Author's disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story except for the godchild. All rights go to BBC, Moffat, Gattiss, the usual people.
"Oi Sherlock, do you have enough stuff there?" DI Gregory Lestrade chuckled as he caught sight of the consulting detective, loaded down with several bags of stuffed animals and fleecy soft blankets.
"I was unsure what would be appropriate," Sherlock Holmes sniffed, eyeing the officer with his usual critical eye.
"You're attempting to bribe your way in as godfather is what you mean," Lestrade accused, self-consciously shifting the three-foot teddy bear that he had bought for the newest Watson. It had been almost a year since John's marriage to Mary Morstan, and while at first it had been strange allowing this new person into the close-knit (insane and dysfunctional) family that made up the Baker Street Bunch, Mary had quickly proven herself a wonderful woman. She had managed to not only capture John's heart, but earn Sherlock's respect and approval, as well as the awe of nearly every member of New Scotland Yard. But now she was in the hospital, she and John expecting the arrival of their first child. Tensions were high and uncertainty was running rampant. No one knew what gender the newest Watson was, or even what names John and Mary were considering. But the worry that ran in the forefront of the minds of the men closest to John and Mary Watson would be who would have the distinction of being singled out as the child's godfather.
"I have no reason to resort to bribes. I was the best man at the wedding," Sherlock insisted.
"Yeah, but who would John and Mary trust with their kid?" Lestrade interrupted.
"You mean their daughter."
"Huh?"
"I observed Mary during her pregnancy. She clearly is having a daughter."
"And what do you know about having kids?" Lestrade accused.
"I observed."
"Nuh uh, takes more than that," Lestrade insisted stubbornly. "Just to prove a point, I'm telling you that Mary's going to have a boy. Little John Jr."
Sherlock scoffed.
"Even if John and Mary were to have a son, they would never be so cruel as to give their son such a name."
"What, little J.J.? Perfectly good name if you ask me."
"No Lestrade," Sherlock groaned in a pained voice. "If John were to have a son he would name him Hamish."
"Oh really smart one? Well what about this daughter that they're supposedly having? What's the name going to be?"
"No information to go off of at the moment, so no theories exist."
"You're not even going to guess?"
"I never guess. I simply observe."
"Are you two quite finished?" a manicured voice drolled from the other end of the hallway. Lestrade and Sherlock spun around, Sherlock's eyes instantly narrowing at the man before him.
"What are you doing here Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded in a disparaging tone.
"Is it not customary to visit one's associates when they have given birth?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, idly swinging his umbrella with one hand while he held a small gift bag with the other. "I simply wish to offer my congratulations and insure that all security processes are in order."
"And weasel in on the off chance that he's the godfather," Lestrade muttered. The DI and consulting detective shared a look. Losing the right of being the new Watson's godfather to the other would be bad enough. Being beaten by Mycroft…unacceptable.
"If you three are done being total gits?"
"John!"
"Hi Sherlock. Lestrade, Mycroft," John nodded and beamed widely at the men in greeting. As one the three relaxed, recognizing from the pure joy pulsating from John that all was well in the Watson world.
"How's Mary doing?" Lestrade asked with polite concern.
"She and the baby are fine," John laughed, a look of delight and wonder seeming to be permanently etched on his face.
"All is well with the room?"
"Perfect. Thank you Mycroft," John said gratefully, truly relieved by the expert care that had been provided for his beloved wife and beautiful new baby.
"Well don't keep us waiting John," Sherlock insisted. "Tell us, how is your offspring?"
"My 'offspring' is beautiful Sherlock. Absolutely perfect," John preened. "Mary sent me out here because one of the nurses told her that there was a crowd starting to wait for us. I had a feeling it'd be you lot. Come on back and meet the newest Watson." John turned to walk back into through the hospital doors and there was a small upheaval behind him as the three fully-grown, professional, sensible(ish) men resorted to no small amount of shoving to be the first to follow him. Mycroft won through what he claimed was supremacy (but really was because of the assistance from his brolly), with Sherlock following thunderously behind him, and Lestrade bringing up the rear and nursing a firmly kicked shin and brolly-battered knee.
