A/N: Surprise! (grins) The new chapter was ready and my changed schedule indicates that I wouldn't have been able to update on Saturday or Friday so I didn't see any reason to make you wait. See, I CAN be nice when I choose to? (Don't get used to it, though.) (smirks)
THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart, for all those reviews and listing! Just take a look at how much love this story's received. (BEAMS, and hugs) You can't even imagine how happy you've made me. So thank you!
Awkay, because after that develish cliffie you're probably itching to move on with the story, let's go. I really hope that this one turns out worth you expectations!
Signal Fire
/ John made it perfectly clear from the start that he didn't want to see his daughter before she was buried. He wanted to keep the mental images he had of her rather than the real memories of her lifeless corpse. Her funeral was a small affair, only attended by the grieving parents, Mrs. Hudson, Sarah, Greg and Mycroft.
'Angelika Diana Watson-Holmes', was engraved to her tiny tombstone.
Afterwards, when they finally got home after the far too long ceremony, John made his way wordlessly to a couch and lay there. Not closing his eyes, not curling up. He just lay there, staring at the ceiling.
Who knows how long he remained there, nothing short of a breathing corpse. Days, perhaps. It felt like years. In the end Sherlock made his way there as well, a distraught look on his grief marred face. "Scoot over", the detective commanded. John didn't have it in him to deny his Alpha.
Hours must've passed until John finally found his voice. Squeezed out what had been building up since that fateful day in the hospital. "I… I'm so sorry", he rasped, not wanting to look towards Sherlock. To see the pain and disappointment. "I'm sorry that I can't give you a child."
Sherlock's reassuring hand grabbed his. "Do shut up. As long as I have you I need nothing else."
For the first time in days John smiled, kissing his mate's fingers. "Don't worry, then. You'll never lose me." /
Steps thundered in the hallways of St. Barts while a lone figure made his way through, rushing on faster than he ever had in his entire life. The few people on his path stepped away instantly, several members of staff seemed eager to call for security. He didn't care. His head only had room for one thought that was oddly close to a prayer.
PLEASE…!
By the time he barged into the waiting room Mycroft and Greg were already there, both of them pacing with restless looks on their stony faces. Seeing the look on his face Mycroft stepped forward. "You need to calm down…"
"The hell with calm!" His eyes were burning with such rage and terror he'd never, ever felt before in his life. "Where the hell is he? Where's my family?"
Mycroft was either brave or foolish enough to lay a hand on his shoulder. To actually look into his eyes. "Sherlock, listen to me. Alright? Or I'll have to call someone over to sedate you." The man refused to go on until some of the fire in his eyes died. "John… He was about to take a vacation with Spencer but never made it out of London until another car hit his. It drove against a red light and the driver was under influence. It hit John's side."
Sherlock's blood, his whole body, burned with sheer wrath and bloodthirst. He couldn't bring himself to utter a sound, though, no matter how much he would've wanted to. Mycroft wasn't done yet and he hadn't heard those words he so very desperately needed.
Judging by his brother's expression he wasn't going to hear them at all. "John managed to shield Spencer from almost all of the impact. Spencer needed some stitches and he'll get a couple of scars to show his friends but he'll be fine." Before relief had the time to seep in the man went on. "As for John… They didn't say how badly he was injured, but… It looked bad."
Sherlock sunk down, by some miracle landing on a chair instead of the floor. It felt like someone had knocked all air from his lungs. His head was spinning, not really managing to grasp on what was happening. "The baby…?"
Mycroft stared at him with something close to surprise, grief and pity. Greg gulped before half whispering. "We don't know."
Sherlock was determined not to cry in front those two men. To not show suck weakness. He was shaking so badly that he almost fell from the chair. Inside his chest his heart was breaking.
If he'd lose John now, those words being the last ones he'd ever spoken to the doctor…
Fortunately that terrifying trail of thought was cut when all of a sudden Spencer burst into the room, escorted by a nurse. There was a look of sheer terror on the child's pale, bruised face. "Pa, where's daddy?"
Sherlock's trembling got even worse at the wrenching look on his son's innocent face. Not knowing what else to do he opened his arms. Despite all the times he'd abandoned Spencer the boy rushed to his embrace without hesitation. Such blind trust sent a jolt of pain through Sherlock. He wondered if John realized that their son had inherited the doctor's heart.
