*A/N: Hey everyone, thanks again for supporting the story. This is the final chapter, which will be followed by an epilogue. As always, any advice/criticism/comments are gratefully appreciated.
Thank you,
HQ21
Sherlock felt his heart race and his agitation increase at the sound of each unanswered ring as he attempted to get hold to Alfredo to warn him of the danger he and Joan were in. After the eighth ring the phone went dead, and his attempt at redialling failed. Sherlock immediately pulled up Joan's contact details, called her number and held the phone tightly to his ear. His almost audible heartbeat was drowned out by the sound of Gregson and Bell attempting to talk to him, but he was blocking out everything they were saying. Instead, his attentions were completely devoted to the familiar sound of a phone ringing without answer. Once, twice, three times.
Joan remained perfectly still as she stood before Maria Lennard, and despite her rising concern at her own predicament and the absence of Alfredo, she managed to maintain a calm and composed front. Maria stared at her for a moment, her eyes running over her face as if she were studying her, or trying to figure out her next move. Neither of them spoke or moved for a short while, until the ringing of Joan's phone from the table behind her caused her eyes to flicker slightly to the side.
"You gonna get that?" Maria asked, her eyes widening as her lips fell into a sinister smile. Joan did not respond to her question immediately, but simply looked her over quickly and analytically. She was dressed in a black leather jacket, dark shirt and blue jeans, with a thick black belt across her hips, which was linked to a holster. Due to the position of her jacket Joan could not tell if she was armed, but she knew that it would have taken more than harsh words or threats to make Alfredo abandon his post. But the fact that she did not hear a gun shot reassured her. Lennard could have used a silencer, of course, but removing it and re-holstering her weapon would have taken time. Time which, considering the time of day and the location, Maria Lennard did not have.
"Where's Alfredo?" she asked calmly, her expression unreadable.
"He's taking a break" she smiled. "You've been working him so hard lately, I... relieved him" she continued, glancing to the side and walking towards the wall. "He's not left this building in the past week or so, hence my delay in arriving. The only way I could gain access to the building was to distract him. And what better way to distract your bodyguard than to damage his tools?"
"Alfredo is not my bodyguard, he is a colleague" Joan returned, following the younger woman's movements with her eyes, as she drew her dark jacket across her. Her attention was briefly drawn from Maria by the familiar sensation of her baby beginning to kick strongly against her side. The baby had always been strong and energetic, especially when Sherlock was around, but she had never felt such movements within her. She found the movements of her child cause her both comfort and concern, as Maria Lennard turned on the spot and took a few paces towards her.
"Semantics" she hissed, shaking her head as she spoke. "Speaking of which, where is your other colleague, hmm?" she asked, tilting her head to one side as she stopped just a few feet in front of Joan, whose resolve did not falter.
"Sherlock is assisting the police, he will be back any minute" Joan returned, staring into Maria Lennard's eyes as she gave her answer. "Why?"
"No reason" she replied, her voice slightly high, almost manic. "I just wanted to ensure that we would not be interrupted."
"What do you want?" Joan asked simply, her arms feeling heavy by her sides. Maria rose her head and smirked, her eyes bright as she met Joan's gaze, and took a couple of steps closer to her, so that the scent of her perfume drifted towards the consulting detective.
"To finish what I started" she smiled, before reaching for her holster and removing her gun.
As Maria rose the weapon in the air, Joan reached into her back pocket and pulled out her baton, opening it with a single gesture, before striking Maria hard on the forearm with it, causing her to drop the weapon to the ground. Maria was incensed, and her cheeks reddened as her features grew dark. Joan held the baton in a defensive position in front of her, and was slowly moving back as she did so. For a moment Joan felt certain that her adversary would reach for her fallen weapon, and she adjusted the position of her baton in preparation for such an eventuality. But within a moment, and quite unexpectedly, Maria lunged forward, rushing at Joan with with outstretched hands and a manic expression. Before Joan could react, she felt Maria's hands push forcefully against her shoulders, throwing her backwards onto the table. Joan was thrown onto the table, her body slamming against the hard surface with such force that she found herself temporarily winded. Maria ran at her once more, and Joan reached to her right and grabbed the desk lamp, which she swung at Maria, hitting her across the head with it. The murderess was stunned for a short while, and as Joan reached for Sherlock's single-stick, which was propped up at the edge of the table, she felt Maria's hands on the material at the back of her dress. Maria grabbed handfuls of the thick material, before pulling Joan slightly towards her and then slamming her against an adjacent wall.
