Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes belong to Sir ACD and in this reincarnation Moffat, Gatiss and the BBC. We own nothing and are only writing this for fun.

Tell Me This Night Is Over.

Chapter Thirteen.

Sherlock's eyes dilated and his head came up when an indignant wail echoed off the room's walls.

"Well now that's a good strong set of lungs." Dr. Weisz handed the baby boy to Sarah and went back to his work.

Sarah clamped the cord after it stopped pulsing, "John do you or Sherlock want to cut the cord?"

"Let Sherlock do it." John was crying and not caring in the slightest. The moment he heard those thin, angry wails his whole world shifted and reshaped itself around this new little being. Their son was here and from the sound of it he was whole and healthy. It was overwhelming. John wanted to hold him, keep him safe, love him and protect him from everything. He hoped Dr. Weisz would stitch him up quickly.

Sherlock gave John's hand a squeeze and pressed his lips to his brow before getting up and going over to Sarah, eyes just a bit wary but mostly curious. She smiled and handed him the surgical scissors, holding the little section of cord up and taunt for him. "Go on then Daddy, right between the clamps."

He looked at the tiny still slightly purple body, still wet, and the cord connecting it and felt a strange knot in his throat as he brought the scissors to the cord and snipped. He wrinkled his nose a bit when it wasn't an easy cut, he had to bear down and snip away, almost gnawing at the fleshy rope with the scissors until it gave way with an odd pop and then it was done. His son...his son was still wailing to the room about how much he disliked all this cold, wet air and bright lights.

Sarah smiled and let Sherlock watch as she cleaned the baby off and swaddled him carefully, the intent, clever eyes taking in every motion, then she handed the still fussing baby to him, "Take him over to John.

Sherlock's arms caught his son and brought him carefully close, such a tiny little thing, and let himself be poked back to John's side and pushed into a chair that had been placed beside the surgical cot, "John...look."

John turned his head and looked at the pink, wrinkly little creature in Sherlock's arms arm and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Every tiny little detail was perfect, from the nose, that was most definitely Sherlock's thank goodness, to the small bow-shaped lips. "Christ look at that...He's perfect, so gorgeous. He's going to break hearts this one."

He shifted and bit back a gasp when the movement pulled on his stomach. Nothing would keep him from caressing that soft cheek though. John needed to touch his son, to welcome the little thing that had lived inside him for almost nine months. "Absolutely perfect, just like I knew he would be."

Sherlock angled and shifted so that John could more comfortably touch their child as the baby squawked a bit and turned his head toward that gentle touch, "Incredible," it was a low, rumbly murmur. He saw John's chin, likely the entire jaw would come to look like John's but the rest was almost frighteningly similar to pictures he'd seen of himself as a baby. "He's so small."

Tiny and helpless, it almost made Sherlock's heart beat like a war drum just the thought of someone trying to hurt this little being.

"So tiny and already so powerful, already holds my heart in his tiny little hands, well the parts you don't already own." John couldn't stop looking or touching, familiarizing himself with his son. "Hello Benjamin, welcome. You are so wanted and have been so longed for."

"Loved, and very, very well cared for," Sherlock watched the tiny little mouth scrunch, open and close, then form into what he'd like to call a pout, a little whine coming from the baby. "And destined to be horribly spoiled by all manner of people." He couldn't help but smile down at his son.

"Oh yes, so spoiled. Look at that, he even has your pout." John looked up at Sherlock, eyes still gleaming with tears. "How will I ever survive and be able to hold my ground against the two of you?" Not caring about the others in the room, John stretched, with another wince, so that he could kiss Sherlock on the lips and then place a feather light kiss on Benjamin's brow."

"Would you mind just asking Sherlock to bend down when you want to do that John," Dr. Weisz's voice was dry, "It does make the stitching a bit more complicated."

Sherlock's shoulders shook as he giggled; Benjamin's little face wrinkling a bit as if skeptical about being jostled before the low timbre soothed him. He bent a little closer so he could give John a second kiss.

John hummed into the kiss before addressing Dr. Weisz. "Oh come on, I'm a doctor, you should know that doctors always make horrible patients, why would I make things easy for you?"

