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Monday, August 2, 21:20
John lowered himself carefully onto the sofa. Hamish’s deep, snuffling, sleepy breathes came through the baby monitor, which John had been able to sneak back into his room since it was now half nursery. Sherlock was working in his lab in 221C, which meant John had at least an hour or two to watch crap telly without interruption. Watching a heavily pregnant James May review Omega-friendly cars on an old Top Gear, John felt himself slipping into a comfortably dozy state. May had blasted the Fiat L’uovo, which John thought was an offensive name anyhow; had given surprisingly high praise to the Ford Omegle and was currently throwing a Mercedes O Class around the track when John felt it. A steel band seemed to tighten around the bottom of his belly, over his hips and to the small of his back, while a fluttering, rumbling feeling spread across the top of his belly. John cursed as he regained his breath.
Pulling out his mobile, John sent a text that had been saved in his drafts for the last three weeks.
Contractions started. - JW-H
John wasn’t sure that Sherlock could have received and read the text in the short time before he heard the door to the attic flat slam open and shut and Sherlock’s footsteps pounding on the steps.
“John,” Sherlock called as he skidded into the flat.
“Quiet,” John hissed, “you’ll wake Hamish and we don’t need that right now.”
Sherlock moved next to the sofa and dropped to his knees, “How many contractions have you had?”
“Just the one. Help me into the bath before my waters break and we ruin the sofa, love,” John held out a hand for Sherlock to help him off the sofa.
Sherlock pulled John from his seated position and wrapped an arm around his waist, walking slowly with him to the bath. Once in the bath, Sherlock began carefully stripping John out of clothes, “Did you text Richard?”
“Yes, and he’s got his key to the front door, so he won’t wake Hamish,” John pulled his vest over his head.
“Good,” Sherlock ran his hand over John’s firm, bulbous belly. “Anymore contractions?”
John placed his hand over Sherlock’s, “Not yet. Maybe this one isn’t quite as anxious to make an appearance as Hamish was.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a contraction?”
John glared at Sherlock, “I know what a contraction feels like, Sherlock. If you don’t remember, it was me that pushed Hamish out of my arse.”
“Of course, John,” Sherlock’s voice was the tone he used when John was being idiotic and hormonal, but annoyingly right. After two pregnancies and multiple heats, John had learned to hate yet ignore that tone.
John rolled his eyes and reached for the bathrobe hanging on the door. He belted the soft, green robe above his large belly so that it would be easily accessible when Richard arrived. “Go get my mobile. I didn’t look at the time when I sent Richard the text, but apparently we’re going to need to actually time these contractions.”
“It was 9:42,” Richard’s voice filled the bath as his massive frame filled the doorway. “I let myself in, so I wouldn’t wake Hamish. So, this little one behaving better?”
John smiled at his friend and doctor, “I don’t know about that, but I haven’t had another contraction, yet.”
Richard glanced at his watch, “Nearly twenty minutes. Probably could have finished my pint.”
“Are you inebriated,” Sherlock rounded on Richard. “I won’t have a drunkard delivering my child.”
“Sherlock,” John’s tone was warning.
Richard laughed, “No worries, John. Sherlock, I had one and a quarter pints with a huge pub dinner out with some mates from me uni days. I can assure you that I am not drunk. Takes lot more than lager to get a man my size drunk. Now your skinny arse I can see...”
“Richard,” John used a similarly warning tone on his friend and doctor, “before you two get into a pissing match, could I just remind you that I’m the one in labour here.”
Richard blushed, slightly, “Sorry, John. Still no more contractions?”
John shook his head.
“Okay, let’s check and see if this is actual labour or some phantom contractions. Want to do it in here or the bedroom?”
“In here.” John turned to the sink and braced himself.
Richard looked at Sherlock for permission and when it was received, he quickly performed the exam. “Yeah, you are definitely in labour. Your birth canal is opening and you’ve started dilating.”
“Started,” John and Sherlock asked together, clearly shocked.
“Yes, started,” Richard chuckled.
Sherlock moved over next to John and rubbed his lower back, “Is something wrong? With Hamish, John was delivered within a half hour or so.”
“No, no,” Richard shook his head. “There is nothing wrong. John’s just an incredible rare Omega. About 20% of Omega with Rapid Birth Syndrome don’t experience it transgenderly from the initial RBS birth.”
John grinned broadly as his hand went to his belly, “We’re having a girl?”
Richard looked a little sheepish, “Sorry, didn’t mean to let the cat out of the bag.”
“It’s fine. It’s all fine,” John’s smile grew, which didn’t seem possible. “Sherlock, love, we’re having a little girl.”
Sherlock nodded, almost absent mindedly, “Yes, John, I did understand Richard. But... But does this mean that John’s labour is going to be an annoyingly long, boring, traditional Omega birth?”
“Sherlock,” John hissed and pulled away from his husband and mate. When Richard laughed, he received a glare from John as well.
Sherlock sighed, “Come now, John! You have to admit that Mycroft’s seven day labours have been tedious to say the least!”
“Lovely,” John threw up his hands. “I’m bringing your child... The child that you were desperate to have, despite all your assurances that you were happy with just Hamish. I know you too well, Sherlock Holmes... into the world and you decide the process is tedious. Well, if it so tedious, why don’t you and Hamish go stay with your brother? Richard may be a Beta, but he’s big enough that I’m sure he’ll be more than able to help when the hormones get to be too much!”
Sherlock growled and moved between John and Richard, “I’m not going to let anyone deal with your hormone, but me! Is that clear, John Hamish Watson-Holmes? I will be by your side every minute while you are bringing our child, who you wanted as much or more than I, into this world! And by the way, my bloody name is Sherlock Watson-Holmes!”
John matched Sherlock’s growl and pulled his mate into a deep passionate and fiery kiss.
Richard turned his head from the scene and let them work it out between. However, when John started making noises more pained than passionate, he pulled out his phone and noted the time, 22:52.
John pulled away from Sherlock and grunted, “Contraction.”
Sherlock immediately began rubbing John’s lower back and the bottom of his belly.
“They’re currently 70 minutes apart,” Richard supplied. “That is just perfect for a HBARB.”
“A HBARB,” Sherlock asked looking away from John.
“Heat Birth After Rapid Birth. The first few contractions of a HBARB should be between an hour and an hour and a half. The good news is that the birth won’t last a week, just about two to four days.”
John sighed as the contraction passed, “Good. Sherlock should be able to deal with the tedium that long.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes, but John softened the tease with a kiss on Sherlock’s cheek.
Richard laughed, “If you two can keep from killing each other, I’m going call a friend to cover my shifts for the next few day and run to the surgery and get my files together for her, then run home to pack a bag and kiss my wife. I’ll let myself back in, but it probably won’t be until about one or two o’clock.”
