Eighteen hours in labor. Eighteen hours Anthea had been suffering and there wasn't a bloody thing anyone could do. To beat all, he'd been kicked out of the room. Not even his pull would let the doctors budge. For the safety of baby and mother, no one but the doctor and nurses were allowed in the room. Mycroft was reduced to pacing in the waiting room.
Someone fell instep beside him and he turned, realizing he had not heard anyone come in. He stopped, seeing it was his brother. Sherlock held out a cigarette.
"Low-tar, so you won't get sick." For the first time, Mycroft shook his head. Despite his desperate wish for a smoke at this moment, Anthea would be furious if she knew he'd passed the time puffing away like some ignorant father-to-be. Sherlock had anticipated his brother's decline and held out his other hand, bearing a plastic baggie of chocolate chip cookies. "Molly made them yesterday." Mycroft took the bag, attempting his thanks. He selected a particularly large one from the bag, nibbling slowly as he walked.
"I expect you've told mummy and father?" he asked in-between bites.
"I wouldn't dream of it," Sherlock answered, seating himself near the shut door. Again, Mycroft sighed with relief. The last thing he needed was his mother and father fussing about. "Molly will be here soon though, naturally I thought you would not mind her being here."
"I suppose not," Mycroft shrugged.
There was a soft knock on the door and both men turned. Molly slipped inside, smiling apologetically.
"How is Anthea?"
"No one will bloody tell me," Mycroft answered sourly. "The whole bloody government at my fingertips and nobody will tell me what is happening."
"There, there," Molly soothed. She set her bag down. "You haven't eaten all day, I'd wager, sit down, here I brought something for us to eat, and there's cards and a few board games too."
"Where is Ashwini?"
"With John and Mary," Molly answered, handing him a take-away container. "Nicholas is with Mrs. Hudson, and I called your mother and father, but told them not to come until we call them," she rushed out the last bit, seeing Mycroft and Sherlock both look at her sharply. "Your mother was harder to persuade, but agreed in the end," Molly reassured him.
Mycroft did feel better after eating, but as it happened, they had no time for board games. A nurse came in just as Molly was clearing away.
"Mr. Holmes?" Mycroft was on his feet in moments. The nurse smiled at him. "You may go in now," she glanced at Sherlock and Molly behind him. "Your family may come in after."
"How is she?" Mycroft demanded.
"Mother and baby are fine," the nurse promised and motioned for him to follow her. Casting one petrified glance back at his sister in-law, who pushed him through the door, Mycroft attempted to smooth the creases in his waistcoat. Sherlock hurried out and toward the elevators.
"Where are you going?" Molly called.
"To fetch Ashwini!" He called over his shoulder. "Stay in case mummy and father come early," he said, hitting the button and Molly promised she would.
Mycroft stepped into the warm room that Anthea had been moved to. She lay quite still on the bed, pale and quite exhausted.
"Oh my darling," he murmured, reaching for her.
"Bubeleh," she answered tiredly, the tiniest of smiles gracing her face. He did not frown as he usually did, hearing her call him her pet name for him. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he kissed her gently, beaming with pride at her. In her arms lay their son, indeed a labor of love, and one they had once given up hope on. Anthea had carried to full term, the most harrowing nine months of their lives. Anthea, seeing him marvel at the baby, carefully passed him over into her husband's arms.
"Oh…" he murmured and that was all. The boy fussed a little, and then settled.
"What do you think of him?" Anthea asked softly, smiling up at her husband.
"I do believe he is quite perfect, but I think that my opinion is severely jaded," Mycroft answered, and Anthea saw him blinking several times to clear his eyes. "William Alexander Mikolaj Holmes, I am afraid you will be quite spoiled."
"Go and fetch Molly and Sherlock," Anthea said, tiredly laughing.
"In a moment," Mycroft promised, and seated himself on the edge of the bed. "I will in a moment." For now, he gladly let himself be selfish, keeping the two of them all to himself.
Molly waited patiently until Sherlock returned with Ashwini in his arms.
"Is it true? I have a baby brother finally?" she demanded.
"Yes lovey," Molly took her by the hand when Sherlock finally set her down. Knocking softly on the door, she tried the handle, pushing the door open.
"Someone is quite anxious to meet the baby," Molly said, smiling apologetically as Ashwini pushed around her aunt and hurried to her father and mother. Sherlock peered over Molly's head to see.
"Gently Winnie," Anthea cautioned. "He's very delicate."
"Like cousin Nicholas?" the little girl asked.
"Not quite, but he is very small," Mycroft answered. "But look, here is your new brother."
"I want to hold him," Ashwini declared. Mycroft looked to his wife, shock and fear ran across his face. His wife only smiled, stroking their daughter's hair.
"You may, let Aunt Molly help you."
Molly helped Ashwini into the overstuffed chair by the bed and carefully, carefully, Mycroft placed William in her arms, showing her how to hold him properly.
"Papa look how perfect he is," she said happily.
"Just what I said," Mycroft smiled at her. He heard a noise from Molly and realized she was discreetly taking pictures, which he was grateful for. He would see about getting copies of them later. After a little while, he carefully took William from Ashwini, reminding her that others would like to hold the baby too. Sherlock waited patiently for his turn, the smallest of butterflies dancing in his belly, recalling the apprehension he'd had when he beheld Nicholas for the first time.
"I am pleased with my namesake," Sherlock declared, though if the others noticed he was misty-eyed, they did not say.
"Don't hog him," Mycroft said. "Let Molly hold him,"
"Oh don't worry I'll have my turn," Molly answered. Mycroft turned to see his sister in-law carefully brushing and braiding Anthea's hair, who wearily let her. Afterwards, she added a touch of mascara and a little face-powder, giving Anthea a little color. "First things first though, a picture for your mother and father."
"I am sure make-up isn't necessary, however little," Mycroft began as Ashwini obediently climbed up onto the bed beside her mother.
"If the first picture of me is taken and I look as bad as I feel, there will be hell to pay," Anthea said and Mycroft said no more, coming to sit beside her, William in his arms.
A decent picture was sent off to Sherlock and Mycroft's parents, and another to the Watson's and Mrs. Hudson. In time the room would be crowded with those they loved best.
For now, Mycroft sat back as Molly finally took her turn to hold his newborn. Sherlock took over camera duties (as Mycroft once had when his nephew had been born) while Molly and Anthea swapped birthing stories, giggling over baby things while Ashwini cuddled up beside her mother. For now, Mycroft enjoyed the peace that permeated the room. Family, a thing he'd once scorned, declaring unnecessary, was now something he held dear. He looked at the faces around the room, his daughter, sweet and charming, to his sister in-law, the most loving, patient woman in possibly the entire world, his brother, a nincompoop genius with a heart probably too large for his own good, and to his wife, the dearest woman, the loveliest, most brilliant wife he could have ever dreamed of. Finally his eyes rested on his son. Tiny, tinier than Ashwini when they had brought her home. Mycroft felt that same fierce protective streak for his daughter flare when he saw his son. Family might have been a weakness, but it was also a strength, and Mycroft Holmes vowed to protect them, to, yes, love them, with whatever power he had.