Thank you all once again for the reviews, it means so much! And another thanks to my wonderful beta There's A Time Lord In Lima who puts up with my constant worrying and paranoid mind!
If anything I guess you could call this more of a filler chapter. It's not as good as I'd like it to be but I think it definitely shows a little more of Sherlock and Molly's interaction so hopefully you enjoy it as much!
Ducks in a Row
Ten weeks old
Sherlock looks around the room nervously, refusing to meet Molly's concerned gaze.
He's cradling Annabelle as she coos and grips part of his coat in her tiny fist, her green eyes looking up at him in curiosity. He smiles at her and smooth's down her unruly hair that mimics his own in a way that seems surreal.
He takes a good look around the room again and this time he has the strongest urge to take her and make a run for it. The walls are painted a bright white, pictures of butterflies and bumblebees decorating them and making it seem a little less like a doctors office and a little more cheerful.
He wrinkles his nose in distaste.
He's never liked the doctors, and the thought of his own tiny daughter having to be there is something that makes his stomach tighten with worry. But, according to Molly and Mrs. Hudson and John, and every website he's visited in the past two days, this is something that must be done.
So to keep his mind wandering Sherlock crosses the room for what seems like the hundredth time and finally, Molly sighs, frustrated.
"Sherlock, please relax. This will be over before we'll all even realize it." She stands up and approaches him, the smell of her perfume tickling his nose and bringing with it a sense of familiarity. Her hand brushes against his as she reaches out to stroke Annabelle's hand; a tiny prick of electricity passing between them that makes his breath hitch.
Sherlock clears his throat and holds Annabelle closer. "Of course, I suppose I'm just a bit nervous. I've never likes needles, so I don't see why she wouldn't." He nods down at the grinning baby in his arms and Molly's face melts into a look of sympathetic understanding.
"I know. I'm nervous too." She toys with a loose string on her sweater before looking up again. "But as soon as we're done we can do something nice, the three of us."
The suggestion sounds appealing, something he never thought he would say in a thousand years. But as time wore on and he watched Annabelle grow right before his eyes he found that he was desperate for moments like that. He was afraid if he blinked, he'd miss something.
He opens his mouth to suggest something when there's a soft knock on the door and a woman with a warm smile and a clip board walks in. Molly immediately moves to shake her hand and say hello. Sherlock on the other hand, stays back and watches this stranger with guarded curiosity.
"And this must be Mr. Holmes," the woman announces, holding out a hand in greeting. He's about to refuse the handshake, but the look he gets from Molly changes his mind and he loosely shakes with the doctor.
She's older than him, mid-forties with long brown hair and blue eyes. She seems nice enough and Sherlock relaxes slightly when she looks at Annabelle with almost as much admiration as John or Mrs. Hudson would. Still, it doesn't change the fact that he feels ready to jump out of his skin.
At Dr. Hardin's request, he releases Annabelle into her arms, watching closely with Molly tucked into his side as she chews on a fingernail. The warmth from her body is enough to make him relax slightly and together they listen, nodding when they're asked a question and occasionally providing one of their own. Everything goes smoothly and they're met with the conclusion that Annabelle is a very happy and healthy little girl.
Sherlock is about to breathe a sigh of relief before he hears the question he's been dreading.
"And she's due for vaccinations this visit right?" Doctor Hardin hums, scribbling on a chart before looking up. Swallowing thickly, he nods without saying a word, taking Annabelle back into his arms when Dr. Hardin finishes looking her over and leaves the room to gather the few things that she needs. He looks desperately at Molly, as if she could snap her fingers and suddenly this whole mess would be over with, and she frowns in return.
"Don't you dare look at me like that Sherlock Holmes; I don't want to do this anymore than you, so please do not make me feel like the bad guy in all of this." Her cheeks are tinged red, showing him how worked up she is and he begins to feel guilty.
He knows this isn't her fault; it isn't anybody's. He's simply just not prepared to watch his daughter receive a shot and he strangely feels no shame in it. Letting out a breath, he wraps his free arm around Molly and pulls her back into him. For some reason he feels like they're all safer that way.
When Dr. Hardin finally comes back, she carries a tray of needles and syringes, tilting her head and smiling in sympathy at the young pair in front of her as she notices the tension and discomfort.
"I know, this is the hard part, but trust me she won't even remember any of this by the time you walk out the door." Her words do little to calm either of them but Sherlock puts on a straight face as he holds Annabelle and allows the doctor easier access to her tiny body. Molly has retreated back to her chair and watches, chewing her bottom lip now.
In the end, Sherlock ends up closing his eyes. He's not even aware all of the shots have been given until he hears Annabelle's wail grow impossibly louder than before, tiny nose scrunched up as tears roll down her chubby, red cheeks. Immediately Molly swarms him and takes the baby from his arms, burying her face in her hair and whispering soothing words as she rubs her back.
"Oh, what a brave little girl you are," she says, walking back to Sherlock and pressing her face into his shoulder, seeking some form of comfort.
Sherlock vows he's never coming back to the doctor. Ever.
With Annabelle finally calm and sleeping in her car seat as Sherlock carries her to the car, he glances over and watches Molly for a moment. She's calmed down considerably now, her cheeks back to their normal color and her eyes bright. When she looks up she catches him watching.
"What are you thinking about?" she asks around a smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He racks his brain, desperate for something to say but completely unsure as to what that something is. He's desperate not to ruin this, not to send her running for the hills and believing he's an absolute mad man that could one day decide he wants nothing to do with her and then all of a sudden realize he can't live without her. He settles for the only thing he can come up with.
"Why don't we get some ice cream?"
He pretends he doesn't see the smile on her face falter as she says, "Alright," in a hushed voice before he mentally kicks himself.
Maybe it's time he starts taking advice from John.
Oh, poor Annabelle! Even as a nursing student I absolutely hate seeing babies get their shots. It just tears me up. :(