Chapter Four

Sherlock stepped out of Baker Street, Maeve now dressed in a plain bodysuit with a soft white jacket over the top and a blanket wrapped around her bottom half, a matching hat covering her tiny head, tucked in against Sherlock's chest in what looked to be his favourite way of holding her. The length of her body resting against his torso, hand supporting her back, neck and head with one arm and the other holding her bottom, keeping her close and feeling the soft puffs of air against his neck. He'd kept his scarf off, in his coat pocket which he was now wearing.

John said a final farewell to Mrs Hudson and followed Sherlock out of the building, a plain black messenger bag filled with baby bits hooked over his shoulder and a smile on his face. "Where are we going?" John asked.

"Mothercare" Sherlock snarled.

"That way then." John nodded and they began walking. "What do we need?"

"We need equipment for feeding, changing, sleeping, bath time, getting around, soothing and entertaining." Sherlock answered quickly, after reading all night he had devised a list of everything they needed, a rather extensive list. "And clothes, now she is wearing new born but babies grow quickly, we'll need clothes to prepare for that as well. Mycroft with furnish the room we'll need to provide everything else."

"And who's paying for this?"

"Mycroft of course." Sherlock huffed.

"Of course, and he knows about this?" John questioned.

"He insisted."

"That's very nice of him."

"Hmm" Sherlock agreed nonchalantly, cradling his daughter to his chest as she started to snooze against him. They walked fast but cautiously, avoiding large groups of people and weaving carefully to avoid bumping into anyone.

"What about this?" John asked, holding up a little pink outfit that consisted of a long sleeve bodysuit and pair of soft dungarees.

Sherlock glared at the offending item, holding Maeve tight to his chest as she snored softly against his neck, completely undisturbed. "Defiantly not."

"Come on, it's cute."

"It's pink."

"And you're raising a little girl, pink is an acceptable colour."

"I hate pink."

"She might not."

"She" He bobbed up and down slightly, gesturing without his arms to his daughter. "has no thoughts on the colour pink and until she does it remains my decision, we are avoiding pink."

"There must be some exceptions."

"There are" Sherlock agreed. "Pink will of course make an appearance in her wardrobe but in small doses."

"Fine" John huffed, seeing no point arguing with the consulting detective. He had obviously made up his mind.

"Hi" A woman asked, walking over to them with a large smile. She was college age with dark blonde hair and a pair of large square glasses over her eyes. There was a name tag 'Emma' on her dark blue polo shirt, she worked there. She then turned her attention to the baby against the pale man's chest and her smile widened. "Your baby is gorgeous."

"Thank you." Sherlock responded, those two words seeming alien coming from him and reeking of fake pleasantness. But he meant it, or at least meant the sentiment behind it.

"Can I help you?" She asked, eyes wide and seeking.

"We need everything" The consulting detective said simply.

"Everything?"

"Everything."

"We don't have anything except a night's worth of supplies." John added.

"You don't have anything?"

"It's a long story" John sighed. "It's all happened very suddenly."

"I wasn't aware of her existence until yesterday evening, her mother kept things rather quiet and now she is in my care." Sherlock explained, voice coming across softer than normal but John could hear the bite in his tone.

"Poor thing." Emma declared suddenly. "Well, let's see about getting everything set up for you."

"This is the Matrix system stroller, it's three in one. You can have it as a pram or attach the carseat, and it shifts into a buggy for when's she's a little older." Emma explained, it was the best pram in the store. "There are various colours in stock."

"Purple" Sherlock muttered simply. Emma nodded and ordered it on the tablet, it was best for her to order as they went to get everything ready for them. They would be leaving with the pram and the rest delivered throughout the day.

"Right." Emma looked up from the tablet. "Shall we?"

"Thank you, Mr Holmes." Emma handed Sherlock the card back over the counter and began bagging the last of the items. John was waiting by the new pram, cradling Maeve in his shorter arms. Sherlock nodded and picked up the two bags on the counter – everything else was being delivered within the next few hours. The sales assistant added quickly. "If you ever need anything, you know where we are."

Sherlock turned with a brief polite smile and walked over to John. The blonde was shaking his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

Maeve was tucked in the doctor's shorter arms, for the first time. He was jiggling up and down, slightly and an unconscious movement.

"What is?" Sherlock asked, putting the two bags at the bottom of the pram and prying his daughter from the doctor's arms, just holding her for a moment while he looked at John expectantly. Her nose scrunched up in annoyance but she remained asleep, warning that more movement would wake her.

"She was practically throwing herself at you." Sherlock frowned, disgusted by the idea.

"Not me." Sherlock clarified. "Maeve, it's a biological imperative to reproduce, I have a daughter which demonstrates-"

John cut him off. "Women like men with babies, got it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and put Maeve in her new pram, laying down and tucked up in blankets. "Good deduction but I was hoping you'd dig a bit deeper."

Sherlock hooked their new baby bag over the handles of the pram and got in position, ready to walk with the pram as John stood beside him. "She likes kids, working in a place like this you'd have to and has extensive knowledge on the babies and what they need."

"Good, very good." The consulting detective nodded as they left the shop.

"She wants kids."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Wants…She is overcome with her want for children and compensates with her work, she'll be rewarded soon enough."

"Rewarded?" John asked, eyeing up his friend as they walked.

"Hmmm" Sherlock hummed.

Sherlock's phone vibrated and he plucked it from his pocket, keeping one hand firmly on the buggy and somehow managing to remain moving in a straight line.

