Parents

1 • Birth

Today, the baby was to arrive. I'm still unsure whether I want it. Babies are noisy, messy and take up a lot of space and time. But John was so persistent. He loved children and he wanted to be a father so badly, I had finally relented. My husband always finds a way to persuade me to do whatever he wants, something I still can't fathom.

Currently, my spouse was running around the apartment checking if we had everything ready for the child's arrival. I had told him repeatedly that I had everything itemized, but it was one of his little ways to calm his nerves. "Babies rarely arrive on their due dates, love. Obstetricians are horribly inaccurate." I called out, not bothering to move from what John called my 'thinking position' on the sofa. John came back into the room, flushed.

"But what if he comes and we're not ready?"

"John, you're an ex-solider, there's no way you would have forgotten anything. Even if you did I would have informed you. You made me read that book didn't you?" Earlier, I had reluctantly picked up one of the books John had bought 'Baby and Me' which listed all the 'Do's and Don'ts' of parenting. I thought it could be interesting , may even make a child seem as if they were something other than an incredibly tedious small person unable to do anything themselves. It hadn't worked. This little thing (John had told me to stop calling it that) - baby was going to take up all of John's time. What was I going to do when he was constantly preoccupied with nappies and toys that he barely had time to work on cases? I always work so much better when he's with me, what if he barely had time for me at all?

"I know, I know. I'm just worried." Of course, I had known this from one glance, but John would always still tell me as I tended to forget about emotions when assessing someone. John was different though, after three years together, two of those married, I knew every movement and expression and, at least in him, the emotion that they portrayed. So now, I stepped forward and pulled him into my arms, rubbing disjointed circles on his back in a way that I knew he found to be calming.

After a few minutes, John's stance began to slacken and he leant against me. I pulled him over to the sofa and sat him on my lap. He was exhausted. He had spent the last few nights wide awake by my side fretting and listening for the phone, in case the baby came early. John moved away and lay down, his head on my lap. I moved across the sofa so that he could lie upon my chest. "Why don't you sleep? You don't do well on less than 8 hours."

"No- not t-iii-red. What if she phones?" he yawned widely, effectively abolishing his point. I just stared at down him, dragging my fingers through his rumpled hair. "I'll tell you"

"Fine, fine" he said giving in, and buried his face in my shirt. I continued running my fingers through his hair until I heard the muffled snorts which meant he had fallen to sleep.

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It's now Tuesday, 2.34 am, meaning the baby is 5 days late, As if the little creature had no idea about how rude it was too keep us all waiting. I, of course, usually wouldn't have cared for manners, but this was putting a great deal of stress on John, something I can't stand to see. I hadn't been down to Bart's lately, John not wanting to be alone if the surrogate had called. Molly was bringing up some toes heavily infected with gout at 11am for my latest experiment. I was already awake because John was restless and my secondary experiment needed to be observed in the dark.

"Brrrrrrrrrrrrrring, Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrring" the sharp wring filtered through the silent apartment, almost surprising me. I didn't move. I didn't need to. It was obvious who was calling. It was her. The baby was coming.

John picked up the phone in our bedroom and I could hear the excitement and fear in his voice from my place at the kitchen table. He didn't sound tired, despite the fact he had just been awoken in the middle of the night, he was alert and his words were clear (something I summarized was form his training as a solider). I could hear John bumbling about in the room from the sounds of the wardrobe doors and material being pulled he hurriedly dressed. "Lara. Stay calm." There was a pause; I walked to the bedroom so I'd be able to hear Lara's words by listening against John's ear. John gave me a wide grin but his expression was tense "You're at Bart's?" Lara gave a sort of grunt. "We'll be there in 5 minutes" He put the phone down and began running around the flat, "He's coming Sherlock. He's coming! We have to be quick; the nurses have said it won't be long." He began looking around the room frantically "Where are the clothes? We need something to dress him in, and the formula, and the nappies!" His movement we're getting more and more violent in his hast, throwing sofa cushions around, searching. "Mrs Hudson moved the bag you packed downstairs, so it would be easier to get"