Being a father wasn't on top of Sherlock's list, but it was there. He didn't feel very fitted to be a father, but he still had a child with you, his wife. He was absolutely lovestruck with you.

9 months passed, and your labour was sudden. It happened at a random time, a rather unexpected time.

As you were rushed into the room with midwives and other female helpers, he could hear your soft moans of pain. Time was ticking, but it seems the baby still isn't delivering. He heard a particularly pained sound and It struck fear Into his heart. Of course, the possibility of death wasn't low while giving birth.

He was pacing outside the room, completely restless as he listened in, his heart sinking lower and lower each pained cry that escaped your lips. He, the greatest, smartest detective, couldn't do anything in this situation to help his wife. They wouldn't let him watch either.

It was worrying, and he could hear the midwives chattering among themselves, their tones concerned. He was starting to get scared.

He suddenly heard a relieved sigh from one of the midwives, and his heart rate went back to somewhat more normal. The midwives, after at least 40 minutes, let out a cheer.

"It's a daughter!"

"Congratulations!"

They exited the room after a while, looking at Sherlock. "You should come in. She is waiting for you." She says, smiling.

Sherlock didn't even respond, walking past her and striding to you, looking at your form, holding the baby girl with happiness, he lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, a weary smile crossing his lips as he kneeled down next to the bed, reaching out to touch the newborn girl, wrapped in a towel. "You.. did.. amazing." He murmurs, astonished by the sight of the baby.