How Abigail Mercedes Holmes Got Her Name
"Molly, I really can't believe we're doing this, now!" Sherlock scrambled to find a better position for his long limbs in the back seat of the car he had borrowed from Mycroft. His curls were plastered to his forehead with beads of sweat as he tried (and failed spectacularly) to look cool and collected.
"Sherlock, it's - ooohhhh! - not as if I had a choice, you know! Did you call John? Is he going to try and meet us?" Molly managed to hiss between contractions that were getting to be excruciatingly strong and nearly constant.
"Yes, I phoned him a few minutes ago when we pulled off the road. He and Mary are on the way with supplies, though I fear they will be a bit late at this point. Not to worry, I've the contents of your hospital bag, that should give us most of what we'll need, love," Sherlock replied, trying to sound much more confident than he was feeling.
"Yeah, no kidding! This little one did - whooooaaahh!- not read the books that said the first labour should take 12 to 18 hours – oh, noo, it's anooooother - oh, I feel the baby right down - here! Sherlock! I have to push again, I can't help it - aaaaaaahhhh!
Can you see?"
"Molly, I can see her! I am right here, I have a clean towel, and I am trying to ease her along - try not to push now if you can...now just a little one... that's it - here she comes, look here, can you see?"
"I'm afraid to – oh! I can see her, she's beautiful! Is she almost out?" Molly was staring down between her legs at the most amazing sight she had ever beheld. Her daughter was making her way slowly, but steadily, out of her body with Sherlock guiding her gently, talking to her in soft, rumbling tones that the baby certainly found familiar.
"Just another few seconds, love. Here she is - and already crying!" Sherlock exclaimed as he laid their daughter on Molly's abdomen, covering her with the towel to dry her off after placing her skin-to-skin with her mother for warmth and bonding. "Molly, she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he said, looking up at his wife, his eyes streaming with tears and a smile like a sunrise on his face.
"She looks just like you – look at the hair – all those dark curls. Help me scoot her up a bit so I can try and feed her," Molly whispered, awed at this tiny human who had been within her for so long."Erm, Sherlock, how long did John say they'd be?"
"I think he said about thirty minutes, but that was - I don't know when that was - I lost track of precisely when. I was rather busy helping you, after I finally found a place to pull the bloody car off the road. Good job I found one, too - we hadn't any time to spare, as it turned out, eh, little one?" he smiled at the infant, who had searched and found Molly's breast and was contentedly suckling.
He remembered his phone then, and hurried to take a few – well, okay, more than a few – photos before he forgot completely, so entranced he was by the sight of mother and babe. He placed his Belstaff over his little family, put his arm around them, and sighed. He couldn't remember ever being more exhausted and more exhilarated all at once.
It seemed only a few minutes until he heard banging on the car window and turned his head to see Mary and John looking rather frantic. He woke Molly, who had also dozed off, and then opened the door.
"Get in quickly, I don't want them to catch a chill!" he said, as his best friends bustled into the car with him. "Good job I borrowed one of Mycroft's limos, or we'd be like sardines in here."
"Only you would think to borrow a huge car to drive up to your parents' house for Christmas! But I'm glad you did, love. We've all had quite the adventure here while we waited for you," giggled Molly, her tiredness and joy bubbling over now her friends were there with them.
"Yes, I can see that you did! Let me see her if she's finished," Mary said, holding out her arms. "I've brought some clothes for her. We can dress her now and get her cleaned up properly later. Ooh, look, John, all those curls!"
"If I'm so bloody brilliant, why the hell didn't I order a driver with this car? Then we could have kept driving..." muttered Sherlock, tugging briefly at his hair, which was a sticky mess.
"Now, don't be fussing, Dad - you've done a brilliant job of helping to bring your little girl into this world - that's what's important," reasoned John, smiling fondly at his best friend. He opened his bag, got out the plastic cord clamp and a pair of scissors, clamped the cord with a hemostat a few inches away from the plastic clamp, and cut the umbilical cord. He then bent and delivered the placenta. and placed it in a plastic bag to dispose of later. "Now, all finished, and everything looks fine - no problems, Molly."
"But, she wasn't supposed to be due for another two weeks - I thought we'd have plenty of time to visit Mummy and Dad for the holidays. I thought we had everything prepared," started Sherlock, only to be stopped by a gentle finger on his lips.
