Hello! So anyone who's reading my other fic, Beyond Fullmetal is probably groaning right now, but in my defense, i couldn't stop this! This plot bunny attacked me and didn't want to let go!
This is a post season three fic, so if you haven't finished the series yet, go do that! There will be spoilers for season three! And if you don't care about spoilers, go one ahead!
And a far warning, this is my first Sherlock fic, so my characters may be a bit OOC, but I feel like I've done my best!
I OWN NOTHING!
Enjoy!
Dr. John Watson rolled over with a groan, as he was woken up by the growing cries of a young babe.
After a brief struggle to get untangled from the sheets – ugh…he had been tossing and turning again – John rose and stumbled out of his room and across the hall to the Nursery.
The room was painted in light pastels, as most nurseries were, and a small bundle of blankets was twisting around in large crib, illuminated by the quarter moon light.
"Shhh…shhh my little lass," John murmured softly, scooping up the small baby girl. "Da's here…he's got you." After checking to be sure that she didn't need a new nappy, John sank down in the comfortable rocking chair next to the crib. The chair had been a gift from the ladies at the surgery, who had pitched together to get it to him.
He had been living here in this little town house for a while now, having moved in here with Mary, not long after their wedding. It's been a few months sense the Moriarty scare, which had turned out to be just a small time terrorist, who had hid behind the man's legacy. The hacking devices that the man had used to access the nation's monitors had been easily tracked, and not long after Sherlock was able to track down the man's hideout. With that problem solved, life had moved on.
John scrubbed tiredly at his face, as he continued to gently rock back and forth in the chair, as he glanced around the room and out into the bare hallway.
Aside from the gifts that mostly resided within the nursery, most of the things in here were not even his, and had little to no sentimental value, they mainly were things bought by Mary.
Mary…Her death hadn't affected John nearly as much as he had suspected it would. She had died during childbirth, when she had gone into labor a month early. While John was sad that his little girl would be growing up without a mother, he wasn't nearly as sad at the thought of never seeing her again. Now that he thought about it, he found it surprisingly easy to move on from her – probably due to the fact that he had never gotten over the fact that she had shot Sherlock and lied to him about everything. The main reason that he been even trying during the time they had together was for their daughter.
John was pulled out of his thought by said baby, who let out a curious coo, her cries having been reduced to the occasional whimper, as her bright blue eyes gazed up at him.
"There now, my little lady," John smiled down at the big blues, as a tiny hand reached up to grasp up at him. Offering his finger he smiled as she tugged at it, her small fingers barley wrapping around his finger. He started to hum as soft melody, a lullaby that Sherlock had written as a baby shower gift, as he gently rocked back and forth. Keeping in a steady rhythm with the lullaby John slipped back into his thoughts.
After Mary's death, Sherlock had made sure that his offer to take in the two of them at Baker Street was kept fresh in John's mind. At times, it seemed like the last thought that John would consider, knowing that 221B was far from child proof; but more often than not, he found himself imagining what it would be like. Of course some of the problems that John would have to worry about if that were to happen would be things like the lack of rooms.
With the lack of rooms, his daughter would have to stay in the same room as John, something that he didn't mind, except that he was still riddled with nightmares more often than not. He had tried to have her in the same room as him in the beginning, but had quickly learned that the small babe didn't react well to the sound of his nightmares. With that in mind, John refuses to even think about keeping her in the same room as Sherlock. As much as he trusted the man, he didn't trust him enough to keep his daughter in that same room.
Glancing down, John smiled, seeing that the little girl had fallen asleep. As he stood to put her back into her crib, she twisted in his hold slightly, "There, there…sleep, my sweet Serenity."
The next morning came far too quickly, in John opinion. While he could sleep in, he had already promised Sherlock that he would be over at 221b in the next hour or so.
As he climbed out of bed, John winced and rubbed at his shoulder, feeling the rough muscles underneath his hand twisting tightly.
A glance in the nursery told John that Serenity was still sound asleep, allowing him a least a few minutes to relax before waking her and heading to 221b. By the time that John had gone through and checked his email and blog the kettle had whistled he had prepared a cup of tea.
Not long after, Serenity had woken with a wail, causing John to quickly cradle her in his arms, as he scrambled around the kitchen for her morning bottle.
After giving the babe her bottle, John worked to gather the diaper bag together. The leather bag had been Mycroft's main gift, after Mary had died, with the note that it was to allow him to carry it around with a little more dignity.
