My most recent fantasy involves twilight sleep, a horrible practice from the 1950’s and 60’s where women were given a mix of drugs during labor and delivery that made them forget the whole experience. It was said to relieve pain but, in fact, the women were suffering natural labor and delivery, just too drugged out of their minds up to make any sense out of the whole thing.
Jared would have laughed at the irony, except the situation wasn’t funny at all. Throughout the whole pregnancy, Jared had been the calm one, the one to provide reassurances when things were going bad, the one who always knew what to say. Now when it really mattered, when the moment of truth stormed in on them, and their baby was demanding to be introduced to the world, Jared was the one freaking out and relying on Jensen for reassurance.
She struggled to stand. The chains worked against her, keeping her from reaching out. She could hear the cries of other women and sadly took comfort from it. At least she wasn't alone. One woman, her name was Tina, had been taken around the same time she had. She remember being with her, trapped in the kidnappers vehicle when it first happened. Why they had been kidnapped she didn't know. She assumed it was some kind of cult, being as she only saw men. Her thought were interrupted by another cry from her fellow captive. She could only guess that she had gone into labor. She tried to block out the screams, to remain in denial of her situation. She gazed with dewy eyes upon her trembling belly. She dread birth and she knew her time was coming. She had been having contractions for a few days now and this day wasn't any different.
Staring at the tiny being in his hands, Sherlock seemed in shock, almost unsure of what he had just witnessed. Then as its face scrunched and let out a tiny cry, he could feel his breath catch. She was actually here. The thing that Sarah and John had made together, that once gray bean in the sonogram photo on Mrs. Hudson's fridge, the creation that had sent John into the most interesting cravings and mood swings (he had analyzed every single one), was a living, breathing person...
When he woke, he was back in Arthur’s bed. He opened his eyes and glanced around. He wanted his son, the urge to hold him, to see him, was overwhelming. Before he could begin to panic though, his eyes fell on the cradle beside the bed, and he leaned over the side in order to get his first glimpse. All he could see was a tuft of golden hair and a wrinkled little face. He nearly fell off the bed trying to scramble out of it.