"Case?" John askes, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes" Sherlock responded, putting the phone back in his pocket and steering once again with two hands instead of one. "It's just round the corner."

"Thank you for coming." Greg greeted the moment they arrived, not remarking on the brand new buggy or the baby inside, merely raising an eyebrow. Sherlock stopped beside him and the detective inspector peered in at the baby, fast asleep beneath her blankets, lips scrunched up. "How was she last night?"

"Fine." Sherlock offered.

"Did you get any sleep?"

"I do not need sleep to function as I have explained many times before."

"No, instead he turned our living room into a giant nest of information about babies." John sighed. It was endearing really, cute even, Sherlock just wanted to make sure he was covering all the bases and had all available data.

"It is imperative that I have all the facts." Sherlock argued, his icy glare landing on John.

"It's not all about the books." Greg said quickly.

Sherlock rounded on him with his 'don't be an idiot' expression and said. "I know that" He then added, quieter. "I also spent time watching her."

"Watching?" John repeated.

Sherlock corrected his mistake. "Observing."

"You observed her?" Greg asked, unsure. Sherlock's observations usually spun from his deductions which were not well received.

"Exactly, I observed her natural behaviour."

"You were just too scared to take your eyes off of her." Greg teased.

"Me? Scared?" Sherlock challenged, mask of indifference.

John sighed and huffed. "It's fine to admit you're scared."

"I know."

"I know you know."

"Good."

"Good."

"Well" Greg interrupted, not wanting to watch much more of this strange exchange between the doctor and detective. They were like an old married couple. "Sorry to break it to you, but Maeve isn't allowed on the crime scene. I'm surprised you even let her out of the house."

Sherlock rounded on Greg, the question of his parenting lingering in the air like a bad smell. The detective inspector looked at the ground, aware of his mistake. Sherlock responded, simply. "I would much rather be at home with my daughter but without the sufficient equipment to care for her, a trip out has become necessary. She is warm and sleeping at this moment. And I have no intention of submitting my daughter to your crime scene."

Greg looked confused. "Then what are you going to do?"

"You are going to watch her while John and I take a look at the crime scene."

"Am I?" The Salt and Peppered hair detective asked, resting his hands on his hips expectantly.

"Yes."

"Do I have any say on this?"

"Not if you want me to consult on the case."

"Fine." He muttered, gesturing to the house with police at the door and tape cordoning off the area. Sherlock shot him a rather large fake smile and with one last look to his daughter strode off, John following him with a small grin.

Greg sighed to himself, resting his hands on the handle of the pram and peering in. Maeve was fast asleep, breath coming out in short even puffs, one mitten covered hand by her face and the other underneath her blanket. She was wrapped up, warm and content. Her face still slightly red and scarce black hair covered by her small hat. "You're just completely loveable aren't you?" He asked himself more than her.

Sherlock was already under her spell and John, well John was long gone as well. He had a sneaky suspicion Mycroft was already taken with the baby, the way he'd gone on about her after going home last night and his morning visit to Baker Street.

"Sir" Donovan called out, coming out of the house with Anderson by her side. She looked confused and slightly amused by the sight of her boss with a pram. "Did you happen to sprout a baby?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, very funny."

Anderson looked even more confused than Donovan, face screwed up in confusion and looking more like a rat that usual. "Where did the baby come from?"

"I'm just watching her for a moment." The D.I explained.

"For who?" Greg pursed his lips and didn't answer. He ignored the pointedly looks he received from the pair of them. Anderson repeated. "For who?"

"For me." A deep baritone answered. Sherlock was approaching them, fast, looking slightly concerned but to the untrained eye he looked like his normal self, harsh expression in place. He pocketed his leather gloves and stepped towards the pram, into the gap as Lestrade stepped back, clearing room for him. Inside, Maeve remained asleep and undisturbed.

"For you?" Anderson stuttered.

"Since when did you have a baby?" Sally asked, hand on hip, not insulting but genuinely surprised.

"Since the 2nd of May." The consulting detective responded.

"Who would have a baby with you?" Anderson asked, looking disgusted by the idea.

Sherlock's head shot up and eyes narrowed. "No-one apparently." He informed them.

John looked hurt by the response, hurt for Sherlock not himself. Greg looked at the ground. Anderson just looked pleased with himself, suspicion confirmed. "I knew it." He responded triumphantly.

"Wait" Sally interrupted. "You had a baby and didn't tell anyone."

"I didn't know."

"You didn't know." Sally was sceptical.

"No."

Anderson leered. "How could you not know? What kind of freak are you?"

Sherlock looked down at his sleeping daughter and announced. "We're going for a walk."

"Where are we going?" John asked, annoyed and ready to follow.

"Not you." Sherlock muttered quickly as he began walking away, pushing the pram ahead of him. "Me and my daughter."

John stopped and watched as he disappeared around the corner, hurt and protecting his child. He turned on Anderson ready to give him an earful when Sally asked, gently. "How could he not know that he had a daughter?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "He didn't know because the mother didn't tell him and instead of calling to inform him of Maeve's existence, she left her on our doorstep forty-eight hours after she was born. You want to know what kind of freak" he hissed "Sherlock is, he's the kind that has never considered or wanted children, the kind that despite that took in his daughter and is trying his hardest to raise her, although he didn't know she existed."

With that John Watson left the crime scene and he didn't look back.