Hey could you do an image with Mycroft and his wife while she is giving birth to their first child ?
Onboard the U.S.S Heartsteel the medical bay was in an unholy trinity of distress, fear and panic as Ambassador Holmes and his wife were preparing to give birth.
No one outside their race has truly witnessed how they bring life into the world much less how they were conceived turning every decorated doctor on board into a second guessing ensign from the Academy.
It wasn’t that unusual considering that the Federation had only just begun communication with their planet a year ago but still it was a nerve wracking experience for the crew aboard the floating starship.
“Do we even know if their kind needs to be placed in water after they come out,” questioned Dr Kal, one of the finest doctors to serve in the fleet, “ I need to know these things or else we might damage the babies!”
“Wait-I thought Lt. Miguta translated that there was only one baby,” piped up one of the nurses.
Kal waved her claw around dismissively, “The day I trust Lt. Miguta’s translations on a new species is the day I get my horns clipped and paint them yellow.”
“Now Kal you know that Miguta is doing his best despite the circumstances and I don’t appreciate you talking ill about my crew,” D’Morge chided at the old doctor, “We all know that he’s had his share of blunders same as everyone else on this ship but so far he’s the only one of us that seems to have a hang on what Ambassador Holmes and his wife are even suggesting.”
“Captain he almost got us imprisoned on M’Bega 9 because he accidentally insulted the high priestess and then had us nearly kill ourselves by miss-translating those barrels from the Quan as something safe for consumption. That kid is the worst linguist the Fleet has every had,” Kal ranted. Her claws on full display as was her coloring at her ridges sending any nearby nurses to back away lest they burn under her radiating body heat.
Truly Kal had a beef with the young lieutenant but Captain D’Morge could not stand for any bad blood between his crew members. Putting two green suction cups between his brow he sighed.
“Again, Kal I understand why you’re pissed at him but now is not the time to start fighting when he’s literally the only one that has been able to help so far and we need this birth to go smoothly. Their planet is the only one in galaxy that produces those little insects that could save the Federation from shedding more blood and the fact that their kind can adapt like no other we’ve encountered before.”
Careful not to put his section cups on any of the dark patches of Kal’s skin D’Morge says intensely, “I cannot stress this enough doctor but we need them more than they need us. If we screw this up we are most likely not only going to lose our jobs but the fate of every species known to our galaxy so for the love of your people and mine please do not harp on Miguta and throw him off. Understand?”
Dr. Kal is still purple in some places but nods all the same. She may be an Watari full of righteous rage but even she knew that if the captain was telling her to cool it for the fate of the Federation than she needed to suck it up. “Understood Captain.”
D’Morge gave her an small smile. “Good, now what’s the status of the Ambassador’s wife?”
“Nothing like anything we’ve come across and its driving my machines crazy,” Kal complains.
Rather than waste her voice Dr. Kal beckons the captain to follow her to the birthing part of the medical bay where Ambassador Holmes was seated next to his bedridden wife and Lt. Miguta standing somewhat awkwardly on her left talking to them.
Despite the sweat on her brow and the redness creeping on her skin the Ambassador’s wife seemed in good spirits as did her husband. Holmes was stroking her hands lovingly and murmuring low in their strange language.
It sounded so alien to their ears but nevertheless very soothing.
“Are they supposed to get red like that?”
“Miguta says that its perfectly normal under stress but like I said earlier I’m relying on that idiot’s word entirely,” Kal grumbles.
“Dr. Kal,” called a nurse Solin frantically, “ Dr. Kal,you have to see this!”
Without much delay both the captain and the good doctor ran over to the worried nurse hovering over the body scanners.
“What is it nurse?”
“These readings are off the charts,” Solin exclaimed showing them the readings. “All of them. Pain receptors, hormone levels, brain activity, blood work-by our standards the Ambassador’s wife should be dead.”
Kal could only hum as she surveyed the readings as Solin continued to gush about the strange data but even D’Morge knew what she was thinking. Their kind are truly something to be feared and revered.
