Fortunately they were not too far off from
their destination when Mary’s water broke.
It had been John’s turn to have a moment of panic before Sherlock was
able to get him to come round to being the army doctor that he was. This was not without John commenting that
they did not have soldiers in battle who were about to give birth. After John calmed down from his upset he
handled the situation admirably. They
arrived safely to their destination before Mary’s contractions were too close
together but upon seeing the safe house John let loose some solid oaths and
used a few new creative curses.
“Really brother? Isn’t a bit vulgar to be using this location.” Sherlock asked Mycroft.
“Well, the house just became free and it is large enough to house the aquarium you have built up.” Mycroft drawled as he made his way to the front doors of what was once called Appledore.
“I don’t want my child born in this house.” John tried to argue.
“No choice now love,” Mary insisted as she attempted to waddle on her own up the walk.
John quickly joined her and was relieved that medical staff and equipment were available. They were set upon by Mrs. Hudson who worriedly voiced her concerns about the soon mother-to-be. This time instead of Sherlock it was John that snapped at the well-meaning landlady. Almost not soon enough Mary was laid in bed as she was helped by her husband and others to deliver her child in the house of the man that Sherlock had killed. Sherlock had to be shooed from the room despite his wanting to see the live birth of what would be his godson. Too which John responded that they were having a daughter and how could Sherlock think he would be the godfather.
Everyone present was relieved that the delivery did not last long and ran as smoothly as possible in the given circumstances. They were especially pleased in the shortness due to the strength of Mary Watson’s lungs. She also proved to be more creative than her husband in the language department and sometimes she was not even speaking English. She had a right to be loud as she had missed the window to get an epidural and she had suffered many of the contractions in silence on the way to the safe house.
Once it was determined that mother and child were both healthy John made his way to announce that he and Mary were now the proud parents of a bouncing baby boy. He was too happy and proud of his family to get swept up in Sherlock’s smug look and welcomed the odd members of their little family to meet the newest addition.
Everyone aside from Mycroft peeked their head in to give salutations to the mother and to spy on the bald child who was suckling on his mother’s breast. Impatiently Sherlock queried after the child’s name.
Mary looked to John to see if he wanted to give the news of the name they had chosen.
“William Leroy Hamish Watson.” John delivered with pride.
“Hmm…I see that Hamish lives on and what of Leroy? What kind of name is that?” Sherlock questioned.
Mary just shook her head and laughed which kept John from punching his best friend in the face. Molly pinched her husband on the side where she knew he was ticklish before smiling at the happy family and leaving the room. The rest of the band of misfits followed suit and soon were sorted into rooms of the large estate. When Greg made to defend Molly’s honor when he heard she would be rooming with Sherlock he held up their ringed hands for the detective inspector to see. Greg walked away grumbling that he owed Mary Watson money for the bet he had placed. Mycroft embarrassingly told his brother to be smart and wait before celebrating being alive with his wife until some prophylactics could be acquired by his agents because they did not need a mini-Sherlock running around.
“You should be grateful that Molly and I can provide mummy with grandchildren it will get you off the hook.” Sherlock commented lightly.
Despite the events of the day Molly fell into a deep sleep rather quickly due to exhaustion and over-stimulation. Sherlock curled himself around her body and followed suit as there was nothing he could do for the moment and he wanted to be alert for what the next day would bring in it’s wake. He stroked Molly’s arm as he went to sleep to comfort himself that she was still there and alive.
The next morning when Molly woke up the first thing she noticed was white. Everything in the room was white. At first she started to panic thinking she got sent to a psych ward and she started to sit up but an arm and a voice stopped her.
“Magnussen lacked imagination in the decorating arena. We are at his house until we get straightened out. We have a couple of options.” He started to kiss her neck in different spots after each of his sentences. “We can go back to sleep. We can join the others for breakfast, not my favorite option. We can discuss yesterday’s events. Or my favorite,” he turned her body so that he was hovering over her and looking her in the eyes, “celebrate that we are alive as my brother calls it.”
He smiled down at her as he brought his lips to hers only to be stopped by her words.
“You drugged me,” she said in accusatory tones.
Sherlock groaned and rolled off of her onto his back. “So discuss yesterday’s topics then?” He said petulantly with his arms crossed.
Molly sighed, “I’m too relieved that you are alive and too emotionally exhausted to stay angry but…I need you to promise not to do that again.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Fine I promise. Now can we get back to celebrating life?” He saw that Molly was still looking at him with intent.
“I need you to take this seriously. I trusted you and you broke my trust Sherlock.”
Sherlock started to feel an uncomfortable and unidentified feeling in the pit of his stomach. He might have felt it before but probably erased it due to the discomfort it was giving him. “What do I need to do to make this right?”
Molly could see that she now had his attention and his sincerity. “Just promise not to do it again.” She saw him open his mouth to explain and held her fingers to his mouth to stop him. “I know why you did it but we need to have a better way to deal with such a situation in the future. But please don’t get in the habit of having to leave the country on a suicide mission.”
Sherlock held onto the hand that was pressed to his lips and kissed her fingers. “I promise.” After sometime of closeness and cuddling Sherlock broached the subject again of “celebrating.”
Molly sat up in bed and looked down at Sherlock. “Your brother is right. We need to be careful. Especially now with Moriarty and…” Molly moved forward as what was left of her hair moved forward to cover her face.
Sherlock shifted so that he was eye level with Molly, “and what?”
Molly closed her eyes and bit her lip. “Is this house bugged?” she said in whisper.
Sherlock got up and made a sweep of the room. He did turn up a couple of bugs that had once belonged to Magnussen. He curled his lip in disgust. Of course the man wouldn’t have any problem listening to anything that happened in a bedroom. Sherlock doubted that he had had many guests with his reputation and that it served those who had stayed right. He chucked the bugs out into the hall before returning to sit on the bed cross-legged with his hands steepled under his chin.
Molly mirrored his image except for Sherlock’s hand position and leaned forward. “I got an email from Magnussen.”