Someone sent me a request for a water birth and all I thougt was 'Why not?'. Hope you'll enjoy :)

John hears his name being cried out from the bedroom and he look up from the scattered case files which he's trying to sort into piles to get some workspace of his own on the table. Taking his eyes off the mess of papers he turns to the kitchen.

"John!?" comes another cry and the doctor knew the tone of that voice more than well.
"Trouble?" he snickers as he enters the bedroom were his lovely detective lays flat on the mattress, his heavy baby bump keeping him immobilised for at least a week more according to their midwife. With a heavy grunt Sherlock lets his head loll back to the pillow and he covers his eyes with a warm hand.

"Just let me up." he sighs while John lowers himself on the mattress, presses a tender kiss to his stomach and rubs it lovingly.
"I don't know if I want to just yet." he says with a smile, knows that he can trap the poor detective any time by not giving him a hand and he tends to use that trick every time he wants his husband to rest. There's been countless of times that Sherlock keeps running around in the flat, playing with poisonous chemicals or done other experiments; just something that could bring the father to be some joy now when he can't go on cases. "Sure you don't want to sleep some more?"
"John." he groans and pushes his hand away from his bump. "I'm not in the mood. Please. Let me up." With a small laugh the doctor grabs his hands and heaves him up when Sherlock let out a moan different from his usual ones.

"You okay?" John asks and rubs his hands down his sides.
"Yeah." Sherlock croaks but keeps a furrowed brow. "It's just.." He let's out a breath, squeezes John's wrists while letting his eyes slip closed. "I'm not quite sure..." he quakes and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "But I might be in labour." John's eyes widens by those few words and he looks at his husband with a slight panic tingling in his stomach. He don't know what to say; or do. All in his mind is now concurred by the thought that Sherlock's in pain.

"Really?" he asks stupidly and presses a hand firmly to Sherlock's bump; it's tensed and he can feel Sherlock trembling before him. "Are you having one now?"

"Yeah." Sherlock groans and pulls himself free from his grip. It hurts. But not enough to annoy him just yet. The pain is rippling and starts at his back, tightens around his abdomen and squeezes his middle harder and harder before slowly releasing again. He can feel John staring at him as he waddles into the bathroom. The cold water splashes his face and he washes his face and neck to get rid of the sleepiness and sweat when he feels a hand wrap around his waist. "John?"

"How many minutes between?" he asks and Sherlock looks up at their reflection in the mirror. John looks worried, but excited; Sherlock knows the feeling exactly.
"Irregular at the moment." he sighs and turns to him, leans forward and places his weary head on his shoulder. It feels safe there, the smell is the most common thing there is. "But between twenty and fifteen." Arms wraps around him and he relaxes into his embrace; he feels loved and cared for and he lets go of his fears for a moment. John's there.

"Let's call the midwife, okay." John murmurs and rubs his lover back to ease some of the knots there. "If we're having a baby today I want to prepare for it early." Sherlock nods and takes a deep breath of John before lifting his head to steal a kiss.

"A baby, John." he whispers happily and lets his forehead meet his husbands. "He's on his way." The air in the room turns warmer with those words. They've been waiting a long time and now they're speaking about hours and not days, month or years. They're so close to hold their little child and Sherlock can't wait to see him.
Ever since their wedding Sherlock's been speaking about children; someone to carry on their legacy and someone to teach their ways. What a marvellous thing it will be. An adventure as John so nicely puts it. It'll surely be.

"I'll be a pops." John giggles and kisses him again, this time hard and lovingly. "How 'bout that?"

Sherlock paces the living room while John calls their midwife Benjamin. He's the perfect man for their birth party, intelligent, calm and knows when to shut his mouth before Sherlock gets annoyed. The detective can tolerate him. The other member of their party is, of course, Mrs Hudson. Help wouldn't be the only thing she'd bring; even if she'll bring them nibblers and water to get them through this her presence will be more than appreciated. Sherlock is certain that this will be the most amazing thing ever happened on Baker street.

Then another contraction grips his middle and he stops by the window and rolls his hips. The pain's getting longer, stronger and it's finally in regular intervals. He sways in the balls of his feet and cups the bottom of his bump, breaths with the growth of labour.

Then there's a kick. A strong kick and he rubs the area where his skin bulges. Baby is trying to remind him that something good will actually come out of this and Sherlock smiles. It's like he's saying 'Hello daddy. Remember me?' It makes Sherlock quiver and a breath of happiness leaves his lips.
"I know little person." he whispers. "I know."

