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The final therapy session. Finally, Sherlock and I would be able to move on past the terribly regretted incident that happened in the museum. Soon, we would be the proud parents of two beautiful children and before that we would be married, time permitting in that order.
Melissa was unusually bubbly during this visit, but I figured it was probably because this was indeed the last time that she would ever have to deal with us if she signed the papers. It was kind of funny.
"Welcome back, boys, you both look happy. And, Sherlock, you are glowing."
"I am not glowing. I am sweating, profusely. The effort it takes to move around added in with the 'little' practice contractions that have been happening lately have made me wet, everywhere." Sherlock loved to complain, I was sure of it now.
"Must be an interesting feeling for a man such as yourself,"
"My c-section is three weeks away, my wedding is two, it isn't interesting, it is annoying. The point of scheduling the procedure early was to avoid my body very dangerously going into labor." Here we go again.
"His contractions are far enough abart to not be cause for alarm, which I have told him. And, anyways, we are going to see the doctor after the session is over." I told Melissa. There was no point in her getting tied up in Sherlock's madness.
"Uterus party," Sherlock mumbled. He was officially cut off from American television. Period.
Melissa snickered. "Alright. Sure. How did those lists turn out?"
"Quite well, actually," I said, taking mine out of my pocket. "I did these while I was at work."
"Read the one with your five reasons that you love, Sherlock,"
I cleared my throat. My eyes drifted over to my fiance. The love I had for him caused my heart to enlarge. Even the swell of his heavily pregnant belly made my stomach flutter. Picking five reasons had been almost impossible. I could have gone on forever.
"Okay. One, Sherlock claimed to be a sociopath with a heart of stone, but I know that his heart is bigger than most people will ever know. Two, his brilliant mind that ensures I will never have to worry about a boring conversation. Three, his voice which I enjoy the most in its purest for. Four, his dark brown curls that have fantastic hints of auburn and chesnut undertones in the sunlight. And, finally five, his eyes, which are so unique and beautiful that I can only hope they are passed on to our children."
Sherlock had a look of surprise on his face. It made me wonder if I needed to be worried about what he had recorded in his phone. I could never tell with him.
"Thank you, John," He said with a grin scary enough to make small children cry. That was my Sherlock alright.
"You're...you're welcome?"
"That was very good, John. Now, Sherlock, could you please read yours?"
Sherlock unlocked his mobile and seemed to be fishing through the notes to find the right one. I peeked at the screen once or twice. He was procrastinating for some reason. Certainly, he was not going to find a note he made while skimming through photographs of the zombie Batman mannequin he found in the costume shop in October. He couldn't even pick one out in the three hours we spent there. He blamed it on his baby bump and ended up attending Molly's party as an Egyptian mummy, a costume that everyone saw the humor in, but him.
"Any day now dear," I whispered and gave him a nudge in the arm.
"Yes. Alright. Number one: I love John Watson's nose. I love the way that it is shaped and the noises he makes with it when he is sleeping. Two: his arms, they are just muscular enough and comforting enough to make me feel safe when they are wrapped around me. Three: his eyes, a deep steel blue color I could literally swim in, if it was not for the fact that everytime he looked at me lovingly I feel like my soul is being ripped out from my feet. It is a sensation I will never grow tired of. Four: his bum and I will go no further to explain the reasoning behind that. Five: John's laughter, it is the most incredible sound I have ever heard in my life. I can only hope to be able to keep him happy enough for him to laugh for the rest of his life."
I turned my head away from Sherlock. I was not about to allow him to see me getting choked up over what he said. He would never let me live it down and it would make the wedding that much harder.
"That was perfect. You both really understood what I was looking for in the assignment. Clearly, you two are meant for each other. Now, may I see your other lists?"
Sherlock handed over his phone, reluctantly, and I handed Melissa the piece of paper. She read over them with a huge smile on her face. A big part of me figured that I didn't want to know why Sherlock thought it was wrong to assult officers of the law.
"What? Why are you laughing?" Sherlock asked her, a Vulcan-like eyebrow raised.
"These lists are exactly the same. Obviously, they are worded differently. You two should have been married a long time ago."
"I don't doubt it," I laughed, taking Sherlock's tensed hand in mine.
"Has there been any other new developments in the past few weeks?" She asked us, probably referring to anger issues.
"My brother has been significantly less of a meddling arse since he found comfort in John's best man, Geoff. I also have to piss more, time consuming if anything. I have also rearranged the nursery six times."
"Eight, actually and Lestrade's name is GREG!"
"Shut up,"
"We are having twins and for some reason he believes both sides of the room need to be exactly the same and match. He moves a blanket in one pile, he has to do the same to the other side. It is nutty."
"It might be a bit obsessive, but I wouldn't call it nutty. He is nesting." Melissa said with a sweet smile.
"I'm not obsessive. How would you know, anyways?"
"I am a mother and a therapist, Mr. Holmes, deduce how I was able to figure that out?"
Sherlock's jaw dropped. Rightfully so.
"Ooo. I've decided it. I like her. We should request her if we ever get into this situation again."
"Oh..." Sherlock shrieked. He pushed a hand against his back and breathed through the pain.
"Fifteen minutes,"
"Actually, Doctor Watson, it has only been twelve," He corrected me.
"We need to go. We need to go now!" I shouted excitedly.
"No! We have to go back to the flat! My bag is at the flat!"
"Doesn't matter, Sherlock. You can't go into full blown labor. I will call your brother. Your brother can bring the bag."
Sherlock gasped. "He probably already knows..."
"Maybe, but let's go! I'll call a cab." I said before we shared a quick kiss.
He stroked his belly with one hand and wiped his hair back with the other. Good thing he was calm because I was screaming inside.