“How can she even stand to be smiling,” Solin yammered on, “how can she even take that much pain and why is her mate so calm about it? Does he even know?”
Now for Solin’s kind the males generally harbor the offspring until they are ready to materialize via transporter from the womb as did most species once inducted into the Federation or through pod incubation.
It was the safer way to ensure growth to endangered populations and encourage to those who were fertile or unable to procreate normally to do so at a higher frequency.
To have natural births was pretty much an outdated system that none of them could stand to do anymore without horrific consequences. Live birth was simply to archaic and dangerous that most generations didn’t understand the process anymore much less learn it.
Captain D’Morge had tired to see if Lt. Miguta could convince them to do the same for the Ambassador’s wife but it seemed that they were content to do this their way.
“Nurse Solin please center yourself,” Captain D’Morge urged the young nurse, “we can only afford so many people to be panicked at this moment and I would like you not to be one of them.”
Solin did not look too terribly quelled but her antenna did not seem as ridged as it was before. “I still think that they’re crazy.”
“Given on how they reacted to us tossing those gold boxes into the compactor I think that they think we’re crazy too,” D’Morge offered as Kal handed tugged on one of his limbs.
“Captain you need to see this,” she urged.
Looking down at the body scanner cautiously D’Morge could not hide his astonishment.
“What is that?”
“I believe captain that it is their baby-moving downward.I’m not entirely sure what it means but I’m sure that it means we’re about to find out how their kind is born.”
The medical bay turns into a hush in acknowledgement of what is to come and it sends collective chills down their spines.
“By Timor I hope we’re ready.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Kal concedes, “it’s either we wing it and fail or succeed.”
Captain D’Morge turns on his heel faster than he thought at the sound of that voice. “Lt. Miguta, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the Ambassador and his wife to let us know when she’s ready to give birth!”
Miguta looks nervous as he shifts from foot to foot. “Well that’s just it sir, they’re fixing to give birth right now.”
“Outta my way,” Dr. Kal command, “doctor coming through!”
Both the captian and Miguta race after her to the receiving bay while the rest of the medical bay crew start to work furiously at their scanners.
Upon opening the door they are greeted with a sight of Ambassador Holmes holding his wife’s hand in what looks to be great pain as his wife’s color fluctuates from white, red and blue.
“What’s happening,” Kal demands at Miguta as she tries in vain to figure out anyway she can help.
Miguta talks hurriedly at Holmes and he responds tersely back not at all like the nice sounds that he had portrayed earlier. His wife was grunted and growled unlike anything the captain or doctor had heard before and it frightened them terribly.
Her hand white as it gripped her husband’s hand and strained against the bed in a way that seemed uncomfortable.
“Um, Ambassador Holmes says that she needs something called an epidural. Something like a pain blocker so she doesn’t break his hand and not break,” Miguta explains, “its really hard to understand him captain because his wife is distracting him with his hand.”
“If she needs a hand I shall definitely give her mine,” D’Morge quickly offers three of his strongest suction cups. His kind may have odd appendages but they were stronger muscles than even the most trained Kinshia.
Ambassador Holmes gives a skeptical look at the suction cups but in a move that could almost be described as ‘its your funeral’ he conceded to migrate the suction cups to his wife’s hand in order to free his own.
“Easy for you to say,” D’Morge grounded out darkly. It felt like the ambassador’s wife was purposely trying to tear his suction cups apart on a cellular level that was unheard of by brute strength alone. “And get that information quick Miguta or I’ll have you stranded on the next starbase when this is over.”
Lt. Miguta talks some more to both the Ambassador and his wife in fats tones.
“He says that any pain blocker that has cortisone with lidocaine, orbupivacaine, and saline would be good right now and to hurry because depending on how tired she gets this could last a full rotation!”
“Are they mad? Those chemicals are killers. I’m not injecting her with that” Kal declares only to be growled at by the Captain.
“The hell you will because I’m not allowing the Ambassdor’s wife to crush my suction cups into oblivion! Miguta get the recipe from the Ambassador and get it whipped up and ready to inject now!”
