A/N: Here's this week's installment! I'm sick, so I hope the chapter makes sense...LOL. Thanks so much for your continued support of the story! WARNING: There's one bit of triggerish material with Jada. We already knew she was a victim of abuse and it is mentioned.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the children.
It all happened so fast that no one was really prepared. The birth of William and Phineas Holmes, or Will and Finn as they would be known ever after, was nothing short of miraculous. After it was all over, the doctor could only shake his head in amused derision. It seemed the Holmes brood could not be bothered to do anything normal or uneventful. One minute Molly was reclining on the couch looking for baby names with the Watsons, the next she was giving birth on the floor of the bathroom.
"What do I do, John?" Sherlock asked, trying to stay calm, but failing miserably. His voice was quavering on the edge of panic, but he knew that if he got upset, Molly would too. "Should I call the ambulance?"
"Yes," John said calmly, pulling clean towels off the rack and laying them on the floor. "Tell them that we have a woman giving birth to twins and that we don't have time to get to hospital."
"What?" Sherlock shrieked. "Can we do that? Are we allowed to have babies at home?"
Molly screamed with a contraction, gripping Mrs. Hudson's hand so hard that the old woman went down on her knees. "Don't be stupid!" she shouted at Sherlock. "Allowed or not they're coming!"
Sherlock looked stung and Mary patted his hand, leading him away. "Come on, we'll go call the ambulance and your brother."
"She yelled at me," Sherlock whined as they disappeared down the hall.
John took a deep breath. Molly lay on the floor, letting Mrs. Hudson support her head. Evidently she'd fallen down as she was coming out of the bathroom, as she lay on the rug by the bathtub. Everything had happened so fast that it was taking a moment for him to get his head clear. She "Molly," he said, trying to get her attention. She was too busy trying to breathe awkwardly through the contraction. "Molly, look at me. Do you think you can stand up and get to the bed?"
"No," she whimpered. "I don't know…"
"It's okay. It's fine. You can stay right here."
"I don't want to have my babies on the bathroom floor!" she wailed. "For one thing… I haven't mopped in weeks." Before John could say more or anyone could help, Molly had hoisted herself to a sitting position and was pulling herself up on the tub. John rushed to help her, pushing Mrs. Hudson aside.
"Whoa, Mols…"
"I'm not having my babies in a bathroom!" she shrieked. Just then, she was gripped by another contraction that took her breath. She screamed and stumbled, nearly toppling them both.
"Sherlock!" John shouted. "Just breathe Molly. Try not to push just yet." He held her up as best he could, coaching her breathing until her knees buckled and it was over. Sherlock appeared in the doorway, his phone pressed to his ear. "Sherlock, there isn't time! I'm combing the baby's hair!" Sherlock dropped the phone and went to Molly's other side. The two of them hoisted her up, carrying her to the bed and laying her down gently.
"What do I do?" Sherlock asked again. By his expression it was clear that he was paralyzed with fear of what was happening. Mary came in behind with a large bowl and more towels and began placing them on the bed.
"Just prop her up on pillows and help her breathe," John said, his voice calm and even now. He was going into doctor mode and Molly was thankful. She wasn't sure she could take much more chaos. "Sorry, Mols but I'm going to need to check everything." He blushed. John wasn't sure he wanted to see Molly's intimates, but he didn't have much choice.
"I don't care!" she whined. "Just do it!" Sherlock and John got Molly's clothes off while Mary arranged towels to offer some sort of modesty as John examined her. He tried not to gasp as he realized that the baby was very close. Much closer than he had anticipated. But he could do this. John had delivered dozens of babies in his career, some of them in much more distress than this. Of course, they hadn't been the children of his best friend in the world.
"All right, Mols. The first baby is coming quick." He smiled at Molly and Sherlock, desperately trying to reassure them. "But we're okay. I know what I'm doing. Do you trust me?"
"It's not like I have a choice." Molly growled. "You could be a cab driver and at this point I wouldn't care! Just let me push!"
OoOoOo
Mycroft stood in the reception area of the school, trying not to brush against the assortment of small children that rushed in and out. He was very uncomfortable here. He didn't like children, despite his affection for his nephew and niece. He'd even grown to tolerate Isabel Watson and her soon to be adopted sister, Jada, but other children were just too much. Too much noise. Too many questions. Too needy. Gabriel had always been high above his peers, intelligent and quiet. Scarlett… well, Mycroft couldn't exactly say that Scarlett was quiet, but something about her sweetness made him forgive her other childish qualities. A little boy about the age Gabriel had been when he came to Baker Street came into the office and sat down beside Mycroft. Directly beside him. Mycroft stared down his nose at the boy, clear disdain evident on his face.
