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Mary Russell Holmes stood staring out the bedroom window, looking pensively over Mrs. Hudson's flowerbeds and the downs in the distance. She'd just made a rather interesting discovery, and was wondering how best to break it to her other half, the illustrious Sherlock Holmes."Russ? Mary?" Sherlock's voice called from the vicinity of the library."Up here, Holmes." Mary replied, her thoughtful gazing remaining uninterrupted.Holmes' footsteps trod the main staircase and beelined to her, pausing in the doorway as he took in her silhouette against the sunny window.."Perhaps senility is getting to me, I have quite forgotten what I needed you for now that I am distracted by your beauty in the afternoon light." He said appreciatively. When his joke was not met with the usual wry smile, instead, a furrowing of the brow and a frown, he entered the chamber."Are you upset with me?" He asked softly, taking his wife's hand."Holmes, how long have we been married?" Mary asked. Sherlock frowned, and then answered the exact time, down to the hour and minute. Then he inquired as to the reason."Have you not found it odd, in all this time, that our marital relations have not born fruit?"Now it was Holmes' turn to frown."I suppose I never gave it the time of day. I thought it to be in God's hands whether we procreated or not.""Would it make you happy to procreate, as you have put it?" Mary asked."I suppose such a miracle would, in fact, make me quite happy. But why this line of inquiry, Russ?"Mary turned to him, knowing he'd be able to deduce exactly why she was asking simply from the look in her eyes."Oh, Mary…" Holmes sighed, his eyebrows rising into his hairline. "This is… Well, this is wonderful news."Mary accepted her husband's tender embrace gratefully, clinging to him longer than usual."I can see why my jokes about senility have recently begun falling flat, as was the case a moment ago." Holmes said, chuckling. Mary sighed."It's true, the topic has been rubbing me the wrong way recently. I worry for both our health in this next chapter of our lives." Mary admitted."I am sure we will navigate parenthood much the same way we have previously been negotiating our partnership; with some serious study. And whatever we forget, I am sure that Mrs. Hudson and our dear Doctor Watson will remind us.""That is a sensible way to go about it." Mary said."Forgive me for asking a delicate question, my dear, but in your estimation, how long do you believe you have been indisposed?""Well, thinking back, I must estimate the night we solved the London case with the mysterious disappearance of the manservant." Mary supplied. Holmes flushed. That particular night had involved an elaborate armchair in front of a roaring fire and too much brandy, all in all a complete departure from their usual marital relations."Ah." He said. "So we shall expect our new guest to arrive sometime in May.""Certainly."Sherlock pulled his wife in for another embrace, then cleared his throat and made his leave."Where are you going?" Mary asked, wiping at her face, which had grown surprisingly wet during the last few minutes."I find myself burdened with the sudden desire to reassess the purpose of every room in the house, to see where updates as to their functions can be made." Holmes said. "In short, I should like to begin planning where to put the nursery, would you like to come?""Most assuredly." Mary said, giving her husband a smile and taking his proffered hand.The first day of February dawned with such normalcy, no one suspected what the day had in store. Mrs. Hudson threw open the first floor windows to air out the stuffiness of the previous week's dreary weather, and birdsong could be heard throughout the house.Mary sat in her usual armchair in the library, reading a new treatise on American forensics, and Sherlock thoughtfully chewed on his pipe as he contemplated the bright blue sky out the picture window."It would appear that the Americans have been attempting to invent better fingerprinting powders in order to outpace Scotland Yard in terms of solved murders." Mary remarked."Have they now? Any success?" Holmes asked. Mary snorted."Do you think using ground up human remains has any sort of bearing on whether or not fingerprints are accurately matched?" Mary said. Now it was Holmes' turn to snort in derision."Well now here is a better topic: tyre print dictionaries to match those found at- oh!" Mary's exclamation was accompanied by the treatise falling to the carpet."Are you quite all right?" Sherlock asked, his eyes on his wife, who