"Love, you did everything right. Babies don't decide to come when the doctor says, they decide to come when they are ready, and they often don't read the rules of how it is supposed to go, either," Mary reminded him as she dressed his daughter in a warm onesie, swaddled her snugly, and handed her to Sherlock. He stared down at his daughter, smiling and reaching a finger out to touch her curls. She was right, of course, and this would surely not be the last time their offspring would toss a spanner in his carefully laid plans. He knew he'd have to learn to accommodate this, he just had to relax... he looked up to see Molly smiling at him, so tired but more beautiful than ever.
"Wow! We did it. I was worried I'd want lots of drugs once the labour got strong - but I guess I didn't, after all! It all happened so fast, I can hardly believe she's here and we're still here beside the road. Are we waiting for someone else to come, or - ?" she asked, looking around at everyone.
"We'll be on our way in a few minutes. Mycroft is sending a driver out, he is five minutes away. Since everyone is doing just fine, we might as well go on and surprise your parents. Sherlock, okay?" asked John, starting to giggle at the happy outcome of this night. It was as mad as some of his and Sherlock's old cases.
"Molly? What do you think? You know Mummy will want to see us, and I know Mycroft hasn't told them yet. He had strict instructions not to tell them when the birth occurred if they weren't at the hospital yet," Sherlock looked to his wife for confirmation on their destination.
"Of course, we're not that far from your parents' house. It'd be silly at this point to go all the way back to Baker Street! Look, this must be the driver now," Molly answered, sitting up a bit more and taking the baby back from Sherlock.
A minute later, the driver arrived. He knocked and waited for Sherlock to answer before he opened the front door. Once he ascertained that they were all in good condition, he started the car and began driving toward the Holmes' farmhouse in Eastbourne. The occupants of the car chattered aloud at the Christmas surprise they were bringing Sherlock's Mummy and Dad. Another of Mycroft's minions, as they had deemed them, was driving John's car to the house as well. Molly felt she could walk the short distance to the house without any trouble, but Sherlock assured her he would carry her in so she could keep hold of the baby.
They really had to decide on the name once and for all - and soon! Sherlock couldn't, even in his Mind Palace, keep calling her, 'the baby.' Well, they could talk once they had arrived at Mummy's.
The car made the last turn into the drive, and they could see the fairy lights strewn across the garden, with one of the larger evergreens decorated for Christmas with all manner of natural decorations so the birds, squirrels, and the like could safely consume them. The house was lit as well, without and within, bright candles glowing at the windows. As the car pulled up to the house, the door opened and his parents came out to greet them. Mummy had on one of her Christmas jumpers, with holly berries and ivy intertwined. His Dad had on his usual musical bow tie and probably the socks to match, that he wore each year solely to embarrass Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock's lips twitched into a smirk.
When Sherlock got out and then picked up Molly, his parents just thought he was being more romantic than usual because of the time of year – but then they looked at Molly's arms - and Mummy let out a whoop that could be heard far and wide, if any neighbours were out. Sherlock broke into a laugh and quickly carried them in and set them down in a chair in the sitting room, where Dad had a fire going in the wood stove.
"Sherlock – Molly! Siger, the baby's here! What on earth happened? Why aren't you still in hospital on a night like this? Oh, let me see her. Sherlock, she looks exactly like you when you were born. All long limbs and curls everywhere. She has your fingers – and toes, too. You have to tell us everything. Why didn't you call us earlier, dear?" asked Violet Holmes, almost out of breath as she gathered the baby up in her arms and sat down on the couch beside Dad with her. They spent several minutes looking her over and exclaiming at the family traits they recognised.
"Mummy, I swear to you that when we set out a few hours ago, there were no signs that Molly was even in real labour, none at all," Sherlock maintained, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Really, Violet, he's right. I had only a few Braxton-Hicks contractions, which I've been having for weeks, nothing regular at all. It was only once we were out of the city centre and on the M3 that there was any inkling something might be starting. It was still very iffy, and I told Sherlock to go on, I was fine. Then, all at once, my waters broke, and the contractions started coming almost continuously. That's when I had him pull over and phone Mycroft and John and Mary. Things happened very quickly after that. Before I knew it, I had to push and could not stop. Sherlock was wonderful. He was very calm and got into the back with me, and helped me to get into a more comfortable position and guided me through the next stage, and delivered our daughter as if he did it every day," Molly said proudly, gazing with love at her husband.
"Oh, so it was a good job I made you learn emergency childbirth, wasn't it? And you didn't want to – I told you babies don't always come by the book, mate," said John, who with Mary looked like cats with canary feathers in their mouths.