“You don’t have to come back tonight, Rich. I’m sure you’d rather sleep in your own bed, and I’m just going to get a shower and relax tonight,” John assured him.
“Yes, you are going to rest and relax, but I’d feel better being here. Being HBARB makes you slightly higher risk.”
John nodded, “Okay, you’re right, probably best that you are here.”
“Good,” Richard gave a relieved smile. “Sherlock, walk me out? I’ll give you a list of some things you should get together.”
Sherlock gave John a quick kiss before following Richard out of the bathroom, “What’s wrong?”
Richard shook his head, “Nothing. Honestly, Sherlock, John is a rarity, but Omega’s have HBARB all the time.”
“If only 20% of Omegas with RBS have it transgenderly, then John’s one of 4500 Omegas in the country with this condition and your only patient with it,” Sherlock pinned Richard with a look.
“Yes, that is true. He is also an Omega and his body is created to bear children. I promise you that as long as we are careful everything will be fine. Now, you may want to get some plastic sheeting for the bed and additional pillows.”
Sherlock sighed, “We have the sheeting, but John was hoping to deliver squatting at the end of the bed holding onto the foot rail. That is how he delivered Hamish and he was quite comfortable.”
“That will be fine for the delivery, but he’ll probably want to labour in bed and... and... Well, frankly, Sherlock, during the labour there will be points you’re both going to need to release some hormones and that can be even messier than during a heat. So preparing the bed can’t hurt.”
Sherlock nodded in understanding.
Richard carefully laid a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, “If while I’m gone John’s contractions drop to twenty minutes or less, then text me immediately. You understand, Sherlock?”
“Yes, I understand,” Sherlock swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.
“Good. I’ll check in when I get back,” Richard gave one last smile and left the flat.
Sherlock listen for a moment to the groaning of the pipes as John started the shower, then he quickly started preparing the apartment. He pulled out sheets and blankets for Richard to use on the couch, then found the plastic backed birthing sheets that they had purchased in preparation for Hamish’s birth five years prior. Sherlock was just settling on the bed, which he had strip and remade with plastic sheeting and a set of heat stained and worn sheets, when John waddled, naked into the bedroom.
“Is Richard worried,” John asked walking over to his dresser to find an oversized shirt.
Sherlock continued typing out the text to Mycroft he was working on, “More than he wants us to know. He wants to know if your contractions drop to 20 minutes or less.”
“Hmm, that would indicate a problem.”
“John,” Sherlock placed the mobile on the bedside table, “are you worried?”
John moved over to the bed and sat next to Sherlock’s hip. He picked up Sherlock’s hand and rested their entwined fingers on his belly where they could feel the baby moving. “As long as she keeps doing this and my body keeps doing what it needs to, then no I’m not worried. It is going to be long, but everything will be fine.”
“I’m sorry I called the process tedious. When you were pregnant with Hamish, I was actually looking forward to your labour and planned to chart it fully, but then he was born so quickly. I realized that I much prefered to hold my child and was looking forward to finally being able to hold this one.”
John leaned forward and kissed Sherlock’s lips, “You’ll hold her soon, love. I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to chart this labour, you know.”
Sherlock smiled, “I’ll get my laptop.”
John laughed as Sherlock shifted off the bed, “You do that. I’m going to check on Hamish then try to get some sleep.”
Tuesday, August 3, 01:12
John rolled over and moaned. His hand searched across the bed for his mate. When he bumped Sherlock’s knee, he curled his fingers around it and squeezed. His breath came in short pants.
“Contraction worse,” Sherlock asked as he covered John’s hand with his own. “You slept through the last one. I was able to take measurements and you never woke.”
John looked up at Sherlock, who was sitting cross-legged poking at his laptop, “Not worse, just different. Thought we agreed no experimenting on me in my sleep.”
“I just needed to measure your stomach. I want to chart changes post contractions.” Sherlock turned the laptop so John could see the spreadsheet.
“Any marked changes?”
“Well, not in size, but its position has shifted down... And your scent has been steadily increasing,” Sherlock explained as he ran a hand over John’s belly.
“Well, that explains it.”
“Explains what?”
Instead of answering, John raised his arm up to wrap his hand around the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulled him down into a searing kiss. Quickly Sherlock pushed his laptop aside to spread out along side John. His hand disappeared quickly up the large shirt John wore and between his thighs to play with his hardening small Omega prick. He continued to trail his hand over his ripened balls and down to his dilating, slicken hole.
Breaking the kiss, he whispered, “John?”
“How long between contractions?”
“Still seventy minutes.”
“How long since the last one?”
“Less than ten minutes.”
John actually purred, “Perfect. I need you, Sherlock. I need you right now to fulfill your role as my Alpha.”
Sherlock kissed him hard as he pushed his pyjama bottoms down and kick them off. Breaking the kiss, he rolled John onto his side and pulled his leg up and back over his own legs. With one thrust, he buried his cock into John’s wet and waiting hole. John cried out in a mixture of relief and need that reminded Sherlock of their first coupling during a heat. With muted grunts and groans, Sherlock keep rocking his hips, driving in as far as he could and only pulling back a little before thrusting in again.
John’s arm reach back, his hand grabbing at Sherlock arse. He squeezed in time and rhythm with the thrusts. “More, Sherlock. I need more.”
Wrapping his arms around John, one above and one below the abundant belly, Sherlock used his considerable strength to roll them so that John was stretched out atop him. John’s increased weight drove Sherlock’s cock further into John. Both men moaned and John rotated his hips slightly.
“John,” Sherlock panted, “I can’t... We can’t... I need to move.”
John nodded roughly, “I’m going to try to sit up. Help push me up.”
Slowly John pushed up on his arms as Sherlock helped to push him forward with hands gently braced against his shoulder blades.
“Fuck,” John moaned as the movement joined the two men even further. “Fuck. You’re going to hit the baby if you get any deeper.”
Sherlock chuckled, “Doubt that, but I’m willing to try. Grab the foot board.”
John did and immediately moved his legs to either side of Sherlock’s in a kneeling position, which caused Sherlock to slip out of him.
Gasping at the lost of contact, Sherlock quickly moved to kneel behind John. Sherlock took a moment to wonder at John’s arse and his wet, glistening hole. Running a hand over it, Sherlock arched his body over John’s and whispered in his ear, “This is mine. No one, Alpha or Beta, is ever going to enter you besides me. I’m the only one who has ever filled you so fucking full. I’m the only one who has ever battered your walls with a knot. I’m the only one who has ever given you enough spunk make you heavy with child. Me... Only me.”
“God, yes, Sherlock, yes. Only you,” John cried as he shivered. He couldn’t even tell if it was need or hearing the possessive, obscene words that Sherlock only ever used in full Alpha mode. “Please, please... I’m yours.”
