SUPERWHOLOCK Imagines

Imagine: Being Pregnant

You wring your hands nervously together as you wait for the timer to go off. With each passing second, your nerves grow more and more. What if you're pregnant? What if Sherlock doesn't want the baby? What if he leaves you? The thoughts rush from your mind as the timer on your phone goes off, signalling that it's time. Time to see what your future holds. 

Almost timidly, you pick up the little white stick, hesitating before looking at it. Many different emotions rush through you as you look at it, unsure of what to do or think. 

Positive.

Exiting the bathroom, stick still in hand, you walk into the living room and sit down. What were you going to say to Sherlock when he got home? Your nerves only grow as hours pass by, Sherlock still having yet to come home. You nearly jump out of your skin when your phone rings, John's name appearing on the screen. 

"Hello?" You answer, voice shaking as you try to push your nerves away. 

"(Y/N)?" John sounds almost as nervous as you, his breath coming out short. "He's gone, (Y/N). He's dead."

Your world seems to crash around you at the news. Your husband, the one man you ever found yourself loving was dead. The father of your unborn child was gone. John remains silent on the phone as a sob racks through you. 

"He can't be gone, John," you pause, taking a deep breath in attempts to steady your emotions. "I can't raise this child on my own."

John's breath hitches, his mind muddled as many different thoughts flow through it. "You're pregnant? Did he know?"

"I just found out," you whisper, placing your hand on your stomach. Another sob rakes through you as you clutch your stomach. "What am I going to do, John?"

"I know for damn sure that you're not going to raise this baby on your own," he answers, his voice no longer wavering from all of the different emotions he was feeling. All he knew was that you needed him, and he needed you. "I'll be there in a little bit. I promise, we'll get through this together."

It's been nearly a year since John made that promise and he never broke it. When he arrived at the flat that day, he never left your side. He took on the role that Sherlock wouldn't be able to fulfill. He was there through the morning sickness, the mood swings, the birth. He was there at your side through all of it. Now, you have a healthy, three month old baby girl. 

It was just like any other day when it happened. You had just finished feeding the baby when a knock rang out through the flat. Glancing at the door, you give John a shrug as you go to answer it. Everything seems to freeze when you swing open the door, your eyes meeting your supposedly dead husbands. 

"Sherlock?" You choke out, tears streaming down your face almost instantly. His eyes flicker down to the baby in your arms and then past you to John. He pushes his way past you and into the flat, instantly getting into Johns face. 

"How dare you!" Sherlock yells, shoving John. 

"How dare I?" John yells back, slapping Sherlock's hands away from him. "You faked your own death Sherlock! Did you even think about what that did to (Y/N)?"

"Obviously not a whole lot," Sherlock growls, motioning towards you and the baby. That's when you snap.

"Do you honestly think that I would do that? I loved you, Sherlock. And, if you would've came home that day instead of being the selfish prick that you are, you would've found out that the baby is yours," you yell, holding the baby closer to you when she starts crying. John pushes past Sherlock to take the baby, taking her out of the room. 

"She's mine?" Sherlock questions, his anger dissipating. Instead, it was replaced with sadness. "I'm so sorry, love. I didn't mean to hurt you. I thought that faking my death was the only answer, and I didn't stop to think about how that would make you feel."

"It's done and over with Sherlock. You made it rather clear that day that you didn't care about me. You didn't care about what being married to me meant."

"Please, (Y/N)," Sherlock steps towards you, tears in his eyes. He takes your hands in his as he begs, but you pull away. "Please forgive me."

"No," you say sternly. You refuse to be hurt anymore. You refuse to come second in his life anymore. "I spent months crying over you, Sherlock, and I spent many more trying to get over you. I'm done. I'm done trying to pretend that I mean something to you. I think you should leave."

You take his arm, pulling him to the door. Shoving him, he stumbles into the hallway before turning to look at you again. "Goodbye, Sherlock."

"(Y/N)," he begins, but you cut him off by slamming the door in his face and locking it. 

He's been 'dead' all this time, but when that door shut was when he truly became dead to you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thoughts? Please comment or message me requests!