He could hear Nurse Janice blow out an irritated breath through her nose but that only made him smile wider. John met Sherlock's eyes for a moment before twisting on his cot again. "So Sarah, what do you think of your godson?"

"What?" Surprise shimmered through Sarah's voice.

"What do you think of your godson Dr. Sawyer?" Sherlock's voice held a note of amusement as he watched Sarah's jaw work under her face mask, mouth obviously working ineffectually. "No one else would do as you outdid my brother rather masterfully, and are one of only two women on this earth who can stand up to him."

"Oh it is just not fair of you two to try and make me cry when I'm assisting a surgery." Sarah's voice was thick and just a tad bit high pitched.

"Oh no need to continue Dr. Sawyer," Bradley's voice was amused, "Janice has handing me the instruments and assisting quite well in hand. Though if you could pin John's shoulders to the table and keep him from moving, please do so."

Sarah didn't have to be told twice. She made her way around and gave John a look, "Horrible man," she kissed his cheek before leaning over him and Sherlock to coo at Benjamin, "And of course I think he's perfect in every way, how could I think otherwise?"

"I have no idea since he is absolutely perfect." John grinned at her. "And I'm not horrible, you love me." He did try to stay still though, hoping it would make the stitching up part go quicker. John was well aware he would be sore and in pain once the sedatives wore off so he took his chance to be giddy now while he could. "I hope you don't mind being linked to Mycroft through this, we're going to ask Greg to be godfather and with Greg come Mycroft, they're sort of a package deal."

She indulged herself in a grimace, "Ah well I'll learn to cope. Greg will, of course, say yes. I suppose I can let the hostility go so long as he doesn't try to boss me around."

Sherlock chose the better part of valor on that. Mycroft tried to boss and control everyone. It was what he did.

John snorted. "Dream on Sarah, it's Mycroft Holmes were talking about here. Just kick him if he gets too troublesome. Not too hard though since I value Greg's friendship." He was beginning to wonder if perhaps Janice had slipped him some loopy drugs since he didn't seem able to keep his mouth from saying the most ridiculous things. He ordered Sherlock to lower Benjamin again so that he could nuzzle his son more, melting into a puddle of love when he saw that his son had fallen asleep in his Daddy's arms. "Maybe you should go and show him off to his uncles while they finish me off here...Janice is starting to look feral."

Sherlock carefully moved his son to the cradle of one arm so he could trace his fingers over John's face, "We will be back soon." He made his way out into the waiting room where Lestrade and Mycroft were sitting. It was almost amusing to see how calm and composed Lestrade was while his brother was positively twitchy. "I presume the crib has been taken care of then."

Greg's head came up from the magazine he'd been reading and a bright grin stretched over his lips at the sight of the little bundle in Sherlock's arms, "Course it has been. They stitching John back together then?"

"Yes." He quirked a brow at Mycroft, "Well? Do you wish to hold your nephew?"

Mycroft watched the small bundle with wide eyes and gave a hurried nod before Sherlock could change his mind. He was sitting down; he couldn't drop the baby if he was sitting down right? Mycroft gingerly took his nephew and placed him in the cradle of his arms the way Sherlock showed him to. "He's quite the handsome fellow isn't he? You can see he's a Holmes though I can see John there as well. A rather successful blend." Mycroft's voice had softened and gentled without him knowing it and he traced a slender finger over a smooth, chubby cheek. "Have you let Mrs. Hudson know about this happy event?"

"Not just yet. My arms have been a bit full," Sherlock pulled his phone out and was about to text when Lestrade cleared his throat and leveled a look on him.

"Call her Sherlock. This is news to be spoken not texted," Greg automatically used the voice he tended to use when speaking to his children; it was one of the very few tones that worked on Sherlock. Then he gave his attention to Mycroft and the adorable thing in his fiancé's arms. Something absolutely rolled over in his chest seeing Mycroft cradling his nephew so carefully, as if he was afraid he was going to break him. "Handsome lad. He'll be leading the blokes and birds a merry chase to catch his heart when he's older."

