AN: Sheesh. I go to Mexico for one week and then everyone and their dog has a drabble series when I get back. Now that I don't have a monopoly on it, I can't see how this humble chicken scratch is going to interest anyone. But for anyone reading, this is to be seven months in the life of Mycroft Holmes, spent in perpetual anticipation. Enjoy.
"Mycroft, really now, are you alright...?"
The man honestly looked as if he might faint. His heavy face had gone as pale as the good bone china, and his watery eyes gave the impression that they had evaporated.
"A... A baby. We're expecting a baby."
His wife gave an obedient nod. "Yes, Mycroft."
"How soon? How far along are you?" He scanned her quickly and saw no outward signs yet.
"Only two months. Along, I mean. Not to go, of course." She took a deep breath to calm herself and then realized she was the better off of the two. It was, after all, a womanly matter. "Mycroft...?"
"Just a moment, Ann, just give me a moment. It's all spinning again."