~ Chapter One ~
Molly gasped and nearly dropped her mobile as she read Sherlock's text:
Come up and see the baby, Room 312 - SH
Room 312 - one of the private rooms in a wing that had recently been redone. But what on earth? Why were they even here at Bart's?
Fortunately she had only been finishing up some paperwork, so she was able to rush out and down the hall to the lift, heart thudding with excitement and not a little fear. Molly knew quite well that Mary had planned to go to a birthing center on Harley Street when her time came, the arrangements had been made months ago and she'd gone there for all her prenatal checks and scans. How had Mary and her daughter ended up in hospital?
Yet Sherlock's text had conveyed no hint of concern, and she was pretty sure he would have given her some sort of warning if there'd been a problem. Therefore, she tried to calm herself, tried not to fidget, as the lift rose all too slowly to the third floor. The door finally slid open and she forced herself to walk quickly, not run. Down the long corridor that led to the newly refurbished wing. Waving brief acknowledgments to the surprised greetings of fellow staff members, who knew her but seldom saw her outside the canteen. Focused on her goal.
She reached it soon enough, and timidly pushed at the door, but it then opened abruptly and there was Sherlock, looking a trifle harried, disheveled (she wondered if anyone else would have noticed the imperfect way he'd re-tucked his shirt, his slightly mussed curls, or the faint but discernable stains on his trousers), but smiling for all that: a true smile that reached his eyes.
"Come in, they're tired but wanted you to see when we found out you were working tonight."
She entered and there were John and Mary - and the baby, a small pink-capped bundle in Mary's arms. "Mary!" Molly breathed, and swiftly moved across the room to the bed. "What happened? Both of you are alright?"
And Mary chuckled. "We're fine, but… um… she wouldn't wait."
"It was my fault," said John. "I was on a case with Sherlock and it ran long. Mary tried to contact us-"
"Fifty-nine missed calls," Sherlock said, managing to convey both remorse and amusement.
"Oh, Sherlock!" Molly exclaimed, rounding on him.
"I know. But she got her own back again, believe me."
"Needs must," said Mary, lightly. Molly turned back to her, and saw that her eyes were laughing. "Gave birth right in the back seat of the car," she continued. "John was wonderful. And Sherlock... got to hold my hand."
Sherlock sniffed. "Hold your hand."
"Well, basically," Mary said with a tired grin. "I'm sure you can imagine."
And Molly, who'd done a rotation in obstetrics years before, nodded and flashed Sherlock an amused smile. He silently replied with a sort of horrified grimace, and she laughed.
John said, "The ambulance arrived a couple of minutes after she was born. Brought us here for observation - well, my girls." He gave a wondering smile at the phrase. "But I expect they'll be released in the morning. They both checked out fine."
"I'm so glad!" Molly smiled. "May I take a peek?"
"Of course," said Mary. "That's why we called you up. I've just fed her, and we do need to sleep, but… well, look!"
Molly did look. And held the little darling, too, very briefly. "Mary, she's perfect. So beautiful."
"Hmm," said Sherlock, who was looking over her shoulder at the tiny, slightly scrunched and mottled face.
Molly gave him a quick glare. "She's beautiful!"
Sherlock's lips twitched. "So she is," he said, wisely.
Molly gave a firm nod, and carefully gave the baby back to her mother. "You should rest while she sleeps. How did the nursing go?"
Mary wrinkled her nose a bit, but said, "Pretty well. She's got a good latch already. Likes to eat."
"That's good," Molly said, nodding. "She'll sleep better. And it'll get easier. Or so I've been told." She was aware that those last words had sounded wistful rather than matter-of-fact, as intended, and aware, too, of Sherlock's discerning gaze upon her. She cleared her throat, smiled, and stood up. "I'll go now. Shall I take Sherlock away to the canteen for a cup of tea?"
"That'd be great," John grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he looked up at his friend.
Sherlock said, with specious disapprobation, "I can take a hint. And I've seen more than my fair share of Watsons, today. I may need something rather stronger than tea."
But as Molly watched him bend and kiss Mary's forehead, then straighten to shake John's hand, Sherlock's eyes were as warm as she'd ever seen them.