So I went a little further down the Sherlolly baby road...next chappie about their baby will be about the first week of parenthood after bringing the bundle of joy home!

Let me know if ya wanna hear about more Sherlolly babies...;)

XOXO,

OceansAria :)

Everything was peaceful for the time being after hours of naught but obnoxious noise. There was a bundle of warmth and tranquility in Molly's arms, snoozing off the experience of the catastrophic racket and being brought into the world. They were alone besides the nurse, who stepped out of the room when she finished making sure neither needed anything.

After years of experience in listening for her husband's arrival, the soft click of his footfalls did not go unregistered when they halted at the open door. Her heart sprinted in her chest, her skin flushing, as she adjusted the blanket cocooning her sweet little bundle, refusing to meet Sherlock's scrutinizing stare.

"He's got your eyes," she breathed, smiling. "And your dark curls too. Already, he's more yours than mine. But I think he has my nose."

Sherlock's tone was neutral. "He? I thought you claimed it was a girl."

"I never found out. Wanted it to be a surprise." Molly pressed a kiss to her son's wispy single curl. "You know, I never imagined I would have a moment like this. Especially with you, Sherlock. Maybe some other ordinary man with a balding spot and a pouch around his waist who worked for some law firm or was a doctor—but never you." Far too bashful to look him in the eye, she continued, "How was the case? I'm guessing you're finished or else you wouldn't be here."

"Molly—" he stopped abruptly, fists clenching and unclenching. "Molly, you must—"

When she finally gave in and glanced up, she shut her mouth from arguing any further. Though his schooled expression wouldn't ever betray him, his eyes did. They had darkened to an almost emerald sapphire mixture. A gasp passed her lips lowly and she returned her attention to her son. Changing the subject was the best option.

"I haven't thought up the perfect name yet. I had a couple ideas, but we never really had time to discuss . . ." Her breath caught in her throat when she realized Sherlock had crossed the expanse of the hospital room and was now stationed at her bedside, his body language intense and full of curiosity as it combed over the bundle in her arms. He kept staring, and as she watched him, she finally realized.

"Oh! Um, would you like to hold him?"

She watch the quiver of his jaw, the fidget of his fingers. This tiny being was the first person he perhaps could not deduce for as long as he had lived—and this fact was completely unnerving him.

"Yes." Sherlock held out his gloved hands uncertainly. "Yes, I suppose I would."

The transfer from her arms to his wasn't as smooth as it portrayed in the movies. Sherlock bent at the knees just enough so she wouldn't have to move too much; she was insanely sore from her ribcage down. When the babe was finally safe in his father's arms, she rested back against the pillows with another sigh of release.

"I think I woke him," Sherlock mumbled. A tiny fist raised into the air, followed by a faint gurgle. The child's fingers uncurled and then locked themselves into the soft, damp fabric of his father's scarf. Sherlock watched it all with an acute awestruck expression. He attempted prying the scarf from the baby's grasp but found he couldn't. "He's fairly . . . spirited."

"He is," Molly agreed.

"I daresay you're wrong, however."

"Excuse me?"

"The child doesn't have 'my eyes', as you put it." The tiny fist latched on tighter to Sherlock's scarf as the new father peered into the baby's face invasively. "They may be blue now—many babies are born with blue eyes—but I predict they'll change to brown like yours the older he gets."

Molly couldn't prevent her smile. "Oh. Well, that's lovely to hear. At least he'll look a little like his mum."

Sherlock rocked back and forth on his heels, not entirely sure of his actions. His newborn's fist soon loosened and fell limply against his tiny chest as he dozed off once more. The detective found that he could not contain his grin either. "I think you both need a good night's rest," Sherlock said, carefully returning the babe to his mother's embrace. He pressed the most tender of kisses into Molly's hairline, cupping the back of her head with his palm; then doing the same for his son. "I also think that Edward is a pleasant name."

"Edward, eh?" Molly grabbed his collar with her free hand before he could get too far. "Hmm. How about Edward Hamish Fitzwilliam Holmes?"

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Two middle names like his father? I'm not so sure about that, dear."

"Hey! You get Hamish, after John, and I get Fitzwilliam." She punctuated her protest with a firm kiss to her husband's mouth. "My father's middle name. He could go by Hamish."

Sherlock clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "I see. Edward Hamish Fitzwilliam Holmes. Sounds . … pretentious." His eyes crinkled with mirth. "I like it."

"Good. Because I've made up my mind and there's no changing it now." She got another kiss out of him, letting her lips linger until she broke it off to whisper, "You're still going to have to make it up to the both of us for missing the big moment."
Sherlock's joyous eyes filled with sudden self-reproach. Lips twisted into a frown. He took Molly's pale, thin fingers into his and rested his forehead on them as if he were bowing. "Wishing is pointless—but I do wish that I could have been here for the both of you."

Seeing the tender, humane side of her husband always made a spark jitter in her veins. She accepted the brush of his lips on her cheek with a blush and pumped his fingers before he could let go.

"I'll be back, Molly. I've got to contact Mrs. Hudson and John and Mary. They'll want to visit you both."

Molly tugged self-consciously at the ill-fitting hospital gown. "Tell them to forgive my appearance. What I wouldn't give for a hairbrush and some mascara," she laughed.

Sherlock's grin returned with vengeance. "You don't need to ask for their forgiveness, my dear. You look lovely as always."

Molly felt like her face would implode from all the beaming she was doing today. The child began to stir, diverting her from returning the sentiment. Being a mother came far more natural than she had feared. "Oh, darling. Hamish, it's alright, love. Shh, shh. Go back to sleep for Mummy, please."

His fingers made quick work on his phone, pulling the door to behind him. "Mrs. Hudson. Yes, I'm all right. I thought you would like to know that our son has been born." He yanked the phone away when she screamed. "Do stop squealing like a piglet, Mrs. Hudson! Yes, Molly and the child are both healthy. Yes, come down as soon as you can. We'll be expecting you."