Chapter Twenty-Five: Thirty Days Old
The moment Sherlock woke up he was instantly aware that he was alone, not only was John missing from beside him but Maeve was no longer in the room either. It was early, John should still be passed out, completely wiped out from his 'night out' with his army friends or severely hungover, at least. He pushed the covers back and swung his legs round, feet touching the cold floor with a gentle pat. He ached, his body and the wound on his torso sore but not hurting, he pushed the sensation aside; he'd had worse.
He found John in the living room, sat on his armchair with a cup of tea, half finished, on the table beside him and Maeve on his lap. The consulting detectives daughter was perched on his lap, sat up with her back against his chest in a sitting position, her neck craned backwards to look up at John. His hand on her chest to keep her upright and a soft toy dolphin in the other to entertain her.
"You could have woke me" Sherlock announced his presence from the doorway.
John twisted his neck, the smile on his face transforming into a grin at the sight of his partner fresh from bed. Sherlock's hair was wild, mussed and one cheek rosy from being slept on. He didn't look annoyed, only mildly amused and surprised. John cleared his throat and turned his attention back towards Maeve, "I was already awake."
"You didn't come home inebriated," he observed.
John shrugged, "I had a few pints."
"Two" Sherlock corrected, walking into the room and taking the seat opposite his partner.
"I just didn't feel like drinking" John dismissed, dropping the toy onto his lap and taking Maeve's hands into his own. He moved them around in fast but not too strenuous circles mimicking dance moves.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the shorter blonde, eyes flicking over him critically, "you didn't want to drink too much on my account."
"Hang on…" John started to protest.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and clarified, "Maeve's behalf, you didn't want to risk waking her or me, instead you sacrificed your own fun for our sakes."
"I had fun" John told him honestly, "I just had fun without drinking too much, alcohol does not a good time make."
Sherlock shrugged and placed his hands on the arms of the chair, pushing his body up until he was crouching on the leather. John watched intently, reminded of the second time he visited Baker Street after the consulting detective had found the pink suitcase. He remained perched like a bird of prey, small pupils watching his daughter and the blonde attentively. John blinked then caught on to what he wanted and stood up, supporting Maeve with one hand across her chest and the other on her bum; he handed her over to the consulting detective who reached for her eagerly. Sherlock replaced John's hands with his own cautiously, then brought the small wiggling baby close to his chest. She smiled against his collar bone as he stood up in the chair and stepped down elegantly, long legs keeping the movement smooth and leaving Maeve undisturbed.
"Fed, changed" Sherlock deduced, tilting his head down and sniffing at the top of his daughter's head. "Not bathed but she was washed yesterday, due in the evening and has not yet spit up, burped and ready to sleep within the next hour and a half."
"Brilliant" John muttered more to himself than anyone else.
"Lestrade texted, he wants to make sure he has all the details on the Fowler case" Sherlock informed John keeping his tone light and eyes on Maeve.
"Are you sure that's…" John attempted to broach the subject, standing behind his armchair and his hands resting on the top of it, blue eyes looking to Sherlock with caution and worry. Sherlock raised an eyebrow expectantly and he finished "wise?"
"The case needs to be closed."
"You do remember that she stabbed you a little over a week ago?" He asked.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, offended by the accusation and reminded him. "I am a genius John, I'm hardly likely to forget the moment I was stabbed."
"I know" John made clear, "It's just, is it sensible?"
Sherlock scoffed loudly and sat down in his armchair, keeping Maeve close to him as he moved. He didn't answer John, instead he focused on Maeve and talked to her. "Did John get up with you this morning?"
"Papa John was already awake" He retold him as he walked into the kitchen with a sigh.
Sherlock looked up at John's retreating form in surprise. The doctor seemed unaware of the slip but Sherlock had caught it, of course he had, Papa John, interesting. John had specifically referred to himself as that, it wasn't something that they'd talked about…Sherlock needed more information.
It was disconcerting. Sherlock had become accustomed to the stares as he strode through New Scotland Yard, the hard glares and muttered words as he ignored them, face harsh and coat billowing out dramatically behind him. Something he was not accustomed to the small smile of pity and flashes of concern then replaced by relief. The wide eyes of Yarders followed him as he strode through the building at a slightly slower pace, Maeve snuggled tightly against his chest between his shirt and open blazer, her quiet snores only audible to his ears as he moved with John close behind. The army doctor carrying the slack with the baby bag hooked over his shoulder and buggy, fixed with the car seat instead of the pram setting.
