Hello! So this is the 4th part of my Sherlock/OC series. If you haven't read the other stories, you may be a little confused but I will try my best to make this it's own story.

This is my attempt at the 30 day OTP challenge but I also want to take those daily themes and make an actual 30 chapter story. This first chapter is mainly set-up, as are most first chapters. I plan to develope a case and all that as the story progresses and I hope you, dear reader, will stick with me through this venture.

I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's canon.

Much love and many thanks.

Chapter 1: Holding Hands

"This-this thing can't happen right now! It can't!"

"Yes, it can and it is. You've done this before; you're a pro."
"Once! I've done this once before!"

"Listen j-just keep your breathing steady. That's it: in and out, in and out."

"Okay, okay, I think I...NO! NO I DEFINITLY, DEFINITLY I CAN'T DO THIS!"
"Yes, you can just..."
"JOHN, I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU SAY KEEP BREATHING I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

John takes in a deep breath and helps me into a somewhat comfortable position on the bed. This can't be happening; not right now and not like this. This started as a simple visit from John and Mary. It wasn't their choice to come by, but I don't mean that in a bad way; Sherlock needed someone to watch over Hamish and I while he was out on a case. Usually we are with Mrs. Hudson, but she's at her sisters. As luck would have it, though, having John here is a blessing. Had I known my water would break...God, I don't even want to think about the kind of panic Mrs. Hudson would fall into.

Neither of us can be left alone, not since that video first appeared all over London. It was everywhere and there was no escaping the sound of that voice.

His voice: Moriarty

His little 'Did you miss me?' chant ruined everything, or at least rocked off track for a little. No, not a little, a lot. I'm pretty certain that it's safe to say that Moriarty's return from the dead has completely changed our lives.

John and Sherlock have been working non-stop to try and locate the video's source of origin, but so far nothing as come up. Mycroft is working on it as well, but seeing that the British government seems to far more concerned with other matters, he hasn't been of much help. Lestrade has helped out, but work keeps him from being officially involved in any form of an investigation. I can't judge, really, nor can I be angry about it. I just want this to be over, even though it's only just begun. I just want my old life back.

I still can't shake the look of utter anger that fell over my husband's face as his eyes met those of the man he swore to have seen take his own life. I had seen Sherlock defeated before but this, this was a whole different level of despair. It was a dark look that I hadn't seen in a very long time; not since Moriarty's trial, not since the time before that fateful day at St. Barts. We were so close too; so close to getting things right then came that video, the day everything went wrong.

Sherlock was back to solving cases on a regular basis again, I was back at work and we were both doing quite well in raising our son while prepping for our new arrival at the same time. Things were good, excellent even. We had hit a rough patch where, I'll admit, I didn't even know if we'd make it through in the end. But we did and our relationship grew from it in every way possible. However, now, I feel like we are growing apart.

Sherlock has become rather recluse now, back to his ways of being more a machine then a man. It's all about the work and solving this puzzle, nothing more or less. He hasn't completely ignored me and Hamish, though, just been more distant. I like to think that these walls he's putting up is his way to protect us from whatever threat Moriarty may have in store. If there is one thing I know for certain about Sherlock Holmes, it's that he will never let anything happen to those closest to him. I have faith in him, I always will.

"Oh, God," I groan, squeezing my eyes shut, "This is ridiculous!"
"What is? Giving birth?" John chuckles, rubbing a hand up and down my back, "Like I said, you've done it before."

"Yeah, but...but that was 3 years ago an...and then I was in a hospital," I point out, "and had epidural on hand to-to...OH JESUS CHRIST!" Another wave of contractions hit and I let out a loud scream of pain. John gives a worried look toward the bedroom door as he continues to rub my back. I know exactly what he's thinking because it's the same thing I am thinking: Where the hell is Sherlock?

He knew that today could have very well been the day I go into labor (and it appears I have) which is why he told John and Mary that he'd be out for only an hour. That was two hours ago. When my water broke, John immediately sent Sherlock a text then told Mary to watch Hamish while he takes me to the hospital. But I stoped him and said that I wouldn't go until Sherlock got home. "I'll be alright for a few more hours, I'm sure of it," I had said, "Sherlock will be home soon."

