Chapter Text
December 21, 2019
Molly looked morosely at the calendar on the back of the utility room door, the one on which she and Sherlock had been marking off each day with an X since he had purchased it earlier in the year to indicate the passage of time until the impending birth of Baby Holmes number two.
She had started maternity leave two weeks ago, hoping that this baby would arrive early. Who wanted to have a baby so close to Christmas, really?
Wrapped Christmas presents were already under the tree in the front room for Victoria and the new baby.
Molly was ready, Sherlock was ready. The Holmes parents were ready. Victoria too was excited at the prospect of "baby" even if she didn't quite grasp the concept of what it would be like to have a baby sister. But apparently the baby herself was not ready. No, little girl Holmes was quite cosy in her mother's womb and apparently in no hurry to exit into the cold world, even if it would mean her mother would have her constant back pain eased as well as the swelling of her ankles and feet.
The swelling was not as bad as it had been with Victoria, possibly because the weather had been warmer when Victoria had been due, but still, Molly did not particularly enjoy going everywhere in soft slippers that would not cut into the tops of her swollen feet. Sherlock insisted it was fine, nobody was looking at her feet, but Molly still felt terribly self-conscious.
Today was supposed to be the day. Sherlock had written in the square for this date - New Baby Holmes? It was the evening of Molly's due date.
Sherlock, who had just put Victoria to bed, walked to stand beside Molly with a pen in his hand. "Nothing yet, love?" His tone was hopeful and he was looking at the calendar and its words, as if they could magically help Molly to go into labour.
She turned her head to him and sighed. "Not even a twinge." There had been a couple of false alarms already. Braxton Hicks contractions had become a rather common occurrence but they were irregular and didn't last for more than half an hour. The first time it had happened almost a month earlier, Sherlock had been convinced Molly was in premature labour when she winced at the slight contraction she experienced as they were eating dinner. In a panic, he had been set to take her immediately to the hospital but Molly had refused and reminded him that she had experienced Braxton Hicks contractions with Victoria and they had always gone away quickly. That had turned out to be the case each time the twinges had happened.
At her 40 week check-up the previous day, their midwife Laura had confirmed that the baby's head was definitely engaged in Molly's pelvis, she was almost 3cm dilated and 90% effaced. Labour could happen at any time. But there was no sign of contractions now, Braxton Hicks or otherwise. It was rather frustrating.
Sherlock reached out with the pen and put an X through the date, and Molly blinked back tears. She was feeling emotional and irritable and just wanted the baby out already. She wanted to meet the daughter she had been carrying for nine months.
"Come on, love." Sherlock took her hand. "Let's go to the sitting room and I'll give you a nice massage to make you feel better, maybe rub your feet a little too?"
She gave him a tremulous smile. He had been so sensitive to her needs lately, just as he had been when she had been in the last stages of pregnancy with Victoria. He had even had John put a note on his blog that they were not currently accepting cases until after the New Year.
Molly lowered herself to the sofa as Sherlock turned on the Christmas tree lights and then put on some Christmas music. At the front of the tree four baubles were prominently displayed, the ones Molly had purchased for her first Christmas with Sherlock after their marriage. The two bigger baubles had hers and Sherlock's names. The smaller ones were named Victoria and Christina. Molly had wanted to already have Christina's name on the bauble. She might not have emerged yet, but Molly felt her presence constantly with little movements. When Sherlock had laughingly pointed out that scans were not always 100% accurate on the baby's gender, Molly had shrugged it off. There were still four smaller baubles. If for some inexplicable reason Baby Gil Holmes turned out to be Baby Boy Holmes, they could just write on another one. They had even picked out a boy's name before the scan where the technician had stated they were having a girl - Christian Josiah. So an unexpected boy would still have a name.
Sherlock sat beside Molly and she angled herself awkwardly so he could have access to her back. She breathed a sigh of relief as he began to massage her shoulders then slowly worked his way down her back, thumbs pressing to either side of her spine and to the place where she felt the constant ache from the press of the baby. Soft little sighs of pleasure escaped her lips as he soothed away the pain at least temporarily.
After about fifteen minutes, Sherlock rose from the sofa and knelt in front of Molly, taking up one foot and rubbing it gently, then the other. Her lips quirked at the sight and she remembered the play they had performed in September, one scene of which had been Jesus, played by Sherlock, washing his disciples' feet. She had been so happy with the success of that play. More than a thousand dollars in donations for cancer research had been raised as a result.
Molly heard Sherlock's text alert sound but he didn't bother glancing at it until he had finished rubbing Molly's feet and had returned to sitting next to her. "It's probably just Mummy," he had said when they heard the ding.
Sherlock looked at the text. "Yep. Mummy was just asking how things are going. Silly really. It ism't like we wouldn't tell her if you went into labour." He quickly tapped in a response and sent it off.
Sherlock's parents had come to London the previous week in anticipation of the birth of the newest Holmes family member. They were staying with Mycroft as usual. Surprisingly, he had been quite agreeable about it, understanding their wish to be close by to meet their granddaughter. They had visited twice as well and Victoria, as always, was delighted to see her grandparents. The Holmes parents had last come to London in September to see the play and they had been astonished at how much Victoria had grown and how much her vocabulary had improved even in the space of three months.