was holding her side and looking equal parts confused and pained."Sherlock, I think you best telephone for the doctor." Mary's face went pale as another pain shot through her body."Allow me to help you to bed first." Sherlock was already striding across the room, leaving pipe ash scattered across his desk from the pipe he'd let fall.Just as he reached his wife, there was a quiet pop, followed by a gasp from Mary and a faint whoosh of evacuating fluid. Mary's skirts began to dampen."To the settee then." Holmes decided audibly. Mary gasped in pain, but allowed him to take her hands and bring her unsteadily to her feet. That was when Sherlock happened to catch sight of the back of his wife's simple linen dress, and the chair beneath her.Mary looked up at him, seeing where his eyes were caught fast.""Is it...?" She asked, already knowing the answer."Blood." Holmes answered."I thought it might be. Upstairs then, if you please. I'll be more comfortable."Sherlock called for Mrs. Hudson, who gasped and wrung her hands with worry, but braced Mary's other side as they slowly traversed the ground floor to one of the spare rooms that had been made up to house the doctor, should his presence be needed overnight during the delivery."I'll phone for John, he'll arrive with all haste." Sherlock said once Mary was sat on the edge of the bed."Towels and hot water." Mrs. Hudson said, rushing for the kitchen."Will you be all right for a moment? I'll collect something more comfortable for you to wear on my way back from the telephone." Mary could only nod in reply to her husband's comments, her eyes closed in concentration against another wave of pain.Holmes returned a few minutes later to say that John was taking the next train from London, and took Mrs. Hudson aside to relay instructions for care that Watson had given. He also brought down a robe and nightdress, and was summarily banished so that Mrs. Hudson could help Mary get dressed.Around four o'clock, Holmes ushered John in and resumed his pacing of the hallway.The babe was born and pronounced at 5:13. John came out to tell Holmes that it had been a boy child. The portly doctor put a hand despairingly on his dear friend's shoulder as they listened to the quiet sobs of both women within the spare bedroom.Mary convalesced for several weeks following the miscarriage, reading and sleeping in the small bed alternately. Holmes found himself some business to take him away during this time, and were it not for the occasional phone call made on his behalf, including one at an absurd morning hour from Mycroft telling Mrs. Hudson that he was back from the continent, the other inhabitants of the house may have worried how he was passing the days.And so it was that the Holmes household grieved, each in their own way.Holmes arrived home suddenly, quite unannounced, as was his way. He greeted Mrs. Hudson with a kiss to the cheek and went in search of his wife. Whom he was suddenly anxious and unsure around."You've returned." Mary said, adjusting her spectacles and laying down her book. Sherlock was still hovering in the doorway, seemingly unable to traverse the threshold of that fated spare room."I have made funerary arrangements." Mary continued."Ah." Holmes said. He forced himself to enter the room, but then looked around like he didn't quite know what to do with himself."I've been awaiting your return in order to choose a name, so that we can proceed with things." Mary again continued."And have you chosen one?" Sherlock asked."I thought Matthew Russell, for my side of things, with you of course lending your surname."Holmes looked at his wife, and felt the scraps of his heart that had been rubbed raw by the ordeal of the last few weeks chafe anew. She looked pale, with dark circles beneath her eyes. And she had certainly lost weight. Whether she knew it or not, her grief was obvious on her face and figure."Russ..." He said softly, coming to her bedside and sitting down."No, no... Just... No." Mary screwed up her eyes against the tears that were brewing."It's all right, dear heart." Holmes held his wife as she let the tears fall on his shoulder."Holmes?" Mary inquired as they unpacked their shared trunk in their room at the inn. He made a noise of inquiry in reply."Have you given any thought to returning to our marital relations?"The shoe Holmes was holding clattered to the floor."Do you think that wise...?" He finally asked, stormclouds brewing in his eyes. It had been six months, and the couple had barely done more than chastely kiss each other goodnight."I rather think if I'm to become with child again, we