Sherlock readjusts the giant bow on the shoe sized box. He chose against wrapping, for the box itself has a beautiful floral print, but the bow was necessary.

He stares at the box, regretting it completely. He tracked this down for months, but now he regrets it. It's just going to be silly, the sentiment is only held with himself, nobody will understand it. Sherlock decides he's not going to take it to the party.

His husband wanders into the room with a cheery smile. "Hey love, what's that?"

"My gift."

John does a double-take. "I didn't know you got a gift, I thought we were going to get the—"

"I found this and thought it'd be nice."

"What is it?" John asks, curious.

"Nothing, it's silly. I'm not even going to take it."

"Aww, you have to," John says. "If you put any thought into it, it'll be nice."

"I didn't put any thought into it," Sherlock lies. "I saw it and picked it up."

"Well, take it."

Sherlock just nods. He hasn't stopped thinking about this day for months, he has so many questions that he wants answered about this entire thing. This whole big change in his life that he thought, when others talked about it, would be miniscule for him, but it's actually huge.

He can't stop wondering if he raised his son well enough to do this.

"What do you think she'll call us?" Sherlock asks.

John shrugs. "I don't know. What did you call yours?"

"Grandfather."

John chuckles.

Sherlock looks at him. "What?"

"Nothing, just…so proper."

"What'd you call yours?"

"One was Pop and one was Sir. My mum's dad was fun, eccentric, so we all called him Pop because it was just like his personality. My dad's dad was a military man. We were just…y'know, us grandkids were just another regiment."

Sherlock nods in understanding. "What do you want to be called?"

John shrugs again. "I don't know. I think I'll just wait until she can decide."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if she starts talking and starts calling me 'John', then I will be happy."

Sherlock nods again.

John stands behind him and rests a hand on his shoulder. "You ready to go?"

Sherlock stands, grabbing his box as he goes.


The party is fantastic. Ian's wife Leslie's parents are in attendance, of course, and they just love John and Sherlock. Sherlock talks to her father for almost an hour before they're interrupted.

The gifts are opened and everyone "Oooooh's" and "Awwww's" at all the tiny baby girl clothes and toys. Ian and Leslie didn't want everything pink, so there are many purples, greens, and yellows. Sherlock remembers everything Ian had was red, always red. Ian is wearing a red shirt now.

Sherlock watches his son pick up the baby items and wonders if Ian can use all of those things. Can he prepare a bottle? Can he swaddle the baby safely? Can he change her? Bathe her? Dress her? What happens when she starts school and Leslie has to leave for work early? Will he be able to do her hair? Will he be able to match her clothes? Will he know when she needs shoes? And Sherlock doesn't even want to think about what happens when she hits puberty. John explained it all medically; maybe he'll have to do the same for his granddaughter.

Sherlock's stomach turns unexpectedly. Granddaughter. There's going to be a tiny person in his life who calls him Grandfather, or Grandpa, or Papa, or Pop.

John elbows Sherlock, and Sherlock snaps out of his thoughts.

"Where's your gift?" he whispers.

Sherlock frowns. "I left it with my coat."

"Love, give it to him."

Sherlock doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to give the gift to Ian. It was dumb to buy anyway.


After gifts, the guests start to leave. Since the party is at Ian's house, John and Sherlock start to clean up. Less than half an hour later, everyone is gone except John and Sherlock, and Sherlock catches Ian slip out the door to step out onto the balcony. Sherlock follows.

Ian jumps when he hears the door swing open. "Oh, Dad, you scared me."

"Sorry," Sherlock says. "Just wanted to check if you're alright."

"Yeah," Ian says. "Yeah, just…"

"Nervous?"

Ian slowly nods.

"Me too."

"Were you this nervous when I was born?"

Sherlock chuckles. "I was a mess. But now…"

Ian looks at him. "What?"

"I'm incredibly nervous for you, son."

Ian laughs. "You don't think I can raise my daughter?"

Sherlock wraps an arm around Ian's shoulders. "Of course you can raise her. I really can't believe you're expecting a baby, though."

"I know," Ian says. "I agree. But I'm twenty-seven. I'm financially stable—"

"Thanks to your inheritance."

Ian elbows Sherlock in the ribs. "I can do pretty well on my own. All I've bought with my inheritance has been this house."

Sherlock turns around on the balcony and peers up at the house. "It is gorgeous."

"Yeah," Ian agrees. "I love it. Leslie loves it. It's in a great location, there's a great school down the street."

"And that's what you have to worry about now," Sherlock tells his son.

Ian takes a deep breath.

Sherlock watches him, seeing the little boy he raised. He wonders where the time's gone, because now he's standing with his baby boy who is a grown man with a baby on the way.

"I'll be right back," Sherlock suddenly announces.

Sherlock goes through the house to the coat closet, where he gets his gift and returns back to Ian.

"What's that, Dad?"

"It's a gift I…found. Thought you'd like it. For the baby."

Ian takes the box and opens it, saving the bow.

When he pulls the lid off, his face transforms from concentrated to surprised. Ian looks like he's about to cry.

"Dad…" Ian reaches into the box, picking up the soft stuffed shark. "Where did you find this?"

"I just…saw it in a store and thought—"

"I know when you're lying."

"Internet."

Ian smiles widely. "I can't believe this. It's just like the one you bought me at the zoo." Ian glances at his dad. "You remember, when you lost my spider at the park?"

"I did not lose it!"

Ian laughs. "This is amazing Dad, thank you. I love it. She'll love it."

"I hope so."

Ian looks at Sherlock. "And she'll love you too, don't worry."

"How did you—"

"You have that look."

Sherlock softens his face.

Ian reaches over and takes Sherlock in a tight hug. "Thank you, Dad."

Sherlock kisses his head. "I love you, Ian."

"I love you, too."

They hug for a minute longer, then Ian pulls away. "Hey, want to see what we've done with the nursery?"

Sherlock agrees, so Ian leads him into the house.


John and Sherlock ride home in silence. After a few minutes, John reaches over and grabs Sherlock's hand.

"You okay?" John asks.

Sherlock nods. "I'm fine. How about you?"

John sighs loudly. "I'm full of cake and joy. That was a great party."

"It was," Sherlock agrees.

"Ian loved the gift."

"Mmm."

"Why didn't you tell me what it was? That you even found it?"

"I thought it was silly."

"It's not silly, love, it's wonderful. He loved it."

"I'm glad."

John lifts Sherlock's hand and kisses it. "Papa Sherlock."

Sherlock cracks a smile, the name warming his heart. He knows at that moment that he's ready for this, and his son is even more prepared than he is.