(A/N: This is from a prompt I received a couple of days from the lovely lpulverized over at Tumblr. I'm just tweaked it to fit my original plans for this fic. Enjoy!).
Nervous. Sherlock had never been this unnerved.
His one hand gripped the side of the scrubs he was wearing, the other holding Irene's hand. Her screech echoed in his ears as the doctor told Irene to push harder, her face as white as sheet as she tried to fully introduce the world to her child-well, hers and Sherlock's.
Sherlock could see Irene's face contorted in pain, the force of her struggle manifesting in the tightness of her hold in his hand. He brushed the hair plastered on her forehead, racking if there was anything in his mind palace to help comfort her but clearly there was none.
"A little more, Irene. Just a little more." He told her, trying his best to sound soothing. Irene's slitted eyes ground to him, her breathing loudly escaping her mouth. "Shut up! I hate you... I hate you..."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, an amused smile forming in his mouth. "I know... I know..."
"You prick! You are a cock, Sherlock Holmes!" Irene shouted at him. Sherlock just nodded, running his fingers affectionately on Irene's hair. His eyes trailed from Irene's face to her trembling legs, the peak of their child's head almost halfway out. Sherlock could feel his own knees weakening from both excitement and fear-the first, because this child was a product of his and Irene's love and the second, because he was still uncertain on how to become not just a father but a "father".
Irene writhed and breathed, hard and struggling as she gripped Sherlock's hand tighter and tighter. The clock seemed to tick on forever and Sherlock could feel his heart clenching at Irene's every grit. Finally, Irene gave one last push and her head was thrown off the pillow, relief slowly surfacing on her features.
Laughing softly, Sherlock planted a soft kiss on Irene's forehead and their eyes met, both dazed with uncontainable and unexplainable joy. The room was suddenly filled with a cry, the child announcing its presence.
"It's a boy..." The doctor announced with a beaming smile on her face, the child writhing in her arms. She handed the child to Sherlock, whose initial reaction was to wince in hesitation. He had held a child before, Mary and John's Elizabeth to be specific, and he remembered how he felt relieved and burdened at the same time. Such a fragile being to be held by such cold hands, he thought.
And yet, when the child landed in his arms, Sherlock was suddenly oblivious to the streaks of blood on the baby's body, the rustic smell went unnoticed. He brushed the damp strands of curly black hair on the baby's head, an exhilarating feel of warmth filling his entire self. The child finally opened his eyes, stormy as her mother's and it twinkled along with thin lips forming a yawn. His small hands reached towards Sherlock and the detective just stood smiling, taking in this moment in his mind palace forever. He leaned down to meet the touch of his son, worries of his own insecurities seemingly forgotten.
To his surprise, Irene was still screaming in pain. The doctor held Irene's trembling legs, eyes lighting in excitement. "Oh. I guess we have another one." she announced, asking Irene to breathe in harder.
Sherlock's eyes flickered, the child in his arms wriggling slightly, grey eyes still fixed on him. He shushed the child, his fingers brushing lightly over his boy's forehead. "Guess you'll have an early playmate. We didn't saw this coming." he whispered affectionately, eyes darting from the child to Irene.
Irene pushed harder, her lips turning almost purple in the struggle. Her fingers dug the side rails, hair glistening with sweat. A final tug and her back was thrown flat once more, another cry heard. "A lovely baby girl..." was all the doctor said, handing the child to Irene with extreme care. Sherlock felt a tug in his chest as Irene smiled at their other child, her eyes lazy from exhaustion but joyous still. Sherlock brushed his fingers on Irene's hair once more, both of them beaming.
Sherlock saw that their baby girl was similar to their boy, with a slight sweep of dark curls and thin lips. The only difference was the heterochromic eyes their baby girl now bore, an evident reflection of her father's.
"Let me see Hamish." Irene said, a playful smile in her face. Sherlock's eyebrows raised, not surprised at her choice of names but was amused knowing the story behind it. He leaned down and let Irene see their boy, his fingers brushing over their baby girl's cheek.
"Arabella suits her, don't you think?" Sherlock whispered, knowing that the name meant God-given, in reference to his disguise as a vicar in Irene's residence that day in Belgravia that meant to change his life forever. Irene gave him a nod, all feelings overwhelming and yet welcomed all at once.
On that moment, despite his initial belief that he was neither a hero or an angel, Sherlock swore that he will do the best he can to be worthy of having the three people he's holding in his arms.
(Next chapter will be tha last and I will move on the my next project which will be called "The New Age of Baker Street". Thank you so much for the supprt despite the lack of updates recently. You guys kept me from going from a one-shot to making 2 chaptered fics. My love goes to you all.)