Upon entering the hospital and getting the preliminary paperwork filed, Irene was taken to an examination room, where it was determined that she was, in fact, in labor, and about seven centimeters dilated. Any effort to slow labor was not likely to work, so the baby was definitely going to be born within the next 48 hours.
But that was when things really became fun. Irene's labor progressed to the point that her water broke and the contractions became more intense. Because she had missed the point at which she could have been given an epidural, she was in for a very long and painful delivery.
And if that weren't enough, it was soon discovered that the baby wasn't in proper position to deliver naturally. Irene had been adamant about not having to have a Cesarean section unless absolutely necessary, so she began to panic when her doctor informed her of this. The doctors were going to try to see if they could reposition the baby so they could forgo the surgery, but they didn't guarantee that it would work. Sherlock decided it was time to call John for backup support. He stepped out into the hall and called John, but it went to voicemail.
As Sherlock hung up the phone, Sophie marched into the maternity wing, seeking out her son to reprimand him for his poor social behavior. As soon as she found him, she smirked. "Karma is a rather unfortunate soul, isn't it?" she sang out mockingly. "You should have known that I knew you were lying to come up with a reason to get out."
"Now is not the time, Mother," Sherlock growled. "The baby isn't in a good position to deliver naturally, so it's likely that Irene will have to have a Cesarean section, which was not what we were hoping for. And technically, we weren't lying."
"She'll be relieved she did when she doesn't have to go through the hell I had to go through when I had Mycroft. You were a much easier delivery."
"I was born via emergency Cesarean section because I was having heart trouble and I would have died if they didn't deliver. I was born two and a half months early. How is that an easier delivery?" Sherlock asked, aghast by his mother's remark.
Sophie waved him off. "I honestly was so drugged up when you were born, it didn't really matter until after you were born how you were born, just as long as you were in the hands of professionals who could take care of you."
"I'm touched by the sentiment," he sighed.
Sherlock rolled his phone around in his hand, waiting for John to call him back. John knew Irene's birth plan better than Sherlock (who had it memorized) did, and right now, Sherlock was spiraling into a panic. The baby wasn't due for another five weeks, and there were still a million things to do to before she was born. Sherlock felt absolutely helpless, and right now, he needed John to talk some sense into him to bring him into a place where he wasn't just a bump on a log.
Fortunately, the doctors were able to reposition the baby so that she could be delivered naturally. Irene calmed down considerably, and John called back, letting Sherlock know that he and Mary were on their way to the hospital and would be there in a few hours. From that point on, everything worked like clockwork.
The final stages of labor were intense, as to be expected, but six hours after arriving at the hospital, Irene delivered a very healthy little girl.
Fifteen minutes after she was born, Sherlock walked out of the delivery room, his head spinning and leading him absolutely nowhere. He knew that he had a huge grin plastered on his face and that he definitely looked the part of a new father; he felt like he was floating. John and Mary stood up. "So?" John asked expectantly.
"Five pounds, 6 ounces. Nineteen inches long; ten fingers, ten toes; absolutely no hair. She's perfect. Came out screaming," Sherlock informed them giddily.
Sophie jumped up and let out a cry. "Oh my goodness! I'm a grandmother!" she exclaimed as she rushed to hug her son. "Congratulations, darling."
John grinned at Sherlock. "I would never peg you to be a dad, but congratulations!" he said warmly as he cupped Sherlock's arm and gave it a hearty shake.
Mary held her arms open to hug Sherlock, pulling him into a warm embrace. "When do we get to meet this little girl?" she asked him.
"I'm going to be going back in right now, but you should be able to come into the room in about fifteen to twenty minutes."
When he returned to the room, Irene was sitting in the bed, cradling the tiny bundle, completely engrossed in her daughter. Sherlock padded into the room, apprehensive about the absence of the hospital staffers that had filled the room only ten minutes previous. "How is she?" he asked Irene.
"Absolutely perfect," Irene murmured as she brushed her daughter's cheek with her finger. "I think she's going to have your nose."
He laughed. "Well, it's fitting. You've always liked my nose."
"Yes I have," Irene agreed.
The sight of Irene and the baby seemed impossible; Sherlock had to keep telling himself that this was real. This wasn't a dream anymore. That was Irene and that was his daughter, and this was real life, and his world had just become extremely different than anything else that he had ever expected from life. Irene's voice brought him out of his reverie.
