The Case of the Season

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Norland Park, 1814

"Just breathe, dear," Betsy soothed Robin softly, squeezing her hand tightly. "Meg will be here soon."

As his wife moaned, Sherlock shook his head. "She's ready now, Betsy," he announced from his spot between Robin's legs. "Darling, when the urge is upon you again, I want you to push."

He had had the foresight to have Meg teach him everything he needed to know to deliver his own child just in case the midwife herself could not be here, and now he was quite glad he'd done so.

Robin moaned again and pushed. Her feet were braced against Sherlock's shoulders as she sat on the edge of the bed. Betsy's free hand was supporting the small of her back.

On the outside, Sherlock was perfectly calm, but on the inside, he was close to panic, especially as he saw his child's head begin to emerge from his wife. His heart was beating frantically in his chest, but he was determined not to show Robin how nervous he was. She was dealing with enough already.

"That's perfect, Robin. One more and the head should be free."

Robin nodded and pushed again when she was ready, grunting with the effort. She was past the point of being concerned about the pain. Now she was worried about their baby.

"There it is," Sherlock told her, supporting the head in his hand, putting the other under the baby's shoulders to guide it free. "Push again, my love. You're almost done."

Robin did, and suddenly Sherlock was holding a slippery bundle in his hands. For a moment, he was mesmerized as he stared at the child he and his wife had made together.

Though he didn't have to say child anymore, he realized. Now he knew that he and Robin had a daughter, just as he'd suspected all along.

"Sherlock?" Robin gasped. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," he answered her, his voice choked up. He felt like he was ready to burst with pride. "Yes. She's perfect."

"She?" Robin echoed as Sherlock gently laid the baby on a towel and began to clean her, making sure to clear her nostrils and mouth just like Meg had shown him.

Once he did, she started to cry.

"She," he confirmed, smiling up at Robin. "Elizabeth. Don't cry, Elizabeth," he cooed. "Everything's going to be just fine, I promise."

Sherlock stood as Betsy moved Robin's shift down so that the baby could lay on her bare skin. He nestled her there, then helped Robin into a more comfortable position. He left the cord for Meg, who he could hear coming up the stairs.

She bustled into the room. "Oh my, did I miss everything?" she wondered in frustration. "Curse this blasted snow."

"She was just born, Meg," Betsy explained. "Sherlock did a lovely job."

"Of course he did. He had an excellent teacher."

Meg quickly took over to let Robin and Sherlock enjoy their first moments with Elizabeth. He stripped his shirt off since it had been soiled during the delivery before he went to join his family on the bed.

Once her cord was cut, Elizabeth's crying calmed slightly, but it only calmed entirely when Sherlock took her so Betsy could finish tending to Robin.

After, Robin leaned against him contentedly as they both gazed at Elizabeth. She had her eyes open. They were bright blue, just like her father's, and he couldn't stop staring at them. She also had his finger clenched in her fist.

"She's so beautiful," he murmured.

"She really is," Robin agreed.

She was tired, and she knew she was going to be quite uncomfortable for the next month or two, but she was happy. She had been happier than ever since marrying Sherlock, yet somehow seeing their tiny baby girl cradled in his massive but gentle arms made her even happier than that.