The Adventure of the Household Tyrant

*

I would have thought, being the doctor that I am that I would find holding a child to come naturally, as child care is a topic related to those in a medical profession. Had I realised how difficult it is to both hold the child comfortably and retain any sense of dignity I would have declined the request of the man currently sitting across from me.

I speak, of course, of my good friend and teacher, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. The best detective of the age no doubt who could pull conclusions from the colour of mud upon someone's shoe; although I am sure he required none of his considerable knowledge and skill to sense my discomfort. Instead he seemed perfectly happy to merely sit across from me, relaxed in the armchair he was so fond of, and smoke his pipe with a dazed smile upon his face.

The cause of my friends' almost overwhelming happiness was not, thankfully, the contents of his morocco case (which I note had long since vanished) but the bundle that I was attempting to hold in my arms.

His position was one I took only a moderate interest in, after I had married Mary and moved out of out shared lodgings at Baker Street and was no longer constantly in his company. I had read of many of his successes in the papers and occasionally I passed by Baker Street whilst returning from an errand but I saw him only occasionally. It was very surprising to me then, when I visited his rooms one evening to discuss business only to find him in the prescence of a rather pretty young lady.

He had beckoned me inside and sat me down without hesitation and had promptly introduced me to Miss Sophie Richards, the niece of his new client, who had no family to speak of and, after a rather disastrous fire, no home. She seemed a nice enough lady, gentle and well spoken, but I sensed within her a sharp mind and even sharper wit.

After that visit I had expected never to see Miss Richards again as Holmes had never been a social man and had little interest in women, unless they could outsmart him. However my next visit had proved very informative.

It seemed that Holmes had fallen for Miss Richards, who was a keen musician and had often visited him after I had departed some months ago, to accompany his violin, for Holmes was as much a composer as a performer. Miss Richard's forte was the piano, which she played very well. But I knew at once that Holmes loved her not for her skills but for her mind as Miss Richards was an author.

Since then I had never seen one without the other and it appeared that Miss Richards had 'moved in' to Baker Street between my short visits. I could also see that she was doing Holmes good, during my third visit I found that Holmes had tidied his rooms and had given up on drugs (apart from tobacco of course) completely. This news overjoyed me as I had never approved of that particular habit. Not long after I witnessed Holmes' proposal to Miss Richards at the Grand one evening. Mary, who had joined me, had smiled knowingly and congratulated Holmes wholeheartedly; it appeared that the two had finally made amends.

As so, in front of a small congregation, Sophie Richards became Sophie Holmes. Neither had wanted a large wedding although I am sure that I spied Mycroft, Holmes' older brother that he had long drifted away from, standing near the back.

Years had passed and Holmes continued his detective work. There were still many close misses but Holmes seemed to be less reckless now that he had Sophie to think about. In fact Sophie often joined us as sometimes her knowledge on a subject was superior to that of either her husbands' or mine. One event led to the next and this is what led to me sitting across from Holmes, attempting to hold a child in my arms.

"It is harder than it looks is it not?" Holmes remarked as I adjusted my grip for the umpteenth time. His hands were occupied elsewhere, with one holding his pipe and the other resting lightly on his wife's, who was still fast asleep. The sun had set as I had mulled over recent events and the room was now illuminated only by the fire, making red patterns dance across Holmes' face. In such light he appeared nearly ten years younger.

"Indeed it is. I would not have so but now I understand it is something that comes with time and practice." I replied quietly, not wanting to disturb the child.

"Maybe you will find that it is something that comes naturally when you have a child of your own. I found no difficultly, it seemed almost familiar." Holmes commented carefully rising out of his chair to take the child from me. The ease with which he positioned the child would have made any proud man blush. After settling down in his chair beside the bed, the blanketed bundle held securely in his arms I ventured another question.

"What are you going to name her?" It was perhaps the first question that had entered my head upon seeing the little girl. She was dainty, like her mother and would undoubtedly have the mind of her father if her current ability to grab attention was anything to go by. She was only five hours old after all.

"Sophie and I have discussed several names that we feel appropriate." Holmes replied, "But I shall consult her before naming our daughter. To name her without her mother's opinion would do nothing for my reputation."

"Indeed it would not." Mrs. Hudson entered with a steaming teapot on hand. I had noticed many changes in her manner too. Although she had always stood in awe at Holmes, mainly due to his princely payment for the rooms, she had clearly disapproved of many of his activities and was often bitter and unkind to him.

Now she took great measures to ensure his health, even allowing me to briefly use one of her tables as a makeshift operating theatre after one (and thankfully only one) incident that had led to Holmes taking a bullet. It had frightened her, that was clear and even I had struggled to gain the calm sense of mind required to tend to my friend. It was Sophie who had calmed us down with the assurance that Holmes was strong willed and would not leave us without due notice. It was clear that Mrs. Hudson was fond of Sophie.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." Holmes greeted quietly, rearranging his arms to allow him to drink the offered beverage.

"You should get some rest Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Hudson replied gently, "You'll do yourself no good staying up all night. I am sure that the good doctor and I can watch the babe for a few hours."

"You are too kind." Holmes said with a smile, "I am tired, but I would not dare fall asleep until Sophie has held her daughter."

"Then you shall be asleep very soon Sherlock." I think that we all jumped, even Holmes, as Sophie spoke up from her place on the bed.

"Sophie! How are you?" Mrs Hudson asked before Holmes could speak.

"Very well Mrs. Hudson." Sophie replied politely, carefully sitting up. Holmes however had raised an eyebrow at her.

"How long have you been awake? I suspect that it is longer than five minutes." Sophie laughed gently as Holmes sat down on the edge of the bed, his daughter still cradled in his arms.

"You are right as always Sherlock." Sophie replied, "I have been listening to your conversation for nearly ten minutes now. I am glad that you wished to consult me before naming our child." Holmes gave her a gentle smile and an even gentler kiss before handing the tiny babe over to her mother. Sophie looked upon the girl and gasped, tears filling her eyes.

"What is wrong?" I asked, unable to stem my curiosity.

"Nothing is wrong Watson, she is prefect." Sophie whispered so quietly that I had to strain my ears to hear her.

"I am glad to hear it." I replied.

"I think she is an Abigail." Sophie murmured after a moment. It just so happened, that Abigail had been the first name on the list Holmes had recited to me not ten minutes previously. That list had been the list of Holmes' favourites.

"Abigail Holmes." Holmes tested the name, rolling it over his tongue. "It is a perfect name. It is appropriate as well; I believe it means 'joy of the father' although I may be mistaken. "

"You are not." Sophie confirmed, "It suits her." I cannot document the following events; I can only say that Mrs. Hudson and I left the room to allow the new parents a moment together as a family. I left later that night after saying a brief farewell as I had to get back to Mary.

All I can say is that as I suspected, the Holmes family had many adventures yet to come.