AN: Hamish Malcolm Watson-Holmes is not my original character, he is a very popular OC from valeria2067 on tumblr. He also has his own blog if you wish to see it, simply go to hamish-watson-holmes on tumblr. Please review, thanks :)
Sherlock buttoned up his shirt, looking at himself in the mirror of the living room while John stood in the kitchen, drinking a cup of tea. The air was filled with nervous anticipation as the consulting detective looked over to his doctor.
"John, it's going to be alright… there's really nothing to be worried about." The pale man attempted to comfort him but John looked irritable and shrugged off his reassurance.
"What if none of them like us? What if they think we're not good enough?" the soldier fretted, running a hand through his hair, rumpling it.
Sherlock swallowed his own worries and tried to look impatient. "You're being ridiculous, I didn't waste three hours of my morning cleaning this flat for some agency to tell us we're not good enough."
John eyed his cup of tea before putting it down on the counter with a sick look. "I've waited so long for this… what if they don't think we're devoted enough to being parents?" he was working himself into a frenzy, his foot now tapping frantically against the lino. Sherlock hadn't seen his husband so agitated for quite some time and he quickly strode across the flat to embrace his significant other.
"I don't see how that is possible, you excel in anything you put your mind to John and I don't think parenthood will be any different." Sherlock murmured against his shoulder.
The doctor drew in a shaky breath as the ringer sounded downstairs. Mrs. Hudson's quick steps opened the door and muffled words were exchanged. John's eyes were in danger of falling out of his head and his breathing was so shallow Sherlock fleetingly wondered if he'd pass out.
"Boys!" their landlady's voice yelled from down the steps. "They're here!"
"Ready?" Sherlock whispered against his better half's cheek. John weakly nodded and the consulting detective took his hand to lead him into the sitting room. "Bring them up Mrs. Hudson!"
Three women entered the flat, and both men were taken aback by how good a job Mycroft had done at locating such incredible likeliness's. The first woman was tall, with curly black hair that flowed down her back, striking blue eyes and high cheekbones. Her lips were heart shaped and an impish smirk seemed to be forever lingering on her face. The second was shorter; her hair was a subtle honey color, straight and short. Her frame wasn't nearly as graceful, but it seemed to carry its own elegance. Her nose was rounded and her skin the same tone as John's.
The two women could've been relatives of the men standing before them. The third however, had dark skin and cleared her throat loudly to stop the boys from gawking too hard at the guests. "Hello Mr. and Mr. Watson-Holmes, we've met before but allow me to introduce these two." She smiled amiably at the men before continuing. "This is Jordan," the tall one extended a hand, first to John, then to Sherlock. John shook it happily but Sherlock merely stared at it until she dropped it to her side awkwardly. "and this is Maddy. Both have been recruited through the help of your brother, Mr. Mycroft Holmes." The second offered no hand.
"Yes, it's splendid to meet you both. I just want you to know how grateful Sherlock and I are for you taking the time to consult with us. I assure you this is something we've both wanted for a very long time." John gushed, wringing his hands nervously as they all sat down. Sherlock said nothing, looking analytically at both, searching for any fault that would make them unfit for the job they had been recruited to do.
Jordan spoke first, her voice high and clear, with an intelligent ring to it. "Yes, I really hope I can help, Mr. Holmes's requirements were incredibly precise and I'm a little surprise I made it this far into the selection. There were originally twenty women, and to be honest I'm not sure how I made the cut-,"
"Are you saying this because you think you are not ready or able?" the detective interjected sharply. John looked appalled at his husband's outburst and gave him such a withering glare that Sherlock was caught off guard and shut his mouth, sulking.
"No, it's quite alright. I'd expect you to ask such a question. No, it's just that there were several who looked the same as me. Mr. Holmes said I had something the other's didn't but I don't really know what it is." Jordan then helped herself to a biscuit that John had laid out.
