John lifted a large cardboard box onto a table with a frustrated huff. Today has been stressful enough without having to deal with the puzzling amount of things Sherlock acquired. For a man who prided himself on knowing everything, clearly being unprepared wasn't sitting well.
Settling his hands on the box, John surveyed all the newly purchased items that cluttered the small room. A top-of-the-line telescope, dictionaries for nearly all major languages, a university level chemistry kit, probably every board game in the country, and a starter's entomology kit complete with life-like models of the world's most common insects.
"Is this box only filled with instruments? When did you find time to buy all these?" He called to a pacing Sherlock in the other room.
"Yes. Last week. It's time to go." Sherlock briskly ordered, arriving to stand in the doorway with John's jacket and keys in his hands. He shuffled in place nervously, his black coat swishing around his ankles.
"Hang on, we've still got like four hours until it's time. Trish will text if we have to leave earlier. Now calm down. Please. I should be the one freaking out, not you." John spoke without turning around.
"Yes but I've been doing some more research, and a woman of her ethnicity and age, from the region she was born? The chances of complications go up by-"
"Nothing. She's completely fine," John cut him off exasperated, turning to face his detective. "The entire pregnancy has been completely flawless up until now and she has the best possible medical attention available in all of London. Please just come here and help me. What you should be worried about is Mary's wrath when she comes home and sees this mess. We promised the girls we'd have the room finished and all you've done is buy more unnecessary stuff."
"They are not unnecessary." Sherlock grumbled in defeat. He hesitantly gave up trying to leave and joined John at the small table. "How would I know which instrument he will take a liking to?"
John couldn't help but smile as he held up a tiny violin. He quirked an eyebrow and looked at Sherlock.
"Well it has to be small for a child! A full-sized one would be absurd." He growled, plucking the small instrument from his doctor's hands. He hastily put it back in the box and carried the package to a higher shelf across the room.
John walked over to where Sherlock now stood nervously rolling his sleeves. He stopped Sherlock's busy hands and pulled him into a soft kiss. John couldn't help the flutter of happiness when his hand brushed against the ring on Sherlock's finger. After getting Mycroft to somehow return the priceless Egyptian ring (with much fuss from Sherlock), they had went to a jewelry store like a proper couple and picked out engagement rings themselves.
"Don't be scared," he comforted. "This is going to be the luckiest baby in the world. He'll have two moms and two dads." John soothed.
"John. I have a past. I've pissed off a lot of people," Sherlock spoke softly, avoiding John's eyes. "What if something comes back? He'll be a weakness-"
"Sherlock, he's not going to be a target. Don't think of all the 'what if's. They'll drive you mad. Forget the past; we are about to have an amazing future, finally. Hey, look at me," John quietly demanded, putting his hand to Sherlock's face, "We got this place with Trish and Mary in order to give our baby a warm, safe place to call home. Now I need you to be able to call it that too."
A loving silence hung in the air between them as small grins stretched across their faces, it was strange how bubbly they had become, how often they smiled.
The silence was interrupted by the buzzing of John's phone.
"I told you to put that on ringer," Sherlock chided impulsively as John pulled his phone out of his pocket. John rolled his eyes and looked down at the screen.
"It's Trish," He said, snapping his head up, eyes wide in sudden panic.
"It's time," Sherlock responded.
- 8 months earlier -
John had thought about this moment for years. Imagined who it would be with, how old would he be, would it be planned or a happy accident. There were times in Afghanistan he was sure he'd never make it to this moment. Then again after Sherlock left, fearing this part of his future ended. In all his dreams he would have never guessed it would have been like this. His lesbian best friend just months before her marriage to his other lesbian best friend, while he woke up that same morning wrapped in the arms of his male partner. He was known to like things a little different than the average bloke, but this was pushing it.
"Are you going to say something?" Mary asked, nervously playing with the bracelet on her wrist. She sat across from him on the sofa in 221B Baker Street, where John and Sherlock had resumed living (although they now shared Sherlock's room).
Not much intimidated Mary, but getting her best friend's blessing on their unplanned pregnancy definitely scared the shit out of her.
"Uh..." John was still in a shocked silence. Amazing, confused, and running over all the possible events in his entire life that lead to it becoming this weird. "How? We didn't...I mean we weren't... sleeping together." He managed.