"Where's daddy?" Spencer repeated in a whisper.
Sherlock gritted his teeth, tightening his hold on the boy. "He's… The doctors are still working with him. We have to wait." Even the word made him feel sick.
Of course it wasn't okay with Spencer, either. The child began to trash against his hold, desperate to go and find his parent. Tears were running down the boy's cheeks. "I want to see daddy now!"
Sherlock sighed. "I know." It was getting increasingly hard to hold back the struggling three-year-old. "I know." His voice was tense and tight as patience began to run out. "But we can't see him now."
In his arms Spencer kept trashing and crying heartbrokenly. "Pa, let me go! Let go! I… I want daddy! Let me go to daddy!"
Oh, how very desperately Sherlock wanted John, too. His lips opened but no words of comfort willed their way through. Instead he held on to his hysterical son, his whole body trembling pitiably.
Mercifully Spencer fell asleep at some point, exhausted by the fighting and too much adrenaline. Greg pried the boy from Sherlock's arms, muttering something about taking the child home to sleep. For just that once Sherlock didn't manage to feel jealousy or anger.
It took hours before a young female doctor with messily tied, blond hair and sad brown eyes appeared. Sherlock's heart already plummeted before she offered a tiny smile. The hope was, however, frail at best.
Sherlock's head deleted most of what she said. He only caught something about broken bones and internal damage. Something about how John had been found bent to such a position that the doctor had been protecting his son. And he most certainly caught the part where she said that although they were nowhere near out of the woods yet John was still alive.
Sherlock dreaded finding the answers but asked about the unborn baby, anyway. The doctor's smile faded in an instant. "There's… been some bleeding, and cramps. On arrival John was showing some signs of a oncoming miscarriage, which was no surprise considering the trauma and stress. We've given him some medication to halt the process, but… Only time will tell."
It was highly likely only out of Mycroft's influence Sherlock was allowed into John's room while the doctor was still in such a delicate condition. His whole body jolted at the sight of his mate laying in that horrific bed, hooked on several machines, bruised and bandaged all over. Terrifyingly still. Only the monitor's steady beeping proved to him that the Omega was alive at all. The second, much faster beeping whispered that their baby was still fighting, too.
Feeling far too much to process even half of it Sherlock walked over with uncharacteristically slow, hesitant steps. For several minutes he simply stared, a part of him refusing to believe. Then, quickly yet mindful of all the tubes, he took John's hand and squeezed as tightly as he dared to. Without him noticing one of his fingers slipped to the doctor's pulse point.
That long, pitch black night Sherlock prayed for the first time in his life.
During the following four days Sherlock barely left John's side. He sat or paced there, listening to the infuriating yet comforting beeping of the machines. Each and every beep proving that his mate and child had managed to beat a yet another moment ticking against them. He had no idea how it was possible with all the stress and tension but he fell asleep. Perhaps his transport simply failed him. But he did know that he woke up to a sensation of movement.
Instantly alerted his eyes flew open and darted downwards, towards John. It took a long moment before he managed to convince himself that he wasn't seeing things. When the reality sunk in his heart began to beat so fast that it almost burst.
Those eyes were wide open, looking back at him.
Sherlock's head whirred on overdrive while his mouth opened, then closed before opening again. A million words wanted to crawl out but he couldn't quite vocalize any of them. His whole body was on the verge of shutting down under the unfamiliar floods.
Luckily he was granted some more time. For just then John seemed to regain enough coherence to remember bits and pieces of what'd happened. A look of sheer terror appeared to the doctor's face while frantic, protective eyes darted around the room and a gentle hand was placed firmly against the Omega's stomach.
It took Sherlock embarrassingly long to regain his ability to function. "It's… It's okay", he managed. His tone was hoarse and barely audible but he didn't give a damn. "Spencer… He got some scratches and bruises but he's fine. The doctor… She said that you protected him. That it's thanks to you he's…" He swallowed, determined not to fall apart completely. His eyes strayed towards John's abdomen. "The baby… was almost lost, with all your injuries. But… They were able to halt it. The baby's still right there, alive."
John's eyes went misty for a few moments but the doctor gathered himself with some determined blinks. Those eyes turned towards him and darkened all of a sudden. John's mouth opened but all that came out was a wheeze.
"Don't… Don't try that yet, okay?" Sherlock licked his lips and looked away for a moment. "They had to intubate you. So… Your throat is going to be be sore for a while."