Maddy spoke next. Sherlock was immediately struck by how much her voice held the soothing quality John's had. It was like a gentle lullaby and he inclined his head forward to hear every word. "I'm also looking to help, and even if I do not get the job, I really wish you two the best."
The interview was continued with rather boring dialogue, Mycroft had made it entirely clear to the agency that they were perfectly capable men who would do wonderfully with a child and so in the end all they were doing was choosing from the two provided that day.
That night they talked it over, John considerably less stressed now that the interview was done with. Sherlock had put as much emphasis as he could on the fact that it was John's choice and John's choice alone. He had never wanted children, he had only agreed because it was the one thing that his husband truly wanted and Sherlock really couldn't stand to see him unhappy.
Of course, the detective was more than willing to help with the raising and upkeep but as far as emotional ties went, he couldn't see himself growing attached; his heart was entirely devoted to John and his work. He would care for the child because it was important to John, therefore important to him, nothing more.
"I really like Jordan." The doctor said as he ate his food, chewing decisively. "She's got your cheekbones…" John looked over to Sherlock, who was thumbing through a magazine.
Dissatisfaction stung the detective as he looked up. He really had been hoping that his husband would lean more towards the surrogate that resembled John, her voice had been so lovely. Jordan had seemed colder, less emotional… just like him. He didn't want any genetic connection to the baby, John didn't deserve a defective child, having his DNA in it meant it ran the risk of being an uncaring sociopath when it reached adulthood. "What about the other one?"
"She seems so… plain."
"Plain can be good John." He reminded gently. The doctor shook his head, taking another bite of his food.
"No, I want the baby to look like you a bit… since you refuse to allow us to use your-your-,"
"Sperm, John, that's the word you're looking for." John closed his eyes and stopped chewing for a second as Sherlock provided the necessary vocabulary. "And I refuse because I don't want a child that looks like me, you were a much more attractive infant as well."
John snorted. "Hardly, have you seen your baby photos? You had giant blue eyes and the most adorable head of curls I've ever seen." Sherlock frowned, pretending to be too engrossed in his magazine to listen to what his husband was saying. "What's wrong with having a baby that looks like you?"
"It's your child, it's going to call you Dad, and it's going to want you when it has nightmares… I'm not exactly a source of comfort, face it John."
John looked hurt. "It's our child Sherlock."
"You know what I mean."
"Do I?" the doctor said, setting his now empty plate on the coffee table. "You don't seem to have any desire to be a parent at all and I can't help but wonder if I'm making a mistake. Is this just something you're going along with because you know I want a child? It's not too late to back down, we can still say no if you don't want to." Sherlock could sense the edginess.
The detective knew that if he said no then he would be causing John an incredible amount of pain, and he couldn't do that, definitely not. He smiled his best smile at John and shook his head in such a way that his head of unruly curls swayed. "No, John. I want this… I'm sorry, it's just a lot to process."
The soldier relaxed considerably and got up to wrap his arms around the shoulders of his husband and kiss his neck. "I'm sorry, I've been worrying myself into the ground. I don't want to accuse you of anything you just seem so distant lately, like this isn't something you want."
Sherlock bristled. "You want it, and therefore I want it." He said with an air of finality.
More silence followed until John spoke again. "I'll make a deal with you Sherlock."
The detective grew wary at the mention of deals. "Explain."
"I'll chose the surrogate and we'll mix our-our-,"
"Sperm?" Sherlock prompted, smirking as John winced.
"Yeah, that, and it'll be like a game of chance. A nine month guessing game." The consulting detective disliked how John was trying to coax him into this, but he knew that there was a hefty chance declining the offer could end up being disastrous.
He pressed a kiss into John's palm and tried his best to sound excited. "Sounds interesting."
His husband's grin widened as he jumped up and reached for his mobile. Sherlock looked up, confused. "What are you doing?"
"Calling Mycroft, we've got to see about getting ourselves a baby."