"Are you a teacher?" the boy asked.
"No."
"You came to pick up your kid?"
Mycroft narrowed his eyes and glared. Why was this child so curious? They all seemed to be little interrogators, always asking questions and staring accusingly. "My nephew."
The little boy nodded, seeming to accept Mycroft's short answer. He slid back on the chair, dangling his feet above the floor and swinging them back and forth as he stared at his reflection in the shiny waxed tile. "I like your brolly."
Mycroft's hand fell instinctively on the handle of his umbrella. "Thank you," he replied stiffly.
"It's not raining, though. Why did you carry it?"
Mycroft considered the question and then shrugged. He didn't owe this child any explanation. "Maybe it's going to."
"But what if it doesn't?"
"It probably will."
"But what if it doesn't?"
"Then I'll leave it in the car!" Mycroft snapped, making the kid giggle.
"Jacob Barnes, are you bothering people?" The older lady behind the counter motioned for the little boy to come and give her the papers he carried. He hopped down off of the chair and skipped to her desk. She smiled and took the papers, giving him a big hug before sending him on his way. "I can help you now, Sir," she said to Mycroft with a sunny grin.
"See ya, Mister," the Jacob boy said as he skipped out of the office.
"Sorry. He's a precocious little thing. Always chattering away at anyone who'll listen. Now, what can I help you with?"
"I'm here to pick up Gabriel Holmes and Jada Barrow," Mycroft replied, pulling his wallet from his front pocket. He handed over his identification and smiled as pleasantly as he was capable.
The woman nodded and handed Mycroft the book to sign. She watched as he carefully signed his name in pristine, even script. "You must be Gabriel's uncle."
"How did you guess?" he said cooly.
The old secretary chuckled. "You look exactly as he described." She looked at the clock overhead. "Is everything all right? It's not even lunch time."
"Gabriel's brothers are being born."
"Oh how exciting!" she squealed. Mycroft's wan smile squelched her enthusiasm and she buzzed down to Gabriel and Jada's classrooms. "He's been telling us for weeks that they could be born at any time. Imagine that! Twin boys. Well, your brother and sister-in-law will certainly have their work cut out for them."
"So it would appear."
If for no other reason than to get away from the cheery secretary, Mycroft made his way down the hall until he saw a corkboard with a snapshot of Gabriel doing a science experiment outside of a classroom door. Mycroft smiled wistfully. He was struck once more by how much Gabriel looked like Sherlock. Even more with each passing day. He distinctly remembered his brother at age eleven. He'd always been peevish and temperamental, but as a little boy, Sherlock had also been sensitive and eager to please. "Uncle Mycroft!" Gabriel exclaimed, spotting him in the doorway and running to throw himself against his uncle. "Are the babies here yet?"
"I'm not sure. We're supposed to meet your parents at the hospital."
"Hooray!" the entire class cheered in unison.
"Yes, it's lovely. Come on. We have to fetch Jada and your sister."
OoOoOo
By the time the paramedics arrived, Baby Will was already wailing heartily. His tiny face was scrunched up and angry. He appeared to be very unhappy at being disturbed and was emphatically scolding his parents. Molly and Sherlock could only laugh at his displeasure as John placed him against Molly's chest. "Well he's certainly breathing," Mrs. Hudson remarked, insinuating herself over Sherlock's shoulder to stare down at the newborn.
"Mary… bring one of those blankets. We need to keep the baby warm." Sherlock could only stare at the doctor with absolute amazement. It was true that he had seen John Watson perform many feats of courage and competence, but for the first time he was awed by John's talent as a doctor. Usually when he watched John do these things, the person was already dead or had been terribly injured. But this time, Sherlock observed, John had given life to his sons. He was methodical, calm and self-assured as he examined little Will and cleared all the airways and wiped the amniotic fluid from his eyes. "Molly, see if you can get him to nurse. That will help the next baby along."
"How long before the next baby?" Sherlock whispered, his eyes never leaving the face of his child. "Will there be time to get to the hospital?"
"Most likely not," John replied. "We'll get Baby Two here and then get them and Molly to the hospital."
The doorbell rang and for once even Sherlock was thankful for the noise. Mrs. Hudson rushed down and soon they heard voices and heavy feet tromping up the stairs. Will evidently heard it too, as he immediately began to shriek again. "He seems to object to company as much as you," Molly said with a sigh. She lay her head on Sherlock's shoulder, clearly too exhausted to hold it up anymore.
OoOoOo
An hour later, Mycroft sat in the family waiting room with Gabriel, Scarlett and Jada. The room was obviously decked out for siblings of children being born on the maternity ward. A large drawing table was off to one side equipped with crayons, markers and a giant roll of butcher paper. Scarlett and Jada were surprisingly quiet as they drew pictures of the twins. Scarlett was very precise in drawing herself perched on her father's hip while her mother carried both twins. "Who's in your picture, Scarlett?" Jada questioned.
She grinned and pointed out each person. "This is me with my daddy," she said. "He want to hold me and not the smelly babies." She pointed to the crayon sketches of the babies and the lines she had drawn to indicate the waves of unpleasant odor rolling off of each infant. "Mummy hold the babies 'cause she have to give them milk."
"Oh," she said, not really understanding. Jada didn't understand much when it came to how mums and dads were supposed to be. She had been living full time with John and Mary for a few months and she liked them very much. They paid attention to her and helped her with her homework. They'd even bought her new clothes and books and toys. Mary was helping her learn to read and write. John played games with her and took her to the cinema. And she loved Izzy so much. She'd never had a real sister before and had found she enjoyed the admiration of the small child. She was very happy with them, but she couldn't help but think that one morning she would wake up and she'd be back in the dark place with her last mum. Mum. That word didn't mean much. Jada had overheard Mary talking to John and wishing that Jada would someday call her 'mum' like Izzy did, but Jada wasn't sure she ever could. For Jada, mum was not something good. Mum was the lady that called you worthless and complained that you ate too much food. Sometimes mums put their cigarettes out on your arms when you didn't want to get up in the mornings. Mary was not Jada's mum and never would be. Mary and John were nice and though it scared her so, she thought that maybe she loved them.
As if conjured up by Jada's mind, Mary and Isabel burst through the door of the waiting room. Poor Izzy looked pitiful with red, sleepy eyes and the sterile mask her parents had insisted she wear. Jada and Scarlett giggled at her as she approached. "It's not funny," Izzy pouted and lay her head on her mum's shoulder.
"What's happening?" Gabriel asked, jumping up from his chair. "Where's dad and mum?"
"They're upstairs," Mary said, putting Isabel down in the chair beside Mycroft. She immediately curled up against his arm. He looked horrified, but he didn't make her move. She was so sleepy that she didn't bother to complain when Scarlett and Jada threw themselves into her arms. "And you, Miss Scarlett, have two new baby brothers."
"They're here?" Scarlett gasped and turned to hug Gabriel.
"They certainly are." Mary sighed, relieved at their excitement. Perhaps Scarlett wouldn't try to sell her brothers after all. "Two baby boys: William Alexander and Phineas Scott."
The children cheered and hugged one another, already chattering about who would help Molly take care of the babies. Just as it started to turn into an argument, Sherlock appeared. Gabriel and Scarlett nearly bowled him over. "Daddy! I want to see the babies!" Scarlett squealed.
"I know," he said, kissing the tops of their heads. He looked rumpled and exhausted though it was only mid-afternoon. Mycroft looked up and narrowed his eyes, examining his brother's demeanor. Sherlock was obviously distraught about something and trying very hard not to show any outward sign. "Clean up your mess and we'll go see them," he said, pointing to the drawing table. Scarlett tugged her brother excitedly toward the table.
Mycroft slid out from under the sleeping Isabel and followed Sherlock into the hallway. "Is everything all right?" he asked, closing the door behind him.
"Molly's had some complications. She's having a procedure to fix it, but we'll be here all night."
"I'm sure she'll be fine." Mycroft crossed his arms one way then another. The concept of comforting his brother was foreign and uncomfortable.
"Look," Sherlock sighed. His eyes surveyed the hallway looking anywhere but at his brother. "I need you to take Scarlett and Gabe home and stay with them."
"Sherlock, I can't," Mycroft began. "I'm supposed to be in a very important meeting in an hour. I can't miss it. I'm—"
"I know. The British government," Sherlock grumbled, pushing his hands through his hair nervously.
"What about Mrs. Hudson? She doesn't seem daunted by the thought of taking care of two children. In fact, I think she'd be thrilled."
"She would be. But, she's refused to leave Molly."
"Then John and Mary?"
"Isabel is sick. The poor thing slept through the entire birth and I can't ask them to be responsible for two more children. Not to mention that Scarlett is probably going to be upset later…"
"Well I'd love to help, Sherlock. But I really can't spare the time."
"Ugh!" Sherlock groaned, pacing angrily back and forth. "This is so typical! Despite all your blathering about brotherly affection and pressure points—you can't even bother to help me when I need you!"
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. Really I am, but it can't be helped."
"That's all well and good, but where will I find someone to stay with them tonight?"
"Well there you are! You scared the hell out of me, Sherlock!" Both turned to see Irene Adler stalking angrily down the corridor toward them.
