Chapter 1

At St Bart's

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock. Unfortunately.

Sherlock sighed irritably. Not again! For the second time in three weeks, Molly had locked him out of the lab. He had experiments to do! He did not want to have to spend ages waiting for her to come back from whatever she had been doing. Usually, Sherlock would have his key to the lab, but he had dropped in a pot of hydrochloric acid (although, in fairness, it was not his fault. John had startled him!). He was bored because he hadn't had a case in weeks, and all his 'supplies' had ben purged from the flat. So, that left only one thing (seeing as, apparently, people did not like it when he shot at the wall)- experiments at Bart's. John had not come to visit, having been so busy with Mary and the baby.

The baby. A memory surfaced, a fairly recent one, from a small, new room in his Mind Palace.

His phone rang, an insistent blare though the silent flat. He tried to ignore it, but the noise corkscrewed right to the middle of his thoughts, and he opened his eyes with a sigh. He had been trying to solve a particularly difficult case, one involving a set of murders, all obviously committed by a serial killer, but he couldn't find the thing that linked them all, and it was really praying on his mind. He picked up his phone.

"Sherlock Holmes speaking."

"Sherlock, it's John." Sherlock's heart missed a beat. His mind instantly spiraled in many directions, trying to work out why John would be calling. His mind arrived at the most likely conclusion in the shortest of moments.

"Mary's gone into labor." the two of them said simultaneously.

"Wait, what?" John said. He let out a sigh. "Never mind. Mary and I want you to come to the hospital with us."

Sherlock frowned. "Why?"

John laughed incredulously. "Why? Sherlock, you've been a part of this baby's life since before I even knew Mary was pregnant. We all want you to be here. And even if you don't want to come I will drag you over here, so help me."

Sherlock felt something stirring inside him. It took a second before he realized it for what it was – love. Pure, deep and unrequited love. For John, for Mary, and for this new baby. And something else too, something deeper for John. But he banished that for the moment. This was no time to confront that feeling.

"I'm coming."

Mary's labor was surprisingly quick, lasting only an hour. By the time Sherlock had got to the hospital, she was already in the later stages. Sherlock had hovered by the door of the delivery room, unsure if he should wait outside or go in. Then John had stuck his head around the door, and spied him. "Come on in. You might be able to help." He said, grinning. Sherlock walked in, where there were three midwives hovering around Mary. She was wearing a white and blue spotted hospital gown, and making small grunting noises as she lay on the delivery table.

"Sherlock, could you sit with Mary and hold her hand. I'm on her other side." John said. Sherlock went and sat next to Mary, taking her hand.

"Don't worry, Mary. You're in the later stages of labor, and the baby is nearly here." He said, emotionlessly, just reciting one of the 'praise phases' he had been reading up on.

"Sherlock," Mary growled between grunts. "if you are going to praise me, the very least you could do is PUT SOME EMOTION INTO IT!" The last part came out as a yell because a particularly painful contraction had hit. John smiled apologetically at Sherlock, who looked slightly wounded. Mary's expression softened slightly. "Sherlock, I want to hear you talk about something with true passion. Tell me about your latest case." She said gently, then winced as another contraction hit. Sherlock looked slightly bemused, but he proceeded to talk in great detail about the case. His eyes lit up as he spoke, and he moved his hands in dramatic gestures. Mary listened, enthralled, and John listened too, on and off, when he wasn't constantly asking Mary how she was doing. It was not very long until…

"I can see the baby's head!" a midwife cried.

John and Sherlock simultaneously tensed. Mary let out a cry as she pushed with all of her might. Then, suddenly, there was a small, mewling noise. The midwife lifted out a tiny little bundle of pink skin and blood. A baby. John and Mary's baby. "Do you want to cut the cord?" A second midwife asked.

John took the scissors, and snipped the thread connecting his wife and his newborn daughter, before taking the infant tenderly in his arms. She was still slimy and crying, but in John's eyes, she was perfect. Mary held out her arms, and John moved over to her, letting the little girl find her mother for the first time. The infant quieted and snuggled into her mother. John and Mary both beamed down at their little girl.

Sherlock felt like an intruder in this happy family, so he decided to move towards the door. He was halfway there until John looked up and spotted him retreating. "Oh no, you aren't getting away from me that easily, Sherlock Holmes." He said jokingly. "Come here." Sherlock had no choice but to move over to him. Gently, John moved the baby out of Mary's arms. She didn't complain, but looked up at Sherlock as John placed his daughter in the arms of his best friend. Sherlock looked down at the baby. She had a mess of golden blonde tufts on her little head, and she had eyes the exact colour of John's. Sherlock looked down at her as she nuzzled happily into his shirt. A question formed on his lips. "What are you naming her?"

John grinned even wider at that. He and Mary both looked like twin Cheshire cats.

"Her name," he said," is Willow Scarlett Sherlock Watson."

Sherlock looked a John, trying to conjure up words to say – a happy exclamation, or a snarky response along the lines of 'I knew it!' But nothing came. For the seccond time in his life, he was speechless. He looked to John, then to Mary, then back again. Then, a response finally came to him.

"She is the most wonderful miracle I have ever seen."

The memory cleared from Sherlock's head, and he was not very surprised to find that, while he had been reliving that day, he had walked to the regular area of St Bart's. Generally, when he was reliving memories, he would start in one place and end up somewhere completely different. Once, while reliving a particularly long memory, he had ended up walking from a warehouse in North London to another warehouse in South London. He was outside a small, private room, between the main adult ward and the main children's room. The room number was on the door -22. He was about to turn around and go back to the morgue to see if Molly had arrived, when he heard something. A quiet yelp, and then soft, muffled crying. It was the sort of heartbroken sound that was made by someone who had suffered terrible things. He had made similar noises himself, during those two years when the world believed him dead. The sound cut into him, reminding him of those dark and awful times. Curiosity, and sympathy, pulled him towards the door. He placed his and on the doorknob, and the door swung open.

From a hospital bed, a young girl, no more than ten years old, with straight brown hair, looked up at him with scared, sad eyes the colour of chocolate.

A/N: And so it begins…and I leave you with a cliffhanger. Sorry. :P

Please review/follow/favorite, and I will see you next time for Chapter 2!

16magnolias – Thank you for being my first reviewer! I'm sorry to hear that you were in a car crash, but I'm glad no one was hurt. I absolutely agree with what you said about Donovan. She gets too much bad press! I thought it only right that she be the one to comfort Lucy, seeing as she does a similar thing in Reichenbach Fall.