Chapter One
"Damn it!" John cried, exasperated. "Is there any sign of the shooter?"
"No," Sherlock answered as his eyes began analyzing the scene around him, barely taking notice of the bleeding woman on the ground. "Lestrade should be here any moment. We almost had him this time!"
"Sherlock, please!" John scolded, desperately trying to save the bleeding woman on the ground.
The detective, seeing something out of the corner of his eye started to race down the street. "No, Sherlock. Come back here!" He stopped, turning on his heel as he heard John's voice calling him.
"Ugh! What could possibly be so important, John?" he asked, frustrated.
Breathing heavily as he tried to perform CPR on the dying woman, John gave terse nod to his right. "That," he breathed, groaning in frustration. "That's what could be so important."
Sherlock's eyes traveled to where his flat mate had pointed, and froze upon seeing a small baby carriage, a very unhappy child wrapped tightly in a pink blanket inside.
"John?" he asked warily, not liking what he knew the doctor was suggesting.
"Yep. That's right. You need to get her out of here. Damn it! Take her back to the flat; we don't know if there are more shooters. Where is Lestrade?!"
"John, I can't—I mean, you—"
"Sherlock, please stop acting like a child! Just go get her and take her back to the flat. Hurry!"
When the detective remained frozen in place, staring at the baby with a stricken look on his face, John paused and turned around. He sighed, almost laughing, as he saw the look on his friend's face. "Sherlock," he said gently, "you'll do just fine. We just need to keep her out of danger. You can do it. I'll be right down as soon as Lestrade and his team get here—that is if they ever bloody decided to show up!" He gave Sherlock a reassuring smile, before turning back to the bleeding woman, determination in his eyes.
"Right. Umm… Okay." Heart pounding, and with a strange sense of insecurity, Sherlock hurried over to the baby carriage. Taking a deep breath, he reached down, wrapping his slender fingers around the handle of the baby carrier, and snatched the large bag that was resting next to it, slinging it over his shoulder.
Flat... Need to take it to the flat... Right. Okay. I can do that.
Baby in hand, he turned back to John, who paused to give his friend a reassuring smile. "The flat," he mouthed, giving a nod of encouragement. "You'll be fine." Then, a concentrated look returning to his face, he turned back to the woman, sighing in relief as he saw Lestrade pull up, followed closely by an ambulance.
Steeling himself, Sherlock quickly turned around, and hurried towards the direction of the flat, trying to shove away the strange sense of embarrassment he felt.
Soon, all other sounds began to melt away and were replaced only by the sound of the screaming baby in Sherlock's hands. The detective winced at the sound, but kept hurrying forward, eventually reaching the flat, and now quite on edge from the cries of the baby.
Almost as if in a strange haze, he opened the door with is free hand, and wandered through into the flat, quickly pushing it shut behind him, hoping maybe now that they were safely inside and surrounded by quiet, the little girl would stop her continuous wailing and calm down, giving him some peace and quiet.
For a moment, all was silent. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, grateful for the silence. Just as soon as it had started, though, the quiet came to an abrupt halt as the little girl let out another angry cry, which echoed around the quiet flat.
"Wonderful," he muttered, hurrying up the stairs. Good thing Mrs. Hudson isn't in. As he walked into the flat, Sherlock gently placed the baby carrier on the ground, and let the baby bag slip off of his shoulder. "Ohh," he sighed, pressing the palms of his hands over his eyes. He tried to clear his head, attempting to drown out the piercing cries that were filling the flat.
"Ugh! Do you think you could please stop?" he asked in an exasperated voice, throwing his arms up in the air. He glared down at the little girl. "What do you want? I don't know how to help you!" He stared at the screaming little girl, running his hands through his raven curls as she only continued to wail louder.
"Agh! Fine, fine," he muttered, pulling out his phone. His fingers quickly flew over the keys as he typed: What should you do when a baby will not stop crying?
He hastily tapped the first website that popped up, wincing as another wail pierced the air.
He read the information quickly, frowning as his eyes skimmed over the suggested maneuvers: Pick the child up, turn the lights down, try talking in a soothing voice, lay your bare baby on your naked chest to establish skin-to-skin contact.
"Skin-to-skin contact?" he murmured out loud, frowning at the words on the screen. "Ugh!" he cried as the baby wailed again. "Okay, okay!" he said hastily, placing his phone on the couch.
Completely unsure of himself, but glad to try anything to get the wailing to stop, Sherlock leaned forward towards the baby carriage, stretching his long arms out.