"But we did, once...remember? That night we both agreed never happened?" She tried to jog his memory.
"But that was-"
"Five weeks ago. Which is exactly how far along I am."
"Surely, I mean- It's not likely... are you sure it's mine?" He was struggling to form sentences, but the look on Mary's face let him know he had just said the wrong one.
"No, actually, John. You know, out of all the droves of random men I've been sticking into me, it really could be anyone's best guess." She replied with a dry sharpness.
"Ok, alright...But that was just one time! And we used protection."
"Don't you remember? Our 'protection' you had so drunkenly assured me, was that it was impossible for me to get pregnant because I'm a lesbian and your gay. And I was drunk enough to believe it."
John racked his blurry memory. How many nights had he gotten drunk, how many fuzzy dream-like recollections could he even sort through? With some effort, it slowly came into view. The bottles of wine they had drank, ending up laughing and falling all over one another. Lonely and desperate for affection, they kissed long enough to let themselves get carried away. They both kept saying 'this is wrong', 'this shouldn't happen' but neither of them stopped until they got what they thought they had wanted. Not surprisingly after the drunken excitement had fizzled out, they both felt emptier and more wretched than before. The next morning they swore to never ever ever repeat or speak of what had happened.
"I said that?" He asked after a tense silence, still squinting and trying to remember the finer details of the night.
Their eyes met and she gave a slow, solemn nod. After a second, John couldn't help but snort to suppress the laughter bubbling up of nowhere. A grin slowly stretched across Mary's face, and soon his contagious giggle and the insanity of their situation had them barking laughter and wiping tears from their eyes.
"I can't BELIEVE this is happening! This is insane! Did you tell Trisha yet?"
Mary's face fell back into apprehension, "No I, uh...I didn't want to get her hopes up. I wanted to make sure you wanted to...you know, keep it."
John's eyes widened, he hadn't even considered that an option. "Of course I do? This is amazing! Incredibly strange but, who better to have a child with? We've already agreed to have kids, I don't see any reason not to have this baby."
Mary's face lit up, and she couldn't help the tears of joy pushing against her eyelids. He said yes. She going to have their baby. She let out a soft laugh as he pulled her into a hug.
"Have what baby?" A familiar deep voice questioned from the doorway. John twisted to see Sherlock standing in the doorway of the flat, holding a large dead fish in one hand, and a gun in the other. His face was furrowed with uncertainty.
For a moment John ignored what Sherlock and asked, "Did you shoot that fish?" Why even be surprised with the things Sherlock brings home at this point.
"Yes. What baby?" He asked, crossing the room, dropping the fish and gun in the threshold.
"Yeah that's a good spot for it; exactly what I was thinking." The doctor nodded.
"Answer the question, John." Sherlock quickly demanded as he squatted in front of him, placing his hands anxiously on his legs. Sherlock's eyes shifted and raked over Mary. Nervous expression, glowing with joy, tired posture, no coffee this morning.
"Oh my God." He snapped his head back to John before he could respond, "How could you not tell me?"
"Tell you? I literally was just told!"
Sherlock stood up quickly. He looked back and forth between the two of them with an unreadable expression. Then without another word he crossed back over the threshold (minding the fish) and was out the door.
"I think he's upset?" Mary tried, looking to John.
"Yeah, I'd say so." He said standing up, grabbing his jacket. " I'll talk to him. But don't worry; no matter what, we're keeping it."
"How long are you going to ignore me?" John called from their bedroom to Sherlock, who had moved onto the couch for the past two nights.
No response. He really should only have one baby to worry about, and yet.
He grumbled and pulled himself out of bed, padding into the living room. He stood in his boxers and night shirt, looking at a pouting Sherlock curled up in his robe.
"Look. I've spent too many nights without you. I forbid sleeping separately from now on. No matter how pissed you are at me, you can at least ignore me from the same bed."
Sherlock finally shifted his glare to focus on John. After a few seconds of deciding, without a word he stood up and walked past him into their room. Well, that's something.
By the time John got to the room, Sherlock was already laying with his back to the door, pushed as close as he could to the edge of the mattress.
John shuffled slowly into the darkened bedroom. "I wish you would just tell me what's upsetting you."