Lestrade met them at the corner with a small smile and lead them towards his office. "Good to see you."
"Is it?" Sherlock asked, Lestrade hated paperwork especially where he and John were concerned.
John snorted and Greg turned his head as they walked, offended by the question. "Believe it or not, we are friends and I like you, I do not like the extra paperwork you put me through."
"Likewise, Graham." Sherlock responded somewhat robotically, totally out of his depth.
"It's Greg." John corrected chuckling.
"Is it?" Sherlock asked, once again, bros furrowing.
"Yes" Greg was not offended, just tired and sighed loudly as they walked into the homicide department.
Sally was waiting by the door to Lestrade's office with Anderson, not talking, just waiting and her eyes softened at the sight of him. Sherlock recognised the flashes of concern and relief, similar to the rest of the Yarders. "Coffee?"
"Water for him" John said quickly before Sherlock could respond.
Sherlock spun around to face him, continuing to move backwards with grace and raised an eyebrow. John sighed and explained, like he was an idiot, he looked far too dramatic for a man holding a baby tight to him. There was no way that a man carrying a baby should look that intimidating. "You are still recovering and caffeine will keep you awake."
"I need to be awake for this." Sherlock said simply, pouting as he turned back to face Sally and stepped into the office after Lestrade.
John followed, "but you need to rest."
"You're worse than my parents" Sherlock glowered, sitting down on the sofa as opposed to one of the two chairs opposite Lestrade's at the desk.
"I'm concerned, just like your parents." The blonde corrected, setting the buggy up beside the sofa and taking a seat in one of the chairs opposite Lestrade, he thanked Sally when she placed two glasses of water on the desk.
Sherlock grumbled to himself, he adverted his eyes to Maeve and kept them there.
"Ignore him, he's grumpy" John informed them all, crossing one leg over the other and placing his hands atop of his knees.
"I am not grumpy" Sherlock exclaimed, eyes flicking up to the blonde with harshness.
"You ok?" Lestrade asked, wanting to change the subject and check on his friend simultaneously.
Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Fine, let's get on with this then." Greg said quickly, Sherlock obviously was not in the mood for talking, though that wasn't uncommon it was better to get this over with as quickly as possible.
"And you're sure that's everything?" Greg asked, placing the written statement on the desk and fixing Sherlock with a stern look.
Sherlock mocked offense, nose scrunching up and choosing to instead look over at John, Maeve was still asleep but now in his shorter arms, hands resting by her face in small fists. He took a breath and answered calmly, it would be far easier to escape if he was courteous. "I heard a noise and went to investigate, I was hit over the head and knocked unconscious for approximately five minutes, when I regained consciousness I was aware of two things: that Maeve was still sleeping soundly and that they were both in my flat, I bided my time and tried to turn them against each other. Maeve woke and Louise then thought that hurting her was the best way to me" the room was completely silent, only his deep voice filling the quiet as they watched him intently. Greg watching him with deep brown eyes across the desk, John focusing on Maeve but his blue eyes flicking to his partner ever so often and Sally in the corner, particularly affected by the story. She already knew but hearing it from him in this way was hard. "Howard was not particularly pleased with the plan and she used his hesitation to stab him, when she focused again on Maeve I used her turning her back to me as my advantage to tackle her to the ground. The landing was not eloquent and she stabbed me."
There was a moment of silence.
Then John broke the silence, his voice tight but cheery. "And that's when papa John and Uncle Greg arrived."
Sherlock's head snapped to him. John was addressing Maeve directly, her blue eyes opening slowly, long dark eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. She yawned loudly.
He said it again Sherlock thought to himself as he watched the blonde with his daughter, interesting.
Greg had also registered the slip, his eyes widening in shock and mouth parting questioningly. His eyes flicked to Sherlock who merely shrugged his shoulders slightly in response to the silent question and focused more intently on his daughter.
Maeve whined loudly.