"Umm..." Hesitantly, he undid the straps, unfolded pink blanket that enveloped the baby's body, and then wrapped his large hands around the little girl's incredibly small body, noticing how she was dressed only in a nappy.
Upon lifting her out of the seat, Sherlock froze, feeling how incredibly light she was in his hands; he felt as if he squeezed too hard or moved the wrong way she might break in his hands.
Now free of the blanket that had previously been wrapped around her small body, the little girl began to flail her tiny arms about, kicking wildly as she did so.
Her small features were scrunched up in displeasure as she cried loudly, tears streaming down her face.
The sight made Sherlock's heart twinge sadly in his chest.
"Oh, um... Shhh," he whispered, hoping to be soothing, as he held the little girl in front of his face, his large hands placed securely under her armpits.
He quickly glanced around the room, and his eyes fell upon the large black bag, which had the word "Carmen" printed across the front in a large, red font.
"Carmen? Carmen. Carmen!" He quickly turned his attention back to the little girl in his hands. "Shh... Carmeeen," he cooed. "Hey, Carmen," he murmured quietly, gently bouncing his arms up and down.
When that did nothing, he decided to try the next item on the list. "Uhh..." Unsure of how to go about dimming the lights, he instinctively moved the little girl to the crook of his arm, careful to cradle her head, which appeared to be extremely unsteady.
"Shh," he whispered quietly, standing up to close the curtains. He moved slowly, trying not to jostle the little girl in his arms, and then meandered back to the couch, sitting down again, but keeping Carmen safely in the crook of his arm.
The little girl sniffled, taking a moment to stare up at Sherlock with wide, puffy eyes. She paused, hiccupping as a few more tears slid down her pink cheeks.
"Ahh," Sherlock sighed happily, glad for the quiet. He gazed down at the little girl, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's okay," he murmured, tenderly brushing his thumb over the little girl's cheek in a rare show of comfort.
Moving as slowly as possible, he slowly turned his body, hoping to place the little girl back in her carrier. "Okay," he whispered, stretching down to place her tiny body in the baby seat. "There we go..." Slowly, the detective moved his arms away, gently pulling his fingers away from Carmen's middle.
The little girl stared at Sherlock from her car seat for a moment, eyes wide, before promptly opening her mouth and letting out a loud cry again. Instantly, Sherlock reached forward, hastily pulling the little girl back into his arms, but this time it did nothing; Carmen continued to scream, blindly flailing her arms about.
Sherlock began to gently talk to the little girl in his arms, hoping to calm her down once again.
"What? No," he groaned when she only began to wail louder, knowing he was going to have to resort to the last item on the list, but not truly caring if it meant the little girl's piercing cries would finally cease. "Okay." Sighing deeply, he stood up, and placed the now-screaming baby in her carrier once again.
Hurriedly, Sherlock pulled off his coat and jacket, tossing them over to his chair and then un-tucked his button up, undoing the buttons and threw it over by his other discarded clothing.
"Right." Bristling at the sound of Carmen's wailing, he quickly grabbed his blue robe and threw it over his shoulders.
"It's okay, it's okay. I'm here," he said hurriedly, picking up the little girl once again. Haphazardly holding her up, he laid down on the couch, stretching his legs out before hesitantly laying her on his bare chest, unsure of what he was supposed to do.
"It's okay, Carmen," he soothed quietly, awkwardly trying to position her small form on his bare chest, which only resulted in the little girl bumping her head against his collarbone.
"Oh! Sorry, sorry," he apologized quickly, pulling the little girl down further on his chest.
Clearly displeased with the situation, she began banging her small arms against Sherlock's chest, scrunching her face together in discomfort.
In an effort to stop the stream of tiny fistfalls against his skin, Sherlock gently placed is hand on Carmen's back, and began to run his thumb up and down, whispering comforting words.
The little girl paused upon feeling Sherlock's soothing hand on her bare back. She sniffled loudly, gazing up at the detective with an incredibly sad face and moaned quietly, the sound of which made Sherlock's lips twitch upwards in a small smile. Sniffling to herself, but no longer crying, Carmen tried to crawl up the detective's chest as a few more silent tears slipped free.
Smiling tenderly at the little girl, Sherlock gently scooted Carmen's small form upwards towards his face, noticing for the first time that his hand was bigger than her entire back. He stared at his hand resting on her incredibly soft back, suddenly amazed by the fact that a human being could possibly be this small.
"Ahhh," the little girl sighed gently, pressing her face into Sherlock's shoulder.
