[BBC Sherlock Fic] - Dear Sherlock, if you're reading this... (1/?)
Title: Dear Sherlock, if you're reading this...
Rating: M for character death (G for this part)
Characters: fem!Sherlock, John
Warnings: genderswap, angst, eventual character death
Summary: Written for my song prompt (yeah, I know...) on the kink meme ( link here) - Tim McGraw - If You're Reading This
"John and fem!Sherlock are in a happy relationship and try for a baby for months. She gets pregnant just 2 months before John is sent off to Afghanistan. And one day she recieves a letter:
If you're reading this
And My mama's sitting there
Looks like I only got a one-way ticket over here
I sure wish I could give you one more kiss
And war was just a game we played when we were kids
Well I'm laying down my gun
I'm hanging up my boots
I'm up here with God
And we're both watching over you"
Dear Sherlock, if you're reading this...
Sherlock was standing by the sink in the bathroom, clutching the pregnancy test in her hand when the result on the little screen flashed. Her feet slid out from under her and with a heartbreaking yell she fell to the floor. She rocked back and forth as she tried to accept the cruel reality. She wasn’t pregnant.
John almost fell into the bathroom as he came in, throwing the door open with a loud bang. His face contorted when Sherlock’s form came into his vision. He immediately dropped to his knees next to his wife and wrapped her in his arms.
Sherlock looked up at him, face striped with tears, her lower lip trembling.
“I’m sorry, John. I am so sorry.” she whispered, looking away from John as she covered her mouth with her free hand. He knew she was devastated and blamed herself.
„Shhh. It’s okay, my love. Please, don’t cry.” said John and held Sherlock tighter as he petted her back, rocking her in his arms. “Next time, it will happen next time.”
“You said it last time and the time before that.” She cast an accusing and disappointed look at him. “It’s still not true!” she almost growled.
“I know, I know. But we cannot give up. We want it and we can do this.”
~~~
John put his bacon and beans down on the table, a famished look in his eyes, while Sherlock was reading a newspaper on the couch. He started eating with an enviable appetite when the smell of the food lingered towards the consulting detective and she jumped to her feet when she took a whiff of it. She threw the paper back on the furniture and ran towards the bathroom, almost knocking over a chair in the kitchen. John stopped chewing, looking like a greedy hamster with food in his mouth and stared confused after his woman.
“John, what have we had last night for dinner? Something is bothering my digestion.” Sherlock came back, rubbing the sleeve of her dressing gown over her mouth.
“I gueff we hav fe fame. Fweet and four ficken fif noovle.” John was still stuffing the delicious meal into his mouth, not bothering to swallow before speaking.
“God, John, don’t talk with food in your mouth or else I will throw up again.” She threw a disgusted look at John’s food, trying hard to will the churning of her bile back and flopped back on the couch as elegantly as it is humanly possible after vomiting. “I don’t know how your stomach can process last night’s dinner, but this was the third time I threw up this morning. This must mean something.”
The clashing sound of cutleries made her head snap up into the direction of the dining table. John was clearly having problems with breathing because his face was turning red and purple. His eyes were so wide it was possible that they would land in his breakfast, ruining the harmony of the flavors.
“Say that again.” he spat out after a few moments of intense concentration to make his brain work the way it was needed to be able to speak.
“I said that it must mean something.” she huffed and losing interest, she looked back at the ceiling.
“It might do, actually.” John coughed and his voice was harsh and thick.
“Yeah?” Sherlock seemed to have lost interest and has started booting John’s laptop.
“Morning sickness is a sign of pregnancy.” John almost whispered but these words had an immediate effect. Sherlock shut the lid of the computer and hurried into the bathroom again. No, she didn’t throw up this time, but she rummaged through the cupboards next to the sink. When John came in, she was on the tip of her toes, trying to reach the package at the back of the shelf. When she found what she was looking for, she dropped herself down on the toilet unceremoniously and started to unwrap the package.
“Er… Do you want me to go out?” John felt embarrassed, barging in on her privacy.
“No. Not this time. I want to have you on my side. I won’t be able to hold myself together, if…” she trailed off, but John knew perfectly well what she meant.
“Okay. I’ll stay. But I’d rather turn away.” She had to smile a little at that. Good old John, self-conscious about her peeing in front of him. And he was a doctor…
“Ready?” he asked when the sounds died away.