Maria's actions were so quick and unexpected that Joan could do nothing to prepare herself for the violent slamming of her body against the wall next to the bedroom. Joan's head and abdomen connected sharply with the wall, causing a dull aching pain to affect her head and stomach. Joan's hands fell protectively to her abdomen as she slid down the wall, her head bruised and bloodied from the contact with the wall, with some of her hair falling untidily over her forehead and into the bleeding wound. Joan was sitting on her legs, her arms wrapped across her abdomen as she leaned against the side of the wall, her vision and her thoughts fuzzy due to the intense pain in her head. But through the haze and confusion she found her attentions placed on a single factor: her baby. Her body had been thrown with incredible force against the wall, with the majority of the impact being upon her stomach. Her abdomen felt sore, and the same dull aching pain which affected her head resonating across her stomach, before being replaced by sharp shooting pains. Joan hissed in pain and lowered her head as she wrapped her arms tighter across her stomach, closing her eyes against the pain as Maria Lennard's footsteps approached her.
"Winded?" she asked, her voice high and manic. Joan ignored her, leaning over further as she used her own body as a shield for her baby, whose current well-being concerned her. She hadn't felt it move since Maria first struck her. "Is that all you got?" Maria rose her arm and aimed her now-recovered gun at Joan's head, clicking off the safety as she took a step closer to the pained woman.
Before Joan could react, she heard Maria scream as her body was thrown to the ground. Joan breathed through the pain and lifted her head, and was surprised to find herself staring at Alfredo, who was pinning Maria's body to the ground with his own as he attempted to disarm her. Maria was screaming and flailing wildly beneath his grasp, and despite his strength, it was clear yo Joan even in her hazy and pained condition that Alfredo had sustained a head injury from which he was bleeding. Based on the time it had taken him to reach the scene, she would guess that he had previously been rendered unconscious, and only just been able to come to her. Due to his injury, Alfredo's abilities were severely compromised, and Maria successfully recaptured her weapon.
Joan removed her arms from her stomach and placed her hands upon the ground, pushing herself up into a standing position with much difficulty. She winced as the shooting pains in her abdomen increased, causing her to reach to the wall for support. As she did so, Maria had grabbed the gun and was fighting over it with Alfredo, whose body was perilously close to the weapon. Despite her pain and her fear, the sight before her caused adrenaline to course through Joan's veins, and within moments she had pushed herself from the wall and reached the table. Alfredo and Maria were still battling each other on the ground, rolling over on the ground until Maria was on top of Alfredo, aiming the gun directly between his eyes. Joan could see blood from a deep gash on his head trickling down his cheek as he stared into the eyes of the woman before him, whose forefinger was reaching for the trigger. Before she had a chance to pull it, Joan picked up the steel-legged chair from under the table, rose it in the air and swung it with all the force she was capable of, striking Maria hard across the back of the head and rendering her unconscious. The young woman stilled for a moment, before falling back against the ground, her gun remaining in her hand.
Joan inhaled a shaky breath, before placing one hand on her aching abdomen and walking quickly towards Maria, kicking the gun out of her reach. Alfredo groaned in pain, before turning onto his side and attempting to stand.
"Alfredo" Joan began, walking towards him. Alfredo pushed himself up from the ground and stood tall before her, placing his hands upon her shoulders in a manner which surprised her slightly. She looked up to find him staring at her with eyes brimming full of concern. "Are you okay?" she asked, placing one hand on the centre of her abdomen. The sharp shooting pains were decreasing, and she could feel the baby begin to kick once more. She closed her eyes ad exhaled a deep breath of relief, before feeling Alfredo's hands applying gentle pressure to her shoulders as he attempted to guide her to a chair.
"Joan, Joan, hey" he called to her, as he eased her into the chair and crouched before her. Her eyes were still closed and her head was slightly bowed, as her hand rested protectively upon her abdomen. "You guys alright?" he asked gently, his eyes moving from her face to her stomach.