Looking back on it in this moment, it was a stupid decision.

I'm really surprised John let me wait, but then again he too thought that the real serious part of labor wouldn't begin for another few hours. But this kid is not waiting. Once my contractions started, it was too late for hospitals. John snapped right into doctor-mode and took control of the situation. With help from Mary, he set up a make-shift delivery room in the bedroom what with towels and whatever medical supplies he could find; who knew Sherlock's random equipment would actually come in handy? John then had Mary take Hamish out of the house with a promise to text her once the baby is born. That won't be long now, I'm sure. This baby is coming now, in 221b Baker Street, with no doctor other than John...and Sherlock won't be here.

"GOD DAMN IT!" I scream, tossing my head back and wringing the sheets in my hands. My head is pounding causing my vision to blur. My entire body is aching and the pain is just excruciating. Doubt fills my every thought; what is going to happen to the baby after this is done? I was in no way prepared for a home birth! My child could be in very real danger. Oh God, where is my husband?

"Fee, alright, we're going to have to go through with this," John says, massaging my shoulder "Now, I know this is going to be hard..."

"No, no, J-John," I manage to get out, "I have to...to wait."

"Fee, I know you want Sherlock to be here," he says, "but we can't wait for him. Your daughter is going to be here soon and we have to think about-"
"Elfie Marie!"

The sound of my husband's voice fills my ears, causing me to snap my eyes open: "Sherlock!" I cry out. Through my blurry vision, I see Sherlock come running into the room and tossing his Belstaff to the floor as if it were nothing. His normally pressed white button up is ruffled and untucked and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. His trousers have patches of dirt and grime on them and his wild curls are even more disarray then usual. Where was he?

My heart starts to flutter as he sits down beside me, gazing at me with all the love in the world. "I'm here," he coos, kissing my sweat drenched forehead, "my darling, darling girl. I made it."

"Where...the...hell...have you...been?" I pant, trying to not think about the contractions for this moment.

"Work, Elfie, I told you that," he replies as if it were nothing in the world, "and, my darling, I've made quiet the break through! You will be so proud of me. You know how I said that if Moriarty..."

"Sherlock, now is really not a good time," John warns, "She's having a baby, remember?"

"Shut up, John," my husband snaps, giving our dear friend a cold glare, "focus on your job."

"What the hell? Why do I get the attitude all of a sudden?" John asks, throughly confused.

"Because my wife shouldn't be giving birth at home. Why didn't you call an ambulance? And where is my son?"

"Your son is with my wife; they went out as soon as Elfie went into labor. And as for the ambulance, I was about to but your wife was against it. She wanted to wait for you."

"And you let her? Honestly, John, I would have thought your medical judgment could trump your feelings. Letting her go into labor at home is unethical."

"You want to talk about unethical, Sherlock? Let's talk about you running off on a wild goose chase the day your daughter is being born."

"It's not a wild goose chase and how was I to know Elfie would go into labor today?"

"Because your Sherlock bloody Holmes who pays attention to everything! I would hope that includes your pregnant wife!"

"Are you imposing I don't care for her?"

"That's not even close to what I said!"

"WILL YOU BOTH JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I scream as the contractions hit me full on. I toss my head back and cry out, closing my eyes and trying to shut the world out. This is it; that moment when everything is going to change. My baby is ready and I only pray to God that I am as well.

"Alright, Elfie, it's time," John instructs, "Remember you've done this before."

"Before she was in hospital," Sherlock quips in, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"Sherlock, not now." John snaps back, "Alright Fee, get ready to push."

"Sh-Sherlock," I stammer as fear takes over my body, "I-I...I'm scared."

"Don't be. I'm right here, my brave girl, I've got you." Very gently, Sherlock intertwines his fingers with mine and my doubts quickly melt away as I feel his lips gently brush against my left temple; "I know you can do this," he whispers, "and I won't let you go."