With that Sherlock grabbed John’s hips and rammed his cock into him. Sherlock wasn’t sure if he’d been this hard or desperate when they conceived either child. He set a brutal pace and John was meeting him with every thrust. They both seemed to crave more, to need more.
John was making noises that he was sure he’d never made before: not in heat, not in his most crazed synthetic-Beta days, not when Sherlock returned to him, not when they declared their love, not in all the intervening years. This was different, special, the most connected they could or would ever be and John felt it in every fiber of his being. He let out a moaning, pleasured cry that seemed to come from his toes.
Just then the bedroom door flew open and the shadow of Richard’s hulking frame fell across the occupants of the bed. The two men froze and looked up at him. With a sudden growl, Sherlock pulled John up so they were kneeling and John was exposed from knees to shoulders to Richard. Embarrassed, John turned his head to hide his face in the crook of Sherlock’s neck.
“See this,” Sherlock growled. “This,” he touch John’s sex, “is mine. This,” he touched the moving belly, “is mine. This is mine, too,” he laid his hand over John’s heart.
With a sobbing cry, John came.
Sherlock bent to kiss his husband and mate as his orgasm started. His knot inflated further than he ever felt it as he pumped his seed steadily in John. Breaking the kiss, he pulled back and looked at Richard desperately, “I’ve knotted. I thought I couldn’t knot during labour.”
Richard, his face flushed with embarrassment, cleared his throat, “It happens. During the peak of John’s next contraction, it’ll release.”
“We can test that theory soon,” John moaned, his hands rubbing his stomach.
Sherlock also started rubbing as he glanced at the bedside clock, “It’s only been 58 minutes.”
“First time shorter than 70 minutes?” At the other two men’s synchronized nods, Richard did some mental calculations, before smiling, “That is perfect. Things are progressing nicely.”
John gave a little panting gasp as his contraction peaked. At the same time, Sherlock gasped as his knot rapidly deflated and he slipped from John’s body. Both men sighed, but stayed wrapped together.
Again clearing his throat, Richard indicated the other room with his head, “I’m going to go kip on the sofa. I... um... suspect you two will be able to get a few hours of fairly decent rest now. Try to keep an eye on the time when the contractions wake you, but if they are over 45 minutes between just keep resting. I’ll check you in the morning.”
“Okay, thanks, Rich,” John smiled, still slightly embarrassed by being caught. As Richard slipped from the room, John turned and kissed Sherlock’s jaw, “God that was amazing, but I’m completely knackered. Feel like I could sleep right through the birth at this point.”
Sherlock laughed and kissed his lips quickly, “I highly doubt that, but some sleep is an excellent idea.”
Using the already stained sheets to clean up, they quickly redressed, stripped off the first set of sheets and fell curled together atop the plastic backed sheets. In minutes the only sound in the room was gentle snores.
Tuesday, August 3, 07:15
“Papa!”
Hamish loud childish whisper woke John, who blearily blinked his son’s face into focus, “Good morning, Hamish.”
“Mornin’, Papa,” Hamish jumped up and kissed John’s cheek before again resting his chin on the mattress. “Why is Dr. Richard sleeping on the sofa?”
“Remember how Daddy and I told you that you were going to have a little brother or sister?”
Hamish nodded and patted John’s belly, “Growing in here.”
“Right,” John smiled and ruffled Hamish’s curls. “Well, Dr. Richard is here to help the baby come out.”
Hamish nose squished in confusion, “But Daddy say that I’d go to bed or school and when I woke up or came home, I’d have a brother or sister.”
“Daddy was wrong.”
“No, your sister is stubborn,” Sherlock grumbled as his head popped up over John’s shoulder.
“Morning, Daddy! I’m having a sister?”
John and Sherlock nodded in tandem.
“Yay!” Hamish clamored onto the bed and began jumping between his fathers.
Laughing, Sherlock grabbed the boy and pulled him down between them, “You wanted a sister?”
“Yeah, now Bella will have a girl to play with and won’t try to make Joey, Artie, and me always play dress-up and tea party and girly junk when we want to play soldiers and ‘tectives.”
John smiled and cuddled his son closer, “Well, that is good. It also means that you’re going to have to look after her and be a good big brother.”
Hamish shrugged as he curled closer to his Papa, “I would have to do that anyhow. Like Uncle Myc looks after Daddy and Charlie looks after all the other cousins.”
Sherlock snorted at the reference to Mycroft, but John kissed his head, “That is good, Hamish. You are going to be a wonderful big brother.”
“And late for school, if you don’t go get dressed, young man,” Sherlock waved his mobile at the other two occupants of the bed.
“Not yet,” John reached over and grabbed Sherlock’s hand. “I think we could all do with a cuddle this morning.”
Sherlock looked at John for a moment before discarding his mobile and laying back down, “I suppose Hamish does have a very good excuse for being late this morning.”
John smiled at his husband over their son’s head as he laid their joined hands over the little boy.
Tuesday, August 3, 11:45
Richard snapped off his exam glove as John pulled his lightweight sleep pants back up.
“Well,” Sherlock asked, impatiently tapping a hand against his laptop.
Richard flashed him a quick, reassuring smile, “John’s birth canal is fully opened and effaced and he’s dilated two centimeters.”
“Two centimeters? That’s all,” John’s voice was tinged with a whine as Sherlock happily entered the information on the spreadsheet. “It has been over twelve hours!”
Richard laughed, “Did you not deliver your niece and nephews? How long did it take for Mycroft to be dilated two centimeters?”
“About 24 hours,” John sighed as he slumped on the bed.
“See,” Richard raised an eyebrow. “You are progressing much more quickly than a typical birth. You were just spoiled by Hamish’s birth.”
“Suppose,” John mumbled sleepily as he curled up with his head on Sherlock’s leg.
Sherlock ran a hand through John’s golden locks as he fell instantly asleep, “He’s so exhausted. I’m worried that he’s not going to have the strength for the birth.”
Richard wrapped a hand around John’s wrist, taking his pulse, “His body knows what to do, Sherlock. It is resting as much as it can now, because soon he won’t be resting much at all. You should try to rest as well. His hormones are building and around the four and five centimeter mark he is going to need... um...”
“He’s going to need to be fucked?”
“Yes,” Richard blushed.
Sherlock shook his head, “Really, you are a doctor, Richard, I can’t believe it is so difficult for you to talk about sex.”
“It isn’t,” Richard rolled his eyes, “but John is my friend, so I don’t particularly like thinking about your cock up his arse and talking about it is even worse.”
Sherlock ran a hand down John’s body, “It is such a lovely arse.”
“Ugh, Sherlock,” Richard gave a full body shiver.
“You are so Class B Beta,” he laughed lightly. Sherlock’s hand moved to John’s belly, “You are sure that John and the child are safe?”
“As safe as they can be.”
Sherlock glared at Richard.
