"Greg says they'll be over in five minutes."

Sherlock nodded, and continued pacing back and forth in front of the window. John had never seen the detective so nervous before. He walked up to him, and wrapped his arm around his waist. "Relax, it'll be fine."

The detective looked down at his husband. John was as equally nervous, but was doing a better job at concealing it.

"What will your mother think?"

John snorted. "She's been dying for grandchildren, and was counting on me to provide her with some after Harry married Clara. She was the only reason we had an actual wedding. After Harry eloped, Mum told me that if I ever did that, they'd never find my body."

"Visits with your mother are always interesting."

"She's just been through a lot. My father walked out on us when I was fifteen, Harry became an alcoholic, I joined the military, and then both of her children turned out to be gay. She can't help it."

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Are you ready?"

The detective nodded. He arranged himself on the couch, and John let Lestrade in, who was closely followed by Sally. He held a small pink bundle, and Sally carried the car seat, along with a small diaper bag. She set them by the kitchen table, and after shooting a disgusted look at Sherlock, exited the flat.

The D.I. handed John the infant.

"God, she's tiny."

"She was abandoned by St. Barts, estimated only three weeks old. Have, uh, you two decided on a name, yet?"

Sherlock chuckled as he remembered the conversation he and John had had earlier in the week.

"River Elisabeth?"

"John, we're not naming our daughter after a 'Doctor Who' character. What about Imogen?"

"Definitely not. Addyson?"

"Mmm, no. Briallen?"

"That's actually beautiful. Welsh, right?"

"Correct. Primrose, which is close enough to Billie Piper's character, no?"

John chuckled. "Yeah, it is. What about middle?"

"Aderyn. Also Welsh, raven. Have you given any thought as to whose surname she'll have?"

"Yours."

That was enough to get Sherlock to stop playing his violin. "Really?"

"Yeah, I've thought about it, and I decided that she should have yours. And with a name like Briallen Aderyn, she might as well be a Holmes."

"Yes. Briallen. It's Welsh for primrose," John responded.

"I'll let you two have some privacy as soon as this paperwork's filled out."

Sherlock signed off on the forms, and filled out the necessary information.

"I'll leave you two alone, then. If there's any trouble, just phone."

After the D.I.'s exit, John sat next to Sherlock on the couch, and allowed him a better look at their daughter.

She had pale skin, and dark black curls. She could pass as Sherlock's actual child if it weren't for the eyes, which were a dazzling bright green.

Sherlock gently took her from his partner, and she cooed at his touch. The detective cradled her protectively. "Briallen," he murmured. As he stared at her, he knew that he had made the right decision; one that John wasn't so keen on a week ago.

"Sherlock, you can't seriously be suggesting that we bring a child into this flat, are you? We're barely safe, how could we guarantee that she would be as well?"

"I'm not saying that there wouldn't be risks, I'm saying that you've always talked of having children, John, and we can't necessarily have any on our own-"

"I'm a doctor, I have unpredictable shifts. You solve crimes. We get nut jobs in here all the time. Who would watch her when we're gone?"

"John, although you might not see it this way, I do have the ability to distance myself from cases-"

"Since when? You shot the wall because you were bored, goddamit."

The detective approached his partner, who had been updating his blog. He kneeled so as to be eye level with him, and tried a gentler approach. "John, I can take time off. It'll be strange at first, but it'll be like…an experiment. I highly doubt that I will be bored trying to care for a baby. And surely you could work something out with the hospital?"

John took a deep breathe, and looked Sherlock straight in the eye, keeping his voice as equally calm. "Sherlock, are you sure that you want to do this?"

"I am."

It was a moment before John spoke again. "Alright. We'll talk to Greg more about it in the morning."

And now, as Sherlock gazed at the now sleeping infant, he knew that as always, he was right.

"Praeclarus," he murmured. "Beautiful."