The Holmes Family: A Collection of Short Stories

Say That Again (Part 5)

Oh my gosh, I am so so so so so sorry that I haven't updated in forever! The days sorta got away from me and I got wrapped up in writing another story which I am working on. Sorry if it's kinda short, I wrote most of it today.

Cheers!

-Lai

ALLISON

I cradled my son in my arms, standing in the middle of 221b. "Welcome home, young man," I said, softly.

I heard footsteps on the stairs. Not Sherlock's, they were quicker and louder. John's. He came into 221b, and sat down on the sofa. I sat down next to him.

"So," he said. "Have you thought of a name?"

"We were actually arguing about that last night," I said. It had been three days since we had the baby. Due to some complications, he had to stay overnight at the hospital for two nights, to make sure he was breathing normally. "I like William, Sherlock still likes Orpheus. But he said he would concede to Gabriel. I like Gabriel, but I really do like William."

John nodded. "You know that's his first name," he said, offhandedly. "Sherlock's, I mean. His full name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Yeah, I knew that. Mine was Allison Blake Cooper. ABC. Now it's Allison Blake Holmes," I said. "I want to name this child William Sherlock Scott Holmes Jr."

"Why?"

"Because it's not a girl's name."

With that, John began to laugh. Sherlock came in through the door, his hair and the top of his shirt completely soaked, due to the fact it was pouring rain outside. It was practically running off his face. "It's not nice to laugh at me," he mumbled, suddenly sounding very self conscious. "I had to find the piece of missing evidence."

"He's not laughing at you, Sherlock, I just told a joke," I said, explaining the situation.

"Oh, okay."

"Remember what we talked about last night?" I asked.

He nodded.

"Can we please name him William Sherlock Scott Holmes Jr.? Please?" I begged.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, drawing out the vowel sound.

"Hey, Molly," I said, walking into the pathologist's office, carrying baby William.

"Oh, hello Ally!" she chirped, looking up from her microscope, smiling.

"I was going to ask you," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other, nervously. "If you wanted to be William's godmother."

Molly's face lit up. "Of course!" she exclaimed.

"Do you want to hold him?" I asked, unsure.

She nodded, and I gingerly handed over the redheaded infant. Molly cradled the sleeping baby in her arms and smiled. "I love babies."

"Me too. And you'd be surprised at how good Sherlock is with babies and children."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Everyone thinks he hates children, or that he's indifferent. He actually loves children, and they love him. To them, he's almost a sort of Father Christmas. A skinny, moody, sulky, smartarse Father Christmas, who hands out pictures of murder victims instead of toys."

She gave me an odd look, and then began to laugh.

"It was the best analogy I could come up with," I explained, chuckling.

"It wasn't a very good one," she said. Then she thought for a moment. "Y'know, maybe it actually is a pretty good analogy."

I snorted. "I mostly doubt that."