Glancing back, Sherlock gave a quick look at John who looked rather pained while doing all he could to stay calm. But of course John had a lot more to worry about. Instinctively, his arm was wrapped protectively around the large bump that contained his and Sarah's second child; a girl this time. She had already faced death three times in the past few minutes (once being his own fault...) and she wasn't even born yet; he wasn't about to let her face it again.
BirthDrake awakes to a bright light shining in his face,To the sound of metal clanging and some sort of strange melancholic buzzing spiraling throughout the room,Like a hoard of angry bumble bees. He groans as he tries to sit up,Wondering what's happened when he suddenly feels resistance,and looks down to see he is strapped to a table. His eyes go wide as he struggles against the restrains,Trying to free himself,But he only hears a solemn laughter emit from the room,And there,from within the dark shadows of the far corner of the room,A man appears. Medium height,Spiked Brown hair,Goggles in his hair. He wears green gloves and a lab coat,Holding two medieval looking devices in his hand. They look like the shapes of swords,With a swirl at the end,And electricity shocking from them at the speed of light. He laughs menacingly,and all Drake can do is slink back onto the table,Shaking with fear as the man grows closer,Soon the man is practically breathing down Drake's face,and he speaks,Speaks wi
"It's normal... We're getting close..." John replied, already knowing where Sherlock's mind was going. At last, the dressing room. Gingerly swinging the door open, he loosed his grip on John long enough to shove a large stack of chairs in front the door, keeping any potential snipers out of the room for the time being. He'd figure out what to do if they started shooting when they come to it. Leaving John on a bench, he hurried into a side room, grabbing the items that John had instructed him to get; towels, a first aid kit, anything he thought they'd need. Of course, he did manage to take a moment to type out a frantic text to Mycroft.
He was right. Who knew if the snipers were still there or not? Bending over, he allowed John's arm about his neck as he got him to his feet before beginning the agonizingly slow walk to the dressing rooms. It seemed that John could only walk so far before having to stop to breathe through contractions that were now right on top of each other. And it hurt Sherlock nearly as much to see John in that much pain. Why Omegas chose to do this at all seemed completely illogical to him... Desperate to ease some of the pain, he pulled John close to him; letting his head rest against his chest and swaying together until John decided to move again. And from the look on John's face, it was the best thing he could have done. It was during one of these 'dances' that Shelock was alarmed to discover that John was now trembling under his touch even though he couldn't possibly be cold.
Her stomach cramped as if answering Tina's cries. She whimpered softly, "No, not yet." The sound of unlocking doors caught her attention and she tried to stand, to be defiant in the face of those who held her key to freedom. However, the way her back was gnawing her today, she could only lean against her cool walls. A group of her kinappers walked past her cell towards the wailing woman. Only one stopped before her. His sly eyes looked her up in down, studying her. A sickening smile came to his face when he noticed the pain in her eyes. "Not so snappy today, eh?" She smirked, "Maybe you'll be like your friend down there." He thrust his head in Tina's direction, laughing at the horror which spread of her face. He walked on cackling and she thrashed against her short chains, enraged and terrified. How could anyone do this to her? She bit back a cry as another contraction rippled across her belly. They were coming closer together and getting stronger. "Nonono.." she shook her head in disbelief. She didn't want to have this baby! Her body ignored her pleas, however, and as time dragged on her labor progressed.
As soon as the scalpel finished its mutilation, he registered the sensation of the vacuum being placed on his daughters head, the movements tearing his already brutalized opening. The doctor started pulling without even waiting for a contraction and the hands were back on his belly, crushing his insides without care. Each compression sent another flash of agony through his anatomy but he couldn’t do anything other than scream for mercy.