will have to perform the necessary actions.""Mary..." Sherlock said. She looked at him across the bed and saw the pain in his eyes."We don't have to entertain the thought, I just wanted to know your position on the matter." Her eyes flicked away from him, but not before he could see the mirrored hurt there."I'm hesitant on the matter due to my age, not because I am untrusting of your body's ability to perform the task you wish upon it." He sighed."I beg pardon?" Mary asked, blinking owlishly at him through her spectacles."You know the latest medical findings as well as I do, men my age have inferior quality sperm, which lead to inevitabilities like what we have already experienced.""But-""And I'm unprepared to put you, or either of us, for that matter, through that particular pain again.""Oh." Was all Mary could say."What I really mean to say, Mary, is that I am scared of what could come from resuming our marital relations.""Oh." She said again, rather unhelpfully."Say something intelligent, Russell, please."Mary moved around the bed to her husband, and laid a hand on his arm."Audentes fortuna iuvat." She said, reaching up on tiptoe to kiss him.The following June, Mary was due to start confinement. However, she had left an important text in storage at Oxford and insisted on personally retrieving it, despite her exceedingly ungainly figure. Holmes insisted on accompanying her, and threatened her to start bed rest until he was red in the face and in need of a strong drink. Mary merely sniffed and packed her handbag for the train trip.The day passed without incident, however, Mary found she was suffering from indigestion the entire trip. While searching through her stored possessions, she had a stomach cramp that nearly took her breath away, however it thankfully eased before Holmes could notice.Books secured, they began their return trip to the country house, and that was when Mary discovered she may have a larger problem on hand than poorly digested mutton and potatoes the night before."Holmes?" She whispered after returning from her latest trip to the loo. Her husband looked up and paled when he noticed her poor constitution. He let out a string of extremely impolite swear words, and then snapped into action, helping her sit down."We'll get off at the next stop and travel towards the hospital. We could likely even get an ambulance." He said."No, no. I want to be home for this ordeal, I insist.l Mary replied. "Besides, the process is hardly quick. We will have plenty of time."A shudder ran through the train just then, and all progress ground to a halt. Holmes let slip another expletive.Several hours later, the stalled train was finally in motion once more, and Mary's contractions were picking up in both intensity and frequency. Sherlock was entertaining the notion of whether or not children born on his majesty's trains received discount fare when the correct stop was called. Both Holmes sighed in relief.The relief was short lived. It had rained since they left that morning, leaving the roads swampy and treacherous. And their car had already come and gone, though Mrs. Hudson was sending the driver back with all haste."I refuse to give birth in a train station, Holmes, do no even entertain the notion." Mary threatened through gritted teeth. Holmes wiped a trickle of sweat from his brow and resumed his pacing.At last, the car came, and Holmes was able to help Mary into the car, though her legs were as unsteady as a newborn colt. She was panting heavily, and the contractions racking her body seemed near constant.As if the world hadn't done enough to conspire against them, the driver took a turn too sharply and got the car stuck in the quagmire only a mile from the house."I'll walk it if I have to." Mary panted. "I refuse to give birth in the back of a car, damn it.""Mary, I rather think your say in this matter has come to an end." Holmes said, holding tightly to her hand."Holmes, I-""I know, I am frightened as well. But this child is making its entrance whether we are prepared or not."Mary swallowed hard, and then nodded. Holmes began pushing her skirts aside.Five minutes later, John Russell Holmes made his entrance into the world. The umbilical cord was severed using the driver's rusted penknife, the baby was wrapped in a musty towel stained with grease, and the seat of the car was permanently ruined.Mrs. Hudson fainted dead away upon seeing the newest addition to the Holmes family arrive at the house hours later, wrapped in a mechanic's cloth.Mary Russell Holmes and Sherlock Holmes were thrilled, as could be expected for a happy ending.