Miguta works furiously to translate under pressure and deliver the message to the other officers in the medical bay as Kal tries in vain to make them comfortable.
She watches as Ambassador Holmes despite the obvious pain in his hand looks loving at his wife and makes what sounds like encouraging noises to her. His wife on the other hand seems torn between looking mad at her mate and happy.
An odd thing to witness given the current times but endearing none the less.
The ambassador makes a noise at Kal to which she can’t understand until he gestures to the cooling solution gel at the opposite bedside. “You want this,” she points curiously.
The ambassador nods and holds up his hand for the item to which Kal is not going to bother questioning things anymore and just forks it over.
Gently Holmes spreads the cooling agent at his wife’s inner thighs and lower back in a way that is almost reverent if not frantic as Lt. Miguta comes back with the pain blocker solution.
“We have to inject this into her lower back in order to help her,” Miguta says handing the hypo injector to Dr. Kal.
“Just in her lower back?”
“Holmes said he would guide you.”
“CAN YOU JUST INJECT THE DAMN THING I CAN’T FEEL MY SUCTION CUPS.”
Indeed the Captain’s green suction cups were turning a very worrisome pale green so Kal quickly set forth to inject the solution.
Holmes had been very careful in trying to move his wife forward that even Miguta had to step in and help but the application was tricky.
“He wants me to stick the hypo there,” Kal kept trying to confirm as Miguta translated.
“But there’s too much bone there for me to get to the nerve endings.”
“Look, Holmes says to do it there so we have to! You need to trust me!”
“Boy it will be a hot day on Anmari before I trust you-”
“JUST DO AS HE SAYS!” screamed the Captain that even had the Ambassador’s wife flinching.
There’s a hiss from the hypo and a groan from the wife before she releases his suction cups and slumps on the bed.
“Lomar above please tell me we didn’t kill her,” Kal pleads until she opens her eyes and gives a worn smile.
Even ambassador Holmes looks more at ease as the chemicals kick in and besides the captain whimpering over his suction cups the room’s atmosphere is more tranquil.
Again the Ambassador whispers to his wife and she in turn looks lovingly at him until there’s a grunt, a movement and shrug and then grunt again.
“What’s happening?” Kal demands frantic and unsure of what to do.
“He says she’s pushing the baby out and that we need a blanket and scissors to cut the cord when it comes out,” Miguta explains as he fetches a towel and hand held mini laser.
Both work quickly and diligently together as the captain is still shivering on the floor.
“He says we need a warm light for the baby to be under.”
“Nurses get on it.”
“He says we also have to give the baby some injections to help booster its immune system.”
“Nurses see if you can access their planet’s data base on what that is stat.”
“ Computer time?”
Approximately 13:04:26 ship rotation it sounds off as a foreign noise starts to materialize in the room that is coming from neither the captain or ambassador’s wife.
“What is that?” Kal says as the Ambassador helps expel the baby from between his wife’s legs.
“That,” Miguta says cheerfully, “is their baby.”
Kal can’t say that its a pretty thing but then again she can admit that she has a bias for her own kind. Noticing that now both are crying Kal looks to Miguta and asks, “Is it okay?”
There is some talking to which Miguta confirms, “Yes the baby is okay. They are both just overwhelmed by the magick of it all.”
“What in Yarmil is ‘magick?”
Miguta shakes his head. “I do not know but if I were to guess it would be the experience of it all like when my younger sister was brought home in her pod.”
The two of them watch as Holmes kisses both wife and child fervently. How he holds them both so gently and murmurs in that strange tone again.
“What is he saying?”
“I love you. I’m so proud of you. You are so strong. I’m the happiest man in the universe and our aughter is beautiful like you.”
“What is a ‘aughter’?”
“Again I do not know but we’ll wait to ask that until we get better communicators at Federation central. I know I’m not the best linguist and I sure don’t want to screw up again by offending them.”