"You want your Daddy?" John asked. He was getting to know the infant rather well and was well aware that she preferred the company of her father the moment she woke, and though she tolerated him, when she knew he was in the room she preferred him. She knew exactly what she wanted, he supposed that she got that from Sherlock.
"Incorrigible" Sherlock muttered beneath his breath, to a stranger it would seem like annoyed statement but those better acquainted with him were able to see beneath, the corner of his mouth tugging up in amusement and fondness seeping into his baritone.
"Just like her father" John returned, raising an eyebrow at the dark haired man and lifting Maeve up, away from his body, supported in both of his strong hands.
Sherlock reached out, accepting her small body and brought her close to him. He held her in his large palm, her side pressing against his torso and looked down at her, affectionately.
"I guess we're done then" Greg told them, placing the lid on his pen.
"Finally" Sherlock declared, standing up in one fluid movement while keeping Maeve close to his body, he lifted her up higher so that she was closer to his face and nipped her fingers tenderly as she raised them to her lips. She smiled at him. Sherlock smiled back despite himself.
They found themselves at Angelo's for dinner, on their usual table that Angelo insisted on reserving with Maeve replacing the chairs so that she was looking at Sherlock from inside her pram, they had changed it back to a pram as opposed to the car seat setting on the deep purple buggy. Maeve was awake but keeping herself entertained with the arch above her pram, toys and a mirror hanging above her. They had already ordered, water with ice and a glass of red wine in front of them both.
"You called yourself 'Papa' earlier" Sherlock said, not one to beat around the bush.
John choked on his drink and coughed loudly, drawing the attention of the other guests. He placed his hand over his mouth, taking deep breaths and managed to stop coughing. He focused on Sherlock and wheezed. "What?"
"You called yourself 'Papa', twice." Sherlock sighed, hating to repeat himself.
"I…" John started, stopping himself as Angelo approached with their meals.
He placed them on the table, with a wink to them and coo to baby Maeve disappeared.
They started eating, Sherlock spinning his spaghetti carbonara around his fork and plopping it delicately into his mouth. John stabbed a piece of penne and ventured, "Do you mind?"
"No" The consulting detective answered quickly around his mouthful of pasta.
"No?" John repeated.
"No."
"I was being presumptuous" The blonde declared, forking a piece of chicken along with his pasta and putting it into his mouth, he chewed delicately as Sherlock watched him intently.
"I thought you were unaware of the slip." Sherlock informed him, stabbing a piece of bacon.
"I guess I was" John agreed.
"But it felt right" Sherlock deuced, narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Yes." John sounded hesitant.
They ate in silence for a few moment, Sherlock picked up his glass and took a sip of his wine, as he placed the glass back on the table he said simply, "You can continue."
"I can."
"Don't be dense John" Sherlock effectively broke the moment, "you are an important figure in Maeve's life and can continue to refer to yourself as one, and…you are very dear to me."
"Yes" John smiled smugly, he knew that Sherlock was out of his depth when it came to emotions and was trying.
"I want…if you want" Sherlock struggled with his words "if you wish to continue referring to yourself as Maeve's 'papa' then I would not be adverse…"
"It's just, she's your daughter…I don't want to step on your toes." John admitted.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "you're hardly stepping on toes John, you are a welcome part of both of our lives and we will continue to treat you as such, I want you to be part of her life, John."
John nodded quickly. "Thank you."
"No, thank you John."
Maeve gurgled and Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. John chuckled, "she does like to be the centre of attention."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, leaning over the pram and whispered to her. "You have to have all the attention."
"All of Daddy's attention" John corrected.
"Yes, my little Maeve must have Daddy's attention all the time" he smiled, mocking annoyance at her.
"I'm afraid that I must cancel my visit" Mycroft informed him.
Sherlock shifted Maeve slightly so that she was resting comfortably against him, head tucked into his collarbone as she started to drift back into sleep. He held the phone with his free hand. "Unavoidable?"
"Completely," Mycroft agreed, sounding tense. "I'm on my way to the airport."
"Reschedule?" Sherlock asked, hopefully. He hated to admit it but his brother's help was appreciated and he wanted her to be part of her life.
"The moment I return I will visit" Mycroft promised.
"Till then" Sherlock said in farewell.