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It takes couple of days for Herlock to start being worried.
He is alone, because Mikotoba left, and now all he has is rent he won’t be able to pay on his own forever and cases he won’t be able to take for an unknown number of years.
And a baby.
The baby is the critical part.
He sits on the floor, his back to the makeshift crib — it’s not even a proper crib. He will need to get one. Or build one. Among other things. How many things does a baby need? He’s never cared for one before.
He’s never been so scared of the future before.
“Worry not,” he says out loud to the baby and mostly to himself, “we are going to be perfectly fine.”
The baby stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. Herlock props himself up to look at her, at her round baby cheeks and pink tufts of hair.
He reaches out, the tip of his index just touching hers, and her tiny little hand closes around his finger in a tiny little fist.
It feels like his heart is about to blow out of his chest.
“It’s just the two of us now,” he tells her, trying his best to sound confident. “We will be the most wonderful team in the world, Iris, you’ll see.”