“Look, birth is inherently risky. An Omega’s body might be geared for birth, but that doesn’t mean that things can’t go wrong. I’m here to monitor the situation and John knows his body, he’ll be able to tell if something is wrong. Also, St. Bart’s is only minutes away. Really, this birth is probably a great deal safer than Hamish’s.”
Sherlock nodded and looked down at his sleeping mate, “If something happened to John, I don’t think I could go on.”
“Of course you would,” Richard patted his foot, “because, John would want you to go on for Hamish’s sake.”
As Richard left the room, Sherlock curled around John’s slumbering form. He found himself hoping that he never have to try.
Tuesday, August 3, 14:50
Sherlock was woken from his sleep by the ringing of his mobile. Snatching it off the nightstand, he answered with a growl, “What?”
John woke as Sherlock twisted away and sat up to watch Sherlock on the phone.
“Did Lestrade not tell you that John is in labour? I can’t do your work for you this week.” Jamming his finger against the phone to end the call, Sherlock flopped down on the bed, “Moron.”
“Which moron was that, love,” John asked propping himself up on an elbow to look at Sherlock.
“Dimmock.”
“What did he want?”
“Help on a case.”
“Why don’t you?”
Sherlock whipped his head towards John, “I am not leaving you while you are in labour with our child.”
“Thank you,” John leaned over and kissed Sherlock’s lips, “but that isn’t what I’m suggesting. How many times have I lugged a bloody laptop ‘round a crime scene while you swanned around the flat in your pants?”
“Please, I never wore pants when you did that.”
John laughed, which turned into moan.
“Contraction,” Sherlock asserted as he reached out to rub John’s belly.
John nodded as he panted and moaned through the contraction.
Sherlock glanced at the nightstand, “47 minutes since the last one.”
Letting out a deep breathe, John relaxed, “That is good. They are progressing well.”
“And getting stronger?”
“Yes, they are getting stronger, but that is good and necessary, love.” John smiled at his mate, “Call Dimmick back and get him to find a laptop. I bet you’ll be able to solve it before my next contraction.”
Sherlock reached for his phone as he placed a gentle kiss on John’s lips.
Tuesday, August 3, 18:30
John paced back and forth along the side of the bed. His hands were braced on his lower back, but his face showed no sign of contractions or pain. Sitting on the bed, Richard followed his pacing with his eyes and Sherlock typed additional information into his log of the labour.
“Ugh,” John threw his hand up, “this is fucking ridiculous. It has been almost 22 hours and my contractions are still at 40 minutes.”
“At 22 hours, Mycroft was still at 1:30 minutes for Isabelle and 1:10 minutes for Arthur and Joseph,” Sherlock intoned as he looked at the data on this laptop.
With a growl, John threw a pillow at Sherlock’s head, “Like I fucking care. At least Mycroft was being buggered every fifteen minutes.”
“I will happily bugger you right now, if you want,” Sherlock moved to laptop to show a sizable bulge in his pajama bottoms.
“Touch me with that thing right now and I’ll cut it off.”
Sherlock looked at Richard, “He has been that way for the last half hour. First, he complains that I’ve only fucked him twice so far...”
“Twice,” Richard interrupted to ask. “I’m not asking out of idle curiosity, tracking intercourse can help gauge progression.”
“Yes, twice. Once in the early...”
“I think he remembers that occasion, Sherlock. The other time was around tea time.”
“Well, yes, except I had just solved that case for Dimmock and we always make love after I solve a case.”
John laughed, “Sorry, love, but that was not a my-husband-is-so-brilliant shag. That was 100% hormones. If you hadn’t have solved it when you did, I would have just ridden your cock while Dimmock and the whole bloody yard watched. It is weird, even in a heat I have never been as desperate for it as I was then. Now, I feel like I want it, but if Sherlock so much as looks at my arse I might die.”
“I think it is safe to say that you have moved from early labour into active labour. You are most likely dilating rapidly to four or five centimeters. I can exam you if you want,” Richard offered.
“Touch me and I’ll break every one of your fingers,” John growled, causing Richard to put his hands up in surrender.
“Interesting,” Sherlock tapped a few keys. “Mycroft didn’t threaten physical harm to either Lestrade or yourself until the third day.”
“Again, I don’t fucking care what Myyyyyy.... oooooooohhhh,” John wrapped both arms around his belly as he doubled over. He leaned against the bed, panting through the contraction. As it eased off, he looked at Sherlock, “How long?”
“It was 37 minutes since the last one and it lasted two full minutes.”
John nodded, “Okay, so this is probably active labour. Can we wait until the contractions are 30 minutes to check?”
Richard smiled, “Of course, I think it would be better for the delivery if I had ten working fingers.”
Tuesday, August 3, 19:45
“Hi, baby,” John smiled as his son’s face appeared on the tablet screen. Anna had called a short while ago saying that Hamish really wanted to talk to his Papa and Daddy before bed. John had felt a sudden need to see his son, so they decided to FaceTime instead.
“Hi, Papa,” Hamish smiled and waved at the screen. “Can I see my sister?”
Sherlock wrapped an arm around John as he came into view of the camera, “Not yet, Hamish. She still hasn’t been born yet. It takes a long time for some babies to be born. Don’t you remember how long it took for Arthur and Joseph to be born?”
The little wrinkled his nose and pursed his lips in his classic thinking pose. “No,” he announced after a moment.
“Of course not,” John laughed, “you weren’t even one, yet. Daddy is just being silly.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes, clearly indicating that he thought all children, especially his child, should have clear memories before a year. It was an argument that they had on several occasions.
“Ignore Daddy, Ham, and tell us all about school and what you did with Uncle Greg and Uncle Myc today.”
Hamish began to excitedly recount his day from the moment his Uncle Myc had shown up at 221B to take him to school and tutted to find them all curled up in bed. He got to the point that Anna had picked Bella, the twins and Hamish up from school when John felt the familiar and now agonizing tightening of his womb. The pain gripped his stomach like a vise, but John desperately didn’t want to scare or worry Hamish. He gritted his teeth and out of sight of the webcam he grabbed Sherlock’s leg in a vice-grip of his own.
Hamish stopped talking and slatted his head the way he did when trying to figure out a puzzle. “Daddy, what is wrong with Papa? His face is all funny and his forehead is wet.”
“It is okay, Hamish, Papa is merely having a contraction,” Sherlock started rubbing John’s lower back. “Continue with your story.”
“What’s a ‘traction,” Hamish asked, his eyes still focused on his papa.
“Con-traction,” Sherlock correction. “Traction is something very different. A contraction is the shortening and thickening of functioning muscle or muscle fiber. In this case, your papa’s uterus is squeezing and pressing down on the baby to expel it from the uterus and into the birth canal.”
