A/N: Okay, so I know it's a week early for Mother's Day (or Mothering Sunday if you prefer), but this idea came to me and I couldn't resist writing it. Hope you enjoy, please review.

I don't own any of this. The title is from the song of the same name sung by Neil Reid, one of the winners of Opportunity Knocks in the 1970's, check it out on You Tube. :-)

Mother, Sweet Mother of Mine!

A sharp cry dragged Sherlock from his mind palace as his head whipped around at the sudden sound filling the hospital corridor. The adrenalin coursing through his veins pulled him up out of the plastic chair he had been sitting on for the last three hours. Groaning slightly, he placed his hand in the small of his back and lightly massaged the tense muscles. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, his body was ageing, and sitting motionless for several hours, in what now appeared to be a rather effective torture device, didn't help matters. Another cry, higher pitched than the previous one rang out. Sherlock exhaled softly as he allowed his shoulders to drop slightly, the only physical sign of the relief flooding his brain. Straightening up, he turned to walk away. As he reached the end of the short corridor, he put out his hand to push open the door, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a door opening behind him.

'Sherlock? Where are you going? Get in here.'

Sherlock turned back to face his former flatmate. John was standing in the doorway, a day's worth of stubble on his chin, with a smile so bright it could rival the sun.

'I didn't wish to intrude on what is obviously important family time. I'll come back later.' replied Sherlock, then as a sudden thought occurred to him, he continued, 'Oh, and congratulations, John, on the birth of your daughter.'

John's smile widened further as he shook his head slightly, before saying, 'Don't be an idiot, Sherlock. Get in here. There's someone here who wants to meet you.'

Sherlock's piercing gaze swept over his friend, reading the truth of his words in the creases of his jeans, and the scuff marks on his trainers. Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Sherlock walked forward. As he became level with the older man in the doorway, John put his hand on his forearm, then looking up, John moved closer and with a grin on his face, whispered, 'Also, Mary would never forgive me if I let you go.'

'Oi! I heard that, John! You'll have Sherlock believing you're henpecked. Now get in here, the pair of you.' Mary called from inside the delivery suite.

John rolled his eyes at Sherlock as he sarcastically replied, 'Yes dear, whatever you say dear.'

When Sherlock finally entered the room, his eyes were automatically drawn to the blonde woman sitting up in the bed, and the small pink bundle held securely in her arms.

'Come and say hello to the newest member of the family, Sherlock.' Mary smiled as she carefully moved the blanket slightly to reveal the sleeping baby.

Sherlock moved closer, his keen gaze taking note of the fatigue lining Mary's face. Thirty hours in labour had taken it's toll on the new mother. 'You're exhausted, you should be resting.' Sherlock said quietly, afraid to wake the young child.

Mary smiled, the joy she was feeling wiping away her tiredness. 'I'm fine. Here, do want a hold?'

'What?! No! No, I ... I' stuttered Sherlock as he stared at Mary in terror.

John stepped up to the bed, and clapped a hand on his best friend's back and says with a grin, 'Go on Sherlock, she won't bite. It'll be a few months before she starts teething, you know.' Perching next to his wife on the bed, he carefully took his daughter from her mum and placed her gently in Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock froze. His eyes widening as he became accustomed to the seven pounds three ounces resting in his arms. Looking down at the child, his genius brain immediately began to catalogue the information his eyes were seeing.

Realising his best friend hadn't moved a muscle since the baby had been handed to him, John looked across at the younger man. When he saw the expression on Sherlock's face, an expression he was all too familiar with, he groaned, 'No, Sherlock, you are not deducing my daughter! She's not even an hour old.'

'Oh John, let him deduce her. I want to hear what he knows.' Mary said with a mischievous grin.

Sherlock smirked as he replied, 'I don't know. I observe.'

'Okay, what do you observe?' answered Mary.

'Well, she obviously has her mother's nose, which can only be a good thing. Her mouth though is Watson through and through. The cry she gave when she was born clearly indicates her love of comfort, having been forcibly removed from her mother's womb, and so, like her father, you may wish to purchase plenty of woollen garments for her to wear. Also like both of her parents, she will always be willing to fight to protect those she loves. Therefore, all that being said, she has the perfect name. Wilhelmina Watson, a name of German origin meaning "willing to protect." An excellent start to Mother's Day.'

John had at first, smiled when he listened to his best friend deduce his child, knowing that he was going to do it no matter what John said. Upon hearing the end of the deduction however, John got to his feet and said rather forcefully, 'Hey, no! I told you Sherlock, we are not naming our daughter after you.'

Sherlock groaned as he rolled his eyes. 'Ugh, fine. Shorten her name to Billie then. That way, you can pretend to yourself that you named her after that blonde actress from that ridiculous TV show about the time travelling alien. You know, the one you have a silly crush on.'

John's expression of indignation increased when Mary began to giggle. 'You've got a crush on Billie Piper? Really?'

As the blush crept across John's cheeks, he replied, 'No! No ... of course not.'

Mary's giggles had now turned into a full laugh as she said, 'Oh God, you have, you really have!'

John huffed and folded his arms in embarrassment, before turning his face away. Mary, feeling a little ashamed for teasing her husband, calmed herself down and placed her hand on one of his arms and said quietly, 'You know ... I always had a bit of a thing for David Tennant. Maybe when we get home, and put little Billie in her cot, we could watch a couple of episodes, hmm?'

John turned back to his wife and smiled, then raising an eyebrow, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. 'So what you're telling me is that you had a thing for a tall, dark haired, skinny bloke?'

Mary glanced across at Sherlock, grinned, turned her head and kissed her husband firmly on the lips and said, 'Yes John. That is precisely what I'm telling you.'

Sherlock looked between his two friends as they continued kissing, before lowering his head to the baby resting in his arms and murmured quietly, 'Wilhelmina, your parents are completely crazy. Just be grateful you have a Godfather who is sane' before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

A/N: No I don't think Mary fancies Sherlock, I just think that she enjoys teasing John. ;-P