Chapter Six

Sherlock got another text, saying,

From 1-668-879-4948Mr. Holmes, I would really like it if you would respond.  I need your help, please.Lydia

I want Sherlock to take the case still, but he keeps pushing it away.

We had to go to Mycroft's funeral, and Sherlock was preparing his speech in his head. 

"You didn't write cards?"

"No, I can remember everything." Sherlock flatted the collar on his suit jacket.

"You brought cards to my wedding," I pointed out.  Sherlock smiled in response, making me even more bewildered.  We headed out.

I'm not going to write down Sherlock's speech because it would take too long, but I will say that it was absolutely lovely.

Another lovely thing that happened that night was that Mary's water broke, and we had to get her to the hospital.  She might have our baby soon!

At the hospital, Mary got a bed, some shots, and rested.  I stayed by her side through the entire thing.  When it was time to push, we took all that we learned through pregnancy classes.   I could see the baby, but it can out feet-first.  That was not good.

The doctor said to keep pushing, even though Mary would let out wails of pain.  I winced, and the baby was still coming out.  It was a boy. 

Mary's breathing started getting irregular by the time the baby got to it's belly botton.  The doctors put her on more medications, but soon, her heart beat started beating wrongly.  The baby was almost through, just it's head remained. 

I held my breath the entire time.  "Mary.." I would whisper.  "Mary, it's okay..."

The baby came out, normal and breathing.  I was grateful for that.  The doctors gave him to Mary, and she smiled as she saw him.  Her heart was beating really slow, now.  I knew she was slipping away.  I held her hand, and together, we looked at our baby boy.

"It's okay," I whispered, again.

Mary closed her eyes.  "I love you," she replied.  She took her last breath.  The heart tracker gave a long beep that sounded like a sad moan.  The doctors gave the baby to me, and they took Mary's body away.  My son was crying, but I shushed him. 

"It's alright," I told him.  "I'm here."  And in that moment, the realization of Mary dead hit me.  I looked back down at my baby.  He made it okay, in a way.

My description is really not that great, but the memories that I have of that day are not any better.  I took the baby to Sherlock's flat, and told him what happened.  Two deaths in two weeks, and one of them my wife.  At least my son pulled through.

When I told Sherlock, he looked as if he didn't know whether to be sad or to be happy.  It puzzled me, but a lot of things about him puzzle me.  He looked longing at the baby, so I gave him to Sherlock to hold.  Sherlock smiled as he saw my son's little face.

"I don't know how to take care of a kid!" I complained.  "How the holy hell will I do this without Mary?"

Sherlock looked back at me when I said this, and it hit me.  Sherlock wanted to help me.

"What are you going to name him?" Sherlock asked. 

I shook my head.  "I dunno."

"What about Hamish?" I stared at him, disapprovingly. "Like, your middle name," Sherlock explained.  "A kid loves being named after his father,"

"But I hate that name!"

Sherlock sighed.  "Well, if you aren't going to name him after yourself, name him after me."

I looked up at him.  "Name him Sherlock?"

"No! William or Scott."

I breathed in, and out.  Actually, I liked those names.  "I think I will name him Scott.  I'll call him Scottie."

Sherlock smiled at this.  "Hello, Scottie," he whispered to the baby boy in his arms.  Sherlock stared for a long while, but then asked, "Since Mary is....gone... could I be considered guardian, or the other parent?"

I hadn't that far into things, since Mary had just died an hour before.  It still pained me to think that she was gone, but it was the way it was, and she wasn't coming back.  Scottie will always remind me of her I guess.  Her memory lies with him.

I nodded to answer Sherlock's question.  I was thinking about so much stuff, I didn't hear Sherlock ask his second question.

"Don't you have to tell the doctors his name, so they can make a birth certificate?"

"Oh, yeah!" I said.  I needed to think of a middle name.  "Should he have four names like you, or three, like me?"

Sherlock shrugged.

I thought of different name combinations.  Finally, I said, "Scott Mycroft John Watson.  There.  I named him after myself."

"You named him after my brother," Sherlock said.

I nodded.  "He was a great man.  You're lucky to be his brother."

Sherlock grinned, again, and brushed his long, bony fingers along Scottie's soft head.