"Mm, yes." Mycroft watched so that Sherlock was busy calling Martha before leaning closer to his lover. "I'm already planning the detail to follow him as a teenager and keep him safe both from threats and overzealous romantic interests. One can never be too careful." He rocked the sleeping baby in his arms. "He's so light; it's a wonder how something so small and light can make such an impact on the world."

Greg chuckled and brushed his lips over Mycroft's cheek, "A wonder, yeah that's a good way of putting it. More amazing is the way such tiny hands wind up holding so many hearts captive," he smoothed his hand over the dark wisps of fuzz on the little head, careful of the soft spot.

Sherlock finished his phone call with a happily weeping Mrs. Hudson who'd assured him that the crib had been delivered and assembled. The he used his phone to take a stealthy picture of his brother and Lestrade cooing over their nephew. "Although you'll be his uncle officially soon Lestrade, John and I would both like it if you were Benjamin's godfather." He met the startled DI's gaze, "He does deserve the best after all."

Lestrade's smile turned soft around the edges and he nodded, "It'd be an honor Sherlock."

Mycroft smiled at his lover. "The best indeed, for once Sherlock you showed off that massive intellect that you claim to have. Excellent choice." He continued to coo at his nephew, knowing that Sherlock could retaliate physically while Mycroft was holding his son. Besides Sherlock was so much better with words anyway. "He is beautiful little brother, you and John have done very well."

Sherlock twitched but then he smiled sweetly, making Greg roll his eyes and prepare for the world to end. "John did the work, with help of course from Benjamin's godmother. Sarah has been an invaluable friend to John during the pregnancy and will be a remarkable godmother. Wouldn't you agree Lestrade?"

"Oi keep me out of it. Though I'll admit that only the truly stupid would try to hurt or upset Ben when he's in Auntie Sarah's care."

Long nose twitching, Mycroft managed to hold his tongue, mostly. "No matter my feelings for the lady doctor she is a mother bear when in protective mode. I honestly don't think you could have chosen a better godmother for Benjamin. And if you didn't at least do any of the work to bring this wonder into being then I start to worry? Is this the second coming? Should we expect angel choirs descending in song?"

"I said John did the work. I was only there for the conception."

Lestrade snorted, "In other words you've got your head on right. You had the fun part of it and John did all the work...actually that's about par for the course for the two of you isn't it?"

Mycroft snickered at that. "That sounds about right doesn't it Sherlock? Think you might even have to buy milk now at times, the horror of it all." He leaned down and nuzzled the baby's soft fuzz of hair. "Yes you will make your daddy work won't you, daddy will work while you and mummy relax."

Sherlock took another picture. Noting that Lestrade caught him doing it but only smiled. That was right. The DI understood the value of pictures of one's child better than anyone. He sent the pictures off in a message to his mother, letting her know that he'd inform her when John was well enough to move around the flat properly. Then he stepped forward to reclaim his son, "You will, of course, get more opportunities to hold him. Right now however, John still has to have that moment."

"Well I can't keep you away from your mummy, not matter how much I want to." Mycroft reluctantly let Benjamin go, his arms suddenly feeling cold and very empty. "Tell John congratulations from us and to take care, we all know his stubborn streak but even he will need rest after surgery." Mycroft reached for Greg's hand, twining their fingers together.

"I will." Sherlock was off down the corridor just in the nick of time as Mycroft's phone chimed with a message from their mother.

'Darling you look absolutely adorable with Benjamin. You really should consider having children of your own you know. You'd be a marvelous father. - Love Mummy'

"Oh I will twist that scrawny neck of Sherlock's...Or have it twisted, I abhor fieldwork." Mycroft growled and quickly tapped in a reply.

'Working on it Mummy, Gregory has children, just need to get him custody. Keep your nose out of it. Congratulations on your grandchild. - Mycroft.'

Only with his mother would Mycroft bother typing out his full name.

'If I'm to stay out of it, I expect to meet your Gregory very soon young man. I've only not poked my nose in to meet Sherlock's miracle because he's in a delicate state. If you get married before I meet the groom I will be most displeased, especially if I gain more beautiful grandchildren from the deal. - Love Mummy'

Greg watched the look on Mycroft's face, "Alright what did Sherlock do to get you in a text exchange that makes you pull those sort of faces?"