Seeing his papa start to relax, Hamish looked at his Daddy, “Tommy Guinbly said that Papa’s going to poop my sister out. Is that true, Daddy?”
“Morons. No, Hamish, your papa isn’t going to poop the baby out. As an Omega...”
“Sherlock,” John warned, this time squeezing his mate’s leg for a different reason. “Remember, he’s five, he doesn’t need all the details.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Better he knows at least some of the details than be grossly misinformed like Thomas Guinbly, whose Omega father is current gestating his sixth child since Thomas was born, and really should know better.”
“I know, but just gently,” John nodded at the screen.
“Alright Hamish, you know that there are Alphas, Omegas and Betas, right?”
Hamish nodded eagerly.
“Well, when an Omega’s body, especially a male Omega, decides that it is time to have a baby an additional canal forms just inside the anus...”
“That is the place the poop comes out, baby,” John interjected.
“Yes, yes, where the poop comes out,” Sherlock sighed. “This canal allows an Alpha to... to...”
“To plant a special seed within the Omega,” John took up the narrative when it became apparent that Sherlock was struggling to explain in a way that John would approve. “The seed then bonds to a seed within the Omega and they start to create a baby. The baby needs time to grow and develop. Then, when the baby isl ready, the canal opens again and the baby comes out. However, to get the baby out the Omega has to have contraction and then work on pushing the baby out.”
Hamish sat for a moment thinking and digesting the information. Finally, he nodded, “Okay. Do the contractions hurt? You looked like you were in pain, Papa.”
John smiled, “Yes, the contractions hurt, but it is a good pain, cause I know I’ll get to see your sister soon.”
“Good!” Hamish smiled brightly. “Can I tell Thomas Guinbly that he’s wrong?”
“Of course, he should know he’s a idi…”
John interrupted his mate, “Hamish, you can tell Thomas that your Papa and Daddy explained how your sister was going to be born, but don’t you explain it to him. Okay?”
“Why, Papa?”
“Because, this is something he should learn from his parents, not a schoolmate. Okay, baby?”
“Okay, Papa.” He looked up for a moment, “Uh oh, Uncle Myc just came in the room looking at his watch. I think it is time for bed. Night, Papa! Night, Daddy!”
“Night, Hamish,” John and Sherlock replied as they watched Hamish scurry off. They could hear him exchanging goodnight hugs and kisses with his uncle and being assured that Uncle Greg was upstairs waiting with a bedtime story. A moment passed and Mycroft settled into the chair that Hamish had just vacated.
“How are things progressing, brother-in-law,” Mycroft eyes showed a hint of concern.
“I don’t know how you bloody well did this two times, Mycroft. It is so much harder than Hamish’s birth; the waiting is the worst,” John whined slightly to his brother-in-law.
Mycroft chuckled knowingly, “The waiting is terrible, considering you know the reward at the end. How far along are the contractions?”
“Thirty-two minutes, currently,” Sherlock answered. “However, they have been steadily progressing by a minute for the last 8 contractions.”
Mycroft nodded, “Welcome to active labour, brother-in-law. Seems we’ll be meeting our niece within the next 48 hours.”
John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder with a smile as the brothers spoke for a few more minutes.
Tuesday, August 3, 22:00
John sat back as the contraction eased and rolled his head to look at Sherlock.
“Twenty-eight minutes,” Sherlock answered the unspoken question and kissed John’s forehead.
“So,” Richard leaned against the doorframe of the bedroom, “we passed the 30 minute mark. Think we could do an exam now?”
John nodded as he slipped off the bed, “I never realized how annoying the imperial we is when doctors use it. I’m not sure how ‘we’ passed the 30 minute mark, but yeah MY contractions are 28 minutes apart and YOU can do an exam.”
“Yes, we doctors are right bastards,” Richard laughed. “Now assume the position.”
John raised his shirt to the small of his back and braced himself against the foot rail of the bed. Sherlock scooted to the end of the bed and sat cross legged as he rubbed John’s forearms reassuringly.
Donning a pair a of sterile gloves, Richard quickly did the exam, “Well, congratulation, you are 8 cm dilated. You’ll probably be entering transition pretty soon.”
“Oh, goody,” John sighed.
“He’s making good progress, then,” Sherlock asked peering over John’s shoulder.
Richard smiled and nodded, “Yes, he’s making great progress. Faster than I anticipated, but not dangerously so. Would you like to feel... If that is okay with you, John.”
“Not the first time, and hopefully not the last, his fingers have been up there,” John laughed as Sherlock scurried off the bed. Turning to look over his shoulder, John smiled as Sherlock carefully placed one hand low on his hip. As he was about to drag a finger of his other hand down the cleft of John’s bum, Richard grabbed his wrist.
“Okay, I don’t care what and how you two play when you are alone, but right now John is my patient and right now you are not touching him without sterile gloves.”
Sherlock shot Richard an annoyed look, but dutifully held out his hand for the gloves. Snapping one on, Sherlock gently slipped one then two fingers inside John. Slowly, he bent over John and nuzzled his ear, “John?”
“Yes, love?”
“You’re having my baby.”
John smiled brightly, “Yes, love.”
Richard cleared his throat lightly, “I’m just going to slip out now, but I suggest you get some rest now. You’ve got a while, but once transition starts things will progress quickly with little time to rest.”
The mates murmured something of an agreement as the continued to nuzzle against one another. Richard left the room before once again witnessing their coupling.
Wednesday, August 4, 02:30
For the first time in 24 hours, Sherlock left the bedroom not in search of food or drink or the toilet, but just because he couldn’t stand those four walls a minute longer.
Richard looked up from the tablet he was reading and watched the other man stalk around the lounge for a minute, “Everything alright, mate?”
Sherlock looked at Richard, sighed and crossed to the window over looking Baker Street, “Yes, John is fine. He’s sleeping.”
“Meant you, actually,” Richard sat up from his reclining position on the couch. “Worried?”
“Not as I was last night. I’ve been researching HBARB and John is doing splendidly.”
“Just bored, then?”
Sherlock whipped to face the doctor, “No!”
“Yes!” Richard chuckled. “Look don’t feel bad. It happens to all Alpha at some point during their Omega’s labour. Actually did you know the reason that record numbers of Omegas are again opting to birth at home is because more Alphas cheat during the labour than any other time? Being at home means there are fewer willing bodies around than in hospital.”
Sherlock’s eyes widened, “Where are you getting your data?”
“A study a mate of mine is working on.” Richard typed a few things on his tablet keyboard and then handed it over to Sherlock. “Historically, it was thought about 25-35% of the Alpha population could and would cheat on their bonded mate. Once hospital births became the vogue that number nearly tripled to 60-70%.”
