I woke early the next morning draped over John on the sofa where we had apparently fallen asleep the night before. Based on the stiffness in my neck and our positions, I estimated that I had been asleep for about five hours. The traffic on the street below confirmed this.

Careful not to wake John, I worked my way out of his out of his arms. I considered waking him but decided against it. He was always irritable when he was woken what he considered to be too early. I needed to be alone with my thoughts anyway. I crossed through the kitchen and went into the bathroom, stretching on my way.

In the bathroom, I turned the shower on to warm up while I stripped. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I caught sight of my stomach. It was flat, but I knew that that wouldn't last long. I was already showing other signs of pregnancy including irritablity and morning sickness, which was horribly misnamed. I still wasn't entirely sure how I missed them in the first place. Perhaps John had some insight.

I stepped into the shower and allowed the warm water to run down my body as I began to question what would be happening to my body over the next few months. Of course, I knew the scientific aspect of pregnancy. It was vital. Pregnant women were murdered too. Still, the emotional side concerned me slightly. Perhaps more than slightly, though I would keep that from John. He worried too much as it was, and the whole pregnancy thing was going to make it that much worse.

And the fetus...the child. Supposedly expectant mothers are supposed to feel a strong emotional attatchment to their unborn offspring. I felt that it was important, that it should be guarded, but not very much past that. Of course, I felt something, but I wasn't entirely sure what it was. Perhaps those feelings came later...

God, I felt like I needed a cigarette.

I hesitated. That was one of those things that pregnant women weren't supposed to do. I knew there were other things, but I didn't know the whole list. And what if I had done one of those things already. I knew for a fact that I had had a cigarette three weeks ago when John's nagging had gotten on my nerves. There were so many ways, too many, that this could go wrong.

I quickly turned the shower off and tore the shower curtain open, only pausing long enough to grab my dressing gown off the back of the door. I flung the door open, wrapping the dressing gown around myself and ingoring the water that dripped from my body and puddled on the hall floor. I looked around for a phone, a laptop, anything I could use to connect to the internet. Finally, my gaze caught my laptop, which was nestled amongst discarded newspapers and clean beakers. I'd used it for an experiment two days ago that did not last nearly long enough to keep me occupied.

Flipping it open, I settled into a chair at the kitchen table. Of course, it was clean. John had become much more insistent about keeping the kitchen clean since he discovered that he could remove sex as a punishment. That man was despicable sometimes...

The internet was taking too long to connect. I tapped my fingers irritably but quietly. I did not need John walking in on me like this. This research was vital, and I was being delayed by the ridiculous computer.

Finally, finally, it connected, and I opened a browser and entered 'pregnancy' into the search bar. Site after site, I absorbed all sorts of things that could go wrong. Developmental delays, birth defects, the effects that my past drg abuse could have on the fetus.

Suddenly, there was a hand on my shoulder. I jerked my head around, aggravating the aready sore muscles, and saw John standing behind me.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "You look a bit...tense."

"I'm fine," I replied stiffly, snapping my laptop shut.

"No, you're not. What's going on?"

"Nothing, John." I snapped.

"What's up? Do you want to argue? Because we can argue if you want."

"What if I do? We argue all the time. Why should anything be different now?"

John paused and sighed before turning around and walking away.

"You're going to walk away from me?"

"No, you prat," he responded, glancing over his shoulder at me. "I'm going to make tea and then we're going to talk about this." He turned back toward the counter and switched the kettle on.

I dropped the laptop on the taple, perhaps making more noise than was necessary, and stomped into the living room, using the tble as a step stool on my way to the couch. I dropped down on the couch and glared toward the kitchen. I was not ready to have this discussion. Wadding up the blanket to use as a pillow, I sprawled on the couch, keeping my glare firmly in place.

A few minutes later, John came from the kitchen carrying two cups of tea. When he reached the couch, he nudged my knee with his. I grudgingly shifted mylegs so he could sit next to me. He set one cup in front of me on the table, but I ignored it and rolled over. John rested his hand on my leg, absentmindedly stroking the top of my foot.

"So," John started. I shifted again, trying to bury my face further into the blanket.

John sighed. "What's wrong, Sherlock?"

Frustrated, I sat up. "What do you want me to say, John?" I burst. "That I have no idea what I'm doing? That I've probably already damaged this child? That I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel?"

Instead of speaking, John set his cup on the table and turned toward me. He tugged on my arm, and I unwilling let him pull me into a hug. After a few moments, he spoke.

"So that's what this is all about. Sherlock, I can tell you now, you'll make a good mother."

I snorted. John must be delusional.

"I mean it, Sherlock. You are fiercely protective of the people you love."

"I don't even know if I love it, John." I hated how vulnerable I sounded, but it was too late to take the words back.

John chuckled, and I gave him a dirty look. "Sherlock, you're not the most in touch with your emotions. Took you hors of in depth analysis to realize that you loved me. From what I've seen, you're already really protective of the baby. I mean, why else would you be freaking out?"

"But I don't know how I feel about the...child. I know how I feel about you, and it's a similar feeling, but it's not the same."

"It wouldn't be."

"And all the things that could go wrong. John, what if I've already harmed our child? There are so many things that I could do wrong, some things I've already done."

"Sherlock, I''m a doctor. I work GP. You haven't done anything too terrible. Anyway, most of those thing they talk about are caused by long-term exposure. We can go through what's concerning you, and we'll talk about what needs to change."

I was feeling slightly better, but there was still so much information to process.

"But, John," I started.

"Do you trust me?" he interrupted.

I hesitated for a moment, trying to understand the subject change. "With my life."

"Good. Everything will be okay. Do you trust that? Anything that could go wrong is just speculation. If there are problems, we'll deal with them when we get to them.

I nooded, swallowing nervously. John was much better suited to being a parent, and he didn't seem worried. He would make sure that the child and I were taken care of.

"Yes, John." I leaned in toward him and pressed my lips agaisnt his. It was soothing. He grounded me. And that was why I married him. Because he completed me.

"By the way," John said, pulling back from me slightly. "You're cleaning up the water in the hall."