It doesn't take long for the contractions to close in on each other; and to be honest it's a relief. The closer they get to each other, the closer they get to hold their child. But the pain is not restless. The yoga ball does wonders. It's easy to roll his hips and bounce to help baby move down; or at least that's what Sherlock hopes. The world disappears around him every time pain strikes. It turns into an unimportant rubble of people he might know, and sounds. It reappears again when the contractions let's go and every time he open his eyes he sees his ground of safety.
John.
He's always there, right in front of him, smiling, waiting. His face shines like a beacon and Sherlock holds onto that thought; squeezes his hands, just to give him proof that he's back in the room.
"Well done." the man whispers and presses his lips to his sharp cheekbone. "You're getting there." Someone's pressing warm hands to his lower back; he can't remember who but he knows that they're not alone in the room. They haven't been for a while but he knows the presence. Mrs Hudson's there, close and available.

"Five." he sighs and lets his eyes roam the darkened room. Sun is setting behind the rooftops, the sky is filled with dark clouds just like his mind and the first few stars are awakening. "It's gonna rain."
"Don't play smart." John jokes. "You watched the weather forecast this morning." Sherlock let's out a hollow laugh and straightens his back.
"They never mentioned the thunder." he snickers and took a deep breath.
"Thunder?" John asks and Sherlock gives him a teasing stare.

"It's means good luck when a child is born during a thunderstorm." Mrs Hudson informs them and Sherlock giggles. She always manages to find something superstitious or luck bringing. It's nice. It gives comfort.
The pain strikes again with a sharp intake of air and John doesn't have to question anymore if it's happening. Sherlock lowers his head between his bony shoulders and breaths deep. Relaxes his rippling muscles that squeezes his middle and rolls his hips on the ball. John leans forward and places his forehead to the top of his husband's head; covers his eyes with thick, raven curls and lets his hands be mooched in Sherlock's strong grip.

Suddenly the first sound of thunder rumbles and that is the launch of Sherlock's deep moan. The throes of pain is digging deep and breathing isn't enough anymore. The sound of concentrated pain starts deep in his lungs, vibrates through him like a wave of soothing beauty. It's long and low and suddenly he realises that he's not the only one making noises. John his humming with him, helps him to not feel so alone in all this. He almost cries as he makes the discovery and he lifts his head, forehead to forehead and breaths the same air before starting to moan again.

"Thank you." he murmurs as the contraction leaves and John places a kiss to his parted lips. He doesn't say a thing, just smiles and Sherlock lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around his neck. "I need to stand for a bit." he says with a dark voice that comes from somewhere deep within him.
"Okay." John answers and wraps his hands around his shallow ribs. "Ready?" With a nod John helps him up on his trembling legs and Sherlock falls into his strong embrace. He rests and breaths, excludes the world around him as he fills his lungs with air and the smell of John. "Don't worry about falling." John whispers to his sweaty curls. "I'll keep you here." And Sherlock relaxes. His knees as bucking and his arms hangs over John's back. "I've got you."

It's a good place to be in his state, Sherlock figures and begins to dance with his loving husband. It feels beautiful and he stares into the tanned skin of John's neck as he breaths.
"I hope he looks like you." he whispers and lifts his heavy arms to wrap them around his shoulders. "That he gets your hair and nose. That's the best thing about you." John scoffs and presses warm hands to his lower back where their baby pressed to his spine. "I always cried when my mum tired to brush mine."

"I would love some curls." John whispers with a genuine happy smile. "Raven curls and blue green eyes that changes colour depending on the light and mood."

"Who ever he looks like he'll be beautiful." Mrs Hudson says and caresses Sherlock's curls before retreating to the kitchen.

The smell of soup is filling the flat and Sherlock breathes it in while dancing on the spot. Carrots, celery and pork steams in the air and his stomach growls in hunger. It's been hours since his last meal and he can't wait until he's offered a plate. But right now he's moaning. His sounds has turned into words but not just any good old words that might be assembled with pain. Instead of curses it's something that reminds him. Words like 'Low', 'Deep' and sometimes even the name 'John' rolls over his lips and his husband joins him with deep humming.

"Looooooooow." Sherlock moans and lets John keep him on his feet as he lets the contraction grip him. New breath. "Loooooooooooow."