"I must admit, I'm getting tired of hearing all the comments about how I look like I'm ready to pop, and questions about my due date. I'm starting to think that Greg and Lori's baby will be here before ours."
Sherlock stroked her hair and kissed her temple. "Remember what you always say to me - 'God's timing is not ours.'" Then he placed his hand on her distended belly and rubbed gently. "Sooner or later, Christina will arrive and our lives will change again as we adjust. In the meantime, we will continue to devote ourselves to our other daughter and one another."
"I know you're right and I shouldn't complain. I just can't help feeling like I've been pregnant forever and that our lives are in a holding pattern right now."
"Let me make you a cup of spearmint tea and then we can cuddle on the sofa and watch television until it's time for bed, unless Victoria decides to wake up."
"That sounds good." She looked at Sherlock. "It's funny, she has been sleeping through the night pretty regularly lately but soon we will have to get used to sleep deprivation again - or at least I'll have to."
"You know I'll do my part if you are able to express enough breast milk for middle-of-the-night feedings."
Molly yawned and nudged him. "I know you will. I have to say, I'm pretty tired and I might fall asleep on you soon after I drink the tea."
Sherlock gave her a sly look. "Perhaps we should forgo the tea and television and go to bed now. I'd be willing to attempt to jumpstart your labour."
Molly rolled her eyes. "That didn't help last time, if you recall." At Sherlock's rather disappointed expression, she added, "But I'm not saying we can't try. Maybe the tea will give me enough energy to stay awake and be an active participant in your efforts."
She couldn't help the smile that spread across her face as Sherlock immediately exited the room to comply. It really was odd how he was not at all fazed by her pregnant belly, but then, he hadn't been with Victoria either. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the addition of caressing and kissing her belly as part of their regular routine in the precursor to making love. Of course, he also knew that sex would be off the table for weeks after the birth as it had been with Victoria, so perhaps that had something to do with him not wishing to put a halt to their intimate activity. Really, she didn't mind. It was a little more awkward, especially at this point, but still extremely enjoyable.
Sherlock soon returned with her spearmint tea and a cup of coffee for himself. Usually he stuck to tea at night due to the higher caffeine level in coffee so she gave him a questioning look which he correctly interpreted.
"Even if you are ready to fall asleep on me, I don't wish to do the same to you later." He gave her a suggestive wink and she giggled.
"You're just lucky that all the research you did on whether it was safe to make love all the way through pregnancy gave a firm yes to it as long as no doctor said otherwise."
Sherlock smirked. "Yes, I'll admit that was a relief to know there is no risk to the baby or yourself." Then he sobered. "Of course, I would never pressure you into it either. Your needs and comfort level are as important as mine."
Molly took a sip of her tea before responding. "Well, physically things may not be as easy for me, but that doesn't mean I don't want to try anything that might get my labour going." She and Sherlock had actively tried to induce labour by making love each night before victoria was born, once she had passed her due date, even though research suggested that the act would only potentially help to induce labour if her body was ready for it anyway. Even so, Victoria had been nine days late and Molly was certainly hoping this baby would not keep her waiting that long to make an appearance.
At least Sherlock's parents had decided Christmas this year would have to be in London, which was a great relief. Mycroft had reluctantly volunteered to have the Christmas celebration at his house where they would be joined by Elizabeth's son, Michael, and his wife of a few months, Michelle. Mycroft's son Mark, who had graduated with his international politics degree in July and was now working in a junior position in Mycroft's department, (a little bit of nepotism there), was now also living in London and was to be at the Christmas gathering as well. Even Ruth Hooper had been invited and Molly was looking forward to spending Christmas with her mother for the first time in many years. But what if the baby decides she wants to arrive on Christmas Day? Molly worried, chewing on her lower lip. That would really mess up all the Christmas plans.
Molly's reverie was interrupted by Sherlock tapping her nose gently. "Are you concerned about this baby arriving at an inopportune time?" he asked, accurately deducing her suddenly pensive mood.
"A little. I was really hoping Christina," here, she rubbed her belly with the hand that was not holding her tea cup, "would arrive on time or early, but it seems like she has other plans."
Sherlock shrugged. "It is what it is, love. I've already spoken to Mycroft, and if the unthinkable happens and you deliver on Christmas, we will just skip the dinner and exchange gifts later. Mummy and Daddy are quite prepared to remain in London until after the baby comes. Even if Mycroft grumbles about it, he won't turn them out. Your mother already told us she has no other plans around Christmas so if there is a delay it won't be an imposition for her either." His words were reassuring and Molly felt a little better.
She nodded and continued to sip her tea as Sherlock tuned the television to a channel that was playing a random Christmas themed film. He finished his own cup of coffee as they watched.
After the film ended, they sat for awhile, watching the lights on the Christmas tree blink on and off, lost in their own thoughts. Molly's head was resting on Sherlock's shoulder and she was beginning to nod off when he nudged her.
