Flashing blue and red lights from the police cars illuminated Sherlock Holmes' face as he stepped from the cab into the night. John squinted at him as he stalked across the street, his long strides closing the distance between them quickly.
"I think you forgot something," John said, pointing back to the cab as the other man reached him. Sherlock pursed his lips together and turned to see a very pregnant Y/N slowly, awkwardly extracting herself from the backseat of the taxi.
"We're in a bit of a row," he explained, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat.
"Anything to do with taking your wife to a crime scene in the middle of the night whilst in her 9th month?" John asked.
"More like said pregnant wife insisting on coming to said crime scene at the aforementioned time of night," Sherlock bit out, angrily.
"The word "no" sometimes works," John offered. Sherlock scoffed.
"Please, John," Y/N said, having waddled over, "I think you know me better than that."
"Maybe you can talk some sense into her," Sherlock said, ducking under the yellow crime scene tape and heading into the home of a a well known politician that had just been found dead under highly unusual circumstances. John turned to Y/N.
"You're going to push him right over the edge," he chuckled. "You know he is a nervous wreck, what with you being due any day now." Y/N rubbed her pregnant belly and smiled back at her friend.
"He'll be fine," she said. "I am not due for another week. Come on, let's go solve a crime." John sighed and lifted the yellow tape high for Y/N to duck under.
They joined Sherlock inside, who was already crouched beside the body, fingers templed and pressed to his lips. Detective Inspector Lestrade stood a few steps away, arms crossed across his chest, watching Sherlock closely. He looked up and his eyes widened as John and Y/N entered the room.
"Shouldn't she be at home resting or something?" Lestrade asked.
"Yes," John and Sherlock answered in unison.
"I'm fine," Y/N insisted, impatiently. "What do we have?"
"Arthur Ausable, favorited to be our next mayor," Lestrade rambled off. "Housekeeper found him like this..." Like this meant on his back, in the middle of the bedroom, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants.
"Rope burns around his neck," Sherlock said, waving a hand towards the decedent's upper body, "But no rope recovered from the scene?"
"Nothing yet," Anderson piped up.Sherlock ignored him.
"And what about the drugs?" He continued. The room was silent. "Oh come on, none of you noticed the track marks between the toes?" More silence. "I suggest a more thorough sweep of the premises. If nothing turns up, it is likely that someone cleaned up before you arrived."
"The housekeeper?" Lestrade asked.
"Ding, ding, ding," he replied. "It could also mean that-"
"Sherlock?" Y/N interrupted.
"Not now, darling," he said, circling around to the other side of the body. "It could also mean-"
"Sherlock!" Y/N interrupted again, with a little more force this time.
"Y/N, I am trying to work and I did politely ask you to stay home tonight, so if you could be so kind-"
"Sherlock! My water just broke!" He finally spun around to face her, his eyes narrowed slightly.
"No, no, that is not possible," he said, shaking his head. "You still have a week to go."
"Uh, mate?" John said, taking a step away from the puddle forming around Y/N's feet. "I think you'd better take her word on this one." Sherlock's eyes moved from John, back to Y/N and down to the puddle.
"The baby?" He asked, his voice sounding more uncertain than anyone in the room had ever heard it before.
"Yeah," Y/N said, nodding. "The baby." He blinked.
"Well, don't just stand there! Someone call a bloody ambulance!" He cried at last.
"For Christ's sake, we don't need an ambulance," Y/N said. "We can get a cab."
"We are not getting a cab," Sherlock said, stepping over the body and stalking across the room.
"I can take you," Lestrade offered. "Car's out front." Sherlock and John each took an elbow and helped Y/N down the stairs and out to the car. John opened the door and Y/N slid in, followed by Sherlock.
"Good luck," John called.
"Where do you think you're going?" Sherlock demanded.
"Home?" John guessed.
"Get in," he commanded and with a roll of his eyes, John climbed in the front seat beside Lestrade. As they pulled away from the curb, a contraction gripped Y/N and she gritted her teeth and groaned loudly.
"John?" Sherlock's voice came out sounding panicked.
"Tell her to breathe," John offered, timing the contraction on his watch.
"Breathe," he told his wife. He watched her, his beautiful girl, eyes screwed shut, face contorted with pain and he felt so completely helpless. "Lestrade, drive faster." Y/N reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly.
"It's... Ok..." She managed to get out. He brought the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it.
"You're always the one comforting me," he whispered.
"Not... True..." She said, a smiling pulling at the corner of her mouth.
"Very nearly true," he replied, reaching up to wipe a bead of sweat that had formed on her brow. The contraction subsided and Y/N slumped back against her husband, breathing hard. He kissed her damp temple and barked again at Lestrade to drive faster.
As they pulled up to the hospital, John leapt out and dashed inside, returning in short order with a nurse pushing a wheelchair. He and Sherlock helped Y/N from the car into the chair and she was whisked inside. Sherlock took a step forward in her direction and froze.
"Go on then," John said, gesturing in the direction Y/N had been taken.
"I can't," he said. "I'm not ready."
"No one is," John said, a wry smile on his face. "Ever. Mine's going to be three and I am still not ready. But Y/N needs you to go in there and at least fake it for a few hours, for her sake."
"Fake it?" Sherlock asked, his mind still reeling.
"Yes, hold her hand, tell her she's doing great and pretend that you aren't the most terrified you've ever been."
"Be strong for her," Sherlock said, nodding in understanding. "I can do that. That is one thing I can do."
"You'd better go before you miss the whole thing," John said, shoving his friend forward.
"You'll be here?" Sherlock called back over his shoulder.
"Right outside," John confirmed. Feeling empowered with his new mission, Sherlock dashed inside, his long legs carrying him down the long hallway towards his wife, ready to be the one to comfort her, ready to hold their child, ready to be strong for them both, in spite of the fears and doubts that may plague him.
