It didn’t come but he could hear the doctors and nurses voices take on a note of alarm. He saw Jason’s face, blurry above him, and knew he was urging him to hold on even though he couldn’t hear the words. He felt the doctor’s hands leave his body but before he could be grateful another pair landed on his abdomen, grazing the tip of his bloated penis, and started pushing down.
It was just as he was pressing the 'SEND' button that a pained cry of "Sherlock! It's coming!" came from the other room, sending his heart racing with nerves. Quickly, he grabbed the last thing, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubbed some into his hands before heading back. Running back into the room, he stopped short at the sight of John perched on the edge of the bench; his lower body already undressed as he pushed with what was left of the contraction, his face flushed red from the exertion. It was surreal for Sherlock to see; John, his only friend, going through what as an Alpha he could only imagine (and had no desire to experience for himself) but handling it with the calmness and determination of...well...a soldier. The contraction over, his whole body seemed to go limp as he let his head lean forward, his eyes distant as he attempted to relax.

He screamed bloody murder, unaware of any coherent words coming out of his mouth or the work his body was unconsciously doing, until he felt a sharp pop. He heard Jason telling him the head was out but didn’t have time to react before the shoulders were forcing their way into the world as well and it took all of his strength not to pass out on the spot.
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