“Finished, but I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” Sherlock shook off most of the excess fluid and stared at him, waiting nervously.
John knelt next to her, putting his hand on her thigh, drawing little circles on her skin with his thumb. He didn’t dare to look at the device, he looked at her solemn face instead.
“Oh God. John. Oh God.”
“What?”
“It’s positive. I’m pregnant!” Sherlock looked at her husband and as she saw the indescribable joy on his features, tears started their ways down her hot cheeks, in unison with his tears.
“We’re having a baby. Jesus Christ, Sherlock, we are going to be parents!”
~~~
3 months later they were sitting anxiously in the waiting room of a well-known obstetric clinic, holding each other’s hands, legs moving up and down restlessly.
When the door of the doctor opened for what seemed like more than the tenth time, John squeezed Sherlock’s hand lightly, looked her in the eye and led her into the room.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs…” said the doctor and looked at her notes for their name, “Watson. How are you feeling?” She put on her best doctor-smile and waved at the examining chair for Sherlock to sit down.
“It’s Dr. and Mrs. Watson, actually.” corrected Sherlock, and she smiled at her husband when he shook his head disapprovingly, but with a smirk playing on his lips.
“Oh, I see, sorry. Let’s see what we can do.”
She asked Sherlock to sit on the examining chair and she did with some difficulty - it wasn’t so easy with her extra weight.
The doctor sat next to Sherlock’s chair and asked a few basic questions about her general health, family history, possible allergies, and she asked John the same things.
When she was satisfied with their answers she rummaged through the tools on a tray and held a bottle of gel in front of Sherlock.
“It might be a little cool first but it warms up quickly.” She squeezed some of it on Sherlock’s lower abdomen and started moving the transducer across her skin. After a few minutes of silence she pointed at the screen.
“There it is, right there.”
To be honest, John needed to concentrate really hard, squinting and using all his imagination to transform the blur into a baby-like shape. When he finally saw what he thought he wanted to see, he glanced at his wife and his heart clenched. She was blinking back her tears at a furious speed and her lips were trembling, and she was sniffing. She looked like a dark angel, her dark brown hair like a halo around her pale face and glowing blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red and swollen as she tried to hold her sobs back.
“It’s really there.” murmured John as he stepped closer to Sherlock and put his hand on her shoulder. She lifted it to her cheek and rubbed it against her cheekbones softly, then kissed his knuckles.
~~~
Weeks and months passed and they argued about it, but in the end they decided that they wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl.
They were sitting in the now familiar waiting room as Dr. Spencer called their name. They went in; Sherlock climbed in the chair and after a few moments of fiddling, the gel and the transducer were on her belly.
They were waiting in complete silence, not daring to even breathe too harshly. And then there it was - the fast beating of a small heart. All three of them released the air from their lungs in unison.
“Could you tell us the sex of the baby, doctor?” John looked at Sherlock first, squeezed her hand then turned to the doctor.
“Might take a few moments, but yes, I can.” She focused on the monitor and slid the transducer up and down on Sherlock’s baby bump. After a couple of circles she held it in one place and without moving it she twisted her hand a bit and with a triumphant look she nodded towards the monitor.
“You can see it right there. Or more precisely, you can see the lack of it.”
“Oh my God!” Sherlock covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the monitor for a solid 2 minutes then she turned towards John and removing her hand, smiled the loveliest smile he has ever seen.
“It’s a girl. We are having a daughter, John!”
She was so excited, that John felt guilty that the only thing that came to his mind was a 15-year-old girl with long dark curls in a bikini as ripped guys were staring at her. And this is going to happen. He’s going to be the father of a girl, and judging by the looks of her mother she will be smoking hot. Oh dear Lord, have mercy on me, he thought, it will be harder than the war, trying to keep those hungry, testosterone-driven teenager boys away from my baby girl.
“Yes, honey, a daughter.” He knew he wasn’t convincing at all, but hoped that Sherlock was too emotional to realize it.
“I know perfectly well that it sounds illogical, but I have a few ideas for her name. The only thing we should agree on is the surname. Is it going to be Watson or Holmes-Watson?” Sherlock chirped about similar things all the way home while John just sat next to her in the cab and cursed Mother Nature for creating teenager boys and their limited interest in this age.