Sherlock took the tablet and settled into his armchair, his legs pulled up and his chin resting on his knees. Reading over the study, Sherlock shook his head, “Mummy was never faithful to Papa. She kept all Omegas on staff and would rutt with any of them when they were in heat. Often, she would even do it in front of Papa. According to Mycroft, during his gestation, she was particularly brutal about the cheating, even bringing others into their mating bed.”
“I thought there were only you and Mycroft? You make it sound like there were other gestations.”
Sherlock nodded, “In the ten years between Mycroft and I there were five other gestations, as well as two before Mycroft and three after me, none survived. Well, there was Sherringford, but he lived a mere five days after birth.”
“Bloody hell,” Richard sucked in a breath. “No wonder you’ve been so worried about John. I’ve never heard of an Omega having that many failed gestations.”
“Mummy was a military scientist. Papa had wanted to join the Army, but at that point heat suppressants and birth control were in their infancy. The only way an Omega could serve was in experimental units. Papa ended up in a breeding study. During the study, a bond was formed accidentally and Papa was declared unfit and Mummy was reprimanded and had to take Papa into her home. Since the military forced her to give up her breeding studies and work on other projects, she continued them at home on Papa. She believed that the right combination of drugs and environmental conditions would produce a Super-Alpha that would be a boon to warfare.”
“She ran unsupervised and untested experiments on her mate,” Richard couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Sherlock turned cold eyes to him, “And her children. Mycroft was initially considered a success until his sexing test revealed him to be an Omega.”
“When did she do the sexing test?”
“A day or two after birth, I suppose. Papa refused to allow her near any of us for the first few hours. After Sherringford, he prevented her from coming near me for over a month.”
“She could have killed him doing sexing so young.”
Sherlock nodded gravely, “She mostly left Mycroft alone. Let Papa and Grandmere and Grandpere, her Omega and Alpha, raise him. That is how Mycroft started working in the government, Grandpere also held a minor role.”
Richard suddenly picture a gray haired man, holding an umbrella and telling a young ginger haired Mycroft all the secrets of the world and he grinned.
“Sherringford was born when Mycroft was five. Mummy thought that she had finally cracked it. He was a huge baby; nearly 6kg and over 22 inches long. The sexing proved that he was an Alpha. Mummy initiated a protocol to start training Sherringford, but before he could be wean of breast milk and onto the special formula he died of crib death. Even though I was an Alpha, I was born much too small for Mummy to truly value me. Besides by that time she had tired of the military sciences and moved to drug testing.”
Richard levered himself off the sofa and moved to kneel by the armchair, “Sherlock, when John first told me that he wanted to breed with you, I thought he had gone round the bend. Then, I saw you at Hamish’s sonogram and saw a bit of what John sees. Five years I’ve watched you with Hamish and you are one of the best Alpha’s, either gender, I’ve ever met. Please don’t forget that or get upset that your are getting bored with the waiting.”
“That is the thing. I’m not bored. I’m fascinated and enthralled and want to catalogue every moment, feeling and experience,” Sherlock turned to level a look at Richard, “just like Mummy.”
“Oh, Sherlock,” Richard shook his head. “In the, what, ten years you’ve know John has anything he’s done not fascinated and enthralled you?”
Sherlock shook his head.
“That isn’t being like your Alpha. That is loving John and your babies. Just keep being you, mate. John loves and needs you... all of you,” Richard patted Sherlock’s arm before moving back to the sofa.
Sherlock sat curled in the armchair for several long minutes. Suddenly, he unfurled himself from the chair and strode purposefully back to the bedroom, his dressing gown flapping like a cape.
Richard laid back down, perhaps Mummy Holmes had developed a Super-Alpha after all.
Wednesday, August 4, 05:10
Sherlock woke from his light doze to the feeling of warm, wetness engulfing his engorged penis. Straddling him, John was rocking slowly up and down, his arm stretched to grab the railing of the headboard. Sherlock ran his hand up John’s thighs to squeeze his arse.
John moaned deeply, “Sherlock, more. I need more.”
“Take what you need, love. Use me,” Sherlock adjusted his legs to drive deeper into John.
“I’m getting close, Sherlock. The contractions are 11 minutes apart. Oh, god! Sher... Sherlock, soon I won’t be carrying your child. I’ll never carry your child again. I don’t... I don’t.... Ooooo.... i don’t want it to be over. I wish I could always be filled with your child,” John continued to ride Sherlock with slow, deep movements and as he did he moved Sherlock’s hand from his arse to his belly.
Sherlock rubbed his hands sensually around John’s gravid belly, “If I could I would keep continually in labour, my love, my mate, my husband.”
“Kiss me,” John dropped his hand into Sherlock’s curls and yanked him up, “hard.”
Sherlock surged up, claiming John’s mouth in a brutal, crushing kiss.
Between them, John’s belly hardened in a contraction, but even as he moaned he deepened the kiss and rode Sherlock harder. As the contraction eased, John’s movements became frantic. Shortly, Sherlock felt John’s cock twitch between them, then both his flat stomach and the curve of John’s belly was painted with John’s cum. Sherlock slammed deep into John’s dripping hole. One, two, three deep thrusts and Sherlock’s knot inflated to its fullest as his seed spilled.
John kissed him lightly, “Thank you, my love.”
“Mmmm, you should always wake me that way.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” John chuckled. “We probably won’t stay like this long.”
“Then let us take advantage,” Sherlock started kissing John’s neck and jaw.
They traded kisses, short pecks and long, langid, deep ones. All too soon, John started to moan as a contraction built. As the contraction crested, Sherlock’s knot deflated and John pulled away. Once Sherlock’s cock was removed, a flood of amniotic fluid and cum flowed from John’s hole.
“Richard,” John and Sherlock both cried out.
Moments later, Richard ran into the bedroom, “What?”
“My waters broke,” John explained.
Richard smiled and rubbed his hands together, “Showtime!”
Wednesday, August 4, 09:40
John moans were a constant, low sound in the bedroom for the last fifteen or twenty minutes. He was deep in the throes of transition and the contraction were nearly constant as John became fully dilated and baby entered the birth canal. John was bent over the foot of the bed, with Sherlock kneading his lower back. Richard was holding John under the arms, basically keeping him from sliding off the bed since his entire body was focused on moving the child. The transition continued with small, brief pauses in the contractions.
Under the doctor’s direction, Sherlock alternated between deep knuckle massage of John’s lower back and gently rotating John’s hips to help ease the transition. A bowl of cool water sat on the bed with two flannels dipped in it; Sherlock would occasionally run a cool cloth down and across John’s back, while Richard would bathe John’s face. Sherlock kept bent over John whispering words of encouragement and love, even though John was too dazed and internally focused to hear or register them.
Slowly, the time between the contractions lengthened until John’s moans became sighs and his body relaxed. Gently, Sherlock and Richard were able to encourage John up onto the bed. As John relaxed on his side and Sherlock ran his hand through the golden hair, Richard quickly checked John and cleaned the small bit of bloodly discharge from transition.
