Where Joy Resides – Chapter 1
This has not been beta-read, so all mistakes are mine alone. no copyright infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Sherlock Holmes unlocked the door to 221B and fairly flew up the seventeen steps to the flat in Baker Street. He was excited and nearly bursting to tell John his news. This would make John so happy, and give them something they both longed to have in their lives.
John was sitting by the fire in his pyjamas, dressing gown, and warm slippers. He looked up as Sherlock stormed into the sitting room, removing his Belstaff with his usual flourish and hanging it up behind the door, with his scarf and gloves tucked into a pocket. He called out a quick, "Hello, John!" before quickly striding down the corridor to their bedroom, where John could soon hear Sherlock removing his clothes and heading into the shower. His flatmate-turned-husband came out into the sitting room within a half hour, freshly showered and shaved, and also clad in pyjamas and dressing gown -but in spite of the cold temperatures outside, he was barefoot. Sherlock sat on the sofa, fished his slippers out from under it, and looked earnestly at John.
"So, my love, what have you been up to, then? Planting firecrackers in your brother's letterbox? Paying his housekeeper to short-sheet him? Melting that chocolate laxative into his tea cakes again? You look too diabolical to have been doing anything other than driving your big brother round the twist," John said, looking quite amused with his husband of nearly two years.
"Well, I have come from seeing Mycroft, but not from setting anything on fire, nor anything else evil, I can assure you – although, that chocolate laxative thing..." Sherlock answered, still looking pleased with himself over something. "John, what is the one thing we have talked about that we'd love to have in our lives, but has been impossible for us so far?"
"The one thing that – oh, you mean a child? Have you thought more about the surrogate route?" John answered, puzzled at the topic. They had talked about the subject several times, but the alternatives available left them to decide who would be the father of each child, should they decide to have more than one. John had always wanted children; and surprisingly, Sherlock had fallen immediately in love with Greg and Molly's first, and from then on he had also expressed a desire for at least one child, maybe more if they seemed to be able to handle it well. They had discussed it several times, but had made no decisions as to how they'd find a suitable surrogate. Perhaps that's where Mycroft came in.
"Yes, well, there may be a way round all that business now!" his sweetheart said, smiling, twisting his hands together in nervousness and excitement, and fidgeting in his seat.
John's mind flashed back to the days right after they had first met, when he was always ten steps behind Sherlock's deductions. "Sorry, what?"
"I mean, John, that Mycroft told me there have been very successful experiments where they have used stem cells from both parents, both male parents, to actually create egg cells - and have established new cell lines so that there would be more available if need be. Just think, they can create eggs from either of us, so we could have more than one child, and each of us could be mother or father, in essence, of the embryo! They are working on the reverse for female couples, but that doesn't concern us." Sherlock was walking around the room now, waving his hands as he did when he was excited, and speaking almost faster than you could process when listening to him.
John had to admit, that was rather a new development. And, the more he thought about it, it sounded just about perfect for the two of them. But, he wondered why he hadn't heard about this on the news - surely something this stupendous would be worldwide medical news! Then, he remembered where Sherlock had been - to the Diogenes Club, which made Number Ten Downing Street and the Houses of Parliament seem fairly superfluous as to the places where anything of consequence in the UK were actually accomplished.
"Is this one of your brother's little side projects, hmm? What does he want from us for the access to this new ability?" he asked.
"All he asks is a yearly physical exam with blood and urine testing, which would be done anyway. It will further the research," answered Sherlock, now looking at John with a slightly worried expression. "Is it - not good - John? Did I do something wrong? I thought that you'd be happy to have..." he stopped talking when his husband got up from his chair, and grabbed him by the forearms and kissed him soundly on the lips. Sherlock stood there, blinking rapidly, in his re-buffering stage, as John thought of it.