Soon Serenity had finished her bottle and John had both of them changed, and ready to head over to 221b.
Nabbing his phone on the way out, John quickly made his way to the bus stop down the street, Serenity's carrier in hand and diaper bag over his shoulder. He let out a soft grunt as the cold London air attacked his shoulder and leg, causing him to limp slightly, before shaking off the pain
Seeing that he was about ten minutes early, he sat at the bench and pulled Serenity's carrier into his lap.
He pulled away the covering to show his little girl wrapped in her favorite quilt, an unexpected gift home made by Mummy Holmes. She looked back up at him with bright eyes, as she cuddled her otter plushy.
"Hello, my little lassie, are you ready to see Sherlock?" John asked her quietly.
She let out a small giggle, her small hands reaching up to him. He smiled down, giving her a finger to grasp, as she slowly fell back asleep.
Not long after the bus arrived, and John found himself carefully standing in the isle, having not seen any open seats.
"Uh, sir," John jumped when he had a hand fall on his shoulder. Standing behind him was a young man, who smiled apologetically. "If you want, you can have my seat. I know that it's hard to carry a baby standing on the bus." The young man glanced behind him to his empty seat, and the three year old girl sitting beside it.
"Oh! Thank you!" John smiled, as he shuffled around him to sit in the vacant seat. 'one of the few perks of having a baby with you.'
As he settled with Serenity's carrier in his lap, the small girl beside him tilted her head at him, "Hello Mister."
John smiled and nodded kindly to her.
"Is there a baby in there?" She asked curiously, causing John to chuckle softly.
"Yes there is," He answered, lifting the covering blanket away to show the girl his sleeping daughter.
"Cute!" She squealed slightly.
"Lillian," the young man, who was clearly her father, warned slightly. "Don't disturb this gentleman."
"I'm not Papa!" the girl, Lilian, exclaimed, before blushing and turning to John, "Am I?"
John shook his head, "Don't worry, she's fine."
Lilian then leaned forward to peer closer into the carrier, "She's really cute! Papa said that I was really cute when I was little too! I hope that my baby sister is that cute!"
"Now, Lilian, we don't know if your sibling is going to be a boy or a girl yet," the man gently interrupted the girl's chatter. "But we should know when in a little bit."
John smiled as the man turned to him, his face glowing with nervous excitement, "That's where we're headed, to meet my wife for her scans."
As John was going to answer the bus came to a stop, and he realized that they were at his stop, "Well, good luck to you!"
The man nodded, as the girl squeaked a small "Bye bye mister!"
John shook his head as he exited the bus, a thought that his Serenity would be like that in only a short couple of years floating through his mind.
The walk to 221b was only five minutes once John was off of the bus, three if he was walking faster, like he was today. Like many of London's days, it was gray out, and had started to rain, causing John to walk a little faster, knowing that he didn't want Serenity out in that weather for long. Not to mention, the aching in his leg and shoulder was back.
As he approached 221b, John held back a soft groan at the sight of the sleek black car parked out front. Mycroft. Quickly approaching the door, John dug out the key he still had, and came into the entrance of 221.
He was greeted by Mrs. Hudson, who had ventured out of her room at the sound of the door.
"John," She pulled him into a warm hug, as he set down the carrier. "How are you?"
"I'm great, Mrs. Hudson," John answered as she pulled back. He quickly leaned down to gently pull Serenity out of the carrier, quilt and all. She let of a soft murmur, and snuggled into his arms.
"Oh, sweet darling," Mrs. Hudson cooed slightly, brushing a withered hand gently across her head, before bending and handing John the stuffed otter, knowing that he would need it later.
"Well, I'll head up now," John tucked the toy into the diaper bag, careful to keep a strong arm around his daughter's small body. He carefully hid a wince as the diaper bag pulled and dug into his aching shoulder, and quickly switched it to the other shoulder, despite the fact that he was already holding Serenity in the same arm.
"I'll bring up some biscuits in a bit, just this once darling, just remember! I'm not your house keeper!" Mrs. Hudson twittered as she retreated back into her kitchen. John chuckled softly, as he slowly started making his way up the stairs.
Soon, John made his way to the doorway, and found himself hesitating outside the door of 221b, despite the fact that he knew that Sherlock would already know that he was here. He could hear the soft twanging of irritated fingers plucking at Violin strings, something that he had come to associate with Mycroft's visits.
