AN: After months of writing and anticipation, it's finally done! My Sherlolly Big Bang story is complete and is now unleashed upon the world! Enjoy, my loves!
Thanks to Buttercup59 for being my right-hand Beta on this journey and keeping me on track! You're the best!
I own nothing, but my own angst-ridden plot and eventual fluffiness. Trigger warnings along the way for brief depictions of murder.
North Gower Street, January 1788
The banging on the door never relented as Doctor Hooper rushed down the stairs, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his robe as he jumped the last step. He swiftly unlatched the door and swung it open to find a strange man, breathless and terrified, shaking on his stoop, a horse and carriage behind him in the street.
'Please, you must help…the Countess of Westminster, she is in labour,' he managed to say in between breaths. 'She is early. Too early.'
Dr Hooper immediately fell into his physician role, reaching behind the door for his emergency bag and his coat.
'I'm so terribly sorry to bother you, but the midwife wasn't home and I had no other recourse,' the man blathered on as Dr Hooper put his coat on over his robe and nightshirt.
Turning to the anxious man, Dr Hooper placed a calming hand on his shoulder. 'You did well, I am more than happy to help out however I'm needed. Now, make haste, we must get there as soon as possible! Lest both the lady and her babe perish.'
The Holmes Estate, Westminster
Timothy paced outside the room anxiously. Twelve steps, spin, twelve steps back, spin, repeat. The worn floorboards creaked under him, barely heard above the cries and screams. He had protested against being forced from his wife's side, but admitted that his own anxiety was only adding pressure to an already volatile situation.
'Papa?'
Timothy turned mid-pace to see his son standing at the end of the hall, his nightshirt rumpled from a restless sleep. The little boy, fear on his cherubic face, hesitantly stepped closer.
'Is Mummy hurt?'
Suddenly all of Timothy's worries faded as he strode over and swept his son into his arms, the boy burrowing his head into the crook of his father's neck. 'Your Mama will be all right. The doctor is taking good care of her and the baby.'
Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the air. Timothy tightened his hold and prayed fervently for his wife and child.
As the last notes of the cry faded, leaving the house to descend into an ominous still, Timothy turned to face the closed door and held his breath, his heart pounding as the seconds dragged on in mournful silence.
Suddenly, a loud wail broke the silence and Timothy nearly collapsed in relief, tears pricking his eyes. He buried his smile in his son's wavy hair and felt him release his own shuddering breath.
A few minutes passed before the door opened and an exhausted doctor stepped out into the hall, having discarded the no-doubt ruined smock and wearing his sweat-drenched nightshirt and robe.
'Is she…? Are they…?' Needing to know if his wife and baby were both fine, but terrified of the answers, Timothy trailed off.
The doctor smiled gently. 'Perfectly fine. The baby was turned about and wasn't breathing when your wife delivered, but I cleared out the throat and mouth and you have a healthy, albeit early, baby, my lord. And an amazingly strong wife, if I may say so. A lesser woman would have succumbed to the pain, but she is remarkably stubborn.'
Timothy laughed out a sob. 'Yes, yes she is. May we?' He nodded to the door in question.
'You may,' the doctor smiled. 'I'll leave you all to get acquainted with your new addition, but I'd like to keep an eye on the Lady Westminster and the babe for a week or so, just to watch for potential infection.'
'Of course,' Timothy agreed. Just before he turned away, he glanced back with a small frown. 'In all that happened, I never did hear your name.'
'Daniel Hooper, my lord.'
Timothy bowed his head, a shallow display of the gratitude filling his heart for the man. 'Thank you, Daniel Hooper. I hope one day to repay your kindness.'
Violet sagged against a mountain of pillows, pale and exhausted, but with a radiant smile on her face as she cuddled her precious bundle close to her chest. She glanced up when the door opened and, if possible, her smile grew bigger at the sight of her husband entering with their eldest son in his arms.
Settling gently on the side of the bed, Timothy held his son on his lap as they both took in the sight of the newest Holmes.
'Is it…?' He trailed off in wonder at the eyes, so like Violet's, blinking up at him in beautiful distaste at the new world.
Violet brushed a finger across the baby's soft cheek. 'A boy. Like we thought.'
Timothy swallowed the lump in his throat. Tugging his firstborn son close, he pressed a kiss to his temple and said, 'Mycroft, meet your baby brother, William Sherlock Scott Holmes.'
