This Is Real

Chapter Eighteen

Before she was conscious of the oxygen cannula in her nose or the feeling of nausea, Evelyn was aware that a hand was holding hers. She opened her eyes and she could see Sherlock sitting on a chair close to the bed. His gaze was cast towards something at his side, his other hand was resting there.

"Sherlock...?"

His eyes immediately flicked up to meet hers, his fingers grasping hers tighter as he gazed at her with such relief.

"Evie..." He spoke her name like a prayer.

Then, with a great dread settling in her chest, she remembered what happened. "Sherlock, where– Where's the baby– Where is she?"

And that's when she saw the smile spread across his face, revealing the laughter lines that she loved so much. "She's fine. She's right here," he turned his head in the direction of the incubator next to him. "She's got to go back to the neonatal unit in a bit, just for a few hours to continue being monitored."

Evelyn's eyes locked on the tiny baby, watching her chest rise and fall while she slept. Sherlock's hand that wasn't holding hers was through the small window to hold their newborn's. She noticed the nasal cannula attached to their infant's nose and couldn't stop the slight sniffle. "Is she doing okay?"

"She's doing great," Sherlock said. "They're just lending a helping hand for a bit, making sure she gets everything she needs for the first few hours," he squeezed her hand. "You're both on antibiotics, and you'll stay as an inpatient for a couple of days, but you're both doing well," he paused, glancing down at their locked fingers. "I was terrified," he told her, raising their hands so he could kiss hers. "But you're both here, and given that I was certain only an hour ago that I was going to lose at least one of you, I couldn't possibly care about anything else."

It was only then that Evelyn noticed the shadows under his eyes, the redness around his eyelids. He'd been crying. She felt the first inklings of the gravity of what had happened, a sense of what he had been put through.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she said, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. "I'm so sorry," her lip wobbled. "I– I should have known, I should have listened to you–"

"Evelyn, no. It's not your fault, never think that."

"But you told me, you said I should be taking it easy, I'm sorry–"

"Listen to me. Don't you dare say you're sorry," he replied, shaking his head. "We saw the GP merely a few days ago, Eve. They had no concerns. It's not your fault," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, so very sorry, that I wasn't there when you needed me most. You did everything right, Evelyn. You got here, and you remained so unbelievably strong. The surgeon told me... she said if you'd left it even another half hour, things could have been... could have had a– a different outcome."

"That was Mycroft," she said, wiping her tear stained cheeks. "He called the ambulance, he made sure I was seen as quickly as possible. The paramedic asked if he was the father at one point, that shook him for a loop."

Sherlock let out a short soft laugh. "Well, once again, I am immensely grateful to my brother. Although, I certainly don't want to kiss him, but you on the other hand..." He gingerly removed his hand from the incubator and got to his feet. He leant over her and his lips met hers in a kiss that seemed to want to say so many things. I love you, you're here, I'm here, she's here, it's all okay.

When they separated, her eyes widened. "Oh my god, the kids–"

"Mary collected them, don't panic. She's itching to see you, but I made it clear there are to be no visitors until tomorrow at the earliest," Sherlock brushed a strand of hair back from her face. "How are you feeling?"