One deep breath later and John carefully opened the door, bracing himself for the overwhelming feeling of venom that usually floods the room when the two Holmes brothers were in the same room. What John was met with was shocking.
As expected the two brothers were seated in the living area, Sherlock with his hands plucking at his violin, and Mycroft in John's usual chair. What was unusual about the situation was that there was a third man.
He had black, curly hair, much like Sherlock's, but his was much longer, and pulled smoothly back to rest against the nape of his neck. There was a single gray streak running through the inky black, running from the man's left temple. As John continued to inspect the man's face, he could see that he had a stronger chin than Sherlock. The man turned his head to look at John, allowing him to see that the man had a kind face, with the makings of laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. Said eyes were a bright, stormy green, only a few shades darker than Sherlock's. What was truly shocking about the man was the fact that he sat, not in one of the chairs, but instead a wheel chair.
John startled slightly, as the man suddenly smiled kindly, and spoke, "Dr. John Watson, I presume?"
"Ah...yes," John nodded.
"It's a honor to finally meet you," The man smiled.
Before John could ask the man's name, or even answer the man's greetings, Sherlock stood and stepped over to John, placing his violin carefully down on its stand.
John rolled his eyes, but easily handed Serenity over to his best friend, who happily took her in his hands. Sherlock looked down at the sleeping baby with gentle eyes, although John could see the stress pulling at the corners.
While Sherlock made his way back to his chair, Serenity securely cradled against his chest, the man spoke again, "As I was saying, it's an honor to finally meet you, Dr. Watson."
John nodded, and shuffled forward to grasp at the man's hand, "It's nice to meet you too. If I may ask…"
The man smiled, his large, slightly rough hand firmly closing around John's hand, "Ah, where did my manors go! Sherrinford. Sherrinford Holmes."
John blinked in shock, upon hearing the familiar last name, "H-Holmes?"
The man smiled, slightly ruefully, "Ah, I see…Dr. Watson, why don't you have a seat? Mycroft, up."
John dimly registered the fact that not only did the man, Sherrinford, command Mycroft easily, but that Mrcroft actually stood and stepped away without the slightest sign of complaint.
After a moment, John still hadn't moved from his spot at the door looking at Sherrinford in shock, causing the said man to gesture.
"Doctor? I can see that not only are you in pain from your shoulder – most likely due to the weather – your leg has also been bothering you. I highly advice that you take a seat an allow yourself to rest."
John shook himself out of his shock, at the familiar sound of deduction, and quickly shuffled his way over to his chair.
"How…?" John slumped into his chair.
He smiled, "The pain in your shoulder is evident due to the fact that you were carrying your daughter in the same arm as you carry your bag, in order to keep pressure off. Usually it's much more logical to carry the bag on the opposite shoulder. Your steps were extremely uneven, as you made your way up the stairs, to the point that it's easy to see that your leg is aching you. It's common knowledge that old wounds tend to ache when it's this kind of weather – something that I know quite well myself, conclusion, old war wounds aching you. A medical man yourself should know that it is smart to sit and rest when feeling these aches."
John's answer was cut short by a whimpering cry from Serenity, as she twisted slightly in Sherlock's arms. Said man quickly stood and moved to the kitchen, to fix a bottle for her.
Turning back to Sherrinford, John shook his head slightly, he was definitely a Holmes, "Amazing."
"You do realize that you still do that out loud," Sherlock's voice floated from the kitchen, causing John to chuckle, and realize that was the first thing that the man had said to him today.
Sherrinford also chuckled slightly, as he shifted his chair to face John, "Now, from the rather baffled expression that you had when you walked in, and even more so from the shock that you clearly went through before you went when I introduced myself, both of my brothers failed to mention me."
"Brothers?" John found himself shocked again, though the logical side of his brain – often sounding just like Sherlock's own voice – whispered, "it's not that surprising, he looks just like them!"
Sherrinford smiled, "That's right, Sherrinford Holmes, the eldest Holmes brother, and – I'd bet if you asked my little brothers – the Holmes brother who cared too much."
And that's it!
If I get a good enough response, I might end up continuing this fic...but for now it shall remain a complete oneshot!
If you've made it this far please don't stop and allow me a few more seconds of your time and shoot me a review!
Love always!
~Silv