BBC Sherlock Imagines

Sherlock: Becoming A Dad

Requested for @Fandomgirl_704

~
"What is that?"

"The - you know."

"Oh. So it's a girl?" You nodded your head to answer Sherlock's question, still focused on the monitor. There she was. A little grainy picture and you were already in love with her. The doctor stood from his chair.

"I'll give you two a few minutes," he said, then headed out the door closing it behind him.

"Four more months and we can finally hold her. We have a lot to do till then Sherlock. The nursery still needs to be painted, we need to start baby proofing the house, and yes that means taking the heads and other decapitated body parts out of the fridge to make room for formula and such. Also, you need to get used to not leaving anything you use for work laying around, who knows what the baby will do with it." He sat there in silence staring at the floor. "Sherlock are you listening?" His eyes narrowed, his mouth moved to open, but closed again a second later. "I know you want to say something, just say it, I won't get mad."

"Babies ruin everything."

"NO!" He rolled his eyes, he knew you would get mad. "I mean," I took a deep breath to calm myself, the hormones affecting my temper, "I understand where you're coming from, but it's a little sacrifice for a big reward."

"Why can't the baby sacrifice anything?"

"Because, well it's a baby."

"Is that the excuse you're going to use for it the whole time? Oh it's three in the morning and we're wide awake because of crying - well it's a baby. Oh I can't inspect anything because all my tools are broken, well it's okay because it's a baby. Sorry, can't talk you to Sherlock because the baby is taking up all my attention and I have to spend all my time with it because it's a baby." He flailed his arms all about as he zoomed through the scenarios, then crossed his arms and stared straight ahead. It was obvious he was upset, change came hard to him. You knew he liked it how it was - you two in your little flat against the big city of London. But you also knew how excited he was for your little precious, even though he himself didn't know it. You knew by the way he would walk into the half done nursery and smooth the blanket in the crib, straighten the already straight pictures on the wall, refold the newborn clothes in the drawers, and carefully dust the windowsill (he claimed it was for his allergies). He loved your little baby more than he understood, maybe it was time you helped him.

"I'm sure she'll get your brains." He raised his gaze. "Well I hope she does. She can be your sidekick, you can teach her everything you know. Maybe one day she'll be the worlds second Consulting Detective." His eyes were melting, you knew his brain was running through the idea, and it liked it. He started to smile. You continued. "When she's old enough we can set up a fake case for her to solve, it will be a first test of her wits." His smile grew bigger. Then suddenly, it was gone. He stood up and just left. You stayed there dumbstruck. He had been so into it, he looked ecstatic about a future that involved solving cases with his genius daughter. So why did he leave?

"I saw your husband leave, everything okay?"

"Uh yeah, he had an... appointment." The doctor nodded, helped you set up another appointment and sent you back on your way to 221B, the whole time your thoughts were circling around Sherlock.

~

A couple blocks away from the flat, you decided you didn't want to go home quite yet. A nice cup of tea sounded good. If only I could put a shot of whiskey in it. Stopping in at a favorite place of yours, you found it to be extra crowded, and grudgingly waddled back to the flat. Upon entering, it was quiet. A thump sounded from upstairs. Probably Sherlock. Bloody nuthead left me all alone at the doctor's office. He's lucky I don't burn his scarf. The stairs, over the past couple weeks, had become a hassle. The baby added on some extra weight and you were still getting used to lugging it all around. After a couple minutes of heavy breathing and silent cursing, you made it. However, Sherlock wasn't inside. Another thump came from upstairs, the nursery. I hope he realizes getting rid of the baby furniture does not get rid of the baby. More stairs, you cringed. You held onto the banister for dear life and ascended, slowly. At the top, the smell of paint overwhelmed your senses. The bloody hell is he up to now? Walking in, you did not expect to see Sherlock Holmes painting the baby nursery, but that's exactly what you saw. Granted he was doing it in a shirt and tie, but he was still doing it.

"Sherlock," you breathed. He turned around, paint was in the tips of his hair and on smudged on his left cheekbone. You could've kissed him right there, and then some ((if ya know what I mean ;) )). The room was a light champagne color, the light shining in on the wall gave it a deep pink glow. "You're painting the nursery."

"Yes, you said that needed to be done. I also picked up a diaper changing station, came with a free box of diapers. Also bought a baby monitor, can't believe you forgot that, good thing I'm here. Another thing you forgot - electrical socket covers. Really, good thing you have me (y/n), who knows what could have happened to our little angel." You died at the word 'angel'. You walked closer to him and pecked him lightly on the lips.

"Who are you and what have you done with the baby hater Sherlock Holmes?" you teased, running your hand through his crazy curls. He chuckled, laugh wrinkles echoing on the side of his mouth. His eyes found my bulging belly and he rested his hands on either side. A light tap came from inside you, at the same time Sherlock removed his hands quickly and looked up at you nervously.

"The baby!" You yelled exasperated, not able to get a word out in all your excitement.

"Did, did I break her?" His hands trembled.

"Sherlock, you didn't break her! She kicked, our baby moved, our baby kicked me!" His reaction was a cross between a smile, a frown, and puzzlement. "That's a good thing Sherlock, that's an amazingly good thing. A kick is what we want." He nodded, still a little uncertain, and put his hands back on to feel the kicking some more.

And that's how you stayed. His hands resting on your belly, standing in the middle of the nursery, feeling your little child come to life.

A/N
I mean really, what woman wouldn't want Sherlock to father her children?

Almost 800 reads... You folks amaze me. Thank you thank you thank you. I know I say the same thing every time in my author's note, but it's because seeing that people actually read what I write makes me beyond happy.

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