Benjamin has joined them and is at the moment filling up the pool placed in the middle of the living room. The sound of water is soothing and Sherlock listens to it and the sound of John moaning with him.

"Well done." John beams as Sherlock relaxes again. "Brilliant." It's getting harder to bare down. He wants to tense with the contractions but he know that it'll only make it worse. Relaxing and breathing is the only sedative he has and will ever have and he needs to hold onto that for as long as possible.

The thunder is drawing nearer and he listens to the dark roar echoing across London. He've always loved a stormy weather. The power of electricity and how loud it can get is unbelievable, and he sees the room lightning up in white every time there's a lightning.

"John?" he asks as he notices that the room is pitch black.

"We turned it off." John lies. "It's more relaxing." But Sherlock can sense there's a power outage. John's just lying so he wont worry; he can appreciate that. He opens his eyes and smiles at the sight of Mrs Hudson mocking about with candles around the room. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon fills the air, blends with the soup, and he takes a deep breath to enjoys it. It's good. Romantic, and he closes his eyes with the knowledge that soft light and smells are all around them.

They dance; and Sherlock realises that this is the first time he and John has ever done something like this. They've never danced. Sherlock has never even payed the idea a thought and his heart aches a bit. He's never danced, not even tried.

"My laptop. Itunes. Beethoven." he whispers in John's ear. "Violin romance in G major."

"What?" John asks and tilts his head to look at the weary detective.

"Itunes. Put it on." Sherlock whispers and waves his hand to computer on the table, "Beethoven, violin romance, G major." Benjamin drops the hose in the inflatable tub and moves over to the cluttered table, opens the computer and clicks away and soon the soft notes of a violin fills the room with the wonderful smells and lights. It seems perfect and suddenly their dance doesn't feels so awkward anymore. He clings to his John, moves from one foot to the other like they're waltzing and Sherlock feels a small ounce of completeness. The next contraction doesn't feel so bad and he vocalises through it as he listens to John's moan and the notes.

"Joooooooooooohn." His name tastes different this time. He's said the name too many times and it has turned into a hymn like an african folksong to keep evil spirits away. The pain is different. It's pulling down instead of squeezing and he pulls John down with it. It hurts; he can't deny that. But with the knowledge that something good will come out of it he sees it as a good pain.

"My back." he whimpers and curls his toes in the carpet. "John. My back." John moves his hand from his hips to his aching backside and rubs his muscles, does whatever he can to bring some comfort and soon Sherlock breathes out with a long 'Low' again.

"Soup?" Sherlock opens his eyes which are nearly hollowed by his blown pupils. At the moment he's kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around the yoga ball while John rubs his back. He gives the cup a long stare like he doesn't understand when the steam finally hits his face; he almost cries when he realises that he's finally going to eat something. Mrs Hudson brings it to his lips and he slurps the salty broth eagerly. Mrs. Hudson is a saint.

"Oh that's good." he sighs in satisfaction before lowering his head as he feels a new contraction take its hold. He groans loudly, uses the word 'low' and lets John bury his head to his shoulder. His husband presses his chest to his back and lets him feel the vibrations of his humming. The pain's getting longer, worser and Sherlock knows that he needs to let it happen even if he's at the brink of giving up. The worst thing is that he knows it'll be much more terrible than this.

"We're getting there, Sherlock." Benjamin beams and presses the probe to his hard belly. The sound of a quick heartbeat fills the room from the battery powered machine next to them. "It's a strong baby." Sherlock clenches his fists on the ball and let's out a frail, tired cry as the pain disappears.

"Hurts." he croaks and pants heavily. He feels ridiculous. The people in the room knows he's in pain, he doesn't need to tell them; but somehow it makes it a little simpler to acknowledge it.

"I know, love." John whispers and rubs his back. "I'm sorry." Sherlock smiles and gives him a satisfied hum before lifting his head for more soup which Mrs Hudson kindly serves him. She spoons him some carrots and bite sized pork and he chews it eagerly before taking a huge gulp of cold water.

"I think I'll move into the pool soon." he announces and braces his elbows to the ball.

"I think that's a good idea." John smiles and presses tender lips to his temple. "Just tell me."

John chucks Sherlock's clothes across the room and wraps his arms around his torso as he helps his to the pool. It's slow and agonising to move and he Benjamin grabs his hips as they help him over the edge. They lower him into the hot water and a huge sigh of relief falls over his lips as the heat touches his skin. He kneels and leans over the thick edge, rests his head upon his and takes a moment to rest. He can't remember the last time he was this tired.