Lestrade sighed to himself. He really should have known better than to go against either of the Holmes brothers. Mummy and Daddy Holmes clearly had no sense of teaching either of their offspring the concept of fair play. Or much anything else, for that matter.
"You have been keeping us in suspense for too long John. We really do require details," Mycroft chided as they walked through the hallways to the private room that the elder Holmes had provided.
"I'm surprised that you don't already know Mycroft," John chortled, in too good of a mood to let anything bring him down.
"I do have other things to do besides observe the proceedings of your family, John," Mycroft insisted in an attempt to maintain his precarious dignity.
"What he means is that Mary threatened him if he filmed the birth or hacked the ultrasound records," Sherlock corrected in an undertone.
"What was that baby brother?" Mycroft snarled.
"Come on you two, that's no way to act when you're about to meet my godson," Lestrade scolded.
"Your?" Mycroft growled.
"Godson?" Sherlock scoffed.
"Is that what you three are on about? What, got some kind of pool going?" John demanded, stopping just outside of Mary Watson's room to turn and glare at the three men.
"Nonsense," Lestrade chuckled nervously.
"Nothing of the sort," Mycroft replied smoothly.
"Honestly John, who do you take us for?" Sherlock demanded with a roll of his eyes.
"Liars, the lot of you. Let's try again, eh? I'm the man who puts up with your insanity on a regular basis, remember? I know exactly what you lot are capable of and I'll have you know that I want no part of it near my little Eleanor!"
"Ha, you see I told you," Sherlock cheered quietly to Lestrade.
"That means no dead or petrified body parts, no guns, no experiments, and those are just the rules that I've come up with so far. I'm sure Mary's already thinking of rules that are to be followed and not ignored," John glared pointedly at Sherlock.
"Are you not going to tell me what I am and am not permitted to do?" Mycroft asked sardonically.
"You're going to spy on us regardless of what we say Mycroft, so I want to know if anyone comes within spitting range of my baby girl."
"A little over-excessive, but easy enough to accomplish," Mycroft smiled in a way that John assumed was meant to be reassuring but really just came off as a cold fish.
"I would never experiment on a baby," Sherlock protested. "Honestly, what sort of man do you take me for?"
"Just stating the ground rules mate. Wanted to be clear with my girl's pseudo-uncles," John explained.
"Yeah, yeah, we're all close so of course we'll be there for her. But have you and Mary picked a godfather yet?" Lestrade asked, setting the teddy down and crossing his arms impatiently.
"We have," John nodded firmly. "And you three are going to respect Mary's and mine decisions on what is best for our daughter."
"Of course," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, even as he silently added the addendum 'so long as it is me.'
"I know you too well, Sherlock," John shook his head good-naturedly before glancing over his shoulder to the closed hospital door that held his beautiful and exhausted wife and their precious daughter. "But apparently Mary doesn't. She thinks it would be a great idea if you would be Eleanor's godfather. What do you say mate?"
"Of course John," Sherlock smirked triumphantly, shooting a superior glance towards Mycroft and Lestrade. "It was a simple matter of observation."
"And don't worry mate," Lestrade spoke up, pushing aside his hurt feelings for the sake of protecting John's daughter and Sherlock's goddaughter. "Me and Mr. Holmes the Elder here will keep an eye out for little Eleanor too. Right Mycroft?"
"Naturally," Mycroft replied stiffly, effectively smoothing his ruffled feathers before any emotions could dare to escape. "Now might we see this newest Watson?"
"Right this way gents. Mary, love? We've got some uncles who want to see their niece," John called into the room, knocking gently before entering. Mary positively beamed as her husband walked into the room. A tiny bundle of pink was held securely in her hands, not a limb free from the safety of the swaddling blanket. Only a scrunched up face, still red from her howling entrance into the world could be seen. Bright blue eyes turned curiously to the men now entering the room and a soft whimper could be heard.
John rushed to his wife and daughter's sides in an instant, with one hand gently soothing his daughter while he wrapped the other arm around Mary's shoulders. For a moment the both of them ignored their guests to focus once more on this precious tiny person brought into their lives.
As they watched the Watson family Sherlock, Lestrade, and Mycroft turned to look at one another, a hard glint in their eyes. With no words or formal contract made, a deal was agreed upon. Nothing would happen to this little girl, their newest Watson. Not while any of them were around.