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His mortal's sharp eyes narrow when he enters the bathroom. Loki has just stepped out of the tiny bathtub and is carefully rubbing himself dry in front of the hazed mirror. Nothing that bears remarking upon so far.
"Is something the matter, Sherlock?" he smirks, dabbing at his face. Initially, the scrutiny this curious mortal subjected him to was irksome to Loki, until he understood that Sherlock harboured no ill feelings towards him. Rather, he was interested in all that made Loki different. "Every day your gaze rests upon me as though you had not seen my naked form before. Have you not deduced me yet?"
"I am cataloguing changes," Sherlock says.
"Changes? What would those be?"
"How fast your hair or nails grow. The amount of skin cells you shed." Loki arches an eyebrow. "Or... that swell in your abdomen. The skin is too taut for it to be fat deposits."
"Before you go on, I might as well confirm your suspicions: yes, I am pregnant."
Sherlock blinks, then regards the slight swell again. "Fascinating. How—how does it work?"
"No differently than the pregnancy of any human female."
"But your... anatomy..."
"I am a shapeshifter, in case you forgot. I can retain a woman's reproductive organs if I so wish."
"Does this mean we're going to have a baby?"