When he opens his eyes again he can see John kneeling beside him, rubbing his arms and shoulders and he smiles that warm smile that Sherlock fell for in the first place.

"Are you naked?" Sherlock asks when he notices his bare torso and John chuckles.

"Kept my pants on." he whispers. "You're not the only one who's allowed to be naked in the room." Sherlock can't help his laugh when he realises that John is acting jealous for his sake. So far his husband has taken so many brilliant decisions to be a part of this and Sherlock feels happy. So far everything's been perfect.

Pain. He rolls his forehead to the edge and groans deep down from his stomach, clenches his fists and John reaches down in the hot water and rubs his back. He couldn't have picked a better time to move to the water because right now things are taking a turn for the worse. His dark groan turns into a high pitched wail and he tenses with the contraction which only makes it worse. It's a searing, deep pain and he starts to tremble by the unforgiving force.

"John!" he cries and grabs a hold of his shoulders. Another wail pierces the air and he John presses himself close.

"I'm here." he says loudly and hugs him tight. "C'mon, breathe. I need you to breathe!" The waves of pain are restless and he strains and cries loudly into the crock of John's neck. "Sherlock!"

"Oh god! Oh god, oh GOD!" The loud sounds are constant and John looks up at Benjamin who roll up his trousers by his ankles and steps into the water, crouches behind the shaking detective and places his hands on his hips. He rolls them while humming a calm melody and Sherlock cries shamelessly before them. "HURTS!"

"I know!" John cries and peppers his face with kisses. "But you need to breathe! C'mon. Relax and breathe with me." Sherlock locks eyes with him and John looks into the deep darkness while he pants. "Just like that." The anxiety in the room is gradually rising and John caresses his sweaty curls. He needs to lower it now before things take a turn into something much worse than this. "Please, love."

He breathes; quick and shallow at first but slowly they turn deeper and long. John praises him and hears him sob. His cheek's resting to the soft edge and tears rolls down his face.
"Don't go." he begs with a broken whimpers and holds onto his John with a grip that gradually loosens around his shoulders.

"Where would I go now?" John asks and bombards his face with more feathery kisses. "I'm not leaving you." The detective hiccups in the hot water, continues to moan with the deep contractions and even in between. Everything just hurts right now and nothing can stop it. It's terrible and he travels far into his mind to get out of it. World goes dark and unimportant, he finds something inside himself, a calm place that is filled with beautiful nothing. He can't even hear himself anymore.

He can't hear the awful moans that makes John's heart break. He wipes his own tears over and over and holds his husband; hates the wall of pool between then but he doesn't dare to make Sherlock move at the moment. He sniffles and kisses his husbands arms and face and smiles when he hears the first snore after minutes of suffering. He's actually sleeping between the contractions and John feel a weight fall off his shoulders. It's finally calm in the room.

"You're doing so well." he whispers and plays with his curls. "You're really close. You're almost through this stage."

Thirty minutes passes and John feels his knees numbing under him. Sherlock's moans has turned into heavy grunts and sighs and John knows he's pushing. No one intends to stop him though, Ben has cleared him as fully dilated and John cries again as he realises how close they are to hold their child.

Sherlock tenses with the contraction, growls deep and instinctively while John holds his hands. Ben leans forward while he stands in the pool and looks at the detective who opens his eyes for the first time in an hour.

"Are you pushing, Sherlock?" he asks just to make sure and rubs his rippling back. Sherlock blinks, furrows his brow with his cheek pressed to the edge of the pool. He doesn't understand them, they're speaking another language. He closes his eyes and goes back to sleep.

Once again the thunder rumbles and it's about to reach over their home. The room vibrates and the china in their cupboards rattles by the forces. Finally some awareness starts to creep back into Sherlock's tired eyes and suddenly he focuses on John. The doctor smiles and nuzzles his nose.

"Hello." he giggles and presses his lips to his forehead.

"I'm exhausted." Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes again.

