Sherlock sat in John's chair shaking his head. He called the adoption service and went threw the ringer with them. They claimed everything was in order and they had in fact adopted Isabell. They couldn't find any fought with the paper work and that you couldn't just give a kid back.
Sherlock and John would have to show that they hadn't applied for adoption and the adoption agency had all the proof they did.
The worlds only consulting detective growled as he got off the phone. He looked at the couch. Isabell was sitting on the couch supported by pillows asleep. Mrs. Hudson had to step out and had left the baby with Sherlock.
His baby.
His and John's baby.
Their Daughter.
His daughter.
John's daughter.
Oh god. This couldn't be happening.
He kept saying those words in his head over and over as if trying to make sense of them. He had no idea how John was going to take it. What would he say? Would he think Sherlock did it as some kind of freak experiment?
He looked at his phone. Still nothing from Mycroft. He hadn't expected a reply.
Footsteps on the stairs. Couldn't be Mrs. Hudson. She wouldn't be home for another hour. John!
He glanced at the clock. He was a bit early but those were John's footsteps.
What was he going to do?
His heart began to race.
The door to the room opened and John walked in holding a carton of milk. He walked into the kitchen.
"Do I want to know what you are doing in here?" he asked seeing the fingers in beakers of soda. "Is that my laptop?"
He sighed hard and put the milk away.
"You got milk?" John asked putting his milk in as well. "Alright Sherlock what have you done? Did you break my laptop?"
Sherlock often used buying milk and much needed food as way to soften a blow. Sherlock didn't answer. He looked at his hands. Sherlock's silence was really scaring him. Something was wrong. John took that chance to look around.
Baby. On the couch. Small baby. Sleeping. This wasn't right.
"Sherlock," he said. "There's a baby on the couch. What is it doing here?"
"I don't know," Sherlock said throwing his hands in the air. "I thought I would redecorate. You know. A couple of throw pillows. A baby. What do you think?"
"Sherlock," John said narrowing his eyes at him. "Where did this baby come from?"
Sherlock didn't answer. He was clutching the papers in his hands. He handed them to John. John read them and then just stared at them.
"Is this a joke?" John said shaking the paper. "Because if it is it isn't funny Sherlock."
"I've been on the phone with them for a while," Sherlock said nodding to his phone. "It seems everything is in order. I didn't know anything about it. I decided to be nice and get milk. When I got back it was already here."
"Mycoft," John said. "Have you called him?"
"Of course," Sherlock growled. "But I've got no reply."
The little one was starting to stir.
"John what do we do when it wakes up?" Sherlock asked.
"Haven't you been taking care of it all day?" John asked.
"No," the consulting detective said. "Mrs. Hudson was. She agreed to help the first couple of days. I don't know anything about babies."
Sherlock felt as if he was watching a lion or some other wild animal. He wasn't moving. The little one's eyes fluttered opened. Perhaps if he stayed still and didn't make a sound it would leave him alone.
The child inhaled deeply before letting out a loud cry.
The next few days were like a train wreck in slow motion. Neither Sherlock nor John knew that much about rearing a child. Thank god for Mrs. Hudson.
Sherlock wouldn't stop texting Mycroft. And he hadn't given up getting through to those brain less people at the adoption agency.
Isabell was a full time job. John couldn't get maternity leave from work because Sherlock was considered a 'full time' parent because he didn't work.
The baby was left in Sherlock's care for most of the day. The poor man didn't really have a clue. He would have lost his mind if he hadn't been for Mrs. Hudson. It was mostly a feeling of being over whelmed. Once he calmed down and accepted the whole situation things were easier.
After a short time he realized it wasn't all that hard. Even though it had only been three days he was getting a routine going.
Isabell had taken over Sherlock's room. They hadn't bought a crib yet and John said it was too hard to take the baby up the stairs to his room all the time. So she slept with Sherlock in his bed.
At six when John got up for work the baby would wake up. John would change her, feed her, and lay her back down with Sherlock. Sherlock would wake up a short time later when the baby was hungry again. He would change her and feed her. Sherlock was usual up at night so he took care of her during the night as well.
No too hard. He could do it.
