Prompting Part XXX
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IMPORTANT! Spoilers for aired episodes are now being
allowed on this area of the meme, without warning. If you do not want to encounter spoilers, please prompt at our Spoiler-Free Prompt Post.
( Read more... )
After knowing that the baby is going to be a girl, Sherlock was unstoppable. She spent half of their savings on decorating and preparing the baby room -light purple walls, dark ebony cradle and furniture, all sorts of toys to facilitate cognitive and motor development.
The only argument Sherlock and John had about the decoration occurred when Sherlock got home from shopping and held a huge A1 sized photograph between John’s face and the newspaper he was reading.
“What is this?” asked him and looked up at her face, slightly maniac expression playing on it.
“This is going to be on the wall in the baby’s room, you know, where we couldn’t decide what to put there.”
“Okay, but what’s on it?” John eyed the red splashes with suspicion.
“Oh, John, your mind is so vacant! Look at them. Blood patterns!” Sherlock swung the paper as if the patches could be magically organized into a recognizable pattern.
“God, no. Sherlock! This is the room of our daughter we’re talking about. You want to hang a photo of blood patterns on the wall of her room? Jesus Christ, no!” John hopped out of his chair and gesticulated wildly to emphasize his words with his movements.
“Why? She wouldn’t know what they are and I think this pattern is actually rather decorative. Also, when she gets older, it could function as an association test sheet. Think about it. We could examine how her mind works!”
“Woman, you’re out of your mind! I already told you, that experimenting with kids - especially the way you do - is not good, but doing it with your own child?! No. This will not happen!” John put his hands on his hips and looked as intimidating as he felt physically possible.
And Sherlock did the only thing she knew would disarm John - looked at him from under her lashes and started rubbing his belly. “John.” She said in her most balmy tone and wobbled her eyelashes.
“Please.”
“Ah, and here we go. You’re doing it again! And you know that I can’t say no to that.” John shook his head and let his hands fall from his hips. “But no, I don’t agree with you on hanging it up in her room. You can put it in ours, but not in hers.” Hearing that, Sherlock happily closed her hands around John’s face and kissed him then rushed out of the living room to find the perfect place for her picture.
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Sherlock hurried to the kitchen, placed her bags on the dining table and went back to the living room to sit down next to John.
“What is it, John?” She put a hand on his back and drew tiny circles.
“I just got a letter from the Ministry of Defence. They send me back. They send me back to Afghanistan next week.” He looked up at her and she could see that he was tormented.
“You want to go. You know we’re having a baby in no more than 3 months and yet you want to fight in Afghanistan. Don’t, John, please, don’t.” One single tear rolled down her face as she clutched his hand in hers.
“Sherlock, you know that I can’t do anything against it. And you’re right; I wanted to go and fight for my country, but not anymore. I have you now and we start a family soon. I don’t want to risk my life. I want to be here to see the both of you. But I don’t have a choice.” He stroked her face, fondled her lower lip.
“I’m sure Mycroft can do something about it!” Sherlock was on her feet now, her hand resting on her belly. She started pacing the floor and was thinking of possible solution. “You were invalided. There must be other soldiers who aren’t injured and who don’t have a family, who are young.”
“Sherlock, love, I’m sure those guys are already called in, too.” He reached out to touch her leg as she passed him, but she was too lost in her thoughts to stop for it.
“Don’t just sit there, John. And do not act like it’s okay and there’s nothing to do. Do something!” She was yelling now, her tears painted long lines on her flushed cheeks.
John jumped up and caught her by the elbow to hold her against him. When her head touched his shoulder, she started sobbing, her back moving with her ragged gasps. He rubbed her back and buried his face in her jasmine smelling curls.
“It’ll be okay, Sherlock, I’ll come back. I’m sure I won’t be there for long. And you will wait at the airport with our daughter on your arm and she’ll be perfect just like you; smart, beautiful, sharp and sometimes a know-it-all, but perfect.” His voice trailed off at the end and nuzzled closer to her to breathe her scent in as if he wanted to remember it for the months he’s be away.
“I love you, John Watson, I hope you know that. You are the love of my life.” Sherlock held him tighter and rubbed closer to smear a teardrop on his shoulder.
“And I love you, Sherlock Holmes, and I always will.” He kissed the top of her head and rocked the both of them gently.
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Sherlock awoke every time in a pool of cold sweat, with the duvet tangled around her body and her belly. She threw it away and put one of her hands on her stomach, rubbing soothing circles on it, and scrubbed the sticky sweat form her face with her other hand.
She wrote a letter every day to John; some of them only a few lines long but she couldn’t help it, she needed to feel John there with her. On Friday she put these letters in an envelope and went to the post office and posted it.
She sent three letters and got response three times. John’s handwriting was calm and controlled but she could detect dried splashes of teardrops on the paper. It always made her heart clench; she knew John wanted to come home and hold her tight.
After sending another two letters and not receiving any answers, she started worrying. It wasn’t like John to forget to write. On a dark Tuesday afternoon she got her answer for her concerns.
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