A sequel to Collide, but can be read alone. My first actual Sherlolly story with some angst, a little bit of humor, uncle John and a doubtful Sherlock thrown in for good measure. Beta'd by the lovely There's A Time Lord in Lima.
Summary: A sequel to Collide, but can be read alone. Because showing up and sticking around are two completely different things. Sherlock must prove he's capable of fatherhood and work through the tangled webs that are his feelings for Molly, and vice versa. A look at their first year of parenthood. Eventual Sherlolly.
Ducks in a Row
Three days old
Three days after she enters the world, Annabelle Scarlet Holmes is ready to leave the hospital.
She's bundled tightly in a pink, wool blanket as Sherlock hugs her close to his body, walking alongside Molly's wheelchair and watching her green eyes wander. By now he considers himself an expert at holding her, only coming close to actually dropping her once. Thankfully, John had been the only witness.
Molly is never to find out.
He is more than ready to leave the hospital, the sounds and smell of disinfectant beginning to drive him mad along with the masses of people who insist on cooing and petting his daughter as they walk by. He glances in Molly's direction, meeting her dark eyes and smiling gently when she reaches up and strokes the tiny hand that sticks out of the blanket, the chubby pink fingers gripping her own in a fist.
Exiting the metal doors of the hospital they're met with a cool breeze that's fairly common in April, but it's still cold enough that Sherlock shields his daughter from it as he lays her head in the crook of his neck and breathes in the scent of baby powder. John is waving at them from the curb, holding open the car door and showcasing the car seat he put together himself, pride oozing from his smile.
"Took me a while but I eventually got the thing together. Apparently you can't take the baby home unless it's set up properly." As he talks he offers a smile at the bundle in Sherlock's arms and strokes the top of her head. He had fallen in love with the little girl the moment he saw her.
Molly thanks John and slips into the backseat, holding out her arms to take Annabelle from her father, who almost seemed hesitant to let her go.
"Come on Sherlock, give her here. I want to get home so she can see her nursery." Sherlock snorts as he hands Annabelle to her mother, missing the warmth from her tiny body almost instantly.
"There's no rush. She won't even know what she's looking at." Molly scowls as her fingers work to secure the clasps of the car seat, making sure they're snug before she sits back and blows out a tired breath.
"Yes, but it's still special Sherlock. It's her first room and I want to see her in it." She narrows her eyes as they meet his through the rearview mirror, playfulness hidden in the brown depths. Sherlock sighs but drops the argument as he steers the car onto the road and proceeds with extreme caution.
…
Nearly an hour later, thanks to Sherlock's cautionary driving and the argument that he was only putting the baby first, they arrive at Molly's flat. He helps her up the stairs as he juggles Annabelle's car seat, the newborn fast asleep inside. It's early evening now and a light rain has begun to fall as the soothing sound fills the house that's been abandoned for the last few days.
Without stopping the new parents walk to the nursery, opening the door and revealing the yellow walls and the smell of new clothes and toys. As Molly removes Annabelle from the car seat Sherlock looks at the room again, having only been inside once.
Unlike the first time he notices the pictures of Molly and her family set up on the white dresser and the stuffed animals lining the shelves on the wall. As he inspects the pictures further he sees her mother and father, her brother and herself.
He doesn't see a single one of him.
In fact there's no evidence in this room to suggest he even exists and he pretends it doesn't hurt. Of course while it comes as no surprise he still feels like he's missing from his daughter's life despite his so far involvement. It occurs to him only now that this is as much of a game as the rest of his life and he's going to have to prove himself.
His thoughts are interrupted by Molly's voice, cooing softly as she rocks Annabelle back and forth and shows her each part of the room, kissing the top of her head every now and then as if she'll slip away. Sherlock licks his lips as he watches, entranced by the sight and feeling fearful at the same time. He knows his daughter isn't going to be this tiny forever and the thought of her growing up to rely on his advice and learn from him terrifies him still.
"Did you paint these?" he asks aloud, trying to form a conversation now that the silence has become overwhelming. Molly glances over and sees him pointing a finger at one of the lions on the wall.
"No, a friend of mine did. She's a brilliant artist; practically fell out of her chair when I asked her to decorate the place for me." She smiles as she recalls the memory, shifting Annabelle in her arms as she starts to fuss, tears rolling down her pink cheeks as she wails. Sherlock is on high alert almost instantly, approaching Molly and peering at the obviously angry little girl with a worried glance.
"Is she supposed to be that loud? Perhaps she needs medical attention." The suggestion, while completely off, makes Molly giggle. She gingerly transfers the baby into Sherlock's arms and strokes her dark curls.
"Oh she's just hungry, aren't you little one? Just keep holding her while I heat a bottle, I'll just be a moment." As she walks out the door Sherlock has the strong urge to call her back, looking down at his screaming daughter and grimacing. Her tiny fists shook in the air while her cheeks were now a bright red stained with tears. To top it off he had absolutely no clue what to do.
It's just a few minutes. Molly will be right back.
He tries to reassure himself as he gently rocks back and forth on his feet, shushing Annabelle in hopes she'll stop crying. It unfortunately does little to soothe her and he swallows as he begins to wonder if he'll ever be any good at this.
While the self-doubt had been gnawing at him since he first got word of the pregnancy the feelings had skyrocketed when he came face to face with the tiny life he had helped create. Her innocence made him fear her, not because she reminded him of those he belittled and looked down on, but because she was so impressionable and for the next while she always would be.
She was going to look up to him, expect the answers to questions even Sherlock Holmes might now have and that thought is something he doesn't care to think about. But thankfully, he's saved from the worrisome thought as Molly appears in the doorway, carrying a bottle and a purple rag she tosses over her shoulder. She gives Sherlock a sympathetic glance as she takes in his face, flushed and filled with utter helplessness.
"Oh, come here darling. Daddy just isn't sure what's what yet but don't worry, we'll sort him out real quick." She scoops the baby out of his arms and settles in the wooden gliding rocking chair in the corner, nestling her in the crook of her arm as she offers the bottle. And at once, the crying stops.
Sherlock is thankful and he watches the interaction between mother and daughter with awe. Wide green eyes are surveying the room as she sucks on the bottle, blinking every so often as she settles into her mother's warmth. He feels one corner of his mouth tip up in a half smile and his eyes lock with Molly's. He knows he'll never doubt her abilities as a mother.
Shortly after she finishes her bottle, Annabelle falls asleep as Molly rocks her, her tiny lips parted slightly as she breathes. Sherlock watches her chest rise and fall, blinking rapidly if he misses it. She's carried to Molly's room and tucked into her bassinet near the bed, covered with a blanket and kissed on the forehead by both her mother and father. For what seems like the first time since they've walked in the new parents breathe.
They slink into the kitchen with exhausted steps, trying not to remember that this is what life will feel like for at least the next five years as they collapse into kitchen chairs and watch the rain as it beats against the window outside.
"She'll need to eat again in the next few hours," Molly says quietly, gathering her hair and tying it with an elastic. Sherlock holds back a sigh and looks over to her.
"I'll do it." He offers, much to Molly's surprise. She hides the smile trying to work its way onto her face.
"Does that mean you'll stay tonight?" he looks over and sees the gratitude and pure happiness on her face, making it impossible to take the words back now. His only answer is a small nod and a smile.
I'd love to hear what everybody thinks and if you have questions/comments or anything else feel free to leave them in a review or PM me, I'd be more than happy to answer. I hope you enjoyed chapter one!