Rating: M for character death (G for this part)
Characters: fem!Sherlock, John
Warnings: genderswap, angst, eventual character death
Summary: Written for my song prompt (yeah, I know...) on the kink meme ( link here) - Tim McGraw - If You're Reading This
"John and fem!Sherlock are in a happy relationship and try for a baby for months. She gets pregnant just 2 months before John is sent off to Afghanistan. And one day she recieves a letter:
If you're reading this
And My mama's sitting there
Looks like I only got a one-way ticket over here
I sure wish I could give you one more kiss
And war was just a game we played when we were kids
Well I'm laying down my gun
I'm hanging up my boots
I'm up here with God
And we're both watching over you"
Dear Sherlock, if you're reading this...
Sherlock was standing by the sink in the bathroom, clutching the pregnancy test in her hand when the result on the little screen flashed. Her feet slid out from under her and with a heartbreaking yell she fell to the floor. She rocked back and forth as she tried to accept the cruel reality. She wasn’t pregnant.
John almost fell into the bathroom as he came in, throwing the door open with a loud bang. His face contorted when Sherlock’s form came into his vision. He immediately dropped to his knees next to his wife and wrapped her in his arms.
Sherlock looked up at him, face striped with tears, her lower lip trembling.
“I’m sorry, John. I am so sorry.” she whispered, looking away from John as she covered her mouth with her free hand. He knew she was devastated and blamed herself.
„Shhh. It’s okay, my love. Please, don’t cry.” said John and held Sherlock tighter as he petted her back, rocking her in his arms. “Next time, it will happen next time.”
“You said it last time and the time before that.” She cast an accusing and disappointed look at him. “It’s still not true!” she almost growled.
“I know, I know. But we cannot give up. We want it and we can do this.”
~~~
John put his bacon and beans down on the table, a famished look in his eyes, while Sherlock was reading a newspaper on the couch. He started eating with an enviable appetite when the smell of the food lingered towards the consulting detective and she jumped to her feet when she took a whiff of it. She threw the paper back on the furniture and ran towards the bathroom, almost knocking over a chair in the kitchen. John stopped chewing, looking like a greedy hamster with food in his mouth and stared confused after his woman.
“John, what have we had last night for dinner? Something is bothering my digestion.” Sherlock came back, rubbing the sleeve of her dressing gown over her mouth.
“I gueff we hav fe fame. Fweet and four ficken fif noovle.” John was still stuffing the delicious meal into his mouth, not bothering to swallow before speaking.
“God, John, don’t talk with food in your mouth or else I will throw up again.” She threw a disgusted look at John’s food, trying hard to will the churning of her bile back and flopped back on the couch as elegantly as it is humanly possible after vomiting. “I don’t know how your stomach can process last night’s dinner, but this was the third time I threw up this morning. This must mean something.”
The clashing sound of cutleries made her head snap up into the direction of the dining table. John was clearly having problems with breathing because his face was turning red and purple. His eyes were so wide it was possible that they would land in his breakfast, ruining the harmony of the flavors.
“Say that again.” he spat out after a few moments of intense concentration to make his brain work the way it was needed to be able to speak.
“I said that it must mean something.” she huffed and losing interest, she looked back at the ceiling.
“It might do, actually.” John coughed and his voice was harsh and thick.
“Yeah?” Sherlock seemed to have lost interest and has started booting John’s laptop.
“Morning sickness is a sign of pregnancy.” John almost whispered but these words had an immediate effect. Sherlock shut the lid of the computer and hurried into the bathroom again. No, she didn’t throw up this time, but she rummaged through the cupboards next to the sink. When John came in, she was on the tip of her toes, trying to reach the package at the back of the shelf. When she found what she was looking for, she dropped herself down on the toilet unceremoniously and started to unwrap the package.
“Er… Do you want me to go out?” John felt embarrassed, barging in on her privacy.
“No. Not this time. I want to have you on my side. I won’t be able to hold myself together, if…” she trailed off, but John knew perfectly well what she meant.
“Okay. I’ll stay. But I’d rather turn away.” She had to smile a little at that. Good old John, self-conscious about her peeing in front of him. And he was a doctor…
“Ready?” he asked when the sounds died away.
