Author's Note: Hey guys! Thanks for the kind reviews. Although they were sporadic which makes me think that half of you agreed with me that it was a 'meh' but necessary chapter. This chapter is a little short. I bought, read, and completed Good Omens since the last update and I also had a two day migraine where I couldn't read… So I didn't spend as much time as I probably should have on this… I'm still happy with where it went. So please read, review, and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Sherlock. The show is the baby of Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss, while Sherlock Holmes itself is the creation of Arthur Conan Doyle.

The First Midnight Cry

And so it began. Anthea was awoken in the middle of the night by a whaling noise. The baby monitor producing a tinny hollow version of Margot's cry, filling the room. It felt like the middle of the night but in all honesty it was probably only two hours after Anthea went to bed at most.

Anthea forced her eyes open. She could get up quickly for an important phone call so it really shouldn't be that hard to train herself to get up for her baby. She felt a bit guilty as she took a moment to blink up at the ceiling and force her brain to work.

She forced herself to sit up now. She looked at the baby monitor next to her bed like it was a foreign object. Which it was, this was the first night it sat next to her phone taking up space on her bedside table. She looked to the other side of the bed. Mycroft wasn't there. He had gone to bed with Anthea but obviously he couldn't sleep. She'd never been clued on as to if it was nightmares or thoughts that kept him up – or both. Probably both tonight. A baby was after all his worst nightmare… besides losing the people he loved. She wanted to know but she didn't want to ask. That's not who they were.

Alright, enough faffing about, time to be a mother. Anthea dragged her feet out of the covers and placed them on the floor. With a preparatory deep breathe she pulled herself out of bed and stretched out her back. She felt like Mycroft when he was sitting in his office chair for too long. At least she didn't have that large weight in the front to crush her posture anymore. That weight was actually quite small and currently crying for help.

Anthea's brain commanded her feet to move and they did, although a little delayed. She should be better at this, going to her daughter, it should be quicker. She walked out of the room and into the hall where she caught Mycroft walking up the stairs. They stopped and stared at each other both with a look of surprise. It was as if they hadn't expected to run into each other in their own home. Like Anthea had been caught being a mediocre mother and Mycroft had been caught… what?... Not sleeping? Or…

Anthea pointed to Margot's door with her thumbs.

"Were you…?" She trailed off, leaving her question half unspoken. A part of her brain told her she shouldn't be wasting time talking to Mycroft. Mycroft bowed subtly from the waste and gestured to Margot's open door with a sweeping open palmed motion like letting someone go first in line. Anthea nodded and quickly shuffled into her daughter's room.

The crying felt more alive in here than it did on the monitor, it felt alive and soulful. The fact that it made Anthea's heart ping made her feel better. Maybe she wasn't entirely thoughtless, maybe her brain just wasn't hardwired to the monitor yet. Hopefully she could fix that.

Anthea cooed as she came to stand before the crib. Margot's face was scrunched up as she cried.

"What's wrong, angel?" Anthea asked in a sweet voice. She couldn't be hungry, Anthea was following a schedule and Margot had been fed not long ago. Anthea picked Margot up, hushing her gently. Her cries lulled to a sob. "Do you need a change?"

Anthea put Margot down on the changing table. No, apparently the little girl didn't need a change. She'd stopped crying at this point so Anthea put her down in the crib. Margot began to wail again. Anthea squinted at the sudden still unfamiliar noise.

What was wrong? She couldn't be tired! She was in bed! Maybe she was hungry. She was so little maybe she just needed to beefed lots of little amounts. Anthea gave it a shot but Margot would turn her head away. She was definitely communicating that she wasn't hungry.

"Margot, little one, what's up?" Anthea asked her. Margot stared into her face and gurgled. Anthea sighed. She kissed her little forehead and put her down in the crib once again. Anthea took one step away and the crying began immediately. It sent a shiver down Anthea's spine.

Anthea felt at a loss. She felt like a failure and Anthea was not used to feeling like a failure! She couldn't help her daughter! What was wrong with her?

"Myc!" She turned around calling Mycroft's name. When she was at a loss then maybe he would have some insight. To her surprise he was standing in the doorway and by how comfortable he looked he was there the whole time. She hadn't needed to call him so loudly. Anthea's face gentled. She raised her eyebrows and looked at Mycroft with big eyes. "I'm bad at this." She whined. Mycroft licked his bottom lip.

"It seems to me," He hummed. "That what Margot wants is you." Anthea looked at the baby. She did stop crying every time Anthea picked her up.

"Huh." Anthea said. As she leaned in to pick up Margot Mycroft continued to talk.

"All babies crave attention and contact with their mothers but Margot is premature. He intimate time with you was cut short, she was craving you." Margot had stopped crying as Anthea bounced her up and down.

"She missed me." Anthea put it in plain language, smiling at her daughter.

"Precisely." Mycroft replied.

Anthea spoke softly words to Margot, rocking her in her arms. Mycroft watched. So did Margot.

"If you want me to stay in here all night then I will." Anthea said to her daughter.

"Bring her to our room." Mycroft interjected. Anthea looked over at him. Mycroft cleared his throat and looked at the floor. "Until she stops fussing. That way we may sit comfortably and she may get the attention from her mother until she falls asleep again." He looked up and met Anthea's eyes. He was asking her not to question him further. She wouldn't.

