Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Was he overthinking at this point?

"No, absolutely not," he thought. "London's great detective Herlock Sholmes does NOT overthink! He only deduces!" The man affirms to himself in a quiet hush. After all, he didn't want to disturb the little one on his lap as they both sat on 221B Baker Street's fine velvet couch.

An almost 1-year old baby by the name of Iris was sitting in peace in front of Sholmes. She had eventually started falling asleep, subsequently trapping Sholmes in his least favorite sitting position, the criss-cross applesauce. Sholmes usually had to wait a bit for her to fully fall into slumber before dropping her off at her crib, because if not she'd bawl her eyes out. To pass the time until then, the detective read through one of the many books he bought on taking care of infants right after Yujin left for Japan.

It was titled "Baby Milestones: A Mother's Guide to Every Step of the Journey". A lot of the extensive literature Sholmes found on baby care in fact, was made for women, since they were the primary caregivers of young children, but Sholmes was on his own if it meant hiding the identity of the Professor's daughter. That aside, he flipped to the section on approaching the one year milestone, and that's when he reads,

"At around 10 to 14 months babies will begin developing a bit of their speech and may say their first words..." Sholmes read aloud quietly, eyes darting on every word. "It's important to know that if your child doesn't begin learning to speak by this point that delay in their speech will be a risk- DELAY?!" He quickly covers his mouth with a hand, hoping he wasn't loud enough to begin Iris' next tantrum. Slowly, his gaze travels down to his ticking time bomb.

She doesn't seem to react or make any disturbed noises. The only sounds Sholmes can hear coming from Iris are soft inhales. 

Ah, she's sound asleep in his lap. Phew.

Sholmes picks Iris up with a soft hold, cradling her for a moment, and then puts her down to rest. In her pink crib, she finds herself falling deeper into soothing sleep. Sholmes' finger flicks at the mobile above the crib, spinning the little animals round and round as they play, or perhaps chase each other. Sholmes returns to his book.

"If at this point your child hasn't begun speaking yet, it's best to get them checked by a doctor or other professional to look into the issue. Usually a baby's first words will be something small like 'Mama' or 'Papa'..." The look he had on his face was now that of worry. Absolutely no way could Sholmes get Iris checked by a doctor or anything.

Sure, she has appointments whenever necessary but the less people know Sholmes has a baby in his stead, the better.

Sholmes looks back at the little girl sleeping peacefully in her crib, the spinning of the mobile above her coming to a steady halt. He rests his hands on the rail and hunches over. Gently, he twirls his index finger around one of the small pink locks Iris has grown, the soft hair lightly brushing Iris' forehead.

"All you've done is babble by now, my dear fellow." He whispered quietly to Iris, or maybe to just himself. "But most of the time you just...never seem to say a word."

Sholmes glances at the resting infant, her breathing steady. "Should...should I be concerned if you're not beginning to talk?"

He withdraws his finger slowly and turns away from the crib, sighing. "You promised your partner, you promised, Sholmes..." He mutters under his breath, a hand pinching at the bridge of his nose. "Do it for him..."

Sholmes stands up and wanders around Iris' baby room, stopping upon the bookshelf where he keeps his new collection on 'infinite baby care wisdom'. He pulls out a couple other books that may help, and starts reading them extensively.

The game is afoot. This baby must say her first words.

Chapter Text

Scouring. It certainly took Sholmes a lot of scouring through his baby books to find some ideas. Ideas that would get Iris to say something to him.

Sholmes masterfully holds one of his reliable sources of baby literature in one hand and flips through the pages. A bookmarked section helps him find his quote quicker. Meanwhile, little Iris' hands were busy with rather colorful blocks in one of the baby-proofed corners of the flat's living room. Stacking them up or swinging them around in her hands, she paid no attention to the tall blonde living with her.

"Ahem," Sholmes cleared his throat. "To better help your baby familiarize themselves with the sounds humans make, it's imperative for them to hear sounds firsthand. A good place to start is by simply talking near them more often. Hold your little one close to you even, and just look at them as you speak." Like as if a peasant spreading news to an audience in Trafalgar Square, Sholmes arches his back with a proud stance as he holds his book.

"The skill to talk is developed through play when you're but a tiny infant," read Sholmes, "so it's best to talk to the child and..." He turns back to Iris. "Ehhhbweh, bwe, bweeeh!" She squeals, her eyes glued stuck to the toys she shakes vigorously.

"Well, I suppose I already know, so boasting it aloud to a child who's not paying attention would be pointless. Who am I talking to?" Sholmes had deduced in his head, eyes darting to some places as his mind spoke swiftly. "Just start talking to the baby, Sholmes..."

Herlock tiptoes with every step as he approaches the little girl, not wanting to surprise her. She keeps shaking the blocks in her hands, though even the great detective isn't sure why...no longer across from the living room, now he was just standing next to Iris.

"Now, now, child, no need to fuss with blocks like that." He bent down and wagged a finger at her. Suddenly, she turned to him, recognizing his funny-looking face. She chirped, "Ah?" and Sholmes carefully pulls the blocks out of her hands. He puts his hands on top of her small ones, letting Iris' fingers clutch at them with time. She can't grip at them so harshly. "Can you try to hold them like this?"

Iris' mouth is then agape, staring at the warm hands in her palms. She lets them go and tries to grip the toy blocks in the same way, now being gentle with them. She goes back to playing, feeling one warm hand pat her small head of hair. "Good job!" Sholmes smiles.

Sholmes watches the baby's endearing movements for a moment, seeing her slowly grow bored with what she was holding. Luckily for the detective, he's discovered lots of ways to keep her busy in the meanwhile. Almost immediately he bends further down and grabs Iris by the underarms, the baby flinching in response.

"Alley-oop!" He lifts her up, to which her mouth opens with a little yell. Iris giggles and looks up at Sholmes, giving her biggest smile, despite having only a couple first teeth. "How have you been this fine morning, little lady?" Sholmes queried the literal baby, giving her small nose a boop. That always made her eyes shut for a split-second.

Iris gurgles and reaches her arms out to Sholmes, looking a little apprehensive. Sholmes knows what that means now, and gives Iris the gentlest shoulder hold. Patting her little back, he could deduce that she was more calm now.

"Wait, aren't I supposed to be talking to her?" Sholmes recalled. "What do I tell her? Do I speak now?" He kept contemplating while her tiny fingers tugged at the fabric of his vest. He pauses for a moment, thinking of what to say.

"Ever wanted to start a secret conspiracy?" He blurts. "What the deuce, Sholmes???", he jolted, unsure of why that had even come to his mind. Iris' little head turns to Sholmes, leaning further into the crook of his neck. "Wu-?" she chirps. He must've caught her attention, though since she's a baby, she probably has no clue what he's just said.

"Damn you, now she's interested!" Sholmes scolded himself. "Well then, better to start talking to her than not." Sholmes gently patted the back of the child's hair, his other hand carefully holding her

At a decent volume he continued,

"I've had my fair share of deducing the most heinous of conspiracies with my partner, you see. And though some have..." Burdened? Bothered? Piled onto? No. "conflicted..me more than others, I've had my own intrusive thoughts about conspiracies, even when they don't lurk about in London." Iris coos.

Sholmes supