His world stopped when he saw who it was. The recent gunfire left his mind until his only though was god, no. In the space of a few seconds the nameless hostage Sherlock was helping suddenly became someone he was terrified to loose.
The first time he and Vera met she was living under the name Irene Adler. Sherlock always thought that the name Irene Adler was a bit ironic, given the fact that Irene meant peace in Greek, and Adler meant Eagle in German. It was only years later after he got out of the last terror cell in Serbia that she told him her name was in fact Vera Argent.
Six months ago was the last time Sherlock had heard from her. He visited her in her flat in Paris for a weekend, as he did as often as possible without drawing too much attention, and she told him she was pregnant with his child. The surprise was huge. They had a conversation about what she was going to do, and he surprised her by saying that if she wanted to keep the pregnancy but not the child, then he would happily look after the baby. She told him she would think about it, and when he went back a week later she had seemingly vanished.
Sherlock even went to Mycroft for help, and despite all of his resources the British government couldn't find a trace of her existence or her whereabouts. Sherlock however kept looking because not knowing was almost worse for him than her being dead.
Now though, Sherlock is faced with an image he hoped he would never have to see. The room was dark, lit only by the dull glow of the moon coming in through the large window covering half of the wall to his right. In the furthest corner of the room slumped against the wall was Vera, the woman Sherlock thought he would never see again. She was wearing a cotton shirt and a long skirt which were so not her style that made Sherlock think she was wearing a disguise when she was kidnapped.
What were really worrying though were the crimson stains contrasting horribly with her plain clothes. He rushed over and knelt next to her. The sight of her rounded stomach came as a surprise to him, he thought she would've aborted the baby.
With his heart pounding in his ears, he said, "Vera! It's Sherlock, can you hear me?"
"Sherlock?" The woman asked weakly. Her eyes opened.
"Are you alright? Is the baby alright? Where is all the blood coming from?"
"I'm in labour. Have been for ages now. The baby's a month early, Sherlock."
A million thoughts went through his head. With God's blessing he would be a father soon. A father. The only alive and conscious people in the building right now were himself, Vera and John. John was a doctor, he could help her.
"John! Get in here now, I need you!" Sherlock yelled at the top of his lungs.
The urgency in his voice made John come running up to them just as Vera started having a contraction.
"Oh my God, is that Ire-"
"Yes John, now help her she's in labour!"
John tried to mask his shock with little luck. With a stiff nod John started asking lots of questions to the woman who was in obvious pain.
"Sherlock!" Vera was trying her best not to scream. She grabbed his hands and clenched her teeth as tears ran down her face.
"You are very far along now, Miss. Adler. You need to push as hard as you can, okay?" John instructed.
"Okay. I'll try." Vera said, ignoring the use of her old name. Sherlock moved to sit behind her with his legs on either side of her.
For the next six minutes Vera kept on pushing, and every second she got weaker and weaker. Eventually they heard the sirens of the police from outside. The sounds of footsteps running up the stairs made Sherlock turn towards the doorway. Lestrade came in to view and his eyes went wide when he saw Vera, who was now a deathly shade of pale.
"Greg call an ambulance. Tell them that we have a very weak female aged 36 in labour, and a newborn premature baby. They both need urgent help. The mother's blood type is O negative, and-" John paused and turned to Vera, who was panting very heavily. "I'm sorry, do you know the father's blood type?"
"Sherlock? That question's for you." The woman wheezed out.
"I'm also O neg, I can donate if she needs any, same with the child." Sherlock responded.
The doctor stared at Sherlock in astonishment. Sherlock was just about the last person he would ever expect to have a baby. He soon got over himself though, and turned back to the screaming mother.
"The baby's head is crowning now, you need to push really hard. I know you're weak, and your tired, but you have to try. I know how strong you are, now push!" John yelled towards the end.
Within the next few minutes the baby was nearly here. But by the time John shouted "It's a girl!" Vera was unfortunately teetering on the fence that divides our world from the next.
A moment later and a much higher pitched scream filled the air. Sherlock saw the tiny creature in John's hands and felt a knot loosen in his chest.
The baby was tiny, but her screams were louder than her mother's. Her delicate body was covered in blood and some slimy goo. She already had about an inch of dark hair, and like all babies had blue eyes. Sherlock took off his scarf and passed it over to John to use to get rid of some of the blood. John took it and quickly began to dry her off, and then passed the baby carefully over to Vera, with Sherlock helping her hold their daughter. The doctor then took off hiss jumper and handed it to Sherlock to wrap around the baby.
"Make sure she stays warm. I'm going to go and see if there is an ETA on that Ambulance." the doctor left.
"You'll look after her for me, won't you? You have to promise me that, Sherlock. Promise me." Vera said.
"Of course I will. I will look after no matter what. You have my word." Sherlock vowed.
"Make sure she has your surname, I have enemies who might want to hurt her." the mother gazed at her daughter in wonder. The child's cries had quietened now, and was now staring back at her mother for the first time.
"Yes, whatever you want, I will do. You can stay with us, you know. I'll make sure you are safe." Sherlock offered.
"That's not going to happen Sherlock. I'm afraid I neglected to tell you something." Vera made sure the baby was cradled securely against her chest, and then lifted up her clothes to reveal a gaping wound just under her ribs. It looked to be a stab wound, and it went in quite deep. At the sight of it, Sherlock let out a heartbreaking cry for John to come back. He pushed a hand against it to try to stop her bleeding out, and felt the blood push back weakly at his fingers.
"Don't worry, my love. I'm not in pain. That will be the adrenaline. I know I'm not going to make it, so you just have to stay with me until the end. It's probably very soon now, so let's make the most out of it. Do you remember that carol you taught me, last year, the Norwegian one? Let's sing it to her, yeah?"
Sherlock could see that even with surgery, Vera wouldn't survive. She was weak from giving birth and had lost a lot of blood. So, he granted her her last wishes, and they started to sing. They sang in soft, gentle tones to the baby nuzzled against her mother. They sang together until Vera's voice died out, and she took her last breath against Sherlock's chest. His voice hitched when he felt the blood stop pushing against his hand on the wound, but he continued to sing.
He stood up after a few minutes and laid Vera's body on the floor gently, and took his daughter out of her mother's embrace and into his own. Sherlock carried her outside to where all of Scotland Yard stood waiting, and at last he saw the ambulance, too little too late, in the distance. Tears ran out of Sherlock's eyes steadily, and the same could be said of many of the other people at the crime scene.
The sight of the man singing softly towards the baby wrapped in a jumper and cradled at his chest was heart warming and tragic at the same time. Sherlock continued singing the only carol his mother had ever sang to him, a Norwegian translation of silent night.
Glade Jul, Hellige jul.
Engler daler ned i skjul.
Hit de flyver med paradis grønt.
Hvor de ser hva for gud er skjønt.
Lønnlig i blant oss i går.
Lønnlig i blant oss i går
Julefryd, evige fryd.
Hellig sang med himmelsk lyd.
Det er engler som hyrdene så,
Den gang Herren i krybben lå,
Evig en englenes sang,
Evig er englenes sang.
Fred på jord, fryd på jord.
Jesus barnet blant oss bor.
Engler synger som barnet så smukt.
Han har himmeriks dør opplukt.
Salig er englenes sang.
Salig er englenes sang.
Salig fred, himmelsk fred.
Toner julenatt her ned.
Engler bringer til store og små.
Bud om ham som i krybben lå.
Fryd deg hver sjel han har frelst.
Fryd deg hver sjel han har frelst.
The soft, deep sounds resonated in his chest, and quieted all the worries in his daughter's young mind.