"Let's go to bed, sweetheart."
Obediently, Molly removed her head from his shoulder and stood.
Sherlock stood as well and looked at her as she blinked at him sleepily. "Guess I should have gone upstairs with you earlier. So much for trying to induce your labour with a little lovemaking." He gave her a wry smile.
She put her hand to her mouth and smothered a yawn. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. We can still make love."
He shook his head and tucked her hand through his arm. "You need your sleep. There's always tomorrow."
He led her upstairs and helped her get undressed. Molly felt fatigue wash over her. He was right. There was always tomorrow, unless she went into labour of course.
She climbed into bed and Sherlock joined her, laying behind her with his hand resting protectively over her belly. His body cocooned her, warmed her, and she was asleep within moments.
The next two days passed with no sign of labour. Sherlock insisted that Molly stay off her feet as much as possible. He took care of Victoria and fed her, even, astonishingly, changed her dirty nappies as well as the wet ones. He prepared crumpets for breakfast and sandwiches for lunch. Those were easy enough. With his lack of skill in the kitchen though, Sherlock simply had pizza delivered the first night and there was enough leftover for the next evening. Their previous night's 'attempt' at trying to induce her labour naturally had been unsuccessful, much to Molly's disappointment, although the attempt itself was, as always, extremely delightful. For a short time she was distracted by Sherlock's expertise and thoroughness in his kisses and caresses.
Molly had not confessed her secret fear to Sherlock though. How would she deal with dividing her time between her children? Would it be a big adjustment to go from one child to two? Would she feel she was neglecting Victoria when the new baby would require so much of her attention?
She was sincerely glad she was not in the position of being a single mother. How difficult it must be for those women who didn't have a spouse to help in taking care of more than one child.
One other decision had been made between Sherlock and Molly as well, a few weeks before she left the hospital on maternity leave. For several months they had discussed what to do when her maternity leave was over. After some time spent in prayer, in a decision Sherlock had said was Molly's to make, she had decided she would no longer be able to work full-time at the hospital. Much as she loved her job, Molly wanted to be there for her children as much as possible, and working part-time once her three month maternity leave was over seemed like a good compromise. Sherlock had been very supportive with what she had decided, only remarking that he would miss their usual contact at the lab or mortuary when he was on a case, to which she had responded that he would get to see more of her at home instead. At least that had been some consolation.
With that in mind, in order to give Mike Stamford enough notice, she had told him of her decision. Her supervisor had been sad but understanding. Mike had already hired a new pathologist, one of his former students, knowing Molly would be going on maternity leave. Molly had observed the young man's work on several occasions and was pleased to see he was quite thorough and had a keen eye for detail. He treated the bodies on which he was performing a post-mortem with respect, cutting cleanly into then and restitching the skin afterwards, in complete contrast to the butcher-type efforts that had horrified her by some pathologists who did not seem to remember that, although deceased, these were real human beings, not animals. Those pathologists had definitely not lasted long at the hospital.
Molly herself had always tried to imagine she was working on a live patient, rather than a corpse, and had been complimented on many occasions about her skill with sutures. The nicest one she had received was when Mike had once remarked she had as much care and skill in her stitching as any surgeon he had ever seen. She had felt as if she was floating on air for the rest of that day. It felt so good to know her attention to detail was appreciated. It wasn't as if the corpses themselves could talk.
Jamie's work ethic was very similar and she felt he would be a good full-time replacement for her. Sherlock had already grumbled a couple times that it would not be the same, dealing with someone new when it came to inspecting murder victims whose post-mortems had been done by someone other than herself, but she had assured him that Jamie was almost as good at his job as she was.
After dinner on the 23rd, Molly said to Sherlock, who was getting Victoria out of her high chair while she put their dinner plates in the dishwasher, "I want to go to the Christmas Eve service at church tomorrow evening."
Sherlock gave her a doubtful look as he pulled a curl away from Victoria's hand. As usual, she had immediately grasped at it when he bent down to pick her up. "Is that wise? What if you go into labour?"
Molly closed the dishwasher and folded her arms, leaning over the countertop. Her back was aching unbearably. "If this baby had arrived on time or early, we would not have been able to go. But seeing as she is not here yet, I'd like to be at the service. I'm sure Victoria will enjoy all the music. Besides, John and Kayla will be there with Rosie and Adam too."
"Very well, you're the boss. At least we have our own car now and don't have to rely upon the availability of a taxi on Christmas Eve. I can drop you off in front of the church and find a park so you don't have to walk far."
Molly nodded and gave Sherlock a quick peck on the cheek. "Thanks, honey." She was glad he hadn't tried to argue further with her. She always loved the Christmas Eve service at church, singing all the lovely Christmas carols and especially Silent Night at the end.
By the time she and Sherlock went to bed that night, Molly was once again bone weary and aching. Sensing her fatigue, Sherlock merely kissed her goodnight and pulled her close to him as he had done two nights earlier. The baby within her stirred and settled again as she drifted off.