“Okay,” Richard patted John’s hip. “Things look really good. Try to rest. The contractions will ease for a little bit before we get down to business.”
John nodded and reached for Sherlock’s hand, “Rest sounds good for a bit. Call you when I need to push?”
Richard nodded and left the couple to rest.
Wednesday, August 4, 11:15
John’s eyes were closed and his breathing was steady, but Sherlock could tell that his mate wasn’t sleeping so he let his fingers play over John’s body.
John sighed and opened his eyes, “I think the rest period is nearly over.”
“Yeah, the contractions are starting up again,” Sherlock agreed taking his hand.
“Not to lon.... Oh.... Mmmmm,” John closed his as the contraction started. Suddenly they flew open again, “I have to push. Richard!!!”
Richard ran into the room as Sherlock was helping John onto his back, “He says he has to push.”
“Then, he should,” Richard came to the side of the bed and placed his hands on John’s belly feeling the pushes. “Remember, push only as long as the contraction.”
John nodded slightly, grunting with his efforts and panting as the contraction ended.
“John, do you want to move to the foot of the bed, like you planned,” Sherlock asked, rubbing John’s shoulder.
“No, I think I rather be like this. Can you get some pillows behind me?”
Richard gripped Sherlock’s arm, “Actually, I think it would be better for you to get up behind John. He’ll need something firmer than pillows.”
Quickly before the next contraction could hit, Richard and Sherlock got John situated on the bed. Sherlock was behind him and forward enough in the bed to brace John’s feet on the foot rail and close enough for Richard to work. A pillow was also propped under John’s hips to angle his hips upwards.
“Another,” John grunted and moved to start pushing.
Richard spread John’s legs gently, “One. Two. Three. Four. Keep pushing, John. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Okay, breathe.”
“This isn’t right. This doesn’t feel like it did with Hamish,” John turned slightly wild eyes towards Richard.
Soothingly, Richard rubbed the inside of his thigh, “No, it doesn’t feel the same, but that doesn’t mean it is wrong. This position isn’t easy or the best for Anal Birth, but you can still do it. Do you want to move into a squat or up on all fours?”
John wearily shook his head, “No, I’m too tired to support myself that way.”
“Okay,” Richard nodded reassuringly, “then we do it this way. Sherlock is going help. When you have a contraction and are pushing Sherlock is going push you up so that your whole body is pushing. Also, I want you both to grab under your knees to pull your legs back and out to open you up. Understood?”
Both men nodded and John start to grimace and grunt with a contraction.
“Showtime, boys, let’s try the new method.”
Sherlock pushed his chest against John back, allowing him to better curl around his stomach. They both pulled back on his legs, opening him wider. Again, Richard counted as John strained and groaned as he pushed. All three men were panting when the contraction ended.
“Better,” Richard asked, patting John’s knee.
John sighed, “Yeah, but still harder than before.”
“Well, let’s try a few more like this and then we can try a different position, if you are up for it. Okay?”
“Sounds goo... Oh, god, another one already.”
Again, John and Sherlock worked in tandem as Richard counted.
Wednesday, August 4, 12:10
Sherlock glanced at the clock. Nearly an hour had passed and still the only signs a baby was coming were John’s still protrusive belly and the slight bulge at his perineum when he pushed. John was still refusing to try a different position and was getting weaker with each push. Richard had pulled out a small, portable monitor to watch the baby’s heartbeat. While it was still rapid and strong, Sherlock noticed it had dropped just a couple of beats.
As the latest contraction and pushing ended, Richard looked up and tried again, “John, I think a new position...”
“No, I can’t,” John shook his head wearily.
Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore. He nearly bolted off the bed, leaving the sweaty and worn man to collapse back, “What the bloody hell are you playing at, John? Are you trying to kill yourself and our daughter? An hour of hard pushing and so little progress isn’t right. Can’t you see the worry and concern etched on Richard’s face? On my face?”
“I’m scared,” John whispered.
“All the more reason to change posit...”
“No, I’m scared that once she’s born you won’t want me, since I can’t have more children,” tears gathered at the corners of John’s eyes.
Sherlock stared at John for a moment, “Oh, you complete and utter fucking moron. If my love, desire, friendship for you was based on breeds, then why that first night at Angelo’s, when I truly did think you were a Beta, did I know that I wanted to spend my entire life with you. Even if we could only be friends and flatmates, I knew I wanted to spend every available minute with you. I knew I needed you as much as I needed the Work. The children have just been a surprising added bonus. Now, get off your arse and give birth to our daughter.”
Tears were running down his cheeks as John listened to the declaration of love from Sherlock and he nodded, “Alright. I don’t think I can stand, though. My legs are quite wobbly.”
“It’s alright,” Richard spoke up again after letting the mates have their moment. “You don’t need to stand. Sherlock, stand by the side of the bed. John, you are going to kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck. When you are pushing, just hang off him. And Sherlock, when John pushes, I want you to place both hands on the top of his belly and push down as well. Alright?”
Both men nodded and with help they got John into the new position just in time for the next contraction. As John pushed with Sherlock’s help, the bulge of the perineum became much more obvious and Richard gave a sigh of relief.
Two more pushes in this position and Richard let out a shout, “I see scalp! She’s got her Papa’s blonde hair.”
Sherlock kissed John deeply.
Wednesday, August 4, 12:45
Despite the fact that the change in position allowed for much more productive pushing, it was still an agonizing 30 minutes of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ progress. The the baby would surge forward on the contraction and then slip slightly back in as the contraction eased. Still, the position and progress (and Sherlock’s words) had given John a renewed strength and his body was working and feeling better.
He was leaning against Sherlock, breathing in his Alpha scent, when another contraction started. Just the lightest push caused a burn sensation and John moaned, “She’s crowning, yeah?”
“Yes, she crowning,” Richard used a lukewarm cloth around John’s opening. “Nice slow, steady push. You haven’t torn and I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Me, too,” John grunted.
“Her forehead is out,” Sherlock said with awe as he watched over John’s shoulder. “Her eyes. Her... John, she has your nose. Her mouth. Her... her perfect little chin. Oh, John, she’s gorgeous.”
“Like her Daddy,” John whispered in Sherlock’s ear. As much as John wanted to see his baby, John stayed nuzzled into Sherlock’s neck knowing that Richard would be checking for the cord.
As Richard eased his fingers around the baby’s head and neck, he looked up at John, “Okay, the hard part. You need to pant through the next couple of contractions, so I can check for the cord and she can turn to get her shoulders out.”
John nodded against Sherlock’s shoulder.
“Is the cord clear,” Sherlock asked, straining to see.
“Yup, we’re all good.”