"I know, love." John sniffles and wipes his own tears. "But you've been pushing for almost fifteen minutes. You're close." The detective gives a broken moan and furrows his brow. "D'you want to change position?" He nods and John gets up from the floor, groans as his knees aches. Without a word he steps into the warm water and lowers himself behind Sherlock, wraps his arms around him and bring his to his chest. The man's arms slips over the edge and plashes into the water, he's to relaxed to make any movements on his own and John settles him in the space between his legs and lets his weary head land on his shoulder.
"I've got you." he whispers and kisses his temple. "Let's get baby out." Sherlock moans and lifts his heavy arms to wrap his hands around John's wrists. Another contraction is building, John can tell by the beginning of quick, deep breaths, the tension of his limbs and finally the silence of Sherlock shutting his lungs. He bears down without a sound, eyes tightly shut and soon a dark moan takes over just before he starts the whole process all over before the contraction ends.

"Well done." Benjamin smiles and presses the probe to his stomach again; the heartbeats wakes Sherlock up and he opens his tires eyes and peers around as he notices that something has changed. Benjamin is wearing a bright headlight and Sherlock stares at him while resting his head to John's shoulder.

"You look ridiculous." he sighs and his midwife laughs before stepping into the water again.

"Do you want me to take it off?" he asks and kneels in the water to check progress.

"No, no." Sherlock smiles. "Actually, it's an improvement." John giggles and presses a kiss to his temple. Sherlock's back; making clever remarks and observations, even if his mind is pretty clouded right now.

"Shut up." Ben grins and checks between his legs. "Yeah, baby's pretty low. Your waters hasn't broken yet so that'll bring you a rather nice cushion to push around, it might take a little longer, though."

"Oh, don't interfere." Sherlock groans but keeps on smiling. How can he not when he's so close to meet his child? "If he comes with a caul I'm sure Mrs Hudson will have something more to cheer about that just the thunder."

"A caul is considered lucky." Mrs Hudson nearly scolds and tickles the corner of his mouth with a pink straw. "Have some water, dear." He takes a couple of mouthfuls and lets go of John wrists for a moment to caress his bump. This is the last time he'll be able to feel it. The last hour with a bump.

"Feeling okay?" John asks and joins his hands on his taut skin.

"I guess." he sighs and hums as another contraction grips him. He pushes and hold onto John's hands, feels how something moves inside him. It's not pleasant, but it feels way better now than twenty minutes ago. He manages to keep quiet even if the pain is growing. The strong urge to push is out of his control and he lets himself up to let the instinct do what it does best.

The thunder is right above them now and Sherlock can sense the electricity sparkling in the air. The white light enters the room and leaves at the same second, gives him a small glimpse of what's actually happening around him between his pushes. People are talking, perhaps cheering, and he looks up at the man before him. It's a face he does not recognise and he furrows his brow in confusion.

"No." he sighs and turns his head until his cheek is pressed to John's collarbone.

"No?"

"Wrong." he sighs and frowns in confusion as he tried to figure out how to form a proper sentence. "John?" His husband rubs his arm crocks his head to get a proper look of him.

"You want to turn around?" he asked and Sherlock nods quickly, sighs in relief as John picks up faster than anyone he's ever met. John moves up on his knees and helps Sherlock to do the same, the warm water makes the whole thing easier than it should be and as Sherlock turns to wrap his arms around his neck he pushes again; nose buried to John's neck and hands clenching his shoulders the pressure grows and he spreads his knees apart a bit more before bearing down again.

Suddenly something feels different, something is happening and he reaches down between his shaking legs and presses two fingers to his tender opening. There he feels it, something slippery and soft and with a long breath he looks up and John.

"I can feel him." he smiles and John presses his lips to his forehead, traces his hand down his bump until they reach between his legs. He feels it too, the top of their son's head covered by the wall of the amniotic sack. With a gasp he looks at Sherlock again; eyes wide and filled with happy tears.

"Christ!" he giggles and continues to pepper his face with soft kisses. "He's almost here. Just keep pushing." Sherlock huffs and grips his shoulder again, hold on thigh and brings his forehead to meet John's and he pushes hard. Something bursts and the soft cushion around the babies head disappears. He pants in pain as it starts to burn and John pants with him so he doesn't need to be alone. It hurts. It really hurts.

"Crowning." he blurts out calmly between his pants as he holds back the pushing. He doesn't want to tear, but he cries out silently as the head slowly forces its way out. John cried with him and mimics his sounds.

"You're doing great." he whispers and rubs his arms. "Just relax. He's coming." And with a loud gasp he does. There's a head and Sherlock reached down again to feel the round mass. He traces his fingers blindly over the nose and lips and can't help his smile. There he is. Their tiny son that's been in there for months.