John nodded slowly and seemed to sink into his thoughts for a while. The silence stretched, grew heavy. John focused on him once more. In a few short moments those eyes spoke far more than any words ever could've.
Sherlock had no idea of what to say. Where to start fixing all the damage he'd inflicted on their bond. Hell, if there was still anything left to salvage. He didn't say that he hadn't meant those words, not even one of them. If John didn't know that already then there was no hope left for them. He knew that there was no use in swearing that he'd never leave again – there was no way he'd be able to make John believe in those words, not when he'd already betrayed his word. In the end he settled for the simplest and most honest option. "I… I'm so sorry." He was all too aware that those words were nowhere near enough. But maybe, somehow…
John looked at him for the longest time, obviously deep in thought. Eventually the doctor's hand moved and Sherlock found himself waiting for the verdict with a baited breath. In the end a soft, tender hand was placed on top of his. It didn't quite hold on, didn't have the strength to, but it was there.
Taking the chance, hanging on to it like a drowning man holding on to a rope, he curled his fingers around John's hand. It was warm and inviting, so unlike his own cool one. Sherlock didn't know if he'd ever find the will to let go of it.
And so they remained, two wounded soldiers. Each with one finger on the other's pulse point, desperately needing the proof that the other was there. Both wondering how in the world they'd move on from all this mess.
When Sherlock could be sure that John had fallen asleep once more he allowed his hand to move, careful to keep it so light that he wouldn't disturb the doctor. He laid it on the still flat stomach, trying with all his might to imagine the life inside. Their precious child they'd come so very close to losing. And at that moment Sherlock came to a very important decision.
It was time to grow up.
If John would still by some miracle have him, if his Omega would actually give him the third chance he didn't deserve, he'd never walk away again.
He had three reasons to stay.
The next few days were still horrific. Although John was finally awake the danger was by no means over. For their baby, at very least. On the second night after waking up John woke up bleeding. For the upcoming five hours the doctor was scared to death that he'd end up losing a yet another child. Sherlock was scared to death that he'd end up losing both his mate and their unborn child.
This time modern science showed its ability to create miracles, though. Exactly six hours and eighteen minutes after the chaos began the parents watched and listened with wonder how their child moved on a small screen. At the same time a determined heartbeat echoed in the small room, even more clearly and powerfully than with the machine that'd been used earlier. Strong and unwavering. Definitely the heart of a soldier. With how wide dangerously pale Sherlock's eyes were and how badly the man was shivering John feared that the man might pass out.
John was just about to drift off into sleep, all the stress proving to be too much for his still recovering body. But then he heard something that pulled him firmly back to awareness. Something he couldn't remember hearing ever before.
With a frown he looked to his right, to discover that Sherlock had slumped into the far corner of the room with his face buried in both hands. The detective's whole body was shuddering with desperate attempts to hold back the storm and a overwhelming overload of emotions. The Alpha, who'd once claimed that he didn't have a heart… was sobbing.
John blinked twice, unsure what to feel. How to react. "Sherlock…?"
The detective didn't react, probably didn't even hear him. John made his decision. He shifted, biting back a wince when pain pulsed through him, so that he was able to make some room in the hospital bed. "Come here", he murmured in a soft, gentle tone.
Sherlock didn't need to be told twice. Surreally gently and uncharacteristically slowly the detective climbed into the bed, snuggled as close to him as humanly possible. Neither side of John protested when the man sniffed him, the Alpha most likely wanting to make sure that he was actually there. That the nightmare was over.
Coming to a conclusion that Sherlock needed further prove John took the man's hand and guided it to his stomach. He met his mate's eyes and held them. "See? Our little one is still there, Sherlock. Alive. I'm still alive." He couldn't say that everything was alright because it'd take a long time before things were anywhere near that point. But he needed Sherlock to know that he was really there, that as long as it was up to him he wasn't going anywhere.
Sherlock didn't give any response at first. Then, stunning them both, the detective placed a tiny kiss to his forehead before resting his head against John's shoulder. And there, with his Omega by his side and their unborn child under his hand, the Alpha was able to fall asleep for the first time in several days.
John smiled. If there'd once been doubt in his mind now he knew. Finally succumbing to the overwhelming exhaustion he allowed his eyes to flutter closed. Soon he followed Sherlock to the land of dreams, their breaths and hearts in perfect sync.
