[ A/N: Dedicated to @WriterAtBakersStreet. ALSO: I might skip a few days at a time, but John will not suddenly be seven months pregnant. Kay? Kay. : ) Also, go reread Chapter 3. The ending got cut off, I've added it. This chapter may be a bit odd without that ending.]

Clara sat cross-legged on the floor; Sherlock and John sat in their respective chairs. Four pregnancy tests sat on the coffee table, and they all showed the same thing - a big, fat pink line. The way the tests were set up, there was a blue line already on the test that you peed on. If a pink line appeared across the blue line (forming a plus sign) then you were pregnant. If no pink line appeared (leaving a blue minus sign) then you weren't. And John had gotten four plus signs.

"What's going to happen?" Sherlock broke the tense silence, turning to his boyfriend. John had pulled up his shirt and was staring at his stomach. There was some more pudge there than usual, but only slightly. He gently poked it with one index finger, noting how his stomach was firm. It didn't indent the way it would have if it were just pudge. Definitely not.

"Well, it depends, doesn't it, on what we do next," Clara said, twiddling a strand of hair around her right index finger. John and Sherlock watched with baited breath as Clara snatched a graphite pencil out of her pocket and stuck the eraser into her mouth. 

"That's not a safe habit, you know," Sherlock commented after a while. John turned to stare at his boyfriend - how had he known about Clara's habit when she was thinking? 

"Oh, don't look so shocked, John," Sherlock said, waving a hand dismissively. "She keeps a pencil in her pocket at all times, but no paper or anything else to write on - strange, don't you think? It's never even been sharpened, and there's no guarantee that there'll be a sharpener wherever she goes. Plus, there are teeth marks all over the area around the eraser, and it's been damaged by exposure to all that saliva - it's discolored, and I don't think it'll erase properly ever again."

Clara pulled the pencil out of her mouth, laughing. "Quite the deductive genius, Mr. Holmes. Yes, everyone always nags me about this habit. Not that I notice. Anyways, the best way to proceed is to get John an ultrasound. We'll have to - I wonder if THAT would work?"

"What?" John asked. Clara stood, exiting the room with an "I'll be right back!" hastily thrown over her shoulder. 

Sherlock had been staring at John's stomach for a little while, and as soon as Clara left, he reached out and yanked John's jumper up to reveal his bare stomach. "Sherlock, what in the - "

His boyfriend dropped to eye level with his stomach, and for a split second John thought Sherlock was going to do something that was highly inappropriate with Clara only a few seconds away. Instead, the famous consulting detective lifted a hand and tentatively - almost like he was afraid - splayed it over John's stomach. "A baby," he muttered. "I don't do well with children - never have, probably never will. I'm obnoxious, rude, stuck-up, probably the worst arsehole anyone could ever have the misfortune of meeting. And this - this human is going to share my genes, my DNA, be a biological product of my direct interference - "

"Sherlock, where is this going?" John interrupted. Sherlock paid him no notice and continued on as if he hadn't been spoken to at all.  

" - and normally I'd advocate the destruction of any such thing - "

"Sherlock!" John hissed, suddenly feeling both unnaturally enraged and extremely close to tears. 

" - but this child will also be the product of the kindest and bravest and wisest human being that I have ever had the good fortune of knowing. I suppose we can only hope that this child takes after you, as opposed to me. John, I am quite possibly the worst human being ever created - barring my insufferable brother - and you are most definitely the best. I'm not sure what the result of this tumultuous mix of genes will be, but I suppose the best we can hope for is a result somewhere in the middle. I am very close to being honored at the thought of having a baby with you, John Watson." 

John was speechless. From the doorway out into the hall came the sound of a single person clapping, very slowly at first, then faster and faster until Clara was applauding as John kissed Sherlock, hard. 

"You complete git," John laughed. "I'm honored to be having a baby with you as well." 

"Well, we only have a 90% positive that you are pregnant," Clara said, calmly settling back into her cross-legged position. "The same chemicals that give you a positive ID could also be indicative of some sort of cancer of the stomach." Although John, as a doctor, had known that it was a distinct possibility, his stomach lurched uncomfortably. Sherlock moved his hand off John's stomach and took his hand instead.

"The only way to find out is via ultrasound, but it can't be a standard ultrasound, or else people will know that you're pregnant and no one will let you hear the end of it. SO, we're going to trick them!" Clara laughed. She held up a piece of paper and a small plastic rectangle, like a credit card. It was an ID card, upon closer inspection. 

"And that is?" Sherlock asked. John thought he detected an edge of worry in his detective's voice. 

"My medical license. Well, it isn't a professional license, but it marks me as a medical student in training. It's my proof, for when I go interning outside of school or in emergency situations. John, you've got a medical license as an army doctor. Therefore, It wouldn't be very hard to devise a ruse like this: we go to St. Bart's Hospital and tell them that I'm a med student in training andJohn is one of my instructors. We use the licenses as proof and acquire a room with an ultrasound machine, telling people that John is teaching me about how they work and that I'm to examine someone as a sort of checkpoint exam. Then I can give John his ultrasound, and no one will be the wiser."

"That's . . . not a totally horrible plan," Sherlock finally said. Clara blushed. "Quite a compliment, Mr. Holmes."

"Are we going with that, then?" John said. 

"I think it'll work just fine," Clara said. "John, you'd better find your license. We'll need it."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

John hadn't expected the ruse to actually work, but he was pleasantly surprised. Clara, after consulting with the couple, had decided to bring Molly Hooper in on the secret, claiming that it would be beneficial to have someone working in the hospital. And she had been right - Molly had come out, pretending she'd been the one who had invited them, and they had swanned right by the dubious security guard. After taking blood and pee samples (which Molly had analyzed), John was waiting for Clara to come back with the results. 

When she did, she was blushing and a bit jumpy. "How did she take your advances, then?" Sherlock asked. John, shocked, elbowed his boyfriend hard. 

"I can't tell!" Clara laughed. "I ran out before she even knew. Seriously, John, you didn't tell me you had such hot friends! I'd've come to stay sooner!"

The blood and urine results had both tested positive, and Clara calmly lathered on the ultrasound gel, humming. It was cold and sticky, and John thought it resembled toothpaste. Gently, she began moving the wand about on John's stomach, and at first all the monitor showed was fuzzy gray nothing. Then, slowly, an image formed - a little black lump on the fuzzy grey nothing. 

"Well, that settles it, then," Clara said, pressing a few buttons to freeze the image and take pictures (to be printed up later). "John, Sherlock, congratulations - you're going to be parents." 

Sherlock and John stared wordlessly at each other before John, ridiculously happy, pulled a stunned Sherlock down to the right height and kissed him on the mouth.