So this story is a result of a conversation in the Sherlolly Chat room 11 months ago. 11. 11. that's terrible. Actual children have been gestated and born in that length of time it took me to work on this one little idea and edit. So it with my sincere apology that I dedicate this fic to TheSherlollysmooch.
Warning: this story is about labor. It's detailed and very TMI. So if discussion about what the body goes through right before during and after birth bother you, you may want to skip this. But despite all that there is fun and fluff. But if words like 'placenta' and 'dilated' bother you I totally get it. Move on to another fic with my whole hearted blessing. But if you care to hear about some shenanigans that happened on the way to the deliver center, press on.
Not Brit-picked. At all. Although I tried, but it seems giving birth is really different from here in the US where I live... And tbh, I wish I could have done it in the UK!
If there was one thing that Sherlock Holmes hated it was sharing. He hated sharing credit on cases, he hated sharing HIS possessions. He hated sharing period.
However, he did love his birthday. Trite as it may be, he loved it. After all it was HIS day. The one day where he was virtual king while growing up. And then there was the gifts. Yes, some where inane jokes but some... some where delightful and intriguing little rapid fire mysteries. All to simply please him. It was all rather splendid.
That's why moments after learning that he was going to be a father for the first time he began to sulk. Oh, not about the child, that had been a goal that he and Molly had been after for several months. It was morse so to do with the fact that in the span of a breath he'd had to worked out the timeline of the pregnancy from conception to due date and he was not happy with where the result led him to. Even less so when the doctor announced similar findings as to a due date: January 6th. Sherlock's birthday.
"The baby will come on my birthday." He pouted at his own prediction.
"Sherlock, you know the chances of that happening are remotely slim right? The law of probability lists many other plausible dates!" He pouted further. And Molly sighed, "Time will tell darling. Only time. But I doubt you have anything to worry about. I came nearly 2 weeks late you know." Molly said kissing his cheek making him smile before turning to rest her hand on her lower belly, stroking the hardly viewable firmness when she turned away his face fell again. Sherlock didn't tell her that a Holmes always arrived uncannily on time
As it turned out, the OB was certain the Molly's petite body was going to need to be induced to get the baby to come, and they set the date a week and a half past Sherlock's own birthday much to his delight. He tried to banish the fear that plagued him about having to share HIS one day.
January 6th,
He woke that morning in an uncharacteristically good mood. It was his birthday! For once a majority of the people would be at least attempting to placate him. And there'd be his favorite brunch along with the private tour of some of the mysteries hidden from the public at the national museum for he, Molly, and John to tour in the afternoon. All leading to dinner where they'd meet Lestrade and Mary and the delightful toddler Abigail. And then there'd be the splendid Chocolate cake from his favorite bakery. And gifts. All for him.
Molly woke up in a far less congenial mood and slowly made her way out of their bed in a completely inelegant manner. After a hurried trip to the loo she came out to the main living area rubbing her extraordinarily swollen belly as it stretched and filled out a tee shirt. A tired but serene smile was on her face as she began to sing a low and warbled version of 'happy birthday' through her husky morning voice as she waddled over and kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him where he sat at the kitchen table. "Good morning."
Sherlock stood up and gave her a peck on her forehead, one hand caressing their daughters...humm knee through her shirt and belly causing the tiny thing to twirl closer to the contact. Molly winced before trying to hide her grimace from Sherlock.
Pulling back Sherlock studied her belly. "She's dropped a bit more."
Molly nodded. "It feels nice that she's off my ribs though."
"Mhm. I'd imagine so." Sherlock agreed as he studied her. The baby was much lower than the previous day. He looked over her to see if there was any other new developments since last night. Satisfied that their child was lower, but not showing any immediate sign of arrival he let her go.
Molly went to the kitchen and started her toast, eggs and tea while Sherlock moved to the desk to amuse himself on the laptop and do a cursory brief check that no pressing cases had come in.
After her quick meal, Molly had gone to dress she came out in a simple dress and leggings and her signature ponytail looking fresher and moving a bit faster. Sherlock watched her quietly, studding her and her stride as she moved about, grabbing her phone.
"Only six of the 'are you still pregnant' texts today." She laughed then stopped suddenly.
Sherlock jumped up to her. "Everything ok?"
She laughed. "Just another... practice contraction. You'd think I'd be used to them by now. Im fine!" The tone was a bit too cheery, even for Molly.
"How often?" He asked calmly, but internally the pouting had begun.
"Not...So often Sherlock. We're fine. Are you all set?" She said, turning away from him.
"Yep." He responds with a loud popping 'P'. Behind his back he noted the time of the false contraction into his phone. "But aren't you forgetting to give me my gift?"
"Oh you'll get it alright. Tonight. At dinner." She grinned at him.
