Sherlock's face remained calm as the small party waited in the airport. Mary had insisted on going, and when Molly overheard the news at work she claimed he could help as well.
"I'm pretty decent with babies. My sister had two, 3 summers ago, and for a month I helped her. I even stopped her from killing one. He was carrying on for days. They claim his crying made the other one deaf. But there I walked in on her looking over at the baby and holding a pillow. She looked horrid. She hadn't slept for a while. She's okay now. She has pills." She drifted off gradually, once she realized that she was oversharing.
Sherlock refused to bring in the cradle and changing table Mrs. Hudson offered. He was still insisting that the baby was not going to be his. Mary had intercepted though, and was hiding them in back room of the loft. She had also collected a handful of nappies, formula, and whatever else friends had offered.
The screen ahead of them flashed green, indicating that the flight had arrived.
"Are you ready for the first day of the rest of your life?" Mary teased, as she nudged Sherlock.
"No, because it is an ordinary day, with a small inconvenience I have to put aside." Sherlock mumbled.
"That's the spirit." John coughed. "Here Sherlock want to do the honors." John held out a piece of cardboard with the name Holmes on it."
"No."
"Do it." Mary hissed into his ear, but with a smile, as the passengers began to come through the terminal.
Sherlock snatched the sign and held it in front of him, scanning the crowd.
"There!" Molly pointed.
Heading towards them was a small elderly woman with straight black hair, carrying a baby seat.
"Hi Mr. Holmes, I am Emily Banks." She outstretched her hand smiling, "If you don't mind I have a room reserved in the airport to go through the paperwork before giving you the baby."
Sherlock stared blankly at her as he shook her hand. " I didn't know they let ex alcoholics become Social Workers. Especially ones who may or may not have some recent drug abuse. I did hear they were legalizing things there though. Also you may want to get rid of a cat or three. You're daughter's worried about you so you should hurry back to the states. I think it's your liver that makes her nervous."
The woman stood there stunned and clearly offended. "How.."
"Kidding!" John half yelled, forcing himself to chuckle as if to go along with a joke. "He has a poor sense of humor. We are working on it though. Let's be off then." He quickly spoke, trying to immediately change the subject, a technique he has now mastered, after dealing with a sociopath for so long.
The woman led the way towards the room, chatting with a silent Sherlock the entire way.
"A lamb the entire way, only cried once because the poor thing is hungry. Which reminds me I have extra formula and diapers in my bag. Oh! Here we are!"
The woman pushed open a conference room door and held it open until the four others were in.
"Now then," she sighed in relief as she put the carrier down. "I have a few forms for you to sign before I am on my way back."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. "These are medical forms, and here are the legal forms in which I need you to sign the top and bottom."
"What do I need to do if I find out the child is indeed not mine." Sherlock interrupted sitting across from her, eyeing the blanket covered carrier.
"Oh, um well.." The woman looked around the room searching for someone to give her assistance.
"He means that if he gets a paternity test, and it says that the baby is not his." John sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.
" Well page four explains that he must contact child services, they need to review the test, and then find the next of kin, or the child be put in a home." Emily said pushing the documents towards Sherlock.
Without taking his eyes off the carrier, he slid the papers towards him. The carrier was the kind that can be used as a car seat, and relatively worn judging by the scuff marks on the bottom. An off white blanket had been placed over it, either to shield the baby from prying eyes or to serve as a more comfortable environment for the baby. The blanket was also used, Sherlock noted the blanket had been worn thin in certain parts. Glancing down at the papers, he scribbled his signature down, and somewhat violently slid them towards the woman.
Sherlock stood up quickly and paced around the carrier, resembling a shark analyzing its prey. He lifted the carrier up and placed it on the table. Slowly he peeled the blanket off the top and looked in.
"Looks just like you." Molly whispered peering over his shoulder.
The baby did resemble Sherlock, even he could admit that. Sleeping peacefully with its mouth slightly open, a mouth shape that almost mirrored Sherlock's. A little fist was placed under the chubby face, mimicking what the detective often does as he thinks. Its nose was small and slightly turned up, but what was most noticeable was the puff of blonde hair on top of the baby's head.
"All that blonde." Mary whispered nudging Sherlock aside, and reaching in to unstrap the baby.
"Katherine was.. a blonde." Sherlock said stepping back to give Mary room.
"So tiny, the poor thing." Mary cooed as she cradled the baby.
"She needs to stick to the formula we provided for you, it is available in London too, we already checked." Emily sighed as she slung the bag over her back, "I'm off, I have to catch the flight back tonight."
"She?" Sherlock asked turning to the woman who was heading towards the door.
"The birth certificate is on the table, and feel free to call if anything arises regarding the care or custody of the baby."
The door closed behind her, and Sherlock strode towards the table. He picked up an off white piece of paper and read it out loud. "Eleanor Amelia Holmes."
"We should head back to Baker Street before she wakes up" Mary whispered placing the baby back in the carrier.
"Nonsense, we are going to St. Bart's to get this paternity test done." Sherlock objected grabbing the papers from the table.
Molly protested, "It takes hours for a paternity test to be done."
"Not if we have a wonderful connection to the hospital, to rush things." He grimaced opening the door, "Let's hurry and get this ordeal over with."
By the time they had gotten back to Baker Street everyone was thoroughly exhausted. The baby had woken up when she was getting her blood drawn and had not stopped screaming since.
It was officially proven that the baby was indeed Sherlocks'.
" She is more yours than Baker Street is." Molly said handing Sherlock the lab reports.
"Here hold her Sherlock." A now frazzled Mary panted, as the baby screamed.
Sherlock remained silent and looked at her with an almost panicked expression on his face.
"I'd rather not."
Mary bent down and placed the baby in his awkwardly held out arms.
"Support her head here," Molly said grabbing Sherlock's and placing it under the baby's head, " And use your arm to support her back."
"Fascinating," He whispered as he observed the crying child, "how small we all start."
"She has your eyes," Molly pointed, "You can notice it against the red… of her crying face."
The baby did indeed have piercing blue eyes, that were more noticeable against the dark red of the babies face.
"Most babies are born with blue eyes," he mused peering down at the baby.
"I've seen plenty of babies in my time, and these are the blue you keep." Said a now present Mrs. Hudson.
A silence fell upon the room. Even the baby quieted a little.
"Hungry." He said standing up with the baby in his arms. " She needs the formula, it's been hours."
"Right," John said reaching into the bag and pulling out powdered formula, "Be right back."
"I'm off Sherlock," Molly said as she reached down and stroked the baby's head gently, "I'll be sure to stop by soon to see how you're off."
"Thank you Molly Hooper." He said, not taking his eyes off the baby.
"Bye John!" Molly called into the kitchen, "It's been lovely."
John gave an incoherent sound and Molly left, gently closing the door behind her.
" Now Sherlock," Mary began," She needs to be fed almost every three hours. After you feed her you need to burp her. When you do burp her, make sure you put something on your shoulder, she'll cough up. Also make sure her diaper is dry, because a wet diaper means an unhappy baby."
Sherlock stared at her taking note of everything she said.
She laughed, "You are one of the smartest men I know, you can do this."
"One of?" he mumbled.
"Exactly," Mary said, getting up off the couch, "I'm off now. I am going to fix some supper, and I will bring it back to the flat for you and John."
"Thanks Mary." Sherlock said.
"Be good boys," she called walking out the door.
