most annoying way possible and was likely seconds away from adding the bow to create a sound comparable to nails on a chalkboard.
You exchanged a weary, entirely unamused look with Mycroft who looked back apologetically, before growling at your brother, “Sherlock. Stop.”
He continued and even looked a bit amused that it was annoying you both to no end, so you repeated it louder, “Stop Sherlock.”
Still nothing. What little patience you had evaporated and you yelled at the top of your lungs, “Sherlock I swear if you don’t quit it right now I will throw that thing out the window!”
Still nothing. You moved to make good on your threat, causing him to lean back slightly to keep away from you, when you abruptly stopped, “Sherlock…”
There was something about how you said his name, softly and with more urgency, that caused him to stop and look up at you. Your eyes were wide and a little panicked, “Sherlock I think my water just broke.”
“What?” Mycroft said from behind you.
“You heard me,” you snapped and Sherlock called for John, trying to keep his voice even. When he didn’t responded Sherlock called again louder, “John!”
From the kitchen, John couldn’t hear him the first time, and the second time he assumed that Sherlock wanted something trivial and ignored him.
By now both Sherlock and Mycroft were visibly panicking, Mycroft hovering around you not knowing if he should touch you or not and Sherlock frozen in his chair. Seeing them both respond this way sent you into a full blown panic attack of your own, your breathing began to speed up and your head spun.
Sherlock gave a final yell at the top of his lungs, “JOHN!” that caused the man to come bolting into the room, “What the bloody hell is going- (F/n)?”
He was at your side faster than ever, “Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“Her water broke. What should we do John? John?” Sherlock supplied, obviously freaking out.
John ignored him and Mycroft, who was nodding along with wide eyes, and cupped your face in his hands so you had to look at him and only him, “(F/n) I need you to take a couple of deep breaths and try to calm down. Ignore them. Everything is absolutely fine.”
You nodded, trying to do as he asked and after a few minutes you succeeded, John let out a relieved sigh before tugging you towards the door, “Alright good. Come on. Let’s get to the hospital.”
He scooped up the already packed hospital bag by the door, called over his shoulder to the Holmes brothers, “Once you two have calmed down you can join us. Not before then,” and shut the door behind him.
Literature
Changes - Part 1 (Mycroft x Reader)
(L/N) – Long Name
(S/N) – Shortened Name
(M/N) – Middle Name
(F/I) – First Initial
(Since I’ve never done a reader insert, I just wanted to make sure everyone understands my inserts)
Sherlock was lying across the green couch as usual, his icy blue eyes staring straight up at the ceiling but his body never moving an inch. John was in his own chair, flipping through a newspaper when he felt a vibration in his pocket. He retrieved his mobile from the depths of his pants pocket and read the text message that was waiting for him.
“Back in town, meet me at the coffee shop in 5 –(F/I)W”
A smile slow
Literature
Sherlock (BBC) x Reader Part 3
Sherlock tried to focus on the mission at hand - getting ___ a present, but Detective Inspector Lestrade had just called announcing there was a case they needed him for. "What do you mean you can't come?" Lestrade asked over the phone. "I'm busy."
"What could possibly be more important, Holmes?" Sherlock smiled, on the inside of course. He continued walking, to no where in particular. "Christmas shopping."
Lestrade sighed in disbelief, "Real-" Sherlock pushed 'end' and shoved the phone back into his pocket. "I prefer texting," he mumbled to himself. After several minutes of walking, his phone rang.
'Where'd you go? (First
Literature
Sherlock x Reader
(A second instillation of Sherlock x Reader. Having fun with this actually... Maybe more fun than I should be having??)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"SHERLOCK!!! WHY!!!!!!" Sherlock had just absolutely ruined the new mystery novel you bought earlier today. You were so excited to finally find out who was pulling all those murders, and just before you got to that page, he told you exactly who did it and why.
"I'm sorry! It was just so obvious! I mean seriously!" He replied with an honest look of apology and obviousness.
"Oooh, alright.. Just don't ruin the play for me tonight or else I'm going to be extremely upset!" You sighed and w
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“Homles-Watson. It seems rather fitting.” ("Holmes-Watson. It seems rather fitting.")