Suddenly very tired from all of her crying and screaming, Carmen yawned widely against the detective's skin. Shivering, she slowly tucked her arms and legs inward in an attempt to warm herself.
"Bbaa," she gurgled uncomfortably, snuggling into Sherlock's warm skin.
"Oh, right. Sorry. Here we go," Sherlock murmured quietly, pulling the fabric of his robe over Carmen's tiny body in an effort to warm her up.
"Mmm," she sighed, moving her tiny head back and forth against the detective's skin. She yawned again and gazed up at Sherlock with tired eyes.
"Hello," he whispered quietly, staring down at the little girl resting on his chest.
"Dddd," Carmen gurgled happily. Making quiet baby sounds, she slowly stretched her small body forward as much as she could, reaching her hand towards the detective's face. With a small grunt, she pressed her incredibly tiny fingers to Sherlock's chin.
"Mmm." Now having calmed down significantly, Carmen gazed up at Sherlock with wide eyes. She sighed contently, curling her chubby fingers against the detective's chin.
Sherlock stared down at the little girl, feeling a strange fluttering sensation deep in his stomach as Carmen's fingers curled against his skin.
"Amazing," he murmured out loud, noticing for the first time how the little girl was rather beautiful—now that she wasn't screaming.
Carefully, as if he was afraid he might hurt or disturb her, Sherlock took his hand and tenderly brushed his fingertips over Carmen's head, suddenly finding it hard to breath as he saw the little girl's lips turn up in what he was sure was a smile.
"You know," he whispered out loud, running his fingertips across Carmen's head again, "you're not too horrible when you're not wailing your lungs out." He chuckled out loud as Carmen sighed again, a tiny smile spreading across her face. "In fact... You're rather cute," he said, smiling down at the little girl.
"Bbbuu." Smiling, Carmen slid her hand further upward, pressing her fingers against Sherlock's lips. She stared at the detective with a tiny grin, eyes wide with wonder as she blinked slowly, her eyelids fluttering closed and then open again.
Sherlock's gaze flitted over Carmen's face, studying her chubby cheeks, smiling at her bald head, staring at her stunningly deep, blue eyes and reveling in the feel of her chubby fingers against his skin.
"Aaah," Carmen yawned widely, her face bumping haphazardly against Sherlock's jaw.
"Oh! Sorry. Hold on." With careful hands, the detective pulled Carmen's small body away from his face, settling her on his chest, letting her head rest in the dip just below his shoulder. "There you go." Sherlock smiled fondly as he felt the little girl yawn widely against his skin, pressing her face into his shoulder.
"I'm sorry," he murmured quietly, placing his hand on Carmen's back. His low, baritone voice rumbled throughout the flat, causing the little girl's eyes to droop as she listened to him talk. "You don't know it yet," he continued sadly, absentmindedly rubbing his thumb up and down Carmen's bare back. "But I'm afraid your mother might..." He stopped, feeling a pang of sadness spread through his chest. The detective took a deep breath, finding comfort in Carmen's small form shifting against his chest.
"You know, Carmen... It may sound completely illogical, but I actually kind of like you when you're calm and quiet... And, if you'd like, you could always live here... With me, I mean. It'll probably get pretty crazy at times, but I don't think it would be too bad. In fact, I think it might even be an interesting adventure." He turned his attention back to Carmen, not even noticing his eyes had been drifting around the flat.
Sherlock smiled fondly at the little girl, who was now fast asleep, her small hand clenching and unclenching against his chest.
Though he couldn't explain it, Sherlock felt an odd sense of unprecedented protection for the tiny being sleeping on his chest; she was so helpless and innocent. He felt an unusual desire to protect her from all the evil in the world; fend off the monsters she might have in her life.
"Ohh," he sighed out loud, a strange feeling building in his chest; now that Carmen was with him, he had a suspicious feeling that he would never be able to let her go.
"Why?" he asked himself out loud. He didn't understand how he could feel such strong sentiment for a small human being he'd just met. "Emotions... Hmm... Interesting." Smiling to himself, Sherlock began to gently stroke the tips of his fingers across Carmen's small head, closing his eyes and leaning back.
"Carmen," he murmured quietly, trying the name out on his tongue and feeling that same fluttering in his stomach as the little girl sighed against his skin.
"Can't wait to tell John..." Sherlock smiled smugly to himself, already picturing his flat mate's reaction. He snuggled deeper into the couch, listening to the quiet breaths of Carmen, smiling at the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his skin.