“Sherlock, it says I’m pregnant.”
Oh fuck I nearly peed myself
Sherlock looks like might have peed himself.
If he hadn’t passed out instead.
“I feel weird,” John says, and puts his fork down and stares. Tikka Masala really is a favorite, but it just tastes so strange all of a sudden.
Sherlock doesn’t even look up. “Define weird. Because if you’re not going to be precise, I can’t help you.”
“Don’t be such a dick. Between the sickness and the lightheadedness yesterday and forgetting everything lately, I’m just feeling really, I don’t know, off.” Oh, his stomach is really not taking this well. John leans back in his chair, wipes a hand across his suddenly sweaty brow. He feels like he’s going to be sick. “You better not have brought home any specimens culturing bacteria, or you’re going to regret it.”
Sherlock stands, peers intently in John’s eyes, rubs a gentle hand across John’s tummy. John flinches; it really is a little tender down there.
“Go lie on the bed, I’ll be right back.” Sherlock ducks out the door and John can hear him clattering down the stairs into the basement through a haze of queasiness. The steps make their way back into the bedroom and Sherlock shoves a box under his nose.
A pregnancy test.
“Oh, don’t be stupid,” John says. “Sticking your dick in my arse won’t get me pregnant. You’ve deleted a lot of things but I highly doubt you’d forget that.”
“You’re the one with the symptoms, John, not me. Look, its expired anyway, it’ll take just a minute, then we can all have a laugh and I’ll put you to bed with a cup of tea. Okay?”
John takes the box gingerly. “You’re serious. You want me to pee on a stick and see if I’m pregnant. That’d be hilarious, considering the complete lack of uterus in this equation.” John stares at Sherlock, but he nods solemnly, completely serious. “For fuck’s sake. Fine. Hope it thrills you. Hope it gives you whatever mad data you need for whatever reason you have a pregnancy test to start with.”
John stalks off toward the bathroom, absolutely certain that he’s shagging a madman. The trip makes him a little dizzy, so he shucks his trousers and drops on the toilet, tears open the wrapper, assembles the stick and stares.
He’s about to take a pregnancy test. Well, not the oddest thing he’s done in Sherlock’s company, but perhaps the most unexpected.
The angle is a bit awkward, trying to pee in the bowl like a kid while he’s sitting, but he manages and caps the end. Sherlock better be satisfied. John looks at his watch, marks 90 seconds, and walks back out into the bedroom, where Sherlock is standing by the window.
“Did you do it?” Sherlock asks, eagerly, a gleam of amusement in his eye.
“Yes, you idiot. Here, it should register just about … oh my god.” John’s world narrows to the tiny blue plus sign that appears in the window. “Sherlock. Sherlock, it says I’m pregnant. Sherlock, you fucking wanker where the hell did you go off—” There’s a sigh and a thud and John looks up only to find Sherlock out cold on the floor.
Bastard, John thinks as he toes at Sherlock’s leg. He better take that case he complained about this morning, because diapers are really expensive.
MPREG IN SHERLOCK LOLOLOLOLOLOLOLOL