"Yeah, Sherlock, almost had to tie you to the chair to watch and learn. Aren't you glad you paid attention?" Mary added gleefully. "Seriously, you did a fine job, especially for someone who had never seen a baby born, let alone deliver one."
"Yes, I am deeply grateful for your instruction. I would have felt terrible if I hadn't known what to do to help Molly with this. As I was, we were both a little frightened at first, but we got on with it; having no other choice. Knowing you were on your way was immensely comforting to us both."
Accompanied by Mary, Sherlock and Molly went into their bedroom. Mummy had found a beautiful Moses basket and it was sitting on the window-seat. After Sherlock and Molly had taken a shower in the en-suite, Mary helped them to gently give the baby her first bath. Then Sherlock helped Molly to get comfortably settled in bed, and brought the baby to nurse again. When they had finished, Mary went and told Mr. and Mrs. Holmes they could come in and visit.
"What is her name - did you decide yet, Will?" asked Dad, who still called him, Will, on occasion and was the only one who ever got away with it.
"Molly? Are we decided? Why don't you go ahead and tell everyone - whichever order you want the names in is all right with me."
Molly hesitated, then grinned and softly said, "Her name is Abigail Mercedes Holmes. We thought that with being born in the back of one of Myc's cars, it was only fitting." She giggled a little at the eye-roll that Sherlock couldn't hold back.
"Oh, Molly, that is beautiful! It is a perfect name," laughed Mummy, her eyes filling with happy tears.
"Mercedes was born at exactly ten-twenty-three – I guess Mary and John can give us weight and length tomorrow. " Sherlock commented softly. As they heard a car in the drive, he glanced at his watch. "Ahh, that will be Uncle Mycroft with Alicia Smallwood."
"Mycroft, I will gladly pay for the damage to the car. It was unavoidable, but I was very grateful for the extra room we had to manoeuvre," he said as he rose and greeted his older brother and his new fiancée, who was wearing their grandmother Holmes' diamond and sapphire engagement ring. (Molly had been given Grand-mère Vernet's emerald and opal ring when they were engaged two years ago.)
"I see that congratulations are in order, brother mine. Allow me to sort out the car - the damage is nothing, the safe arrival of my niece was paramount. Molly, I am pleased to see that you are looking especially radiant tonight. May I hold my niece
for a moment?" At Molly's nod, he walked over and took Mercedes in his arms. Despite his assertion that he was no good with babies, he did very well, and sat with Alicia and they both looked at and talked to Mercedes for a few minutes before returning her to Molly. Mycroft and Alicia both smiled at the name choice.
"What time is it, anyway? I've completely lost track now that everything is over and everyone is all right," Sherlock asked, yawning. He was starting to feel the strain of the last few hours now. "And, erm – Mummy, could we have some tea, and I could eat something light - how about you, Molly?"
"Yes, I am parched and famished,too," Molly laughed. "I've absolutely no idea why."
"Come on, Alicia, let's see what we can get together for a late – or I guess, early! - breakfast for these two. Does anyone else want anything whilst we're about it?"
In a short time, Alicia and Mummy came out of the kitchen carrying trays filled with eggs, bacon, toast, raisin and orange scones. jam, butter and clotted cream. Dad came in bearing tea and crockery. Chairs were retrieved by Mycroft, cutlery by Sherlock, and everyone sat on the window-seat or chairs and had a light meal. By the time they had finished their meal, Sherlock and Molly were nearly nodding off, and the others left the room, carrying the remains of the impromptu meal.
After feeding their daughter again, Molly handed her to Sherlock, who carefully lay her on her back in the basket, then climbed into the bed beside his wife, who had already fallen fast asleep. As tired as he was, it was at least an hour before he fell asleep. The events of the evening kept repeating in his head. He hadn't expected to feel this way ever in his life, but he was so besotted with his wife and child that he needed time to fully assimilate the changes in himself. He found the new reality sat quite warmly in his mind and heart. With a small smile still on his lips, he turned and held Molly close, and finally slept until the morning sun peeked through the curtains.
Mercy (yes, he had already shortened it in his head) was starting to stir in the basket, so Sherlock got up to change her whilst Molly ran to the loo. Sherlock looked down at his daughter, who was watching her father quite seriously, and grinned. A Christmas miracle, indeed – the world's only Consulting Detective changing nappies! What a marvellous world...
Happy Christmas to All!