Fic: Little things - Chapter 58 of 62 - Blank

[bradspyjamas]

Title: Little things
Author: bradspyjamas
Beta: ​The incomparable kizzia 
Rating: PG13 - mpreg with mentions of sex but nothing graphic (although Chapter 24 is pushing the boundaries!)
Status: WIP - all chapters written but later ones being edited.
Tags: Johnlock, Post-Reichenbach, Mpreg, Omegaverse (my own version), angst, fluff, established relationship.
Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to ACD, the BBC, Moffat and Gatiss - no copyright infringement intended.
Summary: John held himself together after Sherlock jumped but the emotional strain was enormous and Sherlock didn't fare much better. When Sherlock finally returned they were both just so glad to reaffirm their bond they didn't really think about the future, or if they did they simply assumed their lives would carry on as they always had. 

Needless to say they soon discover that their prolonged separation has had a very specific effect on John; the results of which mean nothing will ever be the same again. Told entirely in 221B’s this story charts all the little things Sherlock and John experience as their lives change forever.  

The B’s so far are Blood, Breathe, Bag, Beta, Bucket, Brother, Brilliant, Bet, Best, Bother, Bang, Bleak, Beginning, Baby, Born, Biscuit, Beneath, Bump, Basement, Beetroot, Blimp, Blur, Benedict, Beg, Break, Butterfly, Boy, Brooding, Bemused, Blue, Broken, Bourbon, Before, Breeches, Bedroom, Bewildered, Bassinet, Bee, Bach, Black, Blinked, Blame, Blind, Brain, Better, Blaze, Back, Birth, Been, Blooming, Betty, Bored, Bone, Believable, Burning, Bladder, Bugger & Blank.

Author's Note: This isn't standard Omegaverse because, as I'm not comfortable writing dub/non-con scenes, I decided to create
my own version. If you want to know more about it, I've done an explanatory post here.

Chapter 58 - Blank

Make it stop, he screams inside his head as another contraction starts, Make it stop!

He hadn’t realised it was going to be like this. He hadn’t understood that the pain was going to get this intense, this excruciating and the knowledge that he can only wait it out sends a spike of panic straight through him.

I’ve got to keep calm, I’ve got to breathe, I’ve got to get through this, he tells himself as he bites his lip and tries to detach, to view the proceedings dispassionately.

But he can't.

Because it's John, his John, who is drenched in sweat, sobbing and crying out as he labours to bring their son into the world.

He'd been fine at first, when he'd heard John swear and rushed out to find him clinging onto the chair, puddle at his feet. He'd known exactly what had to be done, who to call, where the bag was. He'd got John into the taxi, got them to the hospital. He'd helped.

But now?

Now, he's useless. He can do nothing to make it better. It’s been hours, John's grey with exhaustion and yet no-one seems concerned.

He wants to tell John it's OK, that it’ll soon be over.

But he can't.

Because it might not be.

And at that thought his mind goes blank.

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