Becoming a Holmes (UNDER SEVERE EDITING!!!)

Chapter 1: A Birth

Sherlock

"Grace?" I rap my knuckles lightly on the doorframe and peer into the room. She is pale and glistening with sweat, but such is to to be expected of one who has just given birth.

Grace opens her eyes and looks across the room at me. She raises a hand, beckoning me nearer. I oblige, my feet silent against the tile. My heart pounds against my chest and I have to struggle to retain an outward calm. I've never been in this situation before and, to be frank, it terrifies me. 

Grace pats the bed, an invitation to sit down, but I am too rigid to accept it.

"Have you named her yet?"

She shakes her head. "No. I haven't even thought about it."

I nod in acknowledgement. A thought filled silence floods the room as my brain sifts through meaningful names in search of a suitable title. Finally, I break the quiet. "Beatrice Adelia Casey Holmes."

A thin smile warps Grace's face. "Where did that come from?"

I sigh. "Beatrice is your great aunt's name, Adelia is my grandmother's and Casey is your cousin's sister-in-law's maiden name."

Grace hums. "Complex. I like it." I grin, proud that my suggestion is appealing. Her satisfied expression turns dark as her eyebrows furrow. "What will you do?"

My grin falters. I don't understand. What will I do when? My confused brain provides a moronic response, "Huh?"

"We both know you're not exactly 'father material,' Sherlock," she declares, tone condescending. "What will you do? Crawl into a drug den somewhere and waste your life away? An infant does not need a drug addict for a father."

Hurt flashes across my face. I can feel my heart stop and my pallor match hers. The only difference is that hers is the result of exertion and mine of a breaking heart. "W-what are you saying, Grace?"

Her features harden. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. My daughter doesn't need you."

I take a step back, shocked and on the verge of crying. "She's our daughter. Our." Before tears can breach the dam of my lower eyelid, I turn and leave the room.

My feet carry me through the halls, but I do not direct them. Pain strangles the vital organs in my chest without remorse. I can barely breathe and, when I do manage a breath, the hold only tightens. I am blinded by liquid fire, but continue meandering. It's only when I stop and face a large pane of glass do I realize where I am: it's the observation area.

My eyes search the sea of squalling infants frantically. Which one is mine? How will I even know? My doubts fall away as I spot her. She is the only child who is neither sleeping nor screaming. Instead, she stares at the glass curiously, her face void of any expression. A quick glance at the clipboard attached to the side confirms her identity.

She's misshapen and ugly compared to older humans, but a part of me finds her appearance appealing. Thin wisps of ginger hair sprout from her head, a trait that she clearly received from Grace, but her eyes match my own: a mixture of bright greens and clear blues with dark brown spots thrown in sporadically.

A man appears to my right, but I refuse to acknowledge him. Not that he minds. I'm sure that, after seventeen years, he's come to expect that from me.

He clears his throat. "It's for the best, Sherlock."

I don't respond, eyes still glued on my daughter. I feel as though if I took one look away from her, she will disappear forever. After all I've been through, I don't think I will survive without her.

"You and I both know she will only drag you down. A private investigator doesn't need any distractions, least of all an infant," the man comments.

My head agrees with him; distractions in my field of expertise are deadly. But my heart cries out in protest. And everyone knows that when the heart rules the mind, bad things happen.

"Consulting detective, Mycroft. Not private investigator," I declare bitterly. With that, I turn and stride out of the hospital. I will see my daughter again. That much I am certain of.

Hey, guys. I'm so sorry about the delay in editing. But I have so many things to do that editing this story wasn't really a priority. Comment with any critiques you have and thank you so much for reading!

-Cherry