More ignoring.
John carefully walked around the bed to stand before Sherlock. Neither of them said a word as John waited for an explanation.
Sherlock sat up abruptly, placed two hands on John's waist, and pulled him into a kiss. John was shocked but welcomed the kiss, pushing back into Sherlock. He could taste the sadness in Sherlock's mouth, feel his silent jealously and longing the hands that clung to his neck. As with everything, Sherlock had chosen to show his feelings instead of tell. John forgot any anger or frustration at Sherlock's recent behavior, as his heart swelled with compassion.
He was like a child, new to all phases of a romantic relationship. Of course he wouldn't know how to react to jealously over someone else spending a night with his John. Moreover, the loads of powerful regret that pulsed constantly in Sherlock's heart didn't help the situation. If he had never left, had never ran from his feelings, John wouldn't have slept with Mary. He wouldn't have been alone.
Sherlock turned the kiss into a tight hug, clinging his arms across his doctor's back. He buried his face into John's neck and squeezed him almost too tightly.
"Hey, hey," John calmed softly, placing a comforting hand onto Sherlock's curls.
John heard Sherlock say something and pulled gently back, "what's that?"
"I'm so sorry," Sherlock repeated faintly, closing his eyes.
"I've already forgiven you a thousand times. Enough of this. You're back and that's all that matters now. I have you."
"Yes, b-"
John caught Sherlock's lips with his own. After a few moments, he crawled on top of his partner pushed him back onto the bed without breaking the kiss. If Sherlock could show John how he felt through actions, so would he.
-Present-
The four sat buzzing with exhaustion and excitement in the hospital room. Mary looked wildly disheveled but still radiantly beautiful and peaceful, with Trish laying next to her, petting her hair. She was telling her how great she did, how amazing she was, and how beautiful their new family was.
After being passed around, the moms handed the new born bundle to the dads and it had just come to Sherlock's turn to hold the baby. He had never held a human infant before, but after reading every book he could, and practicing with every baby-shaped thing he could find for months, he felt prepared. Almost.
The experience was much wigglier than he had anticipated. The little ball didn't even have his eyes open yet and he seemed to want to squirm right into the world already. Without thinking, he offered his finger in amazement and let the tiny hand curl around it. Strong grip, good sign.
He had thought he'd seen everything, and nothing could surprise him. He'd solved horrendous crimes, traveled to the strangest corners of the world, saved monarchies, brought some down, and even fallen in love. Just one tiny human couldn't possibly be more shocking then the things he's experienced.
And yet, this silly little bundle which had John's exact nose and lips was more miraculous than anything he could ever hope to see. The love of his life made an extraordinary little person and never had he felt greater compassion.
John was leaning over his shoulder, torn between watching the baby's every move and watching Sherlock's insanely adorable expression. After everything he'd been through, this type of warmth, of happiness, was nothing short of a miracle in John's eyes.
"So, I think we've agreed on a name." Mary announced. They had all agreed that Mary and John should pick the name, but they had to get Trisha and Sherlock's approval.
"Hamish." All eyes snapped at John and before protests could be sounded he laughed and cut them off.
"No no, I'm joking. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Actually I chose my father's name, and Mary chose Trisha's grandfather's name. Now please don't argue, we spent a lot of time going over names. Just say it a few times before making a judgment."
Silence.
"Benedict Martin."
Trisha immediately smiled widely at Mary. "It's brilliant," She told her, "lil Benny."
John looked to Sherlock, who was staring down at the baby.
"Benedict Martin Watson." Sherlock spoke softly. He repeated this a few more times, before looking up to John.
"You have a son." He spoke, wide-eyes expressing the greatest sense of wonder he's ever felt.
John leaned forward and gently closed the gap between them, wordlessly sharing his warmth against the other man's lips.
"We have a son." He cooed, as he pulled away.
Sherlock's face broke into a shameless smile. At long last, after a whole life and afterlife of waiting, he finally found himself home.
A:N The end! Thank you all so much for your amazing patience as it took me forever and a half to finish. But this has been so fun to write, and your kind response kept me going :) Ive been toying with the idea of a sequel. More fluff of house life with the crew. We'll see. Anyway, thanks again! I hope you've enjoyed.