"He looks just like John, Dad." Hamish said, passing their newborn across to Sherlock. "He has Dad's eyes."
Sherlock smiled from his hospital bed. His eyesight was failing now: the growth of the tumour meaning that he had little vision left. That, coupled with his poor balance and mobility problems, meant that he was mostly bedridden now with 24 hour care.
Hamish and Abby had brought little baby Toby to see him at just 4 days old. He was a little bundle of John with baby blue eyes that had just a hint of Watson, and John's blond hair.
He passed little Toby back to Hamish and a tear welled up in Sherlock's tired eyes, mirrored by a tear of sympathy in John's.
John took Sherlock's hand and gave it a loving squeeze.
"I'm here, my love." he said, nestling his cheek against his husband's.
Sherlock nodded. He knew he didn't have long left, but now he had lived to see the Watson-Holmes family line continue, he was content.
He'd lived a good life. Life with John and life with Hamish.
Never in his wildest dreams could he have ever imagined his life turning out so happy and fulfilled.
He had everything he could wish for and now it was time. Time to move on.
Sherlock Holmes had been truly blessed.
