John stared at Sherlock, who had gone back to looking at the baby... Spring... his daughter... as though John wasn't there at all.
John's mind was reeling. He was still trying to catch up with the words "She's mine", let alone process the "John, I have a daughter" bit. He was pretty sure that if his jaw could have hit the floor, it would have done just that and broke the hardwood when it fell. Be that as it may, his mouth was hanging open and he snapped it shut, nostrils flaring.
"What?"
John said, finally finding his way to language. "Your daughter?"
Sherlock nodded, although he didn't take his eyes off of the little bundle in his arms. "Yes, John, that is what I said. Have you gone hard of hearing in the past three years as well as gained all that weight?"
John ignored the jibe. "Your daughter," he said again.
"Would you please stop repeating yourself?" Sherlock said, slowly sitting down on the sofa. The baby... Spring... cooed quietly before falling silent again, her head pressed in the spot between Sherlock's chest and his arm. "This is what I was trying to tell you."
"That you have a kid!"
Spring's posture shifted, another murmur on her lips. Her eyes opened as one of her hands untangled from Sherlock's coat.
Sherlock shot John a dirty look. "It's alright, Spring," he murmured, gently placing one of his long fingers against the baby's lips. "No crying. You know that I dislike infantile noises."
John watched in what was very quickly becoming amazement as Sherlock became a totally different person with the child. His harsh features melted away; he didn't quite get to a smile, but it wasn't a scowl, either. The cold, analysing look vaporised from his eyes, replaced with a warmth that John had, until now, thought impossible to be inside Sherlock's body. Sentiment was found in the losing side, but the sentiment was plain on Sherlock's face and it stated perfectly that he was not on the losing side, after all.
"Uncle John's just got a big mouth," Sherlock said, thumbing drool away from Spring's face. "He was in the military, remember me saying? He had to shout to talk over all of the IEDs and gunfire."
John swallowed. He didn't know what was happening.
"Uncle John?" he asked weakly.
Sherlock gave an affirming nod. "Yes. Children like titles. Father, Mother... At such a young age, I'd imagine that it's important to teach them who is who in their family... To be honest, I've never done much research on it. Oh." He looked up. "I meant to ask if you would be her godfather."
John felt like the world was rushing past him at a warp speed that he couldn't comprehend. All he could do was mirror Sherlock's language and mimic the words. "Godfather...?"
"Yes. I would... enjoy it if you would be her legal godfather. She doesn't have a mother and I am prepared to take the role of the father, but I never anticipated a change in my life as drastic as this and I believe that I'll need assistance in taking care of her."
There was still yet a mystery here to be solved, but the warmth in the middle of his chest, growing steadily to encompass his arms, his neck, his torso, a glow, straight from the tip of his toes to his fingertips, to the tip of his hair, was filling him up, making his lips twitch upwards in a disbelieving smile. Sherlock wanted him to be his child's godfather. John didn't know how Sherlock had a child, but he did know for sure that it was his child. No man could look at an infant with such tenderness if it wasn't someone that they deeply cared for. Sherlock had the glow of fatherhood... a major surprise, but, all things considered, not one that was bad.
"Of course," John murmured, carefully sitting down next to Sherlock. Spring seemed to have fallen asleep again, her fingers clutching Sherlock's lapel. "But you've got to explain what's going on, Sherlock. This is happening way too fast."
"You think it's happening too fast..." Sherlock murmured before raising his voice slightly. "Would you like to hold her?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Yes."
Sherlock carefully transferred the sleeping child into John's arms. John had never admitted it and it wasn't yet anything that he and Mary had had a serious discussion about- they were only just planning their wedding, after all- but he loved kids. He'd never told Sherlock this because he figured that the detective would take the mickey out of him if he did. But now... it didn't matter much.
"She's beautiful... about two months?" John asked, looking up.
"A month and a half," Sherlock replied, finally getting around to shrugging his coat off.
"Month and a half," John echoed, smiling faintly at the baby in his arms.
He wanted kids. Mary wanted kids. They both wanted a family so John didn't doubt that he would have kids eventually, but... marriage first. One step at a time.
Oh, John loved kids. Spring was adorable.
"How did this happen?" John asked quietly, looking up at Sherlock.
"What?" Sherlock had walked to the kitchen and was pouring himself a cup of tea. "How did what happen?"
John pointedly looked down at the content little bundle in his arms.
"Oh, that," Sherlock said, sounding as flippant as he ever had about children again. "You're a doctor; you should know the answer to that."
John sighed. "I know how it happened, but I want to how... it happened? She is your biological daughter, right?"
"Yes," Sherlock said, taking a drink of his tea. "And she was created through intercourse, as you should very well know."
John sighed. "Why, though? You hate romance."
"It was for a case," Sherlock said, peering into a beaker on the countertop.
"You had sex for a case?" John asked. He had always known that Sherlock would do anything for his work, but... even this?
Sherlock didn't miss a beat. "Yes." He paused. "Does this honestly surprise you?"
"No. Yes." John looked back at Spring for a distraction. "I don't know. I guess nothing you do should surprise me, anymore, but... it does, I guess." He trailed off. "And you got this... unknown woman pregnant?"
"Her name was Angelina." Sherlock paused in taking a sip of his coffee. "But yes. I did. The chances were astoundingly insignificant, but it was a spur of the moment decision at the time and we were rather unprepared. Unfortunately, that... miscalculation caused this." Sherlock carefully sat down next to John again. "... It's not a bad thing."
"No," John said quickly. "It is not."
There were quiet for awhile.
"Where's her mother? Do you guys have a shared custody or something? She seems a bit young to be away from her mum. She should still be-"
"She's dead."
John looked up. "... What?"
"Spring's mother is dead."
It is his biological daughter. Her mother is dead. And more explanations are necessary, right, Sherlock? More explanation and flashbacks to Spring's (very non-graphic) birth next chapter.
I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!