"Yeah" she breathed, rising her head as she opened her eyes. "Yeah I think so." Alfredo exhaled, rubbing his mouth with his hand as he glanced over Joan's shoulder and towards the unconscious body of Maria Lennard. Before he could pose another question to Joan, he felt something soft and light pressed against his head. He opened his eyes, and found that Joan was holding a scrunched up scarf to his forehead in an attempt to stop the bleeding. "Did she pistol whip you?" she asked, her voice low and weary yet notably more clear and confident than it had been before.
"Yeah" he confirmed. "I heard some woman call to me, and as I turned around, she hit me with the gun. I don't know how long I was out for, but-" he trailed off, clenching his teeth as he reflected on the afternoon's events. "I'm so sorry, Joan."
Before Joan could reassure him, the sound of several sets of heavy footsteps quickly approaching their rooms drew their attention to the front door. As Joan looked up, she was just in time to witness Gregson and Bell rush into the room, closely followed by Sherlock. Upon seeing Maria's unconscious body, Gregson and Bell lowered their weapons and ran towards her, with the Captain leaning down and taking her pulse as Bell secured her weapon. In the time it had taken for them to do so, Sherlock had ran past them and towards Joan and Alfredo. Upon seeing him approach, Alfredo rose from his position in front of Joan and stood by her side, as Sherlock rushed towards her and took up his sponsor's previous position, placing one hand on hers and the other on her cheek, as his eyes ran quickly across her body to check for any sign of injury. Apart from the bleeding laceration on her forehead, she appeared to be unharmed. Her skin was warm and tense, but she relaxed notably under his gentle hold, leaning in to his touch.
"Are you alright?" he breathed, tilting her face gently towards him as he surveyed her for injury. Joan nodded into his palm, her bright eyes and weak smile offering him a small reassurance.
"I'm fine, it's okay" she soothed, as Sherlock reached into his pocket and removed a handkerchief, pressing it lightly to her forehead. "Reminds me of that night in the ballroom" she mumbled, closing her eyes and tilting her head down as she spoke. Joan was beginning to feel nauseous and slightly dizzy, and her whole body ached.
"Watson?" Sherlock called, as Joan rose her head to face him and offered him a small smile. She placed her hand upon his own and held the handkerchief to her forehead, which was causing her some discomfort. "Watson?" he repeated, before placing his hand over the one she had held to her abdomen. She felt instantly calmed by the gestured, soothed almost. And for a moment, she almost believed that everything was alright. Almost.
"Y'alright, Miss Watson?" asked Bell, causing Joan to turn to the side with a warm expression.
"I'm fine, thank you" she returned. Bell looked at her with an uncertain expression before nodding in response.
"We're gonna get her outta here" called Gregson, as Detective Bell pulled the semi-conscious Maria Lennard to her feet. "She's in custody but we're gonna take her to a hospital first, just to be sure." Sherlock's eyes did not leave Joan's face, and he nodded in response to Gregson's statement, as he edged closer to Joan, removing his hand from hers and placing it on the side of her stomach. As soon as he did, he and Joan were relieved to feel the familiar sensation of their child kicking lightly against Sherlock's palm. The sound of Gregson and Bell leaving the building caused Joan to release a small breath, and moving her attention from the doorway to Sherlock, who was staring at her stomach. He narrowed his eyes for a moment before glancing up towards Joan's face.
"You're quite sure that you are alright?" Sherlock asked quickly, his eyes scanning her face for clues of discomfort or pain, as his hand remained pressed gently to her abdomen.
"I'm fine" she breathed, removing the handkerchief from her head and placing it on the table. Sherlock's wide eyes adopted a calmer expression, and he nodded at her in response. He lowered his eyes to the ground and removed his hand from her stomach, before pushing himself up from the ground and standing tall before Alfredo.
"What happened?" he demanded, his features tense as he held his tight, clenched fists by his sides.
"Sherlock-" Joan began in a tired, warning tone.
"How did this happen, Alfredo?" Sherlock repeated, as his sponsor remained perfectly still, staring at him as he considered his response.
"I was ambushed" he began, his voice low and calm. "She musta destroyed one of the cameras to lure me outside. Then she pistol-whipped me and came in here, where-"
"-where she threatened the life of Watson and our baby, yes" Sherlock returned, his eyes blazing. Joan looked up at him, watching as his features became tense as his face reddened. It was clear from his voice and his body language that he was attempting to control himself. And, to her surprise and her gratitude, he was succeeding. "Forgive me" he breathed, unclenching his fists and casting a calm glance in Alfredo's direction, before holding out a hand and offering to Alfredo, who eyed it sceptically. "You couldn't have predicted this, no one could. And after all of the help and support you have provided us with, the protective skills you have offered over the past few months which have ensured the safety and Watson and the baby-" he began, trailing off as he cast a glance in Joan's direction, before returning to Alfredo. "You deserve my unwavering support and gratitude, not my condemnation. Thank you, Alfredo." Alfredo listened patiently to Sherlock's earnest speech, nodding in response, before reaching across and shaking his hand.
Joan smiled slightly at the scene before her, grateful that Sherlock was acting in such a way towards their colleague and friend. But before she could express her gratitude, she felt a sharp pain shoot through her abdomen, which was so strong that it took her breath away. She placed a hand on the right side of her stomach, where the shooting pain was, and breathed in and out as she attempted to calm herself and work through the pain. In a few moments it had disappeared entirely, but she found this to be little consolation. A moment later, she felt a warm liquid run slowly down her thighs. She swallowed hard, before placing her hands on the sides of the chair and easing herself slowly from it.
"Watson?" Sherlock asked, turning from his conversation with Alfredo and taking a step towards her. She looked pale and concerned, and he found himself drawn to the frightened look in her eyes. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, his alert eyes darting analytically across her face. Joan breathed in and attempted to give him a reassuring look. She didn't want to panic him, or Alfredo, until she knew exactly what was happening.
"I'm fine" she soothed, watching as his attention was concentrated upon her eyes, which he often did when he felt she was not being completely honest with him. "I'm just going to the bathroom" she added, pressing her lips into a small smile, before turning on the spot and walking through the rooms. Sherlock watched her as she walked to the end of the rooms and turned right towards the bathroom. His eyes remained on the spot where he last saw her for several moments, before he took a step forward and was about to follow her. Before he did so, he felt a strong hand upon his shoulder, and he turned to find himself facing Alfredo.
"Wait" Alfredo stated, causing Sherlock to narrow his eyes in confusion. "Just give her a minute, okay?" Sherlock stared at him for a moment as he considered Alfredo's request.
"Something is wrong" he responded simply.
"Yeah" Alfredo returned, removing his hand from Sherlock's shoulder. "Your nine-months pregnant girlfriend was just assaulted by a serial killer in a safe house." Sherlock turned his head from Alfredo and stared at the floor for a moment, before raising his head and facing his sponsor directly.
"And yet, despite that, you think she's alright?" Sherlock asked incredulously, narrowing his eyes as he stared at Alfredo in confusion.
"No, I don't" he returned, annoyance entering his tone. "I don't think she is alright, I think she is far from alright" he continued, lowering his tone as he spoke. He then inhaled sharply, before casting a glance towards the end of the rooms where the bathroom was. "She's pregnant, she's scared and she's probably feelin' really vulnerable and really unsafe" he continued, his voice lower and more compassionate. "But despite that, she doesn't wanna break down, she doesn't wanna show that it's getting to her. Certainly not in front of you" he stated, as Sherlock's expression softened and he closed his eyes for a moment. "Remember, Holmes" Alfredo began, causing Sherlock to open his eyes and watch his sponsor with a wary yet knowing expression. "This isn't about you." Sherlock nodded in agreement, before closing his eyes and exhaling a long, deep breath. Alfredo was right. It wasn't.
"Sit down, Alfredo" Sherlock began, his voice adopting a kinder tone which took his sponsor aback slightly. "I'll get you some ice."
As soon as Joan reached the bathroom she found that her feelings of dizziness and tiredness returned to her in full force, causing her to lean back against the door for support. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, before turning on the spot and locking the door. Joan then made her way slowly over to the sink, which she held onto for several seconds as she attempted to control her breathing and her dizziness, which showed no signs of abating. The pains in her stomach had gone, and been replaced by a familiar dull aching sensation. But the feeling of liquid running down her legs was still present, and she slowly moved herself back towards the toilet, kicking off her boots and slowly pulling her black opaque tights from her body. As she looked down, she found herself inhaling sharply and stifling a cry, as she saw what she feared she would: her inner thighs were covered with blood. Before she could react, Joan was struck by another sharp pain in her abdomen, which was so strong that it caused her to press her hand tightly to her stomach and lean forwards. The pain was excruciating, and it was getting worse by the moment. Joan grit her teeth and attempted to breath through it, but the sight of the blood, the agony of the pains, and the fact that she had been thrown against a wall, were factors which caused her to panic. She had felt the baby kicking immediately after the impact, which comforted her. Her medical knowledge and experience told her that that was a good sign. But as the pain abated slightly, and her tearful gaze fell upon her bloodied thighs, that comfort left her almost entirely.
Joan placed her hand on the edge of the toilet and eased herself into a standing position, before taking a few steps forward. She needed to get to a hospital, and fast. But before she had even taken three steps forward, she was struck by a sharp cramping pain which was stronger than the previous one, causing her to cry out in agony, as she placed one hand upon her stomach and one on the sink to steady herself. She breathed in shaky and unsteady breaths as she desperately attempted to deal with the pain. She was so engrossed in attempting to breath through the pain and get to the door that she did not hear the sound of her associates on the other side of the door.
Sherlock had just wrapped some ice in a hand towel and passed it to Alfredo when the sound of Joan's scream drew both of their attention to the back of the rooms. By the time Alfredo had risen from his chair, Sherlock was already running through the rooms and towards the bathroom. He came to a stop outside the door, placing his hand upon the handle and attempting to open it, shaking it in frustration upon realising that it was locked.
"Watson!" he called through the door, as he continued to rattle the handle. He received no response, but could hear he sound of ragged breathing and stifled sobs from the other side of the door. By this time Alfredo had reached his side, and had placed a hand upon the top of the door, as he too called through to Joan. Sherlock called her name once more and, upon receiving no response, removed his hand from the handle and took a few steps back. Alfredo turned towards him in confusion, before removing his hand from the door as he realised what the consulting detective was about to do.
Sherlock kicked the centre of the door with such force that it unsettled the hinges. He then too a step forward and threw himself at the door, which he could feel begin to move. He slammed his body into the door once more, causing it to open sharply as several pieces of wood from the door frame fell to the ground. He pushed the door open and took a step inside, before freezing at the sight before him.
Joan was leaning over the sink, holding tightly onto the side with one hand as the other was placed upon her stomach. Although her dress covered the tops of her thighs, Sherlock could see signs of fresh blood upon her lower thighs.
"Joan" he breathed, rushing into the room and placing one arm on her lower back and the other on her stomach. Joan's breathing was still fraught, and he could feel her entire body trembling against him. As soon as his hand was placed on her lower back, the strength which Joan had been harnessing in order to remain standing and steady deserted her completely, and she began to fall to the ground. Sherlock wrapped his arm across her waist, catching her before she fell, and holding her close to him. He placed one arm across her back and the other beneath her legs, pulling her up and holding him to her chest, before turning on the spot to find himself facing a startled Alfredo. "Get the medical kit and towels, and place them near the bed" Sherlock ordered, as he adjusted his grip on Joan and walked through the bathroom. "Now, quickly!" Alfredo complied, rushing from the room and towards the kitchen, whilst Sherlock carried Joan through the rooms and towards the bedroom. Sherlock lowered Joan gently onto the bed, placing his hand upon her cheek as her head leaned in to the pillows.
"It's alright" he soothed, as her wide eyes searched for his through the panic and the pain. "It's alright" he repeated, keeping his right hand delicately upon her cheek as he placed his left one onto her stomach. Her abdomen felt hard and tense, with the tension increasing as Joan screamed out in pain once more. Sherlock removed his hand from her stomach and reached for her own, which was scrunching up part of a blanket which lay beneath her. His eyes travelled from her face to her legs, where he was startled to observe that her bleeding was increasing. "I'm calling an ambulance" he stated, removing his hands from her body and reaching for his phone.
"No time" Joan breathed through the pain, leaning back and gritting her teeth as another incredible pain tore through her aching body. Joan re-opened her eyes to find Sherlock standing beside her, one hand on her stomach and the other by her side.
"You're losing blood, we... we need to-"
"Sherlock" she breathed, cutting him off as she spoke. The pain was still present and intense, but she found herself possessed of an ability to keep it at bay for a moment, as she conveyed her medical opinion to Sherlock. "Placental abruption" she breathed, crying out once more as she leaned back against the pillows. The impact of her body being slammed against the wall had caused her placenta to rupture, hence the bleeding and intense pain which had sent her into early labour. By the time an ambulance got to them she could have bled out, ending both her and their baby's lives. And despite his panic, uncertainty and desire to protect her, she felt certain that he knew this too. "We need to deliver the baby" she stated with conviction, pressing her hands down onto the mattress as she attempted to push herself into a seating position.
Sherlock stared at her for a moment, his eyes widening as he watched her, and played over her previous words in his mind. She was right. Judging from the amount of blood she had lost so far, the rupture was significant, and the only way to save her and the baby was to deliver them both as quickly as possible, along with the placenta, and stop the bleeding. And judging by Joan's breathing, her pain and her frequent grip upon the bed, her contractions were less than a minute apart. They needed to act quickly.
"Alfredo!" Sherlock yelled, turning around to find his sponsor stood behind him, a small stack of towels and blankets under one arm, the medical kit being held in his free hand. Sherlock took the medical case from him, placing it at the bottom of the bed, before taking the towels and blankets from him too. Joan inhaled sharply, stifling a scream as she moved up the bed and eased herself into a sitting position against the pillows.
Joan was in agony. The pain she was experiencing was far more intense and more frequent than she could have imagined which, combined with her fears for the well-being of the baby, made it incredibly difficult for her to deal with what was going on. Joan closed her eyes and took in a few deep, calming breaths, before snapping her eyes open and finding herself facing Sherlock, who was kneeling on the bottom of the bed, shielding her body from Alfredo, as he placed his hand gently upon her knee.
"Watson" he began, in a tone so gentle than it caused her heart to ache. As she met his gaze she found herself staring into eyes which bore an expression identical to her own. He was terrified, and so was she. Before he could continue, Joan found her voice beneath the pain and terror she was currently battling.
"I need you to... to-" Joan's instructions were interrupted by another contraction, causing her to turn her head to the side and stifle another scream, before desperately trying to get her breathing under control. Sherlock placed his hand beneath hers and squeezed it tightly, counting the seconds between the pained grips she gave him in return, before the pain abated. As he felt her body relax ever so slightly beneath his touch, Sherlock drew his attentions to her thighs and the sheets beneath her, which were saturated with blood. With each contraction she seemed to be bleeding more. Her skin was pale and her eyes were wide and glassy, and Sherlock could tell that each contraction was consuming another part of the limited amount of energy she had. They needed to deliver the baby soon, or risk losing them both.
"Do you need to push?" he asked. Joan turned towards him with tear-filled eyes, blinking a few times, before nodding quickly in response. From the expression on her face and the tension in her legs and arms, Sherlock could tell that she was experiencing another contraction. They had very little time. "Alfredo" he said confidently, turning to face his sponsor, who was standing a respectable distance behind them. "We need warm towels and blankets, the baby will be early, and it is one of the coldest evenings of the season" he stated quickly. Alfredo nodded in response, turning on the spot and heading for the kitchen. Sherlock's attention was drawn back to Joan by a small, breathless laugh that she produced.
"He looks more terrified than we do" she muttered, before pushing herself further back against the pillows as she was struck by another contraction. "Sherlock-" she breathed, indicating towards her legs. He understood her meaning.
Sherlock pushed Joan's dress up to her hips, removing her underwear quickly and helping her to put her legs into position. Joan pressed down on the bed and drew her legs to her, as Sherlock placed a towel on the bed between her legs, and edged closer towards her.
"It's okay" she breathed, placing her hand upon his cheek and leaning towards him. "Just... just help our baby, okay?"
"He'll be fine" Sherlock returned, as he stared at Joan with concern. Her face and lips were incredibly pale, and he could feel her trembling with fear and pain. Despite the fact that it appeared to have reduced slightly, she was still bleeding. He could feel her calf against his leg, as she lost her position on the bed, before recovering in a moment.
"Yes she will" she breathed, smiling lightly against his face, before leaning in and kissing him tenderly upon the lips. Her lips were dry and her kiss was weak, and her fingers trembled and fell from his face in a moment. But in that moment, Sherlock returned the kiss. He kissed her in a deeper, more meaningful and more longing way than he had ever kissed anyone before, and he meant it. But for a moment, he feared that it would be the last kiss they shared. "Help her" Joan breathed, before bowing her head and clutching the blankets once more. The pain that struck her was so fierce and intense that she found it impossible not to scream. She was vaguely aware of Sherlock's hands upon her legs, moving them slowly apart as her contraction continued, as he spoke some kind and gentle words to her. She did not know what he was saying, but the sound of his voice and the feeling of his hands upon her guided her through the pain and into the present moment. She felt an incredible amount of pressure in her lower back, and knew it was time.