"Now Molly darling, I'm not sure that behavior is acceptable in public." Grinning cheekily at her flushing he laughed. "And you know that behavior is recommended to begin labor so as tempting as you look, let's let her wait a few days more."
"Right because you don't want to share your birthday." It was a
statement. A rather resigned one at that.
"Nope. It's mine. She can have her own. I see no reason to share mine." He stated. Then turned his head and narrowed his eyes at her yet again. "Is there?"
"I think I'm contracting." She said complety serious, her eyes wide, watching his face to judge his reaction. "The real ones."
"It will pass." Came his obnoxious, yet uncertain toned reply.
"We're nearing the time I should call the midwife." Molly admitted.
"Why don't you go drink some water and sit down. It will pass." Nodding distractedly, Sherlock turned away trying to remember everything he read about slowing labor.
Molly went to the kitchen and poured water. A moment after the refrigerator closed he heard the sound of water hitting the ground.
"Need help cleaning that spill?" Sherlock smiled at himself. He was still always so proud when he remembers to be polite to her.
"Um, Sherlock!" Her alarmed voice cried. He looked into the kitchen and there Molly stood with a completely full glass of water.
Standing there staring at her till he understood. "Your water broke."
"It's time to go to the birth centre." She told him firmly, giving no room for arguments. Of course Sherlock had to try.
"You can go up to 24 hours before giving birth after your water breaks Molly."
Shaking her head no she said. "We're going now Sherlock."
"Can't we just wait and see? A little while won't hurt to wait right?" He asked rather feebly.
Just then a contraction hit. It hit like a train. "Oh! Ouch. Bollocks!" Molly's face transformed into anguished pain. Sherlock rushed to hold her. All at once done with his fit and straight into being fully concerned for her. "Oh God it's as bad as they all say! The water cushioned it so much more than I thought- Ahhhhhhhh" She cried out, grabbing his arms for support.
"Right then, time to go." Sherlock used his free hand to use an app to quickly hail a cab then began collecting some of the liquid off the floor. Such a rare thing couldn't be wasted after all. He had a series of tests he planned to run and he couldn't wait to play with it. Later. While the baby slept.
What a strange, terrifying thought.
Molly meanwhile headed off to change and he finished in the kitchen. Once it was clean his eyes drifted to the cake sitting in its box in he counter. Dark chocolate cream frosting. Pound cake centre. It looked divine and smelled like joy. Such a shame that it was going to be stale by the time they came home from the birth centre...
Just one little piece. No one would fault him after all. It was HIS birthday. He found himself humming the ridiculous song as he cut a slice.
The slice eneded up being far more than little. In fact it was large. And it smelled divine. He tucked into it while checking on the cab status. 8 min to arrival.
Molly wobbled back into the kitchen but stopped suddenly as a shade of green covered her face. "What is that awful smell!?" She was nearly gagging.
Sherlock looked around him for old rags, or open chemicals perhaps. Finding nothing obvious he asked , "What?"
"That!" Molly pointed at the cake.
"This? It's my chocolate cake! The one you ordered for me. It's delicious." He couldn't understand how she could feel that way. "Would you like a bite?"
"A bite?! No! Can you just get rid of it before I get sick?" She begged.
"I... Oh alright." With one last bite he dumped the largely uneaten cake slice away. Mycroft might have shed a tear. Might still if he had bugged the flat again.
"Well then, are we ready?"He asked as he grabbed the bag just in their bedroom door.
"Jesus Christ! How this hurts!"
Another contraction hit. He made a note of the time. Seven minutes past the last.
He held her hand through it then helped her into her coat, then helped her down the steps."Were so lucky Martha's not home this morning. She'd be well into a tizzy by now." Molly sighed with relief.
Quite so. Sherlock thought, looking for the cab. Where the hell was it? He wanted to have Molly settled and in before the next contraction hit. Finally there was to cab coming down the street, and flew past the it passed right by them and down to the next block.
"Are you kidding me?!" They both yelled in unison.
"Come back were at 221!" Sherlock called. Molly started moaning. Not good. Not good at all. The driver made no response other the to lay on his horn for his passengers who were a block away and very much in the throws of labor.
"I'll go get him Molly. Just..um, yes. Just stay right there and.. Ah.. hold on." Molly was clinging to the fence railings with both hands till the knuckles went white.
Sherlock went running to the cab parked just in the block when he reached it he pounded on the window. "You drove by the pick up you fool. Drive back to 221."
"I ain't no fool mate. Says right 'ere Baker Street, numba' 231." The man shoved his phone into Sherlock's face.
