Beautifully Stormy Skies (Johnlock mpreg)

Chapter 14

Sherlock buttoned the cuffs on his purple shirt, adjusting to how the shirt lay with the rest of his body. Despite still having that last bit of baby fat around his stomach, most of his old wardrobe still fit.

He closed the last button then slipped on one of his many suit jackets, coming into the living room to see John sitting on the floor with Joan in between his legs as she chewed on one of her plastic toys.

"Oh, well don't you look important. You even sculpted your hair back!" John noticed, picking Joan up and setting her on his hip as he inspected his hair, swatting John's hand away like he was about to touch it.

"Looking important for an important day." Sherlock admitted, going into the bathroom to readjust his hair in the mirror. "It's not everyday I get to meet my first born from twenty years ago."

"Sherlock, you need to relax, everything will turn out fine. You'll be meeting her for coffee just right downstairs at the cafe, I'll be up here if you need anything. Okay?" John reassured his detective, slipping his free hand around the back of Sherlock's neck and pulling him down to his level for a kiss.

Sherlock heard Joan fuss in John's arms as he picked her up and set her on his hip, gently running his slender fingers through her frail and thin curls.

"She's gotten quite big, only a couple months and she's already acting like you." John smartly remarked. Sherlock raised an eyebrow to him.

"Oh really? And how's that?" The detective asked, knowing he'll be receiving a smart mouth response from his army doctor.

"She's whines when she doesn't get that she wants, she refuses to eat most days, and most of all-"

"Alright, I've heard enough." Sherlock interrupted.

"You didn't let me finish. And most of all, she is absolutely perfect in every way." John smiled, standing on his tip toes to kiss him again as Sherlock gladly accepted it.

"Thank you John." He responded, separating as he looked into his eyes. Steely blue-grey that made Sherlock's heart skip a beat or two.

"You're welcome. Now, if I remember correctly, you have a meeting with your past in a couple minutes downstairs." He took Joan from the detective's grasp as he straightened his suit jacket.

"Ugh, don't make it sound like that. It just sounds even more annoying." Sherlock rolled my eyes as John scoffed.

"There's my loving sociopathic husband that I know and love. Now get downstairs." He commanded. Sherlock winked.

He opened the door to their flat, giving John and Joan one last kiss before heading downstairs and taking a seat in the way back of the cafe. Sherlock closed his eyes, nervously tapping his fingers along the ridge of the table as he heavily sighed and tapped his fingers harder against the table.

Anxiety is all it is, serotonin deficiency and overactive thyroid gland is what causes it. Nothing to be worried about. He thought, still tapping his fingers and wondering why he was feeling so confused about coming face to face with his past. He figured it was because he wanted to bury it and never bring it back to the surface, though that's the whole point of burying it is to never bring it up again.

"Is there anything I can get you?"

Being taken out of his state of current thought to see a waitress standing in front of him, biting the inside of her lip after she asked him. Sherlock smiled.

Biting the inside of her lip; nervous, newly hired, no more than a couple days of employment. Recovering nicotine addict, twitching of the fingers. Fired from last job, nervous with twitching fingers -paranoid- caught cheating with boss.

Sherlock smirked, finishing his deduction as he thought one last thing to himself.

I'm back.

"Yes, I'll take a coffee. Black, two sugars. Thank you." Sherlock took out his phone and scrolled through the local news. The waitress walked away, taking to the kitchen to make the detective's coffee and leaving Sherlock alone once again.

Hour after hour passed, refills of Sherlock's coffee began to go stale in flavor. He continued to toy with his phone, anything from emptying out his emails to playing games. Growing tired of it sooner than he expected, he exited out of everything and was about to shut off his phone before catching sight of the background.

It was a picture of him and John and their newborn daughter. Sherlock had just given birth, sitting up in their bed with John right next to him and Joan in his arms, wrapped tightly in her pale pink blanket as both men were looking down to her. Mrs. Hudson was more than glad to capture the moment for her boys.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to have the meeting. It was a better way to bury his past yet again and keep it that way. Sherlock wondered if she would ever come.

He slipped his phone back into his inside breast pocket, going back to breathing in the scent of cold coffee and stale biscuits and tapping his fingers along the table.

"Mr. Holmes is it?" A shaky voice asked.

Sherlock looked up.

A tall girl with bright orange and extremely curly hair stood before him. A piece of her hair fell into her view as she slipped it behind her ear to reveal a pair of dark blue and green eyes. Her hand gripped her over-the-shoulder strap of her bag that hung low at her side. She wore a long sleeved purple shirt with a pair of dark washed jeans and ratty sneakers. She was shy, by the way she held herself of head slightly bowed and body caved in.

"Yes, Mr. Watson-Holmes. Pleasure to meet you. May I ask who you are?" He asked.

"Peyton Griffin. I believe I am your daughter."