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“This isn’t working,” Molly sighed, popping another hot sauce-coated pepper into her mouth. She glanced down at her enormous protruding stomach and smiled, “the little weirdo likes the stuff.”
Beside her on the sofa, her husband, Sherlock Holmes, was doing his best to be the supportive other half and father to be, eating copious amounts of peppers and hot sauce. He, however, wasn’t quite as lucky as the seemingly immune pathologist. His eyes were streaming and a thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead – he was even fanning himself comically, fruitlessly wiping at his eyes with the back of his hands.
“Look at that,” Molly murmured, leaning forwards to examine him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face that red,” she had to try really hard not to laugh as she ran a hand through his luscious curls, “babe, you’re sweating.”
“I’m not surprised! Did you grow these on the sun?” Sherlock snapped, giving up on the remainder of his pepper. He swigged at a bottle of water, managing to gasp out between gulps, “come on, what’s next?”
Molly leaned over and glanced at the laptop propped on Sherlock’s desk, “the usual rubbish. Drinking herbal tea – yeah, like that’ll work! – acupuncture – you can sod off – sex…that might work. “
Sherlock smirked, “I thought you’d never ask.”
He jumped to his feet eagerly and, after much heaving, had Molly up too. The pathologist couldn’t help but smile as she watched him weave through the mess of baby items strewn about the flat as he made his way to the sink, washing away the trace of peppers from his hands. The detective finished drying his hands and whirled triumphantly to his wife…only to find her doubled over, breathing heavily. He fought the urge to roll his eyes as he practically vaulted the kitchen table to get back over to her.
“The baby’s coming, isn’t she?” At Molly’s excited nod, Sherlock bent down to her bump, narrowing his eyes, “you did that on purpose.”