No Place Like Home
When a person becomes a parent, a sixth sense is developed. A part of them – heart, mind and soul – will always be on high alert in regards to their child. If ever they go out, their phones and mobile devices will always be within reach, ready to be answered should their child call. And when they are tiny, and the hour is very late or very early, a parent's ear will be attuned to the baby monitor. Even when they are fast asleep, the slightest cry or cough will wake them up fully, ready to jump into action.
Of course this was true for the parents of eleven-month-old Alethea Johanna Holmes.
So, one February night when the London winter winds were particularly fierce against the glass window panes of 221B Baker Street, both Mr. and Mrs. Holmes were woken by the sound of crackling whimpers coming through the baby monitor on the bedside table.
Sherlock, already sitting up, turned to Molly and stroked her tousled head. "I've got her," he said softly.
Molly gave a sleepy but grateful smile. She had a morning shift at St. Bart's, after all, and she had complete confidence in her husband that he could handle this situation completely on his own (though it had taken some time for him to stop doubting that).
After giving Molly's tousled head a kiss, Sherlock slipped out of their bed and grabbed his nearest dressing gown. He hurried out his bedroom and up the stairs to his daughter's room. Once it had been John Watson's, and now it was hers. After making sure his dressing gown's tie was secure, Sherlock slipped into the room.
Now he could hear his daughter's frightened and worried whimpers, just a few volume levels down from full-tilt cries. He approached the crib and looked down inside, where eleven-month-old Alethea lay. In her restless state, her little legs had kicked the soft yellow blanket that her Nana Holmes had knitted for her, and her little arms were flailing too. Her face was scrunched up as she whimpered, her even rosier-than-usual cheeks were wet from the tears that had fallen.
His heart twisting, Sherlock reached down into the crib and rubbed his daughter's tummy to get her attention. It worked, for her whimpers slowed and her big brown eyes opened. When they met her father's, her little lower lip jutted out and her little arms stopped flailing so they could reach up for him. Smiling, Sherlock happily complied.
Lifting her from the crib, Sherlock held his baby girl to him. He made comforting shushing noises and rubbed her back. She felt warm through the bumblebee-stripped onesie that she wore, but when he pressed his lips to her forehead to both kiss her and check her temperature, Sherlock deduced that she had no fever. She was just warm from being in her crib and crying because the sound of the strong wind against the windows were scaring her.
Once Sherlock had settled into the rocking chair in the corner of the room, he began to speak soothingly to his daughter. "What's this, Lithi? Is it the wind? I'll admit that it is blowing at quite a speed tonight, and the sound of it's impact against the glass panels of our windows is quite annoying, but you've nothing to fear. Leave aside the fact that our windows are much too strong to shatter against the wind. Just remember that I would never – never – let any person or force of nature harm you."
Alethea's whimpers soon calmed, and she snuggled against her father, his deep and gentle voice working its magic over her. Smiling to himself, Sherlock rocked the chair slowly back and forth, still rubbing Alethea's back and talking to her.
"I'll tell you a little secret, Lithi. For me, it was lightning. Even today, it still sends a little shiver up my spine. That's because it never has any warning. With Mummy, it's thunder. At least with thunder, you know it's coming, because it always comes after lightning. We all have something. With your Uncle Mycroft, it's big chocolate pastries that are just too irresistible to be left unconsumed."
Now feeling quite amused, he settled Alethea so she sat facing him on his lap. Holding both of her tiny, chubby hands in his big ones, he leaned forward so their noses were almost touching. "Are we feeling better now, Lithi?" he asked in a mock-serious voice.
Alethea's face lit up in a smile and a giggle, and Sherlock grinned right back. However, it seemed that Mother Nature was in a particular bitchy mood that night. Because in the next moment, the most powerful gust of wind yet rattled the nursery window something awful. Poor Alethea's smile immediately crumpled and she began to whimper again. Inwardly cursing the weather, Sherlock immediately rested her against his chest again.
Why can't Mycroft have complete control over the weather, too? he thought petulantly.
Not knowing just when this wind would settle down, and needing his baby girl to stop being frightened, Sherlock decided to make her feel as secure as possible. So, he stood up and carried her out of her room, down the stairs, and to his and Molly's room.
His wife woke up as he sat down on the bed; the wind and Alethea's crying through the baby monitor had already put her senses on high alert. Seeing that Sherlock had not come back alone, she immediately rose herself to rest on an elbow. "Oh," she mewled softly, reaching out towards them. "Is it the wind?"
Sherlock nodded. "I think she'll do better with us tonight than by herself."
Molly nodded. Alethea, who had spotted her mother, immediately wriggled and stretched out towards her. Smiling, Molly helped Sherlock to lie the eleven-month-old down on her tummy between them. Her whimpering settled immediately as both of her parents comforted her. Sherlock continued to rub her back as Molly ran her fingers through her wispy black curls. She soon fell asleep as her mother softly sang "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" as a lullaby.
Feeling safe and secure between her mummy and daddy, Alethea slept deeply and peacefully for the rest of the night, despite the tempestuous wind blowing through London. Her proud parents fell asleep a short time later, after sharing a loving kiss above her head, and theirs was peaceful too.
No matter what weather raged outside – wind, storm or cyclone – the family of three knew that no place over the rainbow could be better than the loving home they had in each other.