AN: So, yeah… No slash, but this is AU to the nth degree. AU to both ACD's work and biology as we know it. This was inspired by Thomas Beatie and his newborn daughter, as well as the "omg babies" mood PA has me in. Before you ask, no, there's likely not going to be a proper explanation for the events in this story. If pressed, my answer would be "voodoo, because it's the babe's power" (shout out to all the other Jim Henson dorks). Thusly, the author kindly requests you put aside all firm knowledge of human reproduction for the duration of this story or go read "Perpetual Anticipation", where at least the pregnancy makes sense. Bottom of the line, this is for my own amusement and for the amusement of anyone else who has a sense of humour like mine. Enjoy. Or don't.

"Damn Irene Norton to the ninth circle of Hell!"

Dr. John Watson gave a weary sigh as he brought the bowl of cool water and the dish of ice chips to the bed where his friend was currently writhing about like a grounded eel drowning in air, cursing the name and soul of the woman who had contributed to his current status.

"Stop tossing about like that, you'll only make it worse," the doctor warned, gripping his thin shoulders in his strong grasp. "This is as much your fault as hers."

"She's not the one about to push out six pounds of parasite!"

"You're not pushing out anything but complaints. I've sent a message to Mycroft, and he's fetching a very tight-lipped doctor he knows who is an expert on caesarean sections. It should not be much longer. Now take some of these ice chips before you become dehydrated."

The detective relented, crunching the chips between his teeth despite Watson's grimace at the action. "I hope that woman has triplets…!"

"Let's concentrate on this one child first, shall we?" Watson could not help but wonder if Mrs. Norton, many, many miles away and unaware of the situation, was experiencing a burning of the ears.