John started panting heavily against Sherlock’s shoulder as a contraction gripped him and he struggled not to push. He grunted as he felt the baby slowly turn within him. He panted through two contractions as Sherlock rubbed his back. Finally, Richard gave him permission to push again. John screamed as a hard push and contraction forced one shoulder out, “I forgot how bad that felt.”
“Just one more shoulder to go,” Richard rubbed his thigh encouragingly.
John took a depth breathe as another contraction built. One more hard push and the little girl was out to the waist.
Richard used a suction bulb to clear the mucus from her mouth and nose and cleaned up some of the fluids on her. He cradled her upper body as they waited for the final push that would expel her from John.
“Here she comes,” John started pushing and quickly the baby slipped fully from him with a gush of fluids.
Sherlock clung to John as he watched the baby squirm in Richard’s hand and start to squall with indignity of being exposed to big, wide world, “She’s here, John. She’s here and she’s pink and perfect.”
The two other men helped to ease John down onto the bed. Once he was settled, Richard laid the baby on John’s naked chest and covered them with a light sheet.
John kissed her forehead, “Hello, there, little one. Welcome to the world.”
“We’re so happy you are finally here,” Sherlock wrapped his arms around both of them.
“Sherlock,” Richard had secured to clamps to the cord, “do you want to cut the cord?”
Nodding, Sherlock took the surgical scissors from and cut between the two clamps. A few moments later, John gave a small grunt and pushed the placenta out.
“Sherlock,” John held out a hand and instantly Sherlock crawled back up the bed to wrap himself around his mate and child.
The mates cuddled and nuzzled each other and the baby as Richard cleaned up the debris from the birth. He was preparing to slip from the room, when John gently called his name.
“Yes,” Richard whispered as he moved closer to the bed.
John pushed the cover from the baby’s face, “Meet Arabella Joy Holmes-Watson.”
Wednesday, August 4, 14:15
“Hello, brother,” Mycroft answered on the first ring. “Is all well?”
“Arabella Joy Holmes-Watson was born at 1:05 this afternoon. She is 3.9 kg and 20.8 inches long. All tests are well within normal to advanced range. She took easily to John’s breast and has had to her first meal.”
Mycroft laughed down the line, “You sound like a bloody Royal birth announcement. Is she beautiful and healthy?”
“So beautiful,” Sherlock whispered reverently. “She’s got John blonde hair and his nose. John says she has my mouth and will have my eyes. She’s already alert and looking around at everything.”
“Definitely your eyes, then, dear brother. John is doing well?”
“Yes, the birth was hard on him, but he didn’t tear, the placenta detached cleanly and his womb has contracted.”
Mycroft sighed, “You do realize all I needed to know was that he was healthy?”
“Yes,” Sherlock smiled, “but I do love to make you uncomfortable.”
“I need to be getting to a meeting, but I can not wait to meet my new niece.”
“Ah, about that,” Sherlock hesitated.
“You would prefer we not visit tonight?”
“Yes, John and I would appreciate some time to bond with Arabella.”
“Of course.” Now Mycroft hesitated, “What about Hamish?”
“Ah, well... John and I would prefer that he not be told of his sister’s arrival quite yet. He’s going to want to come home immediately and...”
“Alright, I understand,” Mycroft interrupted. “We will not mention the arrival to Hamish or the children. I assume I can inform Gregory?”
“Of course. In fact, you may want to let Anna know, since she collects the children from school.”
“I believe that tomorrow, we shall all collect the children and pay a visit to Baker Street.”
“Mycroft...”
Mycroft interrupted again, “Not to worry, brother, it will be a short visit and the children will be thoroughly sanitized before entering the flat. Oh, and Anna has offered to stay a few days to help with the adjustment.”
“Thank you and thank Anna. I’ll speak to John about it.”
“Well, I really must dash, but please give my congratulations to John and kiss my niece for me, please.”
Sherlock smiled, genuinely, “I will. Give Hamish kisses from Papa and Daddy tonight.”
“As if he could go to bed without them,” Mycroft scoffed as he rang off.
Thursday, August 5, 15:50
Arabella was staring up at her parents as she drank hungrily from John’s small, milk fill pec. She hadn’t slept much her first 24 or so hours of life, nor had she cried much. However, she watched everything since the moment her eyes opened. She seemed to be questioning and processing every new thing that came into her sphere of vision. Between their scents and the sounds of their voices, she seemed to already catalogued her parents as safe and good. Whenever John or Sherlock even came near, she would relax and give a satisfied little baby sigh.
Right now, she was content cradled in her Papa’s arms being feed. Her Papa was also content leaning back against his mate. Sherlock was propped up against the headboard and John’s back was snuggled into his chest as he sat in the V of Sherlock’s legs.
The peace and quiet was shattered, but the sound of the Baker Street door slamming open. For a moment, John and Sherlock tensed enough to startle Arabella in mewling in discontent, but the soon relaxed at the familiar sound of their son’s footsteps thundering up the stairs.
“Oy! Slow down,” Greg’s voice was muffled as he called after the boy.
Hamish’s footsteps were followed by the quick steps of the young cousins and the slower steps of the rest of the family.
John gently detached Arabella, who looks momentarily disturbed by the interruption of her meal, and adjusted her so that she would be facing the door when her big brother entered the room.
Hamish’s footsteps were just as quick coming through the lounge and down the hall, but then stopped abruptly at the ajar door. A tentative knock accompanied a small voice, “Papa, Daddy? Can I come in? It is me, Hamish.”
John and Sherlock laughed silently, before John called, “Come in, baby.”
The door pushed open and Hamish’s head appeared. Seeing his parents, Hamish launched into the room and onto the bed.
“Steady, Hamish,” Sherlock caught the boy with his long arm. “We have to be gentle around Arabella, since she is much smaller than us.”
Hamish nodded solemnly and sat close to his Papa. He peered at his sister, who stared right back. Tilting his head, Hamish moved slightly closer, “She smells like you and Papa.”
“She will for several months before she starts to develop her own smell,” John skipped explaining that is was a biological trait left over from prehistoric humanity to prevent Alphas from killing their own young.
“Can I touch her?”
“Course,” John smiled.
“Gently,” Sherlock added.
Cautiously, Hamish reach out on finger and laid it on the back of her hand, “Hi, Arabella. I’m your big brother, Hamish.”
The baby moved her hand and grabbed onto his finger. She continued to look at him, then gave a big yawn and snuggle back in her Papa’s arm fast asleep.
“So, that is what she was waiting for,” John laughed.
Hamish looked confused, “Huh, Papa?”
“Arabella hasn’t slept since shortly after she was born,” Sherlock ran a hand over his son’s black curls. “Apparently, she wanted to meet her big brother, first.”
Hamish beamed and carefully leaned over to kiss her forehead.
From the doorway, Greg took a picture on his phone before turning back to his family and gently herding them from the flat with the promise of a proper introduction later.