Mycroft looked up from his phone. "The brat sent Mummy a photo of me holding Benjamin; now her motherly feathers are all fluffed." He made a face. "We better invite her over for dinner before she shows up anyway...That would not be good for anyone. She would break in without a second thought."

'Come for dinner this weekend and meet him then. Behave. - Mycroft.'

'Oh now where's the fun in that? I'll be by this weekend. Do try and catch a picture of Sherlock with darling Benjamin for me. - Love Mummy'

Greg chuckled at Mycroft's expression and took his free hand to press a kiss to the fingers, "The more I hear about your mother, the more I like her."

"Reserve your judgement until you've actually met her." Mycroft replied dryly. "She's coming over this weekend for dinner. We'll be lucky if we get her to leave before she's been to see Sherlock and Benjamin...As well as John now that he's not in a 'delicate' state any longer."

"So we'll be playing host to your mother for six weeks," Greg nodded then laughed at Mycroft's horrified look, "John's not pregnant anymore but he's still in, what'd you call it, a 'delicate' state. He won't really be able to move around much as he normally is for six weeks while the incision heals. So post-partum hormones, what is essentially a healing, painful wound, and more bed rest."

"Six weeks under the same roof as Mummy and insanity as well as dead bodies will follow...Hopefully my dead body if that is the case. Poor John of course but I still pity us more." Mycroft tapped the fingers of his free hand against his knee, trying to come up with a plan that would make sure Mummy didn't stay for more than a dinner.

"It's moments like this when I wonder how you manage the hypocrisy to call Sherlock dramatic." Greg chuckled and pressed a kiss to Mycroft's jaw, "And if you're lying dead it'll only be because someone got to me first."

"Don't try and soften me up after having called me a hypocrite. Again, wait until you've met Mummy. Every ounce of dramatic flair Sherlock and I might have, we have come by it honestly." Mycroft sniffed but he turned his head so he could press his lips against Greg's. "Now I need to figure out a way to get Mummy a picture of Sherlock and Benjamin..."

Greg gave him a smile and brought up his own phone, "Now you know I take photographs of Sherlock in his less manic moments whenever possible," he brought up the images he'd taken from the moment he'd noticed Sherlock, including one of him transferring Ben into Mycroft's arms. "Which one?"

Mycroft leaned close and looked through the images and settled for one where Sherlock had just come out to the waiting area with Benjamin, the look in his baby brother's eyes as he watched his son was so unguarded and raw that it was almost painful to look at. "This one, definitely this one."

"Want to send it from my phone or have me send you the picture so you can send it from yours? Since you said your mother's as sneaky as you are I'm half expecting her to already have my number." Greg handled the knowledge that some unknown woman might have his personal phone number the same way he handled everything to do with a Holmes and his privacy. Easily, like water sliding off a duck's back.

"Let's send it from your phone; she has your number, most likely your shoe size and your milk teeth in a jar as well." Mycroft took Greg's phone out of his hand and hurriedly sent the image.

'Here you are, all thanks goes to Gregory as the photographer and owner of the phone. Don't text him with inane things and for god's sake don't call him. - Mycroft.'

Greg read the text and shook his head, just kissing Mycroft instead of commenting. He knew that if her sons got their propensities from her then Mother Holmes would just see that text as a challenge and treat it accordingly.

oOo

Sherlock stepped into a less crowded and cleaner delivery and recovery room after having been waylaid by Sarah for measurements for Benjamin, smiling to see John propped up and looking six different kinds of impatient. Without a word he went over to him and set the baby into his waiting arms.

John beamed at Sherlock before all his attention turned to Benjamin. Those perfect bow shaped lips moved slightly as Benjamin sucked on his tongue in his sleep. He was so wonderful, barely there eyebrows and dark lashes shadowing his cheeks. No matter what would happen to John he knew with full certainty that the miracle in his arms would be his greatest accomplishment by far.

Sherlock maneuvered so that he had one arm arching just over John's shoulders and he was looking down, completely unaware of the soft, content smile on his face, at his John holding their son. "He's not opened his eyes yet but I know he is statistically most likely to have the blue shade that most infants possess."