With hot tears streaming down my cheeks, I nuzzle my forehead against my husbands; "Okay." is all I can whisper as Sherlock kisses my cheek.

"Alright, the baby's crowning," I can hear John say, "Get ready...Now, Fee, push!"

With a loud cry, I push with all my might.

"Good, Fee, perfect!" John coaches, "Again, push!"

Sherlock kisses my cheek again as I focus all my strength into this push.

"Last one, my darling," my husband coos, "Just one more...Push!"

"Push!"

Everything goes black for a moment and then the only thing I know is the sound of crying; my new born baby's cry. I collapse back into Sherlock's hold letting my entire body just go slack. My husband wraps his arms around me to keep me upright and just plants kiss after kiss on the top of my head. It's done, finally it's done...and I'm okay; exhausted but okay.

"Congratulations," I hear John say, "you have a healthy little girl."

"Did you hear that, Elfie Marie?" Sherlock whispers to me in the softest voice I have ever heard him use, "Our little girl is healthy and she's finally here."

Even though my energy is completely spent, I manage to open my eyes about half way to see John wrap a tiny, pink bundle up into a blanket. For a moment, just the fleeting piece of a moment, my little girl turns her head and sees me. I smile at her and rest my head back against my husband's shoulder as John takes her out of the room to clean her off.

"Sherlock, "I whisper, "did...did you see her?"

"I did," he replies, "I most certainly did. She is beautiful, absolutely beautiful."

I turn my head so that my eyes lock with Sherlock's and we share a deep kiss on the lips, one like we haven't shared in far too long of a time.

"We should get you to a hospital," Sherlock whispers when we part, "Just for precaution. It would be logical."
I nod in agreement as I nuzzle my head into the space between his neck and shoulder. I look down at our hands that are so tightly intertwined and just study our fingers; "Thank you." I whisper

"For?" he asks

"Making it," I reply, "For dropping the case for just...just a moment."

"My darling, darling girl," he coos, stroking my cheek, "There is nothing, not even Jim Moriarty that could have taken me away from this. I promised you I'd be here and I never, never break a promise."

All I can do is give him a tired smile as I close my eyes again, letting the exhaustion take me once more. Sherlock kisses my forehead again then rests his head atop mine, our hands still held together. Just as I am about to fall asleep, John re-enters with our daughter tightly wrapped in a fresh blanket.

"I've called the hospital; they are sending people over now." he says, holding the bundle out to Sherlock, "They'll most likely want to take you just for a look over, but if you ask me, Fee, you couldn't have asked for a smoother home birth. Not to mention, you have a perfectly healthy little girl."

Reluctantly, Sherlock lets go of my hand then cradles our daughter in his arms. I watch through tired eyes as the world's only consulting detective looks adoringly down into the cooing bundle in his arms. There is a look of complete happiness and adoration on his face; a look I haven't seen in far too long of a time. Very slowly, I stroke my daughter's cheek as her father whispers to her.

"Look at you. You have your mother's eyes," he says, running a long finger across her nose, "Yes, definitely your mother's bright eyes."

Our daughter lets out a soft mumble as she reaches up a pudgy hand to grasp onto Sherlock's finger. Her green eyes scan over the finger as if it were the most fascinating object in the world; Ah, yes, she is most definitely a Holmes. I can't help but giggle then place a chaste kiss on her soft forehead.

"Your brother won't be too fond of sharing a room with you," Sherlock whispers as he takes a hold of her tiny hand, "But he is excited to meet you, just as we were. Your Mum and your brother and I are your family, Charlotte Marie, don't ever forget that."

"Charlotte Marie Holmes. Very old fashioned," I say, placing my hand atop his, "but I love it. She looks like a Charlotte."

"She looks like her mother," Sherlock says, turning his gaze toward me, "very beautiful."

"Sentimental bastard," I whisper, kissing his lips.

"Only with you," he replies just before kissing me back.

We nuzzle our foreheads together for a moment then look back at our little girl, holding onto her hand as if to wordlessly tell her that we will never let her down. She is ours and she will always have us.

No matter the case at hand.