“Finished, but I don’t know if I’m ready for this.” Sherlock shook off most of the excess fluid and stared at him, waiting nervously.
John knelt next to her, putting his hand on her thigh, drawing little circles on her skin with his thumb. He didn’t dare to look at the device, he looked at her solemn face instead.
“Oh God. John. Oh God.”
“What?”
“It’s positive. I’m pregnant!” Sherlock looked at her husband and as she saw the indescribable joy on his features, tears started their ways down her hot cheeks, in unison with his tears.
“We’re having a baby. Jesus Christ, Sherlock, we are going to be parents!”
~~~
3 months later they were sitting anxiously in the waiting room of a well-known obstetric clinic, holding each other’s hands, legs moving up and down restlessly.
When the door of the doctor opened for what seemed like more than the tenth time, John squeezed Sherlock’s hand lightly, looked her in the eye and led her into the room.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs…” said the doctor and looked at her notes for their name, “Watson. How are you feeling?” She put on her best doctor-smile and waved at the examining chair for Sherlock to sit down.
“It’s Dr. and Mrs. Watson, actually.” corrected Sherlock, and she smiled at her husband when he shook his head disapprovingly, but with a smirk playing on his lips.
“Oh, I see, sorry. Let’s see what we can do.”
She asked Sherlock to sit on the examining chair and she did with some difficulty - it wasn’t so easy with her extra weight.
The doctor sat next to Sherlock’s chair and asked a few basic questions about her general health, family history, possible allergies, and she asked John the same things.
When she was satisfied with their answers she rummaged through the tools on a tray and held a bottle of gel in front of Sherlock.
“It might be a little cool first but it warms up quickly.” She squeezed some of it on Sherlock’s lower abdomen and started moving the transducer across her skin. After a few minutes of silence she pointed at the screen.
“There it is, right there.”
To be honest, John needed to concentrate really hard, squinting and using all his imagination to transform the blur into a baby-like shape. When he finally saw what he thought he wanted to see, he glanced at his wife and his heart clenched. She was blinking back her tears at a furious speed and her lips were trembling, and she was sniffing. She looked like a dark angel, her dark brown hair like a halo around her pale face and glowing blue eyes. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were red and swollen as she tried to hold her sobs back.
“It’s really there.” murmured John as he stepped closer to Sherlock and put his hand on her shoulder. She lifted it to her cheek and rubbed it against her cheekbones softly, then kissed his knuckles.
~~~
Weeks and months passed and they argued about it, but in the end they decided that they wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl.
They were sitting in the now familiar waiting room as Dr. Spencer called their name. They went in; Sherlock climbed in the chair and after a few moments of fiddling, the gel and the transducer were on her belly.
They were waiting in complete silence, not daring to even breathe too harshly. And then there it was - the fast beating of a small heart. All three of them released the air from their lungs in unison.
“Could you tell us the sex of the baby, doctor?” John looked at Sherlock first, squeezed her hand then turned to the doctor.
“Might take a few moments, but yes, I can.” She focused on the monitor and slid the transducer up and down on Sherlock’s baby bump. After a couple of circles she held it in one place and without moving it she twisted her hand a bit and with a triumphant look she nodded towards the monitor.
“You can see it right there. Or more precisely, you can see the lack of it.”
“Oh my God!” Sherlock covered her mouth with her hand and stared at the monitor for a solid 2 minutes then she turned towards John and removing her hand, smiled the loveliest smile he has ever seen.
“It’s a girl. We are having a daughter, John!”
She was so excited, that John felt guilty that the only thing that came to his mind was a 15-year-old girl with long dark curls in a bikini as ripped guys were staring at her. And this is going to happen. He’s going to be the father of a girl, and judging by the looks of her mother she will be smoking hot. Oh dear Lord, have mercy on me, he thought, it will be harder than the war, trying to keep those hungry, testosterone-driven teenager boys away from my baby girl.
“Yes, honey, a daughter.” He knew he wasn’t convincing at all, but hoped that Sherlock was too emotional to realize it.
“I know perfectly well that it sounds illogical, but I have a few ideas for her name. The only thing we should agree on is the surname. Is it going to be Watson or Holmes-Watson?” Sherlock chirped about similar things all the way home while John just sat next to her in the cab and cursed Mother Nature for creating teenager boys and their limited interest in this age.