John chuckled and leaned against Sherlock even as he continued to admire Benjamin. "I bet he has your eyes, I bet that he'll skip the baby blues entirely. He's your son after all."

"Ah but he's your son as well John. There's even a strong statistical likelihood that he'll lose all the dark hair and it could come back in as blond." His other hand covered one of John's on the blanketed bundle, "It's a greater likelihood that he'll have your eyes however as they're darker. Dark coloration is the more dominant in genetics though it is unpredictable."

John could do nothing but to continue to chuckle. "Bollocks to statistics and genetics I say. Let Benjamin surprise us with how he'll turn out, he'll be gorgeous no matter what and it will be more fun that way." He knew he would never get Sherlock to stop calculating and deducing and he didn't want him to stop either, it was who Sherlock was and John loved him for it. He still thought it could be fun with a surprise once in a while.

A little squeak kept Sherlock from answering and he chuckled to see Benjamin squirming and starting to fuss, mouth working and searching for something before letting loose a short cry. He looked around to see if a bottle had been left and spotted the insulated bag set on a clean instrument tray. He left John reluctantly to rummage into the bag, pulling out one bottle, testing the milk's temperature on his wrist before bringing it back to John.

Benjamin was pecking at his chest like a little baby bird and John found it adorable. Benjamin was working himself up to quite the hunger rage though so John accepted the bottle from Sherlock and brought it to their son's mouth, watching him latch on and suck greedily. Benjamin made small satisfied grunts as he ate and John grinned. "Listen we have a little baby pig here, an adorable one of course."

Sherlock chuckled and mimicked Greg in smoothing his hand over Benjamin's head, "Precious and perfect in every way." He remembered being a child and always wondering if he was too odd or a disappointment or any one of a thousand other things to his family and made a private vow that his son would never have to wonder any of that.

"Oh absolutely perfect right down to the tiniest grunt." John agreed turning his head to nuzzle his nose against Sherlock's jawline. "We did well here didn't we? Made perfection. Thank you Sherlock, for gifting me with my wildest dreams, dreams I didn't even know I had before they came true."

He leaned his head against John's, "Yours is the greater gift John." Nothing would ever convince him otherwise. John had first come to accept and love him exactly as he was, had carried and born their son, and he'd forgiven him, given him another chance. His mother called John his miracle and he was, he truly was.

"We'll be lucky together with what we have been given then." John felt fully content having his family around him, safe and happy. The only thing that would have made this moment better would have been if they were at home at Baker Street.

Sherlock kissed John's temple, knowing what he was thinking, "Two days, according to what I've read forty-eight hours is the average time in a medical facility after a cesarean. Then we'll be home. Will you be irritated when I carry you up the stairs?"

"I will walk up the bloody stairs on my own two feet and two days is unnecessary, I'm a doctor, I know how to keep a wound clean and taken care of. They cut a baby out of me, not my brain. Please Sherlock; don't make me spend two days with Janice." John blinked pleading blue eyes at his lover.

"If you will agree to my carrying you up the stairs I will support you in convincing Dr. Weisz and Sarah to allow you to go home sooner." Sherlock knew John could care well for himself but he also knew his lover's stubbornness and knew that if someone did not sit on him, he'd be up and moving too much too soon.

The embarrassment of being carried up seventeen steps to their flat wouldn't last for very long and it was Sherlock who would be carrying him, not some stranger. "Deal, carry away when we get home just as long as I'm able to actually go home, where there will be just us, you, me and Benjamin."

"I'll get Bradley and Sarah then and we can begin work on convincing them." It certainly wouldn't be easy work, Bradley knew his methods and Sarah knew John's.

"Mmm, I know what you're thinking but even as a team they have nothing on us Sherlock. We can convince them...I'll nag and you'll make brilliant points on why home is the best environment for me at this time." John grinned.

Sherlock chuckled and dropped a kiss onto John's lips before heading for the door, "Home is the best environment for you. You'd be too stressed here." He made one of his brisk exits. He rather wanted to be home himself, surrounded by the familiar walls and where he knew every structure so exactly that he could plan out a defensive strategy in his sleep should it be necessary.

To be continued…