Part 2 - Sherlock is Overwhelmed
She pulled his hand causing him to lean down over her bed, then ran her fingers through his hair in an attempt to smooth out the wild curls. "There, now you don't look as scary. Don't worry, I have faith Mycroft did well because everything here so far has been pleasant." The three others gave quizzical glance at the 'been pleasant', so she hastily added. "Well, you know what I mean." A sharp wince punctuated her sentence causing her to grimace in pain. "This isn't like before," she forced out trying to fight the pain, "I think it is..." Neither John nor Sherlock heard the end of the sentence before they rushed off to summon the doctor and midwife.
With the medical staff on the heels of the two men, the four burst unceremoniously into the patient room. "Molly!" Sherlock called out not caring for all the emotions his voice betrayed. He released his grip on John's arm and headed for her bedside, but was interrupted with Mary pushing him toward a chair instead. "Sit, Sherlock. You can stay here next to Molly, but let them do their job."
"But Mary, I...Molly?" Sherlock said in defeat whilst reaching out for his wife.
"I'm fine Sherlock. I mean I will be. Don't worry. This is the best thing that will happen to us." She arrested his groping hand and kissed it.
It had been quite a long time now since it first started, but the sight of her husband reaching aimlessly for her always sent a sharp prick to her heart. Many who have met him didn't even know he was that until he pointed it out whilst insulting their intelligence. It wouldn't be "Sherlock" if he left off an insult. He certainly didn't 'look it' and his refined movement didn't give it away that easily, but she never forgot. It was impossible to do so, she felt it would be unloving to do so.
As if she could actually forget...impossible...
Molly had made her mind clearly expressed many months ago when she wanted only three people to be with her during the delivery time. She held onto Sherlock's hand through out the whole ordeal. Actually it was more of strangling his hand and nearing breaking his metacarpals, but thankfully he knew better that to say anything at that time. He was terrified out of wits end, and it there was no hiding that fear no matter how hard he tried. John was (for just a moment) very guiltily enjoying his best mate's discomfort from his place next to Mary, yet finally did concede to his compassionate doctoring side and tried to settle the poor father's nerves.
It wasn't often that Sherlock displayed a human side with emotional sentiment. In a way, his closest friends were his guidelines for knowing how to act properly in any situation. Right now, he needed guidance on something that he thought he never would have needed.
A family.
The birth went smoothly and without any complications to the child or mother. He didn't cry. Just stared at the doctor whisking him away to be cleaned and clothed.
The new mum kissed her husband's hand, which was pink from being squeezed so hard. "A son Sherlock. Your son."
He, in turn, kissed her forehead,"No, our son and I'm sure he will behave just like you."
During the time the baby was briefly away, the Watsons congratulated the new parents. A beautiful boy who clearly had the resemblance of his parents. There was no doubt. The hair, features, and eye colour certainly took then blend of his parents.
Sherlock was too worked up to follow along with the moments of congratulations. A thousand questions and 'what ifs' flooded his mind. They came crashing in unexpectedly, therefore, effectively breaking down the walls of his Mind Palace. It was an absolute havoc and Sherlock was trapped beneath all of its rubble.
:No! No! Stop!
:System overload.
'How do I do this? What if this happens? I have a child to care for, what now?' So many voices at once. Who is speaking? I can't understand a single thing. Too loud. Too much movement I feel around me.
:Must repair system immediately.
:Restoration in progress.
:Restoration failed.
:Searching for troubleshoot data.
He was cradling his head and rocking back and forth trying to drown out the noise both in the room and in his mind.
"Sherlock!" his wife and friends shouted loudly. They had never seen him behave like this degree before. Small scale overloads were a chance occurrence, but this was getting too much for him.
He didn't hear them.
...no stop the noise...please. It is too much!
Wait! Heat. Where is the source? Searching...
A single touch from John brought the shaking man to sit rigidly. He placed his hand over the heat source. John's hand was on his shoulder.
Why? What was going on? Was everything all right? Why is everything so disorganised?
Sherlock was finally coming off his 'high' of feeling the emotion overload and John was eyeing him critically making sure the new father didn't pass out from his sensory system overloading in the process.
He grabbed Sherlock square in the shoulders, ordered sharply but softly, "Sherlock. Stop breathing. Good. Now slowly let out a breath."
Sherlock did as told repeatedly until he could feel his body returning to a more normal state. His breaths became more steady and calmer, everyone was pleased.
A small crisis was handled skilfully and now everyone was waiting for the newborn child to return.
A-N: Please note in "Watching Over Each Other", which has also been updated.
I hope you've enjoyed these little clips into the Baker Street bunch.
As always, comments and suggestions are more than appreciated.