"What were the names of our children in your dream?"
He smiled. "Adele, Aveline, and Julian."
Irene mulled that thought. "Aveline?"
"Beautiful bird in French. I had a friend named Aveline. She died."
"And Adele?"
"Not sure. You liked the name."
"Adele Aveline?" Irene suggested.
He shook his head. "Doesn't sound right."
Irene glanced down at the baby. "What about both as her first name?"
"Didn't you just suggest that?"
"No… not really. Instead of two names, they become one. Adeline."
"Hmm… Adeline Adler-Holmes. Sounds precocious enough."
Irene laughed. "Are we hyphenating our names?"
"It's up to you."
"Adeline Adler sounds ridiculous. It really should just be your surname."
"Adeline Holmes. Okay. Does she need a middle name?"
"What were their middle names?"
"Sophelia and Aurora. We used Hamish for Julian's middle name."
"Hmm… what if we named her Adeline Hamish Holmes?"
"That's a ridiculous name."
"But no one else would have it."
"We would be giving our daughter a male middle name."
"So?"
"Isn't that a bit atypical?"
"How many people are named Sherlock?"
He sighed. "Two middle names?"
"Olivia?"
"Adeline Olivia Hamish Holmes?" Sherlock suggested.
"I like it."
"Me too."
"Poor thing," Irene laughed. "She just couldn't escape the curse of the Holmes family and their absurd names."
"You were the one who suggested it," Sherlock reminded her.
"I know. I was compelled by the power of the surname!" Irene joked.
By the time John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft, and Sophie were able to come into the room, Sherlock had been able to hold his daughter for the first time. When everyone came in to meet the baby, Sherlock was still holding her, absolutely terrified that he was going to drop her.
Mrs. Hudson and Sophie both let out shrill cheers as soon as they saw the little girl. In true grandmotherly fashion, both wanted to hold the baby first, bickering over who would have the honors of getting to examine her little fingernails first. John started taking pictures of everyone while Mary fussed over Irene. Mycroft, however, stood in the corner, watching the menagerie unfold in front of him.
Eventually, Sherlock glanced up from the baby and made eye contact with Mycroft. "Do you want to hold her?" he asked quietly.
Mycroft furrowed his brow. "Before Mummy?"
"Yes. You're her uncle, and I anticipate that you are going to impose your will upon her regardless of any actions that Irene and I may take, so we might as well accept it at the beginning rather than prolonging the inevitable," Sherlock replied.
Mycroft rolled his eyes and held out his arms. Sophie let out a squawk of displeasure. "Why does he get to hold her before anyone else?"
"Because he's been the only one who hasn't been hovering around like a bunch of hungry sharks, eyeing their prey."
"We have not done that," Sophie protested.
Sherlock shrugged. "Well, what's done is done. He gets to hold her first."
"I thought I raised you better that this," Sophie sniffed.
"I'm not sure how your argument is relevant."
Sophie waved her son off and gravitated toward Mycroft and the baby. Scared of his mother, Mycroft forfeited his niece and stepped back into the corner. Sophie beamed as she held her granddaughter for the first time and began to babble at the baby in some incessant voice that made Sherlock cringe. "Mother… please… you're lowering her IQ with every syllable that you're uttering in that horrid voice."
"Hush," Sophie hissed. "I will talk to my granddaughter however I want."
Sophie turned her back to Sherlock, who then quietly held out his hands as if he were going to strangle his mother for being so difficult. All but Mrs. Hudson laughed at this gesture.
Mrs. Hudson was the next to hold the baby. She seemed the most comfortable holding the baby out of anyone in the room, and with good reason. Mrs. Hudson had raised four children and had seven grandchildren. She had insisted upon having an active role in the lives of all of her children and her grandchildren. It was obvious that Mrs. Hudson already considered herself a grandmother to this little girl, and though no one would ever admit it openly in the presence of Sophie, Mrs. Hudson would probably be the first one that Adeline acknowledged as her grandmother.
After Mrs. Hudson, Mary took Adeline. Unlike the other women, Mary hadn't raised any children, but was constantly surrounded by young children at work. As soon as she had Adeline in her arms, she smiled broadly at the little girl and examined her features quietly. It was obvious that Mary was imagining her own child and what she had to look forward to in a few months' time.