Kal puts a friendly claw on the young lieutenant’s shoulder. “Now I wouldn’t say you’re the worst either. Look what you did today! You helped me monitor and deliver the first live birth in centuries. Not a lot of people can say they did that.”
Miguta doesn’t look convinced but Kal retracts her claws something very rare for for her species to do. “Listen, I know I’m hard on you and I shouldn’t be since I only know the common tongues and nothing else but you are not worthless and after today you’ll go on to be the galaxies greatest. I just need to remember that you are doing your best and as long as you’re working toward getting better I need to lay off. In fact, feel free to tell me off when I’m coming at your back.”
“Oh but I couldn’t-”
“Hey, doctor’s orders,” Kal insists, “You have to follow them.”
Miguta looks embarrassed and pleased until he hears some faint murmurs from Holmes again.
“What’s he saying?”
“Ambassador Holmes and his wife want to know if the Captain is alright.”
Looking down the Captain did indeed look like he was still in immense pain on the floor clutching his three suction cups.
“By Timor Captain compose yourself,” Kal groaned trying to aid the man up and out of the room, “it couldn’t have been that bad.” It’s a slow process as Miguta stays to keep the Holmes company but she manages all the same.
Not even past the door frame Dr. Kal is bombarded by nurses alike.
“Doctor you have to see these readings!”
“Doctor the pain levels were something never heard of before!”
“Doctor the amount of strength in her one arm was that akin Quagmire in battle lust!”
Kal looks down at D’Morge and concedes, “Okay maybe it was that bad.”
“My Kori how can their kind even stand to do that let alone have more than one offspring?”
Dr. Kal gives them a disbelieving look. “I don’t know but given what I witnessed in there we definetly do not want to make an enemy of them. Keep them happy and send me all data on the happening after that you may all step off rotation. Lt. Mo’Roack will have the com until D’Morge feels better. Understood?”
//I apologise if I screwed something up. But here’s my first one!! Yay!! Also its bit short, they’ll longer I do believe. Prompt: pregnant? No, no way\
“John, can I ask you something about Sherlock?” You say. You had invited John over for lunch a couple of days ago just to catch up, but now you had a different reason. You had taken a pregnancy test this morning, just to be sure. And well..
“About Sherlock? Why don’t you ask him yourself?” He says obviously confused. Well it is John.
“Because I don’t want to freak him out.” You respond.
“(Y/N), its Sherlock.” He says.
“I’m pregnant.” You blurt out wanting to get this conversation over with.
“What?” You hear a voice say from the door.
You turn to see Sherlock standing in the door in shock. Not a face Sherlock usually pulls.
“Sher-” you start, but he runs out the door before you could say anything else.
John gives you a look.
“This is why I wanted to ask you!” You say and bolt out the door to find Sherlock.
‘After the tone-’ you hang up on the answering machine before it could sass you. You had been all over London looking for him. You even called Greg, but he didn’t know where he was.
“Goddamnit, Sherlock” you mutter before walking up the starts to 221 B to give up for the night. He had to show up eventually, right?
You walk in the door and see Sherlock walk into his room. Luckily, you were just able to step in front of him before he could get in the room.
“Sherlock, what the hell?” You say. “You can’t just run off like that. Especially with this!”
“You’re pregnant? No, no way.” He says and runs his fingers through his curls. He starts pacing around, worried.
“God, I never asked for this.” He starts rambling.
“Well I didn’t ask for it either. But I blame you. You forgot the damn condom.” You accuse. After you said that, you immediately want to take it back.
He looks at you with this look- it was terrifying. He was outraged. His eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes became dark. He was absolutely pissed. He walked into his room and slammed the door.
“Well there goes talking about it.” You sass towards the door. You decide to go to John and Mary’s for the night.
“Good morning, (Y/N)!” Mary says way too cheery.
“Morning, Mary.” You start, but John cut you off.
He handed you the phone to listen to the message.
“(Y/N), love, I am so sorry about last night. I was scared- hell I’m still terrified. But, god, I can not wait for this baby. Their going to be beautiful, and smart and, god, I love you! (Y/N) please forgive me, I’m sorry, I will make it up to you. Just, please, baby, come home.” He hung up.
