The New Addition
The moment Elizabeth Jane Watson met Margaret Viola Holmes, their parents all collectively knew that it was love at first sight. Maggie was born exactly seven months after Lizzie and a mere two months after what Britain called The Moriarty Scandal (you could always hear the capitals) had been put to rest.
Molly Hooper, now Holmes, - finally able to claim the name Holmes because bugger publicity, their biggest threat was vanquished, had spent a trying sixteen hours of labor before a resounding cry echoed around the room at exactly 6 am on September, the 14th.
John Watson laughed and clutched little Lizzie tightly, telling his eight month old just how amusing it was that the little Holmes was so very punctual. Mary and Sherlock stood inside, Mary being Molly's one reason to not hammer Sherlock round the head and Sherlock holding her hand tightly, and it seemed for more emotional support for himself than for his wife.
"Sixteen hours," sighed Molly, "I didn't realise the Holmes family was always so difficult."
"No," said Sherlock, "You did."
"Okay, yeah, I did," she replied with a grin. Sherlock stroked Molly's hair and she smiled tiredly.
"Well done, Molly," whispered Mary, kissing her cheek. "She's healthy and beautiful, according to the doctor." Molly grinned, gripping her husband's hand tightly.
"I can't wait to meet her." They didn't have to wait for long; soon enough, a nurse entered the room, bringing with her the new addition to the Holmes family.
"Here you are then," said the nurse, smiling and handed Molly a bundle of yellow blankets.
"Mr and Mrs Holmes," she said, "say hello to your daughter."
"Hello, my darling," whispered Molly, her eyes shining. Mary pressed a hand to her mouth, eyes welling up with tears.
"Sherlock?" Molly looked at her newly wedded husband a little warily. He wasn't big on emotions, she knew, and having married her and loving her was a big step for him. Molly wondered for the first time, a little stab of fear in her heart, whether Sherlock would be a cold, aloof father to this little pink and yellow, closed eyed bundle.
But any doubt she had vanished at the faint wonder she beheld in Sherlock's eyes.
"Can I?" he whispered, awkwardly holding his hands out.
"Of course," beamed Molly, and with Mary's help, settled the baby into her father's arms. Molly sat up carefully, watching Sherlock's every move. Mary slipped out to fetch her family and a camera, leaving the little family to themselves for a moment.
Sherlock angled himself to sit on the bed, still holding himself stiffly for fear of jostling the baby. Molly watched Sherlock deduce their child, trying to process all this new information. A lesser woman would probably have been a little offended at his lack of a reaction to his own child, but this was Molly Hooper. She knew Sherlock well and she didn't mind this slow uptake - it was in his nature to observe and deduce, after all.
Sherlock studied the baby quietly. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing softly. She was surprisingly small and rather pink. She was a little smelly, even though the nurses had cleaned her and wrapped her in a freshly laundered blanket. That would be the 'new baby smell' then. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, he found to his surprise. He'd done his research, he knew it was a given. He should probably catalogue it away though; the smell disappeared in around six weeks. He assumed that once Molly started breastfeeding, the little baby would smell of her mother too. He quite liked the sound of that.
Other than that... well, Sherlock was a little let down, to be honest. There was nothing much to deduce once the obvious was taken care of. She had ten fingers, he assumed (quite rightly), in those rightly curled fists, and ten toes. Her skull was soft and her hair was a light brown, yet curling slightly, so it would seem their baby would have Molly's hair colour. The eyes were shaped like Molly's too and Sherlock wondered if they were the same, beautiful brown. It seemed to him that what he had was indeed, a little version of Molly. Well. Interesting observation or no, he was definitely going to like this little Molly very much.
His mind palace doors bust open and he ran through the halls, finding the South wing where the Watsons, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, his parents, even Mycroft and of course, Molly had their homes. In the very back, opposite the Watson's room, which was enormous, was a room that for the past eight months had been growing considerably. Mind palace Molly sometimes walked past, teasing him that that room might end up being bigger than the whole palace itself. Sherlock shook his head slightly to refocus.
Now next to this room, currently painted a summer blue and holding memories of Lizzie's tinkling laugh, another bloomed. He opened it tentatively. It was painted a dark rose and here, he began stacking up memories immediately. He bottled the new baby smell and put it in a drawer next to a diagram of her sleeping face. He drew up lists and lists of things that little girls supposedly wanted and tacked them onto the wall. He would start on them immediately. He painstakingly painted a portrait of Molly on the wall because he knew; he just knew that if this little girl looked like Molly, her heart would most certainly be as big as Molly's.
There was a baby crib there, and a sweet soothing sound of a familiar lullaby echoed in the room like elevator music. The baby mobile had little skulls on it, something he'd bought as a surprise for the baby just a few weeks ago, much to John's horror and Molly's delight. He stepped back to take a look around. It was still quite empty of course, he had nothing much to put in it just yet, but it would fill up soon.
"Sherlock?" Molly said softly. Sherlock forced himself out of his new room and blinked at Molly, who was staring at him expectantly. The Watsons were also there, watching him with varying degrees of amusement (Mary), chagrin (John) and indifference (Lizzie's curious blue eyes).