When morning came they were both still there, side by side, their hands joined on John's belly.
When John finally woke up he wondered if he was still dreaming. He might've been convinced that he was if it wasn't for the pain surging absolutely everywhere in his body. Despite the physical discomfort a smile appeared to his face.
Sherlock was also awake beside him but the detective wasn't alone. At some point Spencer had climbed into the bed and was now nestled quite comfortably between the two of them. There was contented look on the child's face while he slept, one small hand clutching each parent's shirt. Absolutely adorable, quiet sleeping sounds drifted from the boy.
"I tried to tell him that you're still sore", Sherlock whispered, the man's eyes never leaving their son. Drinking in as though one long glance might've soothed the ache caused by all the lost time. "He wouldn't have any of that. He just told me that he'd be extra careful."
John couldn't keep a smile from his face. Warmth spread all the way through him when he stroked the boy's hair gently and the child leaned closer to the touch, clearly having missed it. "He's your son. What did you expect?"
He couldn't really tell but he was almost sure that Sherlock smiled right there. For a few moments of bliss they just lay in silence, basking in the knowledge that their whole family was together. It felt incredibly good.
John could feel, though, that there was something on Sherlock's mind. And sure enough, soon the detective spoke. "Look, John… I've been thinking."
John chuckled. "Like you'd ever stop thinking."
Sherlock gave him a somewhat childish look, then went on. "As I was saying… You're going to need… help. I mean, when you're discharged from the hospital. Especially with Spencer around. I've discovered that he's… quite a handful."
John twitched, feeling a hint of discomfort. He swallowed although his mouth went dry. "What… are you proposing, then?" Of course he knew but he needed to buy himself a few moments. To figure out how, exactly, he felt about any of this.
Sherlock's hold on his hand was firm yet tender. Almost pleading. "Let me show you that I can be the Alpha you need me to be. For you and our children."
John looked pointedly towards Spencer because he wasn't sure if he would've been able to maintain his resolve if he'd met Sherlock's eyes. "You… You've already left us twice, Sherlock. I don't know…" He trailed off.
"I missed out on everything when you were pregnant with Spencer. And… I almost lost all three of you." Sherlock's voice was thick with genuine emotion. "I don't… I can't lose any of you, ever. I need to be there, now."
John's mouth opened although he had no idea of what to say. And fortunately he didn't have to figure out just yet. For Spencer stirred, then yawned before opening his eyes. The boy's face lit up when the child found him awake. "Daddy!" It took all John had not to whimper from pain when the child moved, squeezed himself close. "You slept too long!"
John sighed, hugging his son the best as he could. "I know, Spence. I'm sorry." In a desperate need of something else to focus on before he'd lose control over himself (Damn meds…!) he allowed his eyes to stray towards the book that lay near Spencer. "Now what's that?"
Spencer smiled, his amazingly familiar eyes shining. The child was clearly very proud of himself. "Pa taught me reading while you were asleep."
John found himself smiling as well. He patted his son's hair, trying to stiffle a yawn. "He did, huh? Why don't you show me how much you've learned, then?"
No further encouragement was needed. Slowly and with a lot of difficulties but full of determination their amazing three-year-old began to read. Feeling calmer, safer and happier than he ever had since before Sherlock's fall John inhaled a deep breath, leaning subconsciously closer to his mate. Sherlock's hold of him tightened, became protective.
They'd come so very close to death, all of them. Yet there they were. On some sort of a borrowed time, battered and torn but together. Still fighting.
Perhaps there was still hope, after all.
TBC
A/N: Awww, they're both trying so hard. We'll see just what happens next. Will John let Sherlock back into the flat once more? And how will the pregnancy develop?
PLEASE, leave a note to let me know your thoughts! (gives puppy's eyes)
IN THE NEXT ONE: The whole family is still struggling to get used to being together. The expecting parents soon discover that their time for adjustment may grow short, after all, when new complications arise. Next one up, 'The Angels Among Us'.
ONLY FOUR MORE TO GO! (sobs)
Until next time, folks! I really hope that you'll all stop by then.
Take care!
Guest: Oh, how happy I am to hear that you've been so pleased with the story thus far! (beams) I really hope that the next one(s) won't disappoint, either.
Hmm… We'll see if you're right. You've got a solid deduction there, though. (grins)
Huge thank yous for the review!