A Mycroft imagine where he has a really big crush on you,and is trying to ask you out,but your too busy with John trying to make Sherlolly happen.And when it actually does(at 221b) you're there with John and Mycroft so in the excitement you kiss John(who isn't married,this is before everything went to hell and tears) when Mycroft sees this he just flips the coffee table and accidentally confesses his feelings. :P
“Oh the hell with this,” Mycroft scoffs as he totters over to coffee table in an attempt to lift it. His wooden pegs sound just annoyed as he looks going over to the unaware furniture standing haphazardly in the hallway.
It’s a funny thing to witness in the castle as the coffee table is more than three times the height of the ornate clock but outweighs him by over four stone.
“Myc what the hell are you doing to Mike?” Greg demands trying to close the giant ballroom doors as quietly as he with his candle stick arms can so that neither Sherlock or Molly are none the wiser to the outburst.
It had taken them months of planning to get the two talking without Sherlock making her cry and getting Molly to find confidence in herself to become an equal.
To have them suddenly take on a romantic turn just before the final rose petal would drop at the end of winter was something that everyone in the castle of Baker Street ecstatic; Mycroft especially since it was all his idea.
“Mr. Holmes I’d prefer you not try to lift me. Your metal arms really scratch up my wood and I really wouldn’t like to see how that translates when we’re human again,” Mike pleads edging away carefully from the fuming clock.
Although Mike Stamford was one of the second largest of them all next to Mrs. Hudson he was always ready to bend over backwards (as much as a coffee table could) to avoid injuring the smaller pieces.
“What’s all this noise about back here?,” John complains with little Rosie hopping along side him, “We got Sherlock and Molly together!”
“Together,” little Rosie chimes in excitedly as a little cup can be. Out of all the servants in the castle she had been most enthusiastic about the whole scheme if not the most subtle.
Next her papa pot John little Rosie was certainly the boldest in her schemes to get the two start spending more time in each other’s company reading her stories and doing experiments for her benefit.
There was no doubt it had been a team effort and everyone had there parts to play.
Mrs. Hudson the dresser talked Sherlock up to Molly every chance she had, Soo Lin Yao the feather duster made sure to create distractions to get the pair closer, Anthea the trolley bringing them things they needed seemingly out of thin air, _____ the suagr pot adding extra sweetness to everything to soothe their nerves, Redbeard the footstool did his tricks, Angelo the oven cooking decadent dishes meant too share, Dimmock the rug would “accidentally” rip himself from under their feet to get them to touch and even Anderson the coat rack pitched in every now and again.
All in all they should all be happy and yet Mycroft still has this sour look on his glass face as he eyes John disdainfully and totters away down the dark side of the corridor.
“Is something up with old fusspot again,” Mrs. Hudson accuses from her spot in the hallway.
The old dresser was already upset that she couldn’t witness the change beyond the guest room between Sherlock and Molly due to her disruptive size and made no allowances to be quiet about her displeasure either.
How she managed to get down the hallway was a trail in and of itself much less to do so in stealth.
Her dresser drawers open and shut in annoyance.”It’s not like he didn’t get a front row seat to see Sherlock and Molly kiss unlike some of us who had to hide out in the dark just to hear the aftermath.”
She was making such a racket that the others were sure that Hudson just might break the mood in the ballroom.
“Mrs. Hudson,” John tries to shush her only to be met with more drawer slamming until Rosie saddles up to the old armoire with a scandalized “Nanna Hudson!” to settle her down.
“Alright, alright everybody settle down,” Greg urges quietly and carefully with his candlestick arms. He’s careful not to swing them too broadly to Soo Lin or drip on Dimmock the carpet. “Look, I’ll see what’s on Mycroft’s mind but as far as everyone is concerned we’re still going with Myc’s plan yeah?”
There’s a steady hum of agreement from the others that Greg hopes is acknowledgement but its hard to tell when almost everyone’s faces are ingrained into their surfaces or fabrics.