"Don't tell me you went into your mind palace," said John exasperatedly. Sherlock shrugged.
"Had to. I'm building new things." Molly's eyes shimmered.
"For- for her?" Sherlock handed the newborn to Molly and kissed the top of her head.
"For Margaret, yes."
"Margaret Holmes," murmured Mary, rocking Lizzie and smiling, "I like it."
"Margaret Viola Holmes," corrected Molly. Together, the four parents gazed at the newly announced member of the Holmes family.
"She looked just like you," murmured Sherlock, his hand finding Molly's hair.
"Well, no," said Molly hastily and Sherlock almost rolled his eyes. Molly always wanted to be fair to all, "look, she has your curls, and your long fingers - she'll be a brilliant musician one day, I'm sure of it and -oh!" Molly broke off with a gasp and Sherlock inhaled sharply. In the midst of this little speech, the baby had opened her eyes and for the first time ever, little Margaret Holmes was gazing intently at her parents.
"Well," said John, astonished. "Not all of her is Molly at all, is it?"
"Heterochromia iridis," murmured Sherlock, gazing at the blue-green-hazel eyes. He could swear she had a bit of gold in them too. Molly began to cry.
"What? What?" asked Sherlock, alarmed.
"I'm just happy," she laughed giddily, kissing the little forehead, "she has your eyes."
"Yes, well," said Sherlock, at a loss for words. He just didn't understand people sometimes. Although, there was something to be said about the little magical eyes gazing at him. And suddenly, realisation hit him like a jackhammer. This - this little child was not boring. Why, she was possibly the most interesting thing there ever was. So, this was how one looked when their cup was empty, when they were filling it with information for the first time. Her eyes seemed to greedily gobble up Molly's face and his own, utterly absorbed in it. Sherlock liked to think she was already beginning to hone her observational skills. When Sherlock had met Lizzie, she had already had a day or two to process what was around her. Never before had Sherlock seen this vacant, unfocused, slightly confused gaze.
John gave a tiny chuckle.
"She looks a bit like you when you're off on a mind palace romp."
Sherlock had the grace to turn up his nose haughtily, only to peer down in interest as the baby began to make noises.
"She's hungry," he announced, rising gracefully and making shooing motions at the Watsons.
Margaret was fed and moved into the crib by the bed with little fuss. Mary laid Lizzie down in it gently, and side by side, the Watson and the Holmes slept, not knowing that they had probably found their best friend for many years.
Or maybe they did know, for little Lizzie sighed and turned, lying on her stomach, her arm thrown over the newborn's torso, her mouth kissing the blanket next to Margaret's face.
The two mothers and John cooed over this and let them be until they decided it was time for Molly to get some rest. With the promise of visiting soon, and as soon as the Holmeses moved back to Baker Street, the Watsons kissed little Margaret and left.
Sherlock kissed his wife, putting into it what he couldn't say out loud and kissed his daughter too. As he gazed at her sleeping form, Sherlock realized that he did not regret sentiment. Not one bit.
After Molly fell asleep, he retreated into his mind palace, walking the halls peacefully. It was behaving exceptionally well today. He did his rounds and like a little boy saving the best chocolate for last, entered Margaret's room once everything else was completely run through. The ceiling of the room was now the colour of her eyes, he noticed and he snorted as he realised he compared her irises to the universe. As he turned to leave he noticed something on the right hand wall and grinned. He opened the door that had appeared there, and quickly glanced into Lizzie's room before exiting the wing and retreating into the realm of dreams.
In sleep they certainly had met on Maggie Holmes' first day in the big, big world but the girls did not see each other and observe each other until a few weeks later.
The weeks and months did pass and life at Baker Street continued in its usual, mad way, with the simple addition of more familial visits from the Watsons and a whole lot more crying instead of the sweet screech of a violin.
Maggie and Lizzie grew closer and closer, as was naturally expected, and spent many happy days in the arms of the odd circle of members that were the Baker Street family.
This is their story and it is quite a fascinating one indeed. Holmes and Watson have, after all, always been a fantastic duo. But for now, let us simply leave them, as sleeping babes sharing the same crib, a mousy brown head next to a curly blonde one, the sounds of a violin playing a lullaby drifting over their pretty heads.
Author's Note: Hi all :) So, this is my Second Generation Watson and Holmes series, inspired by a Tumblr post out there somewhere on Fem!lock, Kid!lock and Molly and Mary being the crime fighting duo.
The chapters will mostly come as a series of events and may not be in chronological order and will be in varying lengths. This one is just a bit of an intro. I'm experiencing huge writer's block with my Sherlock multi-chapter so hopefully this will oil my brain well enough to start writing that again.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, it belongs to the great ACD and Moftiss, and whoever else but certainly not me. The kid's names are purely out of my imagination and have no relation to any person, living or fictional. Any similarity is purely coincidental. Or, if the universe is rarely so lazy, my subconscious did it, not me.
Please review and tell me what you think, and I'll post the next chapter as soon as it's done. :) OH, and since it's a oneshot basis story, I SHALL ACCEPT PROMPTS! If you have a prompt, please, send it to me via Review or PM :D
Until next time then,
Much love,
xo