"Push, Joan" Sherlock instructed, as another contraction occurred. Joan stifled a scream as she pressed her hands upon the bed, lowering her head and digging her feet into the mattress as she pushed as hard as she could. She could hear Sherlock's voice once more, offering her words of encouragement and assurance, but again, she did not know precisely what he was saying. Instead, her eyes remained closed and her body remained in agony, as she continued to push through the fierce, burning pain she was experiencing. She did not know how long she was pushing for, or how many times she had done so, before the sound of a loud cry entered the room.
Joan's breathing faltered and her whole body trembled with fear and apprehension. Although she was sore and still in some pain, the pressure and burning she had previously felt had completely subsided. Just as Joan's tired eyes opened, she became aware of the sound of Sherlock's voice talking gently to her, but his words were drowned out by the crying of the baby which was wriggling on the bed between her thighs. Joan opened her mouth slightly, exhaling a staggered breath as she leaned forward. Her legs trembled and fell to her sides, as she stared in wonder upon the small being between her and Sherlock. The baby had thick, dark hair and her nose and lips, and her crying stopped the moment that Joan reached between her legs and placed her hand delicately upon the chest of the sobbing infant. The baby girl's cries ceased, and she began making tired gurgling noises, as Joan stared down at her. Despite being slightly smaller than average, which was understandable considering her prematurity, the baby appeared to be perfectly healthy. Joan's lips turned into a broad smile, as her tired eyes gazed gratefully down upon her child. Their child.
Joan looked up from the baby to find Sherlock staring at her, his eyes wide and glistening, as his glance drifted from her to their baby, whose gentle gurgling and confident movements interested him deeply. Before either of them could speak, Alfredo returned to the foot of the bed with several towels and blankets in his arms. Joan pushed herself into a sitting position and reached towards him, tugging a soft white towel from his grasp, and draping it across the baby. Sherlock reached into the medical bag and grabbed the scissors and clamps, cutting the cord and tying it off, as Joan swept the towel beneath the baby and began to wrap her up with trembling hands. Due to her ordeal, Joan was tired and incredibly weak, but working through this with the determination to ensure her child's safety and comfort. Sherlock helped her to wrap the baby in the towel, their hands brushing against each other during their ministrations. Once the child was wrapped securely, Sherlock placed his hands beneath her and lifted her from the bed, before easing her into Joan's arms. Alfredo watched the scene for a moment, a lump developing in his throat as he watched Sherlock and Joan with their daughter, who fate had threatened to remove from their lives. Somehow, his presence felt like an intrusion. Sherlock and Joan did not think so, but he did. Without saying a word, he placed the blankets gently in the corner of the bed, took one last look at the scene, and turned and walked back towards the kitchen.
Joan's eyes brimmed with tears and her lip trembled slightly, as she held the baby close to her chest. Despite being so small, the baby felt heavy in her arms, especially as she began to move within the warm towel. The baby's wriggled beneath the towel before snuggling between it and her mother, releasing small little breaths before gradually opening her eyes. Joan inhaled a shaky breath as she stared into the depths of her daughter's eyes, which reminded her instantly of the person who was shielding them both.
"She has your eyes" Joan whispered tiredly, as Sherlock edged slowly up the bed, mindful of Joan's legs. He found himself experiencing a cocktail of emotions which he could not describe or explain, but the strongest of them all was the innate feeling he was experiencing, which caused him to feel both physically and emotionally drawn to the tiny little person between them. Perhaps this is what she meant when she was describing me as 'gravity' he pondered, before gazing down at his daughter. The baby's eyes shifted from her mother to her father, who she stared at with eyes that were his own. She blinked a couple of times, before slowly closing her eyes and nuzzling against the soft, warm towel. Joan wrapped her arms protectively across her and drew her towards her slightly more, as Sherlock tilted his head and watched her sleep. During those previous first few moments, everything seemed almost perfect, ideal and serene. But as the baby closed her eyes and nuzzled against her mother, Sherlock found himself cruelly reminded of what they must do next, as well as the fact that Joan was still not out of danger. She was pale and tired, and weak from blood-loss and exhaustion. He had delivered the placenta and managed to stop the bleeding, but she was still ill and exhausted.
