Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.
Hi, everyone. Hope you're all doing well … excuse the lack of enthusiasm but it's been a rough couple of days. Here's a bit of a filler chapter before things can start happening again …
The next few days passed in a blur for Sherlock, John, and especially Molly. The new mother was physically exhausted and sore, not to mention emotionally and mentally overwhelmed. There was only one thing keeping her going at this point and that was the precious moments she got to spend with her daughter.
After Sherlock and Molly had made the decision to proceed with surgical intervention, Dr. Churchill had visited them for a long meeting in which options and timelines were discussed. Over a course of the next four weeks, Celia would undergo procedures to attempt to fix her heart, her intestines, bowels and urinary tract, and esophagus. She was given a special boot to wear to help with the club foot.
As soon as decisions had been made, Sherlock sprang into action. What the NHS didn't cover, he arranged to be paid for out of the Holmes' purse. Additionally, he arranged for alternative living quarters. Rather than have Celia in Molly's flat, or even at 221B, Sherlock took a house that was for rent up in Harrow (along the Metropolitan line, which made for quick access to UCH and Baker Street). It was a spacious home with four bedrooms – one for each adult plus a nursery – and was cozy but practical.
"Why?" Molly had asked when Sherlock told her what he'd done.
"Celia does not have a conventional family," Sherlock said simply. "But that doesn't mean we can't give her everything a little girl with a conventional family will have. She'll have all three of her parents at her beck and call."
Molly smiled, her eyes filling with tears. She could not believe the transformation that had occurred in the father of her child.
"I've arranged for the nursery equipment you bought to be moved, but I left your personal belongings for you to sort through. John can take you by when you're released from hospital."
Molly nodded, wiping her eyes.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I don't know what else to say."
"You don't have to say anything. She's my daughter; she's going to get the best."
Molly was given a clean bill of (physical) health the next day and she and John gathered suitcases of Molly's things and took them to the new house. Molly couldn't believe how far Sherlock's commitment had actually gone. The nursery was painted a light pink, the white crib outfitted with pale pink sheets. White letters spelling out CELIA hung on the wall above, suspended with dark pink ribbon. Molly was standing in the doorway and turned to look at John, who smiled and shook his head.
"It was all him."
Sherlock very quickly became a permanent fixture at Celia's side. He was surprised by the strength of the bond he felt to this little human but he couldn't tear himself away. The detective held her as often as he was allowed, though most of the time he just watched her. Sometimes he talked to her.
John was gowning up one day and caught sight of Sherlock reading a thick book aloud. As he came closer – unnoticed at first – he caught a phrase.
"In 1605, Guy Fawkes - "
"What are you reading?"
Sherlock jumped but looked up at John before glancing back at the sleeping baby. He closed the book, straightening.
"Nothing important."
"Sherlock." John pressed, a smile evident in his tone.
"A Complete History of England," Sherlock mumbled, reaching into the incubator to stroke Celia's hand.
"Why?" John asked. "She doesn't understand a word you're saying."
"Obviously," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "She's fifteen days old, of course she doesn't."
"So why are you reading it to her?"
"Several reasons," Sherlock said, not taking his eyes away from Celia's face. "There is a chance that my daughter is a genius. She could have superior intellectual capabilities and if that is the case, telling England's history to her now will only help."
John bit his lip to keep from smiling.
"Any other reason?"
"She likes the sound of my voice," Sherlock said shortly. "It puts her to sleep."
John laughed out loud at this and Sherlock looked up at him, an indignant expression on his face.
"Sorry," John said, still smiling. "I think it's adorable you're reading to her."
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"You and all your adorable moments, John. Really, this is good for her. She'll be brilliant."
John sighed and changed the subject.
"When was the last time you slept?"
"Hmm?"
"When was the last time you were in bed, your head on a pillow?"
"I don't know." Sherlock said with a shrug. "Doesn't matter."
John raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, it does. You need to get some sleep, Sherlock. You look beat."
"It can wait."
"No, it can't."
John tried to pull Sherlock up, causing the book to fall to floor. Celia flinched and a frail cry left her lips, a protest at being woken up. Sherlock glared at John.
"Now look at what you did!"
"Sherlock," John exclaimed, taken aback. Celia was already quiet again, her eyes closed, but Sherlock was now standing, towering over John.
"Sherlock, calm down. She's fine, look. She's already asleep again."
Sherlock huffed.
"You're exhausted, Sherlock. You need to sleep – if you get ill, you won't be able to see her. You know that."
Sherlock didn't move.
"A few hours apart won't hurt you."
Sherlock sighed, turning to look at John.
"You'll keep reading to her?"
John smiled.
"Sure," he said. "Just go home, have something to eat, take a bath, and get some sleep."
John physically had to push Sherlock away from the incubator and after taking the book, sat down in the rocking chair. He watched Sherlock leave and then put the book down, looking into the incubator with deep concentration.
He hated to think they were all living in denial but John knew they were. Sherlock was going on and on about how brilliant Celia would grow up to be – he was telling her the complete history of England! The nursery and the house … John couldn't bear the thought of not needing it one day. Out of all of them, he was the most removed from this situation. He wasn't biologically related to Celia and he was a doctor. He knew the odds better than Molly and Sherlock even given their expertise and research. John felt like he had to be the realistic one here because he knew it would be his job to pull Molly and Sherlock through the dark days when they came.
He sighed again, reaching his fingers into the incubator to stroke Celia's cheek.
"Precocious girl," he murmured. "You are so loved."
Celia nuzzled into the human touch and John smiled.
"And you're cute as a button to boot," he added, opening the book.
It was a very long couple of weeks. The four weeks had turned into seven but Dr. Churchill called John, Molly, and Sherlock together one afternoon and had a smile on her face.
"Celia has done remarkably well," she said across her desk. "Her surgeries have fixed the major health concerns we had, though as she grows, there will be other problems that need to be addressed. However, I think it's time that Celia goes home."
Molly's tired eyes widened with excitement.
"Really?"
Dr. Churchill nodded.
"Her heart is strong enough for her to breathe on her own and her stomach and kidneys are functioning at an acceptable level. I'm confident that the care she needs now can be provided at home."
Molly turned to a side to hug someone – it was John's side and he was more than happy to oblige. He caught sight of a smile on Sherlock's face over Molly's shoulder.
"When can we take her home?"
"I have to discuss her care with you but once the nurses approve her car seat, as soon as you would like." Dr. Churchill said with a smile.
For the next hour, the doctor provided instructions on how to care for Celia and what to do if problems arose. However, when the meeting was done, it was a surreal feeling. Molly gently put the little girl into her coat, fixed her hat on her head, and then fastened her into the car seat. The nurse checked the buckles, approved it, and said they were free to go.
Sherlock carried the car seat outside to a taxi and the three of them, like new parents, spent five minutes trying to secure the car seat properly before driving off towards home.
Like I said, filler, but even fillers must be done. Thank you, as always, for your support!