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“You really are some kind of wonderful,” Molly said around a mouthful of chicken, reaching for the offered drink that her husband had brought her.
“Had to sneak past that hawk of a security guard with these,” Sherlock grumbled as he dropped down beside her to lean against the desk, opening the box of pizza and grabbing a slice.
He’d had admittedly little direct experience with pregnant women: Mary was the only one he’s observed long term, and she was by all counts the exception, considering she’d still been participating in B&E while being several weeks up the duff and had generally shown little symptoms.
When he’d suspected Molly’s condition a few months after their second wedding anniversary, he’d felt...not quite what he’d been expecting. There was a notion of trepidation, of course, as well as happiness, especially when Molly caught on as well. He didn’t realize just the depth of this wholly new feeling until that first ultrasound when he’d seen and heard his child for the first time. The feeling he hadn’t been able to quite grasp solidified into fascination and wonder and genuine terror that kept him up for nights on end.
It was different now, though, this marriage thing. Because in all of this cascade of feeling, he knew he wasn’t alone: he’d seen his same feelings reflected in Molly, and beyond that, he’d seen hope and joy . On many a sleepless night, she’d held his hand over her swelling belly, whispering with him in the darkness about irrational fears and wishes for the future until they both dozed off. When Molly had begun to feel the baby move, the anticipation really built and in an effort to not be so impatient to feel the baby himself, he decided to keep better track of her symptoms and development.
Molly had turned out to be full of symptoms, both typical and unique. Well into the second trimester of her pregnancy, Molly’s obsession with frankly crap American food - the current obsession with chicken “wings” and hot sauce - had alarmed Sherlock a bit at first, but now he found himself eating just as much of it as she was. He’d not quite expected to have so many sympathy symptoms himself and it was proving a fascinating study.
Which had led him to grab her wrist and take a bite of the chicken her hand. Too spicy. “What’s the deal with no food in the lecture hall anyway?” he asked, thinking of planning the delivery of his wife’s lunch as if he’d been trying to sneak past Sherrinford security and not a hall monitor of the university’s lecture halls.
“They don’t want the students to bring in food since it’s distracting,” Molly explained.
“But not for the professor?”
“Exactly!” Molly said with a proud smile.
“And that’s why we’re hiding behind the desk, then?”
“Well deduced, dear husband.”
-*-
