A/N I'd much prefer this to be a separate story but it follows on from Mycroft. It won't be to everybody's taste but I hope you still enjoy it nonetheless. There is likely to be another chapter at least as this is slowly becoming a bigger story that I initially thought. I honestly thought it would just be a oneshot, documenting Myrcoft's reaction, but its slowly glinting at becoming more. I do like this universe. This can potentially be seen as a sequel to Love, Lust and Sentiment in a way, something that I will at some point write a few sequel one shots to.

Disclaimer: Sorry I didn't add this at the start. BBC Sherlock is not mine.

Sherlock Holmes left the wedding early. He didn't want to intrude on the couples dance and now that the case had been solved he was needed anymore. It was a shame, he'd looked forward to the dancing and had hoped that at least the bridesmaid Janine would have danced with him at least once, but she was now otherwise occupied. Instead, Sherlock hailed a cab back into central London and back to Baker Street.

There's a light on in the window as Sherlock exits the cab and pays the driver. Intruders, the night was certainly beginning to take a turn for the better. After stealthily climbing the stairs, careful not to make any noise, Sherlock burst into his flat, the door having already been unlocked, ready to attack the intruders. However, nothing could have really prepared Sherlock for the sight in front of him as he opened the door. The Woman was standing there in the middle of the room, rocking a sleeping baby in her arms. A very tiny baby at that.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock's voice is icier than he'd intended.

"Your brother told me not to come you know, but you know how much I like to misbehave." She's got a mischievous smile on her face as she says the words. However, it's weird seeing the woman's words juxtaposed to the baby in her arms.

"Mycroft knows?" He asks surprised. He's referring to her resurrection that he had orchestrated and not the baby.

"Oh yes, apparently we weren't quite discreet enough." Her words have a double meaning that Irene is sure Sherlock picks up on.

The elephant in the room, or rather the baby in the room, goes untouched a topic initially as she continues to direct indiscreet jibes at him. He'd figure it out soon enough though, she thinks. "I did of course expect you to be longer, it's not even midnight and you're the best man."

"I left early; my presence was no longer required."

"Oh Mr Holmes. I half expected one of the bridesmaids to coerce you into having dinner, that is what usually happens to the best man you know."

"There was an attempted murder." He says bluntly.

Irene's eyes glimmered at his words. "How exciting."
He doesn't tell her he finally found a use for her handcuffs he'd stolen from her back in Paris, 'they might come in handy' had been his quip at her when she'd raised an eyebrow as he'd tried to subtly slip them into his pocket.

"I presume you've figured out why I'm here." Irene states, looking down at the child in her arms.

"You have a child, either that or you stole it. However that is extremely unlikely as you don't like children and so you wouldn't purposely burden yourself with one if you could have helped it. Anyway it has your features." Sherlock says having studied the bundle in her arms.

"I didn't steal him." Irene confirms.

"Of course not." Sherlock pauses. "We both have similar features, dark hair, pale complexions and blue eyes, so its hard to tell whose features this child has, whether its just your genes or a combination of both. However, you wouldn't be here and you certainly wouldn't have contacted Mycroft if it wasn't mine." Sherlock deduces, scrutinising the woman and the infant. "I wasn't aware you were pregnant." He adds as an after thought.

Irene nods and thats the only confirmation he needs to know that he's right. He has a child. "Sherlock…" She starts but she doesn't know what to say and trails off.

He shakes his head at her and then turns to leave. Irene doesn't plead with him to turn back, she hadn't expected him to take the news of fatherhood gracefully. This was just her notifying him, it was something that had to be done. She was hardly going to beg him to stay, she certainly wasn't like that. However, Sherlock, in his bid to escape from her and her revelation, only makes it halfway down the stairs before he bumps in none other than his brother Mycroft.

"Going somewhere Sherlock?" The elder Holmes questions, blocking the path of his younger brother.

"Out."

"I take it you took to fatherhood as expected then." Mycroft sniffed. "I did warn you Ms Adler." He adds, noticing Irene approaching the door, the baby still clutched in her arms.

Without a retort and the realisation that Mycroft would not let him pass, Sherlock turns on his heel and pushes past Irene, but is uncharacteristically mindful of the baby and enters the flat once more. He is quickly joined by Irene and Mycroft who chooses to glare at the woman.

"I told you not to contact him." Mycroft growls at The Woman.

