Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Thirty Seven

The large bay window of the Watson's home let a shower of afternoon light into the living room. Bottles, blankets and soft toys littered every surface as Molly and Mrs Hudson stood taking photographs of the couple as they sat on the couch with their new-born daughter; the sweet new baby sleeping soundly in her mother's arms.

"What about a name?" asked Mrs Hudson.

"Catherine," John replied confidently.

"Uh, no we've gone off that," Mary added quickly.

"Have we?"

"Yeah."

Sherlock stood across the room, his eyes glued to his phone. "Well you know what I think..."

"It's not a girl's name!" the pair replied in unison.

A half smile crept across his mouth, creating a dimple in his cheek.

Across the coffee table, Margaux sat on the edge of an armchair. She was leaning forward with her elbows propped on her knees, her chin resting on her fists. Her bottom lip puckered as she cooed over the tiny infant.

Mary glanced across to her and giggled. "Do you want to hold her again?"

"Yes please." She stood up and hurried over, taking John's place on the couch as he walked over to Molly and Mrs Hudson.

Mary handed her the baby carefully. Margaux cuddled her to her chest, resting her cheek gently on top of her head.

"N'aw," she said, swaying gently. "You forget how small they are when they're fresh."

"Fresh?"

"Sorry. New."

Mary smirked. She loved the moment's when Margaux's 'weird' seeped through. "Is she making you broody?"

"Oh, god no," she leaned in, speaking quietly. "I actually thought I might have been... You know... And I almost had a breakdown."

"You thought you were pregnant?" Mary whispered back.

"Mhm. It was just a scare thankfully. I've never been so happy to see my period in my life."

The baby began to stir. Margaux stood up instinctively, patting her gently on the bum and soothing her with shushes. Mary sat back, perfectly happy to let her handle it.

Margaux walked slowly across the living room to Sherlock's side.

"Cheer up, Uncle Sherlock," she said, taking the baby's hand and patting him on the arm with it.

He looked down at them, his face smooth and unmoving, like marble.

"Oh, come on, crack a smile. Look how cute she is."

"All babies are 'cute'. Cuteness is an evolutionary trait in babies, designed to compel adults to want to take care of them so they don't die or get eaten."

She paused for a moment and blinked a few times. "Do you want to hold her?"

"Sorry. Can't. Busy."

John approached them with awkward steps, sighing nervously. "So, er, you two... We would like you to be godparents."

Margaux gasped, smiling broadly as she spoke. "Really? Us?"

"God is a ludicrous fiction dreamt up by inadequates who abnegate all responsibility to an invisible magic friend," said Sherlock, his eyes never leaving his phone.

"Yeah but there'll be cake..." said John. "Will you do it?"

"I'll get back to you."

John sighed.