Face the Odds

Chapter 3: Parenthood

"Father," the priest prayed, "we ask you to send your blessings on this water and sanctify it for our use this day." He swirled the holy water before him. "In Christ's name."

Marie smiled, though she kept prodding Sherlock surreptitiously as he texted throughout the ceremony.

John and Mary didn't notice, standing beside the priest as he asked: "Now, what name have you given your daughter?"

Mary exchanged smiles with John before she answered: "Rosamund Mary."

Marie's lips twitched in amusement, before she grimaced as Sherlock asked under his breath, finally looking up from his phone: "Rosamund?"

"It means 'Rose of the world'." Molly explained softly from Sherlock's other side. "Rosie for short."

"Hm." Sherlock hummed, his attention back on his phone, and Molly asked through grit teeth: "Didn't you get John's text?"

"No. I delete his texts." Sherlock mumbled as he typed away. "I delete any text that begins 'Hi'."

"No idea why some people think you're incapable of human emotion." Molly muttered, scowling, and Mrs. Hudson cleared her throat from beside them.

"Sorry." Molly muttered, and Marie prodded Sherlock one more time as Molly hissed at him: "Phone!"

Sherlock glanced at them, and then placed his hands behind his back. Marie sighed as she watched him type behind his back while the priest asked: "And now, godparents, are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duties as Christian parents?"

"We are." The three women replied, and Marie gave Sherlock a look.

Molly, however, nudged him sharply, causing Sherlock's finger to slip slightly on his phone and Marie hung her head as Siri stated: "Sorry, I didn't catch that. 'Please repeat the question."

John closed his eyes irritably while Mary narrowed her eyes, and Marie finally reached over and confiscated Sherlock's phone.

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Sherlock sighed as he faced the wall, before he began in exasperation: "As ever, Watson, you see but do not observe."

He turned to John's armchair as he continued flatly: "To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery, whereas, to me, it is an open book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy - that is your choice. You fail to connect actions to their consequences. Now, for the last time."

He picked up the fallen object as he stated firmly: "If you want to keep the rattle, do not throw the rattle."

He held out the rattle in a sign of peace, offering it to the baby sitting in the infant's chair set up on John's armchair. Little Rosie took the rattle calmly, gurgling as she looked at the toy with her blue eyes; and Marie walked out of their room and into the living room just in time to see Rosie throw the rattle right into Sherlock's face.

The rattle hit Sherlock's nose, before falling to the ground with a small jangle and Marie laughed quietly so as not to wake John and Mary, fast asleep on the living room sofa, and Scottie sleeping in their room.

"Like that would work." Marie chuckled as she rocked her and Sherlock's own daughter in her arms, Sheryl yawning sleepily, and Sherlock scowled at her.

"It worked on Sheryl." He countered, and Marie pointed out: "Yes, but did it work on Scottie?"

"It almost worked." Sherlock protested, before he questioned: "And 'Scottie'?"

"Just be grateful I'm not calling you 'Sherly'." Marie answered with a shrug.

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