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John Watson had only been joking when he revealed his positively ghastly middle name to Irene Adler. He knew for a fact that Sherlock Holmes would never make babies... least of all with The Woman.
And so when he receives a text saying-
St. Barts. NOW, if convenient. If inconvenient, COME ANYWAY.
-SH
-he shrugs on a jacket, grabs his gun from under a loose floorboard and is out the door before he catches Mary’s grin. He certainly doesn’t hear her say, ‘Really, John? How could you be so blind?’
***
Sherlock Holmes had once been convinced that sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side. Oh, how young and foolish he had been!
Later, Sherlock had been sure that naming his first child ‘Wilberforce’ (irrespective of gender) was a good idea. Thankfully, Molly had managed to talk him out of it.
And so, when his pathologist looks up at him and smiles (after a surprisingly uncomplicated labour), Sherlock understands that what he is experiencing is not an unprecedented or undocumented sort of cardiac arrest, but overwhelming sentiment.
Besides, the baby doesn't look like a Wilberforce, anyway.
***
Molly Hooper had always had an absurdly deep affection for Sherlock’s nose. And so, she is terribly pleased to see it sticking out of the warm, soft bundle in her arms. She pauses for a moment, realising how morbid she sounds, before chuckling when she sees Sherlock raising a knowing eyebrow at her.
A while later, as both the bundle and Molly are drifting off to sleep, with Sherlock playing his violin softly in the background, a flustered and out-of-breath John Watson is framed in the doorway.
‘What is it, Sherlock?’ he says, ‘Is Molly going to be alright?’
It is a contented Molly Hooper who blinks up at John and says, ‘Say hello to your godson – Hamish Hooper-Holmes.’