Oh well, time to find Myc.
Looking around the hallway Greg finds the trolley. “Anthea,” he calls over to her, “can I borrow you for a bit?”
She’s as silent as she ever was to him both as human and enchanted furniture alike (in all honesty Greg had been convinced that the trolley wasn’t a transformed person at all until it spoke to Mycroft) but rolled over to him nonetheless.
If Greg was honest it creeped him out a bit and this was coming from a guy turned into a candlestick holder however he would never tell her that since she was 1) his means to catching up to Mycroft and 2) probably could dispatch of him very easily whether human or not.
He always found it a bit tricky to climb on for a ride (candlestick arms or not) as he had no idea what was what on Anthea’s new form but Greg found it always best to stick to the bottom tray rather than trapeze to the top.
Settling into the bottom tray was never a problem but hanging on-that was another story altogether.
Giving what he hoped was a gentle tap to what he assumed to be a leg Greg said, “Let’s see if we can catch up to him yeah?”
Anthea says nothing but starts to wheel herself down the corridor with Greg hanging on for dear life into the darkness.
After too many turns and sudden stops down the south wing hallway Anthea finally stops by the great window that overlooks the garden on the fourth floor.
“So you’ve sold me out,” Mycroft accuses to Anthea as she slows to a roll so Greg can stumble out.
“It needed to be done sir,” she says plainly rolling back out of the moonlight to avoid blinding anyone, “besides not everything is as it appears.”
Putting up one arm from his place on the ground attempting to catch his breath and dignity Greg adds, “Yeah-what she said but also what the hell is going on?”
Mycroft refuses to look at Greg as he stares blankly out onto the darkened garden. “You can’t be that obtuse inspector,” Mycroft states coldly.
“Hey I may be a candelabra but I’m not-” Greg stops to heave a bit only to come up dry because they cannot eat. “I’m not stupid,” he finishes lamely trying to stand steady. “Just tell me what’s got your sprockets in a bunch Myc.”
The clock gives a disgruntled sigh and elaborates, “I have…affections for the sugar bowl for quite some time prior to our transformations and have had a lapse in control when watching her lavish physical attentions to anyone male.”
Greg lets out a loud snort.
It sends Mycroft off his preach on the window sill and earns him a rude glare.
“So you’re saying you’re jealous because _____ kissed John in joy when Sherlock and Molly finally admitted they might love each other? You do realize the only reason she didn’t kiss you was because ____ literally has zero clue how you feel about her right?”
Mycroft’s face betrays nothing even within the trust of their friendship but even in their new bodies Greg and Anthea could tell there was an unusual stiffness in the clock.
“Sir ______ has been doting on you since before the curse with little noticeable receiving signs from you for regular humans to comprehend much less in these forms,” Anthea adds from her spot on the outskirts of the window’s moonlight.
Mycroft is careful as he trots toward Greg. “So you’re saying that my emotions toward the sugar bowl aren’t one sided.”
“Myc if you’re finally going to have a go at ____ you might want to stop referring to her as ‘the sugar bowl’,” Greg advises as he helps Mycroft into the bottom tray. “But yeah, ____’s been holding a candle for you since she got here if you get my drift,” Greg jokes as he tried to pull himself back into the bottom tray.
It was difficult to will himself to go back onto Anthea after her dramatic run through the wing but if it was for love Greg was willing to deal with it especially for a friend.
“There’s hope,” Mycroft says softly as if he never considered that he had any at all beyond that for his brother.
“Yeah well, as long as you don’t try to tip Mike again I’m sure ____ will have no problem warming your wires even before Sherlock gets a kiss,” Greg says cheekily earning a side glare from Mycroft and a not so subtle jump forward by Anthea to hit him with her metal leg.
“What it’s not like you weren’t thinking it earlier!” Greg accuses rubbing his candle head, “And I better not have a dent. It’s a big pain having to change these things.”
Bracing himself and Mycroft against Anthea’s need for speed Greg gives the okay and away they go flying down the south wing once more.