Damn. It did. Sherlock scolded himself for letting the labor get in he way of his mental facilities. "Yes, I see. However, I need you to go back to 221. She's in a great deal of pain and I-"
"Look man, my order says 231 Baker street. So, I'm staying right here for my can bring her to me or find a new cab. So you make the call." It couldn't be helped, not if he wanted to get on their way in the quarter of an hour they would have had before another cab showed up. Molly would contract again before that happened several times. Desperate times, called for desperate measures. "Fine! Just wait here." Then he took off running back to see Molly struggling to pick up their hospital bag. Sherlock sprinted to grab it from her and explain the issue.
"Our cabbie is refusing to return. Do you think you can walk to him or should I call round another?" He said barely hiding his irritation.
Standing up straight she shook her head. "No, I think I can do this. Let's go." Molly walked, well more waddled at her normal, well normal pregnant pace.
"How are you feeling?" He chanced asking as they approached the curb to cross over the street.
"Like any second I'm going to tear in two." She said mournfully. "I was really hoping this labor pain thing was going to be an exaggeration but my hips feel ready to snap apart. "
"That would be her moving down into the birth canal." He noted, guiding her across the intersection.
"Yes, believe it or not Sherlock Holmes, I do know exactly WHAT is happening with her and I both right now. I did attend medical school if you recall. Thank you kindly enough." Molly snapped.
"Oh, is this the part of labor where you berate me and make vows to never let me touch you again?" He questioned, with a small touch of sarcasm. An icy glare met him."It's ok Molly. John told me how Mary made all those promises and more in 7 different languages when she was laboring with Abigail. It's fine. Have you begun using your breathing techniques?" Speaking of John, Sherlock still needed to text him. That would wait through.
"Oh I'm going to do more than threaten you if this pain worsens. Mary might have an extensive vocabulary, but I have practical knife skills with a scalpel. Should you make any terrible deductions of me during this time I will show you just how I know to inflict pain and will permanently render you from ever getting me into this situation again."
They reached the car and the oaf of a driver popped the trunk without even exciting his cab to assist. Sherlock placed the bag in the back and hurried to Molly to help her get in hurrying as only one more minute remained before the next contraction was due. However, he was climbing into the cab when Molly began to wail as the pain hit. She gritted her teeth and slammed her eyes shut while blindly reaching for him.
"Awe, no. No. Nope. No mate. No babies will be born in my cab. Too much damn paperwork and cleaning, and I'll not have some bird up the duff spewing fluids in here. I suggest you find another ride." The cabbie spoke while shifting the cars gears back into park.
"The fact that you have four of your own and not just the two children, as your wife so believes, leads me to think you've been here a time or two. Now get us to the birth centre!" Sherlock snapped. Molly moaned at the noise.
"Who the hell told you about my kids? I'm gonna murder 'im." The cab driver muttered."What are you some sort of Psychic? I don't take well to any of you types in my cab." The cretin sniffed at them while be glared into the rearview mirror in disgust and a poorly hidden tinge of fear. Idiot.
Molly started tensing once more, eyes closed tight with her hands gripping her firming belly. "What say we forget his children and focus on getting to the centre to have our own!" She wailed. "Please sir! Please just go." After a moment of indecision the car started to drive off and it seemed to Sherlock that the reprobate driver seemed intent on hitting each pothole to be found. As the car got further away from Baker. street, Sherlock struggled to fight urge to hurt the driver as it intensified with each soft moan of pain that Molly let out. Looking for a distraction, he pulled out his phone text John to distract himself.
Change of plans, were heading to both centre.- SH
Today!?- JW
I'll meet you there. -JW
No. No. Don't do that. Come later. After. Not now. Understood? SH
No, I'll be there, in the lounge if you need me. -JW
You're going to a dada.-JW
John. No. Stop you did this for three months after you found out Molly was expecting. You're regressing. Stop now. -SH
Daddy Sherlock- JW
I will block you. So much as one more And...
The cab hit a massive pothole. Molly cried out and Sherlock gripped the door. Phone forgotten momentarily in his hand.
"Think you can at least try to stay out of the holes? You are hurting her. And I won't let anyone hurt her ever again, do you understand. " He forced out through clenches jaw.
"Eh, I'm not the one who caused your bird that pain. That be you sir."
"I know that you ingrate!" Sherlock shouted with disgust
"Well just pointing out the obvious" the driver smirked.
"I'm paying you to drive us, not berate us. You shall decease at once or believe me when I tell you that I will find your home, BOTH of them and will explain how you are a liar and a bigot and just why you are not 'home' on consecutive nights due to your 'work.'"
The cabbie slammed on his breaks. Sending his passengers flinging forward. Sherlock instinctively reached over to protect Molly from hitting the seat in front of her. "Out of my cab. Now! Both of you!"
Molly continued to braced herself after the abrupt motion of the stopping cab. And looked from one snarling man to the other.
"Let's go Sherlock." She whispered.