Sherlock wasn't really sure about the washing machine and drier so John did that when he got home from work. Isabell was going need to need new clothes soon. She hadn't come with many. Plus she seemed to go through them awful quick. She needed a crib as well.
Whenever the house was quiet and Isabell was asleep Sherlock would sit in the living room and wonder what the hell he was doing. He couldn't allow himself to get attached to a screaming ball of fat.
After all he wasn't going to keep her. As soon as he got things sorted with the adoption agency she was going back. There was no way he could raise a child. There was no way he and John could raise a child. They weren't even a couple.
He was so caught up with the baby he had forgotten about his work. He had actually forgotten. He couldn't remember the last time he forgot about his work. He didn't remember until he heard footsteps on the stairs.
Not Mrs. Hudson. She had agreed to go to the store to get formula for the baby. John wasn't due back from work for another three hours.
Lestrade!
In the rare case Sherlock didn't text Lestrade every five minutes he would come by the check on him.
Damn! When was the last time he had texted him?
Knocking at the door.
Shit!
What would he say when he found out about Isabell?
"Who is it?" Sherlock called.
"Lestrade," came his familiar voice. "Can I come in?"
"Uh yes," Sherlock said looking around quickly to see if any baby things were lying around. He didn't see any.
The door opened. Lestrade and Donovan walked in. Sherlock let out a little snot.
"Hey freak," Sally said smiling a little. "Haven't seen you in a while."
"I was concerned," Lestrade said sitting down on the couch. "I haven't heard from you in a while."
"Well I'm fine," he said sighed. "Anything good?"
"Yes in fact I have a nice little murder," Sally said. "You'll like it. Nice mess."
Shit. A good murder and he couldn't go. Mrs. Hudson wasn't around to watch the baby and John was a work. He couldn't take a baby to a crime scene. Could he?
"Come on," Lestrade said getting to his feet. "Let's go."
"I can't," Sherlock said almost in a whisper.
"I told you!" Donovan said. "He knows we need him so now he is playing damn games."
"Why not?" Lestrade asked ignoring Sally.
"I just can't," He said softly.
He didn't know how to tell them he couldn't go because he didn't have anyone to watch his kid.
"Is something wrong?" Greg asked concern in his eyes.
There was a long silence. It would have went on forever if it hadn't been for Isabell's sudden cry.
"Is that what I think it is?" Sally said.
Sherlock didn't say anything. He just growled, got up, and disappeared back into his bedroom. The crying stopped a few minutes later.
No one said anything as Sherlock walked into the kitchen, prepared a bottle, and sat on the couch with the baby. It was only when Isabell locked onto the bottle and began to drink that someone finally spoke.
"Do I want to know where you got that freak?" Sally asked.
These people say John and him adopted her but they didn't. That was what he wanted to say but who would believe that. Adoption services don't make those kinds of mistakes. Mycroft had something to do with their 'mistake'.
"She's adopted," Sherlock said simply.
"You adopted a kid?" Lestrade asked in a shocked voice.
"Yes," he said. "John and I did."
"I need you for this case," Greg said. "Sally can watch her."
"I can what?" Donovan gasped. "That is not in my job description."
"Please," Lestrade said looking at her with pleading eyes. "Just stay here and watch her."
"Fine," she said holding out her hands. "What's her name?"
"Isabell," he said as the baby finished her bottle.
Sherlock didn't know why but he didn't want to hand her over. He had promised himself he wouldn't get attached but he couldn't help it. Sally seemed to sense with his problem handing over the baby so she just took her.
He left the room and returned with her diaper bag. He sat it down.
"Uh," he said unsure how to handle it. "Everything she needs is in here. She is a little low of formula. Mrs. Hudson will be back with more soon. If she falls asleep put her in my room on the bed. We haven't bought a crib yet."
Sherlock stood there looking at his daughter. No. Not his daughter. Her name was Isabell. He wasn't going to keep her. He couldn't let himself get attached.
"Bye," Donovan said in a slightly nicer tone sitting down on the couch. "She'll be fine with me freak."
Sherlock sighed wrapping his scarf around his neck. He followed Lestrade out of the flat.