"You must rest, Watson" he mumbled, his eyes drifting slowly from his partner to their baby. "Both of you." Joan rose her head slightly, facing Sherlock from across the bed. As she looked upon his features, she noticed how the same look of awe and amazement that she had witnessed on so many father's faces during her gynae rotation had began to fall from his face, and be replaced by a look of sadness and longing as he stared at the baby. Joan felt her own smile falter slightly, as her eyes met Sherlock's own, and they exchanged a brief yet telling look, before allowing her gaze to return to the sleeping child. As she watched the baby sleep, the reality of the situation hit her with full force, and she felt hot tears brimming in her eyes once more, which she blinked back quickly. She would not cry. Joan swallowed hard, staring at the baby intently, her eyes running over her as she attempted to remember every detail of her. Sherlock watched Joan's face as she did so, his eyes following her line of sight as she continued with her task, before wrapping her hands ever so slightly tighter across the baby, ensuring her security and comfort. She gazed down at the baby, her attention upon her tiny face and dainty features, which seemed to her to be the embodiment of perfection. Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar feeling of Sherlock's hand upon her own. She adjusted her hand slightly to allow his fingers to fall between the towel and her palm, and she squeezed him reassuringly in return. He knew what she was thinking about, and she knew it. But at that moment, at that time, neither of them wished to acknowledge it. They didn't know how much time they would have with their child, in a time where everything was so open and honest and natural, without restriction and concealment. These precious few moments were blissful, and they would not be hurried, and certainly not wasted.
Sherlock removed his hand from Joan's and eased himself off the edge of the bed, his movement confusing and concerning her. She lifted her gaze from their baby and watched as he tidied up the medical items and blankets which were at the bottom of the bed. The bloodied sheets which had been beneath Joan were removed carefully and with minimal discomfort to her. Towels were placed beneath her legs, and another blanket was draped loosely over the sleeping infant. Before Joan could thank him for it, Sherlock quickly opened a large cream-coloured blanket, which he wrapped across Joan and the baby. The material felt soft and comforting against her bare skin and aching limbs, and she found herself realising just how cold the room had suddenly become. Sherlock walked quickly around the bed, ensuring that the blanket was secure and that Joan was comfortable, before turning off a small lamp on the bedside table, which left the bedroom fairly dim, save for the early evening glow which shone through the window and lit up the bed.
Joan had been through a great ordeal, and was undoubtedly in pain and exhausted. Sherlock wanted to provide her with a safe, secure environment in which she could sleep and spend time with their daughter. He would sit on the chair beside them and watch over them as she slept, ensuring that they were both alright. As he considered these thoughts and walked slowly towards the chair to the left of Joan, his actions were halted by movement from her direction. He stood tall as he watched her adjust her hold on their baby so that she was supporting her with a single arm, before using her free hand to tug the corner of the blanket towards her, opening the bed to Sherlock. Sherlock remained still for a moment, before looking from the space on the mattress to Joan and their daughter. Before he could speak, the sound of her kind and gentle voice resonated in the dimness of the room.
"It's alright" she began, her gentle voice calling out to him. "This is your time too" she continued, offering him a small smile which soon faltered. Upon seeing her distress, Sherlock briskly crossed the room and stood by her side, before easing himself onto the bed. He wrapped Joan and the baby in the blanket before leaning beside her and wrapping his right arm across her. She seemed nervous at first, hesitant. But after a few moments Sherlock felt Joan lean into his touch, her head finding its place in the crook of his neck, and nuzzling gently against him. She tilted her head down and focused her attention on their baby, who was fast asleep. Sherlock inclined his head slightly so that it was resting on top of her own, before planting a gentle kiss upon her forehead. Joan blinked, breathing in sharply as a single tear rolled down her cheek. She felt Sherlock's left arm wrap across their baby's body as his hand held hers with confidence and reassurance, as she continued to blink back the tears which threatened to fall. Despite the dimness, the light from the street shone inside and lit up the baby's features, which were the focal point of both of her parents. Sherlock and Joan watched their baby as she slept, the low sound of her gentle breathing providing a comforting melody to their pained and fearful thoughts.