Needed
Sherlock smiled slightly as he realised Joan was awake. The hospital bed, the machinery in the room made her look much younger and frailer than he had ever seen her. Joan smiled back slightly as he reached the side of her bed, taking her hand in his.
"The Captain is outside. I think he may want to see you."
"Marcus?"
"No, Thomas Gregson." Sherlock watched as her eyes widened slightly. "Kitty called him. She is at home, with the boys."
"Arthur."
"Is absolutely fine. He enjoyed his afternoon in the park with Archie. I dare say they are becoming quite the double act." He smiled slightly as he thought of the two young boys. He dreaded to think what mayhem they could be causing for Kitty back at the Brownstone. He remembered the antics he and his brother had caused as young boys. Joan raised an eyebrow. "Honestly, they are fine."
"Good." She rested her head back against the pillow as Sherlock closed his eyes. Sherlock watched her face for a moment.
"Why did you not tell me how unwell you were feeling?"
Her eyes opened slightly as he watched her. She frowned, as if trying to order her words before she answered him. The sound of the monitor she was attached to was the only noise in the room. Sherlock remained silent, his mind whirring through a million different scenarios, each one worse than the last. He knew Joan would never lie to him, but she had withheld the truth from him in the recent past. It was a feeling he didn't like. He was totally and brutally honest with everyone around him, at all times. Deception, unless absolutely necessary seemed a folly to him. He didn't understand nor condone it but he knew Joan had a different outlook to him on many issues. Maybe this was one of those times. He looked at their own hands as Joan tightened her grip on him.
"I didn't feel that unwell when you went out with Kitty and the boys. Plus, it's not good for the children to be stuck indoors all day."
"We found you laying, barely awake at the bottom of the stairs." He held her gaze. "I thought you were dead. I know by the look on his face our son felt the same."
"I wanted to get some water. I didn't feel dizzy or lightheaded at all." Tears filled her eyes as she spoke. "I would have stayed in bed if I had. Honestly, Sherlock I didn't think I would faint. I didn't feel as if I had a pyrexia. I."
"Hey." He reached up, brushing a stray hair away from her face. "I wasn't chastising you. That was not what I meant. I was just." He paused. "Arthur referred to me as something other than my name. When we were waiting for the ambulance."
Her face lit up a little, as if she knew what he was going to say. "And?"
"It was most unexpected."
"What did he call you?" She suddenly felt tired, the IV drip in her arm restricting her movement slightly she reached over, sandwiching his hand in her smaller ones. "What did Arthur say?"
"He called me Daddy." He winced, almost expected Joan to be angry or at least as disconcerted as he had been. Instead she looked almost nervous.
"And? Is that ok? I mean."
"Well, it's what I am. I mean, I am his father."
"I know."
"Does he?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"When you were at the Precinct last Monday. He asked me a few questions. I told him the truth. He said he was ok with you being his Dad, but he didn't know if you were. I told him anyone would be proud to have him as a son. That you love him as much as I do."
"Well, that is true."
"So? What do you think?"
Sherlock smiled happily. "I like it. I really do. But we need you to get well. WE need you to get well." He almost whispered before kissing her lightly on the lips.
xxxxxxxxxx
Six months later
"DAAAAAAD!" Arthur ran into the living room, throwing his school backpack on the sofa before throwing himself down next to it. Sherlock looked up, momentarily shocked to see the little boy arrive in the living room.
"Why aren't you in school?"
"DAD!" The little boy laughed. "School finished for the day."
"Oh." Sherlock looked up at the clock over the mantle. "So it is." He closed the laptop he was working on, not wanting the inquisistive child to see what he had been working on.
"Can we go see the bees? Please?"
"After you've eaten." Sherlock got to his feet as Kitty appeared in the living room with a rather tired Archie. "I am guessing none of you have eaten since lunch."
Kitty shook her head, heading straight to the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks as she realised Joan was stood with her back to her. Even after months of chemotherapy and then radiotherapy it made her stop in her tracks to see her friend fade from slim to almost skeletal. Kitty knew Sherlock felt the same pang of worry when he saw how much weight his partner had lost. Joan ended the call before turning to see her family arrive in the kitchen. She hugged Arthur as Archie began telling them all about the school day.
"How was your phone call?" Sherlock asked as Joan slipped her cell phone into her jean pocket.
"Good." She smiled weakly. Sherlock nodded once, realising her smile didn't reach her eyes. He knew there was more to be said than she was willing to say in front of Kitty and the children. It seemed absurd but he knew even the worst apparent news could be given in a way a child would understand. It would just take thought and patience. He set about making the evening meal worrying that the telephone conversation they had walked in on was more bad news, he just didn't know how much more he could take.