John lifts his head and looks at Mrs. Hudson who's already in tears. "Head." he whispers proudly and lets Sherlock catch his breath to his shoulder as they wait for the next contraction. "With a caul." The old woman giggles and wipes her tears.

"There's no cord." Sherlock clears to himself so he can push safely.
"Good." John whispers and kisses his cheek that's stained with heavy tears of pain. "Feeling okay?" He nods and pants through another contraction to let the baby turn; it's terrible, and he breaths in John's wonderful scent to keep calm. "Very good, love. You're doing so great."
He's turned and Sherlock starts to push again, determined to finnish this before the contraction is over and with a loud groan he suffers as a shoulder forces its way free. He lets go of John, reaches down under the water and John joins him. The child slips from its first home and into their hands and Sherlock moans in ease as he lifts the baby up to his chest. The air in the room is suddenly filled with cheers, laughter, sobs and Sherlock heavy sounds of relief.

It's completely limp, pale purple and Sherlock moans and cries at the sight. There he is. Their wonderful son with a head full of raven curls and he holds him close to his heart.
"Oh, hello." is all he manages to say and before he knows what's happening John's covering their son with a towel and starts to rub it nearly violently. The child let's out a frail cry which makes Sherlock's heart ache. They wipe down his curls and Sherlock doesn't care if he's sobbing. This is to overwhelming to be acting modest. Their beautiful boy is finally here, screaming healthily and flailing his little arms and legs like he has no control of his limbs.

"Oh, god." John sobs and presses several kisses to Sherlock's face and lips. "You did it. You brilliant man. Oh, god, he's bloody beautiful." John touches their child, caresses his sparse curls and let's him wrap his hand around his finger.

"He really is." Sherlock whimpers, to tired to sob and cry. He's been fighting for hours and right now he just want to lean back and cradle his little boy; but there's no time for that right now. "Oh god, he's really here." John giggles behind his tears and wraps his arms around him to ease him down in the water. His husband's shaking, he needs rest and John will do anything to give him that. He holds him to his chest and observes the wee child that is about to fall into slumber on Sherlock's chest. Without thinking he bows his head, presses a soft kiss to his son's brow while touching every part of him. "Hello, little Hamish. You are very welcome." John smiled and joins his hands to hold the small child.

"You have no idea, Hamish." he cries and buries his nose into Sherlock's wet curls. "You're the most beautiful thing I've even seen."

Ben helps them to cut the cord; John, of course, gets the honours and Sherlock peers over at Mrs. Hudson who cries right out in the armchair. Sherlock's still out of breath, moans silently every time he feels a contraction for the afterbirth and John holds him tight.

"Last part." he reminds him while rubbing Hamish's back. "Just this and then I'll wash you clean."

It's no match to get it over with and Ben discards it faster than they have time to notice it. To be honest their eyes are concentrated on the price after hours of labour and there's no way they're taking their eyes of him now. The boy is perfect in so many ways and John can't seem to stop making that clear. Sherlock doesn't mind, though; even if he always likes to hear how brilliant he is it's even more wonderful to hear about how much his son is just that and more.

He is brilliant, beautiful, wonderful and every other word that might describe something this remarkable and Sherlock is sure that if he would start to do just that he'd be able to go on for hours without stop. His skin has turned pale and porcelain perfect, his curls are raven and his features are Holmes-like; expect the Watson-nose. He smiles at the discovery and traces his finder over the tip.
"My little boy." he practically sings. "You're just perfect, aren't you?"

"Of course he is." John sniffles and snuggles Sherlock's temple when bright light suddenly explodes around them and blinds them all. The power is back on and the tears are quickly forgotten now when their eyes hurt by the sudden lightning.

"Jesus christ." Ben huffs and rubs his eyes to get rid of the blind spots. "Didn't see that coming." Sherlock laughs and tries to blink it away while covering Hamish's eyes just in case he would decide to open them.

"Turn it off, will you?" he begs and Ben does. Once again they're in soft darkness with only a few candles around the small pool and Sherlock enjoys it. It's not often he gets to bade in the sitting room with his newborn son in his arms.

"I think it's time to get out." John whispers and rubs his arm again. "We need to get him dressed and you to be cleaned up." Sherlock sighs loudly and opens his eyes again, breaths in the atmosphere before giving in up forever and nods.

"Yes." he sighs. "Help me out."

So as always a review would always make me very happy! :) Tell me what you think!