This story takes place approximately two years after the season/series 4 finale, "The Final Problem". In this story, Sherlock has, in those two years, forged a bond with Eurus through regular visits to Sherrinford, which we saw hints of in the final scene of "The Final Problem". Some of this story references "Play With Me", a shorter three chapter story I recently published. This story is complete, and I will be posting it over the next few days. I only need to tweak it a bit and decide exactly where I want the story to break into chapters. I will make the brief note that I don't go into the actual birth in detail. I believe you can only write what you know, and as I have never had children, I don't believe I am qualified to write about the birthing experience. That being said, expect it to be more along the lines of Rosie Watson's arrival! ;)
"Oh no… no no no no Molly… not here… not now… no no…"
Eurus Holmes appeared to be in a state of near panic, trapped in her cell with her very pregnant sister-in-law, Dr. Molly Hooper. A puddle of fluid lay on the floor, ironically forgotten, where Molly had been when her water had broken, Eurus standing before her at Molly's invitation. A trio of emergency lights glowed from above, powered by rechargeable batteries, providing the only illumination in the room.
"I can't do this. No, this is not my… oh no no no… Sherlock, no, you can't do this, Sherlock what have you done…!"
"Don't get me STARTED on what your bloody brother has done… to… meee… ohhhh no no no, not here, DAMN YOU HOLMES!" Molly shouted, pain and panic colliding, losing her breath. She bent over, hands clutching her swollen belly, trying to control her fear. She backed up to the nearest wall and slowly and awkwardly worked her way down to the floor, Eurus dashing over to help her land without too much of a thud.
In spite of her practical medical experience, Molly was tossing aside everything she knew, everything she had learned. She normally dealt with people after they had reached their life's end on this earth… not when they were stretching out with tiny perfect hands to try to reach the beginning of it.
And, to be fair, even if she had… well someone else's impending labour and delivery was something else entirely from her own. Theory and practice. Oh what a world of difference there was.
She and Eurus had been getting along alright, Sherlock's influence on his younger sister was beginning to become more evident. In spite of everything Eurus had done to her family and the people close to them, he had managed through patience, dedication and what could best be described as a Holmes sibling's own special interpretation of compassion and love, to bring her down from her own special prison in the sky. It had been a healing process for Sherlock as well. Eurus still had a tendency to take flight now and then, but over time, her solo trips aloft had become more and more infrequent. In helping his sister to find her foundations, he had found his humanity.
Such was the connection that he had managed to forge with Eurus, in fact, that Sherlock and Molly's trip down the aisle had been serenaded by her, via satellite and CCTV, from Sherrinford, along with Sherlock himself. Sherlock's routine days, flying out to the stark and lonely island containment "for the uncontainables", had resulted in an unexpected surprise, and a perplexing set of treats requests to Mycroft, their oldest brother.
The wedding march, Molly's groom – unbeknownst to him until the moment he stood at the back of the church with his parents - and her impending sister in law Eurus, serenading them down the aisle from her cell at Sherrinford. Moonlight Sonata, hauntingly beautiful in its string interpretation… bringing them back down as a married couple - Beethoven via a broken sister-in-law and the groom himself who had begun to help her gather up her shattered pieces. The always exquisite Bach's Prelude with Eurus' new cello and Sherlock's violin… and the Pachelbel that Molly could have sworn – though admittedly she may have been a bit emotional from both the champagne and the day – had brought a glimmer of tears to Mycroft's eyes. He had, in fact, later attributed the suspicious reaction to "some idiot guest's cologne… MUST they have BATHED in it?" Nobody was fooled. Molly had approached Mycroft then with all the joy of a glowing bride, and asked him to dance. She offered him a tissue. "Damned allergies," he had muttered, unconvincingly, before he pulled her into a perfectly executed waltz. Only Molly saw the happiness in his eyes, so closely guarded, as they glided around the dance floor.
And so, on a visit with Sherlock to Sherrinford, and against her better judgement, when she had begun to feel the baby kick and fuss, Molly had entered Eurus's cell, in the hopes of giving her a new, fresh connection to family.
And then, shit had gotten real.