"That sounds nice, right Margot?" She said to the baby. "Daddy's not sleeping anyway and Mummy is used to that so let's go annoy Daddy while he reads." Mycroft blinked a few times, cleared his throat, and walked off in the way of the bedroom.

Mycroft pulls out some journal from his bedside table and immediately starts reading it the moment he lays on the bed. Anthea had to take time to get herself into a comfortable but easy to move from position. She placed Margot gently on her legs so her head was supported by Anthea's knees. The baby squirmed and then yawned. Anthea stifled a laugh.

"I love her so much." The laugh came out a little in her words. Mycroft didn't reply. He looked at Anthea again with that look she had yet to pinpoint where she'd seen it before. That look that she had never seen between them until recently. "She's so special." Anthea said, going on ignoring the look she couldn't recall. Mycroft looked down at Margot. He looked from head to toe and back to head again.

"She's definitely something." He replied in a soft hum. Anthea scoffed playfully at the reply, looking at Mycroft with a smirk. She must have moved because Margot began to sputter and stir like she was about to cry. Mycroft leaned forward and so carefully did he move his hand to just lightly stroke Margot's cheek.

"Calme, ma petite enfant. Ce n'est pas le moment." He whispered to her in French. Why French, Anthea did not question. The gesture had felt so authentic and real that she just let it play out. Margot reached blindly for Mycroft's hand, finding his wrist. Then she settled back down. Mycroft returned to his previous position. Anthea's heart swelled.

"Thank you." She said. Mycroft's brow furrowed in his magazine. He put it down on his lap and glanced at Anthea. She tucked a curl behind her ear. "For being such a good sport about all this." Mycroft looked somewhere between confused and perturbed.

"You act as if it's normal for people to not be able to commit." He said. Anthea frowned.

"Well, no." She shrugged her shoulders. "But I know you, and I know what's hard for you." Mycroft scoffed.

"We joke about Stockholm syndrome, my dear, but now I might be concerned."

"You're trying." It felt weird, Anthea was defending Mycroft and Mycroft was – kind of – defending her. What was going on here? Mycroft looked down at Margot. He tried to take a deep breath but it hitched in his throat.

"There's so much more I could be doing if I weren't…" He trailed off and grimaced, turning away from Margot. Anthea reached out and touched Mycroft leg, giving it a kind squeeze.

"It's not Stockholm, I just know you." She said softly. She could see it, the way he seemed internally torn between at least two things. His brain and his heart were forever in that eternal struggle but where his brain used to always win over the years his heart grew progressively stronger.

Margot made a noise, demanding some attention. A Holmes indeed. Anthea snickered. She took Margot's hands in her own and played with them.

"We can see that Daddy's trying." Anthea spoke to Margot but it was meant for Mycroft's ears. Mycroft's lips turned downwards. He watched Anthea fuss over Margot until she was satisfied.

"Daddy est un imbécile." He spoke to Margot again. Anthea's brows furrowed.

"You remember that I actually speak French?" She sniffed at Mycroft. He rolled those steel eyes.

"Of course I do. I'm not that stupid." He scoffed. He turned back to Margot with an exasperated look. "Peut-être que Mummy est l'imbécile." Anthea laughed in surprised. She hit Mycroft lightly on the arm. Whatever was with the French, Anthea didn't care. If it meant Mycroft spoke to Margot gently then she was fine with it. His mother came from a French background, maybe it had something to do with her.

Margot was so young and probably very unaware of everything around her and yet Anthea was glad this is what she came home to. She was glad that these were the interactions Margot was seeing and not angst and fighting over if Mycroft was staying or going. She was surrounded by love. Albeit, a very strange kind of way of showing love, but love nonetheless. She felt how much her parents cared for each other. Surely that was a good environment for a newborn to be in. Hopefully it would help the preemie thrive.

"I should put her back in her room." Anthea remarked as she watched the now sleeping Margot laying on her legs. "But she's so happy here. How do I move her?" Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. He opened his mouth to talk but stopped and thought.

"I was going to say she deserves the world but that would be incorrect." He said. "She deserves better than this world." Yeah, Anthea had felt that Hope and Rosie deserved the world. Margot deserved a better place. A place without drugs to ruin families or a place where mental illnesses were better understood. A place where her mother didn't need to hide her identity for the sake of work.

"I think all parents feel that way." Anthea hummed. Mycroft made a noise in his throat.

"At the very least she deserves a far more comfortable place to sleep than between your knees." His sarcasm back in his velvet voice. Anthea smirked. "And that is something that is actually quite achievable." Anthea huffed a breath.

"Alright, alright!" She said breathlessly. "I can do that." Anthea scooped Margot up and then got off the bed. "But she's the one who wanted in here." Anthea defended herself as she walked to the door leading out of the bedroom.

"And she's satisfied now. Thus we trade one form of comfort for the other." Mycroft called after her.

"Speak normally!" Anthea pulled a face at the genius as she walked out of the room. She could hear Mycroft chuckle behind her. She really hoped Margot could feel all this love.

Author's Note: So how is it? Did you like it? I quite like it. I feel like whenever I read a new book I pick up a few things and my writing improves a bit… I don't know, that's just me. Let me know all you thoughts. OH! And pardon my limited understanding of French... Thanks to last chapter's guest reviewers: Guests x2. Thanks to all my readers. I'm going to go read Good Omens fanfics and I shall see you all in about five days!