"I am happy. I'm just a little - no, a lot - shocked, that's all. This could be brilliant, love - just think - a baby - or more than one, who would really be ours! And not by reason that one of us would be the biological father, but that both of us - I can't quite believe this is real...okay, I know I am babbling here, but it all seems a bit like a science fiction novel," John let go of Sherlock and sat down on the couch. Sherlock promptly sat beside him and grabbed his hand, looking intently at his beloved.
"But, Sherlock, wouldn't we still need, um, a surrogate to actually carry the child? Who could we ask and be certain they would abide by the 'rules' of no caffeine, no smoking or alcohol, and so on?" John wondered, feeling more than a little daunted as he ran through their list of friends and acquaintances. " Would Mycroft be selecting someone for the surrogate - I know he'd have them checked out six ways to Sunday...and where exactly are they doing this project? Is it way out in the country somewhere?"
"Well, it's – erm - it's in Dartmoor, at – erm - Baskerville, actually. Dr. Stapleton is in charge of the project, and she thought of us and contacted Mycroft. They have had great success with other mammals, and with other human embryos, but with a male and a female parent until recently. They have been working on the stem cell approach for some time now."
"All right, then - we at least can be sure that she knows what she is doing, genetically speaking. Well, unless she splices in a fluorescent gene, which, admittedly, could come in handy at night – no lights needed to change nappies at 2 A.M. But, Sherlock, what about who will actually carry the pregnancy to term?" John still had no idea who they could ask to do such a momentous thing.
"But, John, let me finish, please? At the same time, the technicians there have invented an actual artificial uterus! The entire process is called 'ectogenesis' and has been used to bring animal and human embryos to full-term. We wouldn't have to ask anyone to do this, John - we can have our own children - with the government's help, of course," the detective paused, still looking at John with a little apprehension.
"Well, Sherlock, I am completely gobsmacked here! I don't think even you could have surprised me more than you have this evening. I may even be inclined to feel kindly toward Mycroft," John couldn't contain his laughter any more, and started giggling, which of course, started his husband giggling, too. Soon they were a hopelessly boneless pair, sitting on the sofa and clutching their sides, a stray giggle still escaping one or the other.
"Oh, Sherlock - can you imagine your mother? She'll be over the moon to finally get a grandchild of her own - and she will appreciate the technology, but in the end, it will be all about the baby! And your dad...oh, this is too much! I can see him with his red bow tie and musical socks at Christmas time now! Probably just as well that both my parents are gone now; they'd never be able to understand why I am married to a man, much less having children with him! Harry will just think it is one more part of our crazy lives! And just think about Sally and Anderson - oh, this is too rich! Sorry, I know I'm babbling again, but I just - I'm so giddy at the possibility of it all," John finished for the moment, hugging Sherlock tightly.
"So, then, I take it that you are in favour of this arrangement? No reservations? Even with the prospect of my brother having his fingers in the process - although we can be assured that he will be certain everything possible will be done to achieve a success; if only because it will relieve him from the onerous duty of having to actually produce an offspring of his own - even by this method," Sherlock also dissolved into another fit of giggles at the thought of Mycroft handling an infant on his own. "He'd probably need to create a whole new government division to deal with it."
"One thing, Sherlock, and this is NOT negotiable - NO experimenting on the baby - or babies! Keeping track of milestones and such, I expect, and that is okay, but absolutely no experiments on bodily processes and the like - is that clear to you?" John said sternly as he was able, knowing that he would be repeating this particular rule many, many times in future.
Sherlock looked properly chastened. "For god's sake, John, this will be our child, not a lab rat! I'd never do anything to harm him – erm - her. I am not a thoughtless person, no matter what some people think!"
"All right, then, love - just wanted to be sure we are on the same page. Besides, keeping records of everything the baby does or eats or every word that issues forth, should keep even you busy enough. Well, then - do you phone up your brother to tell him we agree?"
A/N The title comes from a quote by Robert Louis Stevenson-
And the true realism, always and everywhere, is that of the poets: to find out where joy resides, and give it a voice far beyond singing. For to miss the joy is to miss all.