And then it was John's turn. "Hi gorgeous," he murmured as his friend's daughter was placed into his arms. "God, you're tiny."
Sherlock smiled proudly from the corner. John studied his best friend's daughter, looking for defining characteristics from both parents. "What is her name?" John asked, glancing up at her parents.
"Adeline Olivia Hamish Holmes," Irene replied with a smirk.
John furrowed his brow in confusion. "Wait… you used Hamish?"
"We thought it would be a nice reference," Sherlock explained.
"You named your daughter Adeline Olivia Hamish Holmes? You do realize that I was kidding about Hamish, right?"
"We thought it fit," Irene chirped. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with giving a girl a masculine middle name."
"But it's my middle name."
"Figured it would be easier to ask you to be godfather that way," Sherlock added.
"Oh," John murmured. "Seriously?"
"Of course. Who else would we ask?" Sherlock laughed.
John glanced over at Mycroft, who was still standing in the corner quietly. Sherlock shook his head. "If something happens to us, god forbid, she'll be in better hands with you two."
After looking to Mary for some sort of prompting, John grinned at Sherlock and Irene. "I'd love to be Adeline's godfather," he informed them.
"And Mary, of course, we are hoping will be her godmother," Sherlock stated as he nodded towards Mary.
Mary laughed. "Oh, without a doubt. We are so honored," she gushed as she walked over to John and tried to take the baby from him.
"Oi… you had your turn. It's my turn," John grumbled.
Because the doctors wanted to make sure that Adeline remained stable after being born five weeks early, they stayed an extra day at the hospital. By the time they returned back to the flat, it had been nearly four days since Sherlock and Irene had been home. Irene was exhausted, so she took a shower and went to bed, leaving Sherlock to look after Adeline. Knowing full well that he would need an expert (or at least someone better acquainted with small children) to consult with for this task, Sherlock called John.
Twenty minutes after getting Sherlock's call, John walked into the flat, after letting himself in with the spare key, and found Sherlock quietly pacing the length of the room, Adeline up against his shoulder. She had been crying, but seemed to be calm now. "Hi there," John murmured as soon as he saw Sherlock with the baby.
"Hello," Sherlock replied quietly. "She's awake, so no need to be too quiet."
John approached them and smiled at the baby, who stared at him with a look of confusion. She was very alert for being three days old, but John could understand why she was so bewildered. "How is Irene doing?"
"Asleep."
"And you're on baby-duty?"
"Irene expressed milk last night. If she hadn't, I would be of no use," Sherlock answered.
John chuckled. "Well, she doesn't seem to mind."
"No… but I do. I don't foresee much sleep in the near future."
"Oh, she'll get better. She's just trying to figure the world out."
Sherlock glanced down at his daughter, whose eyes were starting to close as she curled closer to his chest. "Well, if she's anything like her mother, she'll be fine. She'll be trouble, but she'll manage just fine."
"No boys until she's thirty?"
"Fifty."
John laughed. "I wouldn't put it past you two."
As absolutely ridiculous and bizarre as the situation was, John couldn't help but smile at the sight of Sherlock and his newborn daughter. No one had expected Sherlock to take so avidly to caring for an infant (no one had expected that Sherlock would want to be around a child, let alone gravitate towards one), and yet, here he was, slowly pacing around the room, cradling a tiny baby as if this was the thing everything in his life had been leading up to.
Adeline let out a little cry, causing Sherlock to go on full alert. He glanced down and started patting her back, trying to calm her down again. Eventually, she did quiet down, and fell asleep. Sherlock sighed in relief and walked over to the small cot they had set up in the living room, where he carefully placed her. After straightening up, he glanced over at John. "Any news on Madeleine?"
John nodded. "She should still be getting here tomorrow. I'm going to be fetching her from the airport. I was hoping to borrow your car, actually."
Sherlock nodded. "I'll make sure to give you the keys and the required supplies for Madeleine's return. She will be in the crate, no?"
"That's what the dog sitter told me."
"Yes, that sounds good. Thank you for getting this sorted for us. I know Irene appreciates it and I'm relieved that I don't have to figure this out on my own."
Sherlock's new way of dealing with people was still unfamiliar to John. John still hadn't gotten used to Sherlock being human and polite. Regardless of where it came from, John was glad that his friend was finally becoming a better human being. Maybe a baby and a relatively committed relationship wasn't such a bad thing for Sherlock.