Holmes continued to glare at the man whom he'd very much like
to kill with his bare hands sitting in the row in front of him then he felt Molly's hand on his arm. He turned to look at her and her tiny fingers clenching his suit coat (why hadn't he put on his Belstaff?) and then up into her deep brown eyes. She shook her head in the smallest of moments and he finally gave a single nod. Truth be told, it was one of favorite things about his and Molly's relationship. This ability to silently communicate with one another. And right now she was simply asking to go give birth to their daughter.
"We're going, but I'm not paying you one cent for this abusive ride." He said throwing his door open and then ran around to assist Molly who huffed, puffed and rocked her way out of the cab. They had just shut the door when the cabbie slammed on the gas and took off.
"Sherlock our bag!" Molly shouted as the car sped away.
"On it." And he pulled out his mobile and hit a speed dial. "Lestrade, I need one of your more diligent officers to retrieve Molly and I's hospital bag. It got stolen by a cabbie... Yes, I'll text you the number. And will you bring it to us at the birth centre?" Sherlock looked at his watch and at Molly. A few more minutes till the next 'episode' and they needed another cab. "Yes Greg, that's the one." Sherlock waited for the screaming to die of on the other end. "Well of course that's your name. What else would it have been? Now when you go retrieve the bag you will also find the driver a Mr. Coleman is a bigamist. A fact his wives might find interesting no doubt. I was fairly distracted but I'm fairly sure that he is running a scam on these women. I also am considering pressing charges for attempted vehicular manslaughter if nothing sticks." Sherlock rolled his eyes at Molly who was just staring at him with a slightly amused and loving gaze. Looking around he spoke again to Lestrade. "And also send us an officer to meet us at Regent's park. We still need a ride to the birth centre." He then clicked the disconnect button without waiting for the other mans answer. Seeing Molly still looking at him he asked, "What?"
"I knew you've been calling him by the wrong name on purpose." She smiled lovingly at him.
"I'm sure I have no idea what your talking about." He lied and grabbed her hand and led her to as quiet a spot as possible in the busy plaza giving her hand a gentle squeeze as the walked. She moved slower than she had and despite the smile seemed very on edge. Once they stopped he pulled her into his arms so that she could rest against him, for once mindless of the crowd aground them. "How are you doing?"
"I'm...here?" She attempted a little levity but it sounded hollow. Another contraction was starting and Molly turned her head into his neck in order to not draw attention to herself.
"I'm sorry Molly. I'm so, so sorry. I should have kept my mouth shut and we'd be arriving there soon." Sherlock caressed her back as soothingly as he could as the contraction held her in its grip.
After the intense moments passed. She lifted her head to look at it him.
"Did you just apologize for telling off the cabbie?" Molly blinked at him when he didn't reaspond. "Sherlock, you did the right thing. If he hit so much as one more bump I was going to reach up strangle him till he would stop his gob from running. Permanently." Squeezing her a bit he let a low rumble of a laugh out. He really did love her.
They continued to stand together untill a police car arrived on the scene with lights and horns blaring. "Well it looks like our ride is here." Sherlock noted as the car pulled up in front of them. They made there way to it, paying no mind to the people staring at them. After once more settling Molly in and himself as well they prepared to take off.
"Heard you caused some trouble with a Cabby." Their driver said.
"Oh shut up Donovan." Sherlock sneered.
Their smirking escort set off into traffic, horns off, yet lights still blaring. "How you hanging in there Molly?"
"I feel like utter hell Sally." Molly sat eyes closed a as head leaned back. Resting after the standing.
"I can imagine. It will be worth it though as soon as you hold her. I promise you." To which Molly hummed her agreement. A familiar mantra to Molly. One that she'd drilled to herself for months on end in preparation for this exact moment.
With the lights, and cars parting to let the police car through they made it to the birth centre in record time. Sherlock silently kicked himself for not having considered this as a first course of action to begin with.
They parked by the front door and Sally jumped out to assist Molly up, and for once Sherlock was grateful for Sally Donovan's presence. As they began wobbling their way to the door, just as another contraction hit sooner then anticipated. A nurse rushed out with a wheelchair and sat Molly down pushing her in out of the cold wet day.
Sally called to him before he made it through the sliding door. "Sherlock, it's your birthday too yeah?" Looking over his shoulder he nodded distractedly. "Well, I just want to say...happy birthday. And, um... You guys are going to be great parents. Alright?"
They held each other's eyes while they each weighed and measured one another's sincerity before Sherlock gave a single nod. Sally smiled for a fraction of a second then climbed back in the car before pulling away as Sherlock allowed one brief moment and longing for nicotine to fortify himself for what lay ahead.
A/N: Yeah that chocolate cake bit... that actually happened. Food is gross during labor folks. it was 4 years before i could look at a fudge round after my husband ate one in the car on the way to the hospital. There's only one part left to this adventure.