"Since when do I play by the rules Mr Holmes." Irene laughs, covering her emotions perfectly.

"Since it concerns your child, I thought even you would care more about that than yourself."

Irene's smile fell and anger seethed through her at his words but she didn't let it show that his words had affected her.

"I'm surprised Ms Adler it took this long for you to conceive, I'm sure accidents are far more likely in your line of work."

They're referring to Sherlock in front of Sherlock and he stays quiet trying to process his thoughts.

Death had changed him, he had grown to appreciate having Irene around and before their final departure back in Montenegro he had admitted to himself that he held some sort of sentimental feelings that were more than just an appreciation of her brilliance and more than her sexual appeal. Although he hadn't seen her in nearly a year and she hadn't texted him either, he had always presumed that they would meet again occasionally. He had however, not imagined it would be under such circumstances. He didn't know how to take the information of the baby that was biologically his and so he attempted to process it in the only way he knew how.

"The boy is no more than two months old, presuming you carried him to term that is." Irene and Mycroft both turn to look at Sherlock who interrupted their argument. "Thus making the conception date September of last year and presuming that I am the father then he was conceived in Montenegro, anytime between the 18th-21st of that month."

Irene doesn't confirm the information, they all know that he's right. This isn't for their benefit, Sherlock's deductions are all for him; it's his way of processing the information.

"You've recently come from Paris." He adds. "The carrier for the child is of a French manufacturer, it's not special nor expensive enough for you to want to import it from France, making it likely that you bought it there. Your perfume is unique, bought from either one of two brands who only have stores in Paris confirming my suspicions. It's likely the child was born there too." He looks up at her, ignoring Mycroft.

"Oui." She says without breaking contact with the Detective.

The moment is broken however when Mycroft coughs. "Well it is apparent that it was a useless bid coming here Ms Adler; it has only reaffirmed what I told you. My brother does not care for the child nor is in any position to play happy families with you."

"I did not come here for that, Mr Holmes." She spat at Mycroft.

Irene's about to say more but Sherlock interrupts. He's suddenly angry, angry at them both but mostly at his elder brother for his unnecessary interference. It shocks all three when Sherlock raises his voice to a tone that Irene is sure will awake the baby.

"Leave." He directs the single word to his brother who merely raises an eyebrow. "Leave Mycroft now."

There is a moment when Irene is stuck in the cross-fire between the two brothers, there is a verbal sparring match between them before Mycroft leaves in a huff, in accordance with his brothers wishes.

"Why did you come here?" Sherlock asks as soon as he's slammed the door in Mycroft's face.

"I don't like to be told what to do."

"I am not a father." Sherlock states simply.

"I know." Irene whispered.

Sherlock moves across the room and sinks into his usual armchair; she moves away from him and places the child in the carrier. She doesn't approach him, not yet, they need to keep the distance between them.

"I wish to have no role in this child's upbringing." Sherlock is blunt with his words.

"As you wish." Irene agrees quietly. It's not as if she expected anything different anyway.

"Where are you staying?"

"Your darling brother wants us to stay in England, he believes that that way he'll be able to keep a short leash on me. I may have then let slip that it isn't me that likes being leashed." She adds with a smirk that shows her teeth; she's referring to Odessa and their mutual experiment.

"In London?" He asks, steering the conversation away from reminiscing of their time together.

"God no. He didn't want you to know, thus London was totally out of the question. He almost debated sending me to Edinburgh but I told him I couldn't deal with the weather. He then had a house set up in Bath, but despite its aesthetic beauty, the city is dull and nowhere near as interesting as London. I couldn't have coped."

"There's your residence in Belgravia." Sherlock noted.

"Sold apparently, by the British Government alongside most of my assets that I wasn't able to transfer before I left London."

"It's in the name of Sigerson Wolfe."

Irene looked up at him surprised. "Your alias?"

"Indeed." They didn't speak of the sentiment that such an action in buying her house provoked. "I bought it in case your funds depleted during your death; I didn't know what type of lifestyle you would wish to lead."

Irene didn't say thank you but nodded in recognition.

"Do you want me to stay in London?" She asks after a momentary period of silence.

"Why would I have a preference?" Sherlock responds confused.
"He is your son."
"One that I have already expressed the desire to have no involvement with. Albeit it would be a good experiment as naturally he will be of above-intelligence, however I do not have the time nor the paternal instinct to take a prominent role in his life. I don't care where you live."

"Mycroft won't like it if I stay in London." Irene muses.

"Since when has either of us cared what my elder brother likes."

"Oh touché Mr Holmes." She grins again. "But this conversation is certainly making me feel as if you want me to stay in London."

Sherlock doesn't raise his head at her, instead choosing to stare at the fireplace. "I don't care."

"Hmm." Irene muses from her position on the arm of John's chair. "London it is then."

"Fine."

"Good."

"Alias?" Sherlock asks.

"Your brother gave me one of course, but I'm hardly a Jennifer." Sherlock scrunches his nose up when she says the name. The Woman could hardly have such a common name as Jennifer, it did not suit her in the slightest. "I'm thinking of returning to Irene Adler. Moriaty's network is dead- you saw to that and now with the British Government as my protection, I am free to return to my old life."

"As a dominatrix?" Sherlock enquires, not that he particularly cares.

"Perhaps."

"Why did you keep it?" He's referencing to the child of course, moving the conversation on.

"Sentiment." She responds simply and he understands.

There's a lull in the conversation but its comfortable. He's taking the knowledge of their son much better than expected, Irene thinks. She waits for a few more minutes but he's retreated back into his Mind Palace. So without saying anything she leaves the room and heads towards the bathroom. She hasn't showered in nearly 24 hours and she's exhausted from Nero; although he's acting calm and serene now, he'd spent nearly the entire morning and the whole of the flight crying. He'd only stopped when the plane began its decent at Heathrow, much to the annoyance of the passengers on the flight. Luckily, Nero had continued to sleep since then, however this also meant he would also awake very soon. As such, she needed to hurry if she wanted a decent shower.

She's in the middle of her shower, using his shampoo and his soap, when Nero starts crying. She can't hear him over the sound of the shower and continues washing her hair, her exhaustion coming over her. It takes Sherlock over 30 seconds to register the screams; they shake him out of his mind palace and forces him back into reality

"Irene?" Sherlock calls out but he can hear the shower going and she won't have heard him.

He doesn't know what to do, the child is crying rather loudly for such a small thing and Sherlock is inexperienced with anything younger than 18, let alone an infant. He never wanted to be a father and this situation certainly isn't exposing a secretly hidden paternal instinct. The baby's cries continues and Sherlock eases out of his chair and towards the carrier with the baby in it.

"Irene?" Sherlock yells out again

He doesn't want to touch the child but he has no choice if Irene isn't coming. He snaps the buckle off of the baby and lifts him out of the case. He's never held an infant before; he had never been trusted with anything delicate due to a tendency to see how robust such objects really were. Sherlock remembers back to a book he once read for a case on young children, he was mindful of supporting the head as he lifted the child towards his chest. The baby doesn't stop crying. Luckily for Sherlock, it is not less than a few seconds later when Irene hears Nero's cries as she turns the shower off and in an instant she comes hurrying in. Sherlock turns as he hears her enter, her makeup is removed and she's wrapped in a towel, still dripping wet. Irene bites back a laugh at the sight in front of her, the great consulting detective with a pained expression on his face trying to comfort the infant.

"It won't stop crying."

"He's probably hungry." She says, intent to watch Sherlock squirm by not offering to take the child.

However, Sherlock moves towards her, invading her personal space in order to force her to take it.

"You're going to have to hold him whilst I get changed." Irene adds, patting the boy's back gently but not wavering eye contact with Sherlock.

"I can't." He retaliates.

"You just did."

"Irene-" He's pleading with her and she's not heartless enough to force this onto him.

Without saying a word she walks towards Sherlock's room, places Nero on the bed, dries off and changes before tending to her son. It was a mistake coming here, he was better off not knowing, she doesn't know what she was thinking. Sentiment. She lets a tear fall as she changes the boy on Sherlock's bed. Why did she even decide to keep it? She wasn't the mothering type and Sherlock without a doubt wasn't a father. Mycroft was right. Upon a change of nappy and seeing his mother's face Nero begins to calm a bit, although he's evidently hungry. She exits the bedroom without bothering to clean up the towels she's left on the floor and heads towards the kitchen to warm up some milk for the baby. When she does Sherlock is nowhere to be found, his coat is gone and Irene sighs. Nero Wolfe may only have been two months old, but he was already posing a problem to everybody involved.