Chapter Ten

"You're early." Sherlock announced, eyes fixed on his brother as he strode into the flat confidently, the older Holmes rolled his eyes but chose not to comment.

"And how is my niece this afternoon?" He asked, focusing on the baby that was just waking up in her Moses Basket. It had been moved to the centre of the living room and she squirmed beneath the blankets and released a high pitched whine.

"Quite content." Sherlock answered for her, rising to his feet and pulling his coat on.

"You're not going to stay?" Mycroft asked, curious. Eyebrow raised.

"You are perfectly capable." He rolled his eyes.

"I just didn't expect you to be so eager to leave." The auburn haired man admitted. It was rather curious considering his brother had barely let her out of his sight since discovering her.

"I have some errands to run, cold cases to close. I may as well use the time productively." Sherlock stepped over the coffee table and stood at the side of the Moses basket for a moment, just looking in as his daughter woke up. Her face was scrunched up and glove covered hands rubbing at her still closed eyes. He leant over and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. Maeve whined again and started kicking more wildly. He pulled back and looked his brother, stormy eyes meeting grey ones. "There is milk on the table, I've taken the liberty of heating it for you, make sure to burp her…"

"I do know how to care for a baby Sherlock" Mycroft snapped, there was no bite behind his words, just faint amusement and slight annoyance.

Sherlock scowled but continued. "She likes to be close and listen to voices. Let her explore your face, it will help her get used to you and during tummy time she prefers you be on her level or she'll get bored too quickly."

"Sounds vaguely familiar" Mycroft commented with a knowing look.

Sherlock gave a brief nod and left, calling back. "Take care of my daughter."

The slam of the door signalled them being left alone, Mycroft sighed to himself. Maeve blinked herself awake and stared back up at him, a curious look on her face. Her blue eyes were bright and reminded him of Sherlock as a child. "You do look like your father, don't you?"

Maeve squirmed in response, shoving a glove covered fist into her mouth and grimacing at the feel and taste. She pulled the fist from her mouth, dissatisfied and looked up at Mycroft pleadingly. The politician took pity on his niece, scooping her up from the Moses basket and bringing her close to his chest. She gurgled simply against him.

"Time for something to eat then."

After feeding, burping and changing his niece, Mycroft Holmes found himself lain on his front beside Maeve. She was on her stomach on a colourful mat with a cushioned head rest, she was holding her head up but Mycroft could see the strain in her neck as her fingers caressed the bright material. Mycroft caught the delicate face of his niece before it landed on the cushion, overly protective.

"Fifty-three seconds, you are improving."

Maeve sneezed in response, small nose scrunching up.

"Bless you."

"Mycroft." John greeted him with a warm smile from the doorway, the government official looked up at him, and he found his lips tugging up into a smile in response. The blonde nodded and turned his attention to the small infant on the floor, she was attempting to lift her head again and look up at him. Her mouth was open wide and drool dribbling across her lips and down her chin. "Maeve."

"I didn't expect you back so soon." Mycroft admitted, John was supposed to be working until six.

"It was a slow day, Sarah sent me home early, told me to give Maeve this." He produced a small teddy from behind his back, it was a blue dolphin that fit perfectly inside his palm. "She's going to pop round tomorrow and give Maeve the once over."

"Does Sherlock know about this?" He asked as John crouched down beside the child. Mycroft turned her onto her back to look up at the arches above her with toys hanging down, the army doctor handed her to dolphin which she accepted with a growl like sound shoving it into her mouth with no hesitation.

"He insisted." John answered. "Wanted someone he could trust, someone he knew."

"I could have found someone." Mycroft huffed, pushing himself into a sitting position.

"I know and so does Sherlock, but you know him, wouldn't ask for help unless it was life or death."

"That is the problem."

"This is different."

"How so?"

"He wouldn't risk her life, not in a million years, he'd rather die."

"Yes" Mycroft sighed. "He was always like that, life or death, all in or not at all."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing." John reminded him, taking a moment to pry the toy away from her mouth only to release it and for her to throw it aside.

"No it's not." Mycroft agreed. It was surprising how much John Watson understood his brother. And he was constantly surprised by the similarities between Sherlock and Maeve, there would never be any doubt, she was hid daughter, through and through.

Sherlock climbed the stairs of 221B with caution, not making a sound as he avoided each and every noisy floorboard. He didn't want to disturb them, he told himself. Mostly, he wanted to observe his brother with Maeve. He trusted him, as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew his brother would do his utmost to care and protect for his daughter.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, protected by the slightly open door as he peaked in. John was on his chair while Mycroft had Maeve across his lap on the sofa, head on his pillowed knees and feet kicking towards his stomach. She was squirming and gurgling, but not in discomfort. She seemed pretty happy with her uncle.

Sherlock took a breath before pushing the door and stepping into the room. Mycroft and John both looked up at him while Maeve's eyes flicked around fiercely. He took pity on her and moved close enough to his brother so that she could see him, not clearly but still there. She released a growl like sound and reached her arms up towards him, or tried to but one arm dropped and hit her in the face. There was a split second when Sherlock's heart stopped beating before her eyes filled with tears and she began crying.

"Oh dear." He cooed as he picked her up effortlessly from her brother's lap and close to his chest. She cried into his coat and he bounced her up and down, all the while whispering to her with his lips pressed against her forehead. "My poor baby, did you hurt yourself?"

"I think she was a little bit excited to see her Daddy." John commented, cocking his head to the side with a small smile. It seemed alien, the word Daddy falling so effortlessly from anyone's lips but his own. Mycroft smirked and Sherlock's eyes flicked to the army doctor.

"Did Uncle 'Croft do tummy time with you?" Sherlock asked her, voice rumbling in his chest and against her small body as she continued to cry. His lips moving against her forehead as he refused to peel them off of her skin. He ignored the looks that both men shot him, John in complete confusion and Mycroft in surprise, it wasn't a nickname he's used since being a child but it felt appropriate now.

It hurt. He hadn't expected it to hurt so much, leaving her for an extended period of time. His heart thumped and stopped when he saw a mother walking along with a pram, it felt wrong, so wrong to be without her. He knew she was fine and that Mycroft would take care of her, he even found himself with his phone out and writing out messages to his brother before he'd delete them and pocket the phone again. But this, right now, it felt right. He sighed in content against his daughter's forehead, watching the strands of black hair move before he closed his eyes.

"Well." Mycroft said after a moment, rising to his feet. Maeve had quietened down. "I will leave you to it."

"See you later" John nodded towards the politician.

"Till Sunday."

"Sunday." John returned, it had already been decided that he would attend.

Mycroft paused to look at his brother and niece before leaving. Sherlock continued soothing his daughter until she quietened down, lip quivering slightly but holding back the tears. He wiped away the streaks on the face with one long finger, she grabbed the offered digit and pulled into her mouth, luckily he had stopped by Mrs Hudson's kitchen to give her something and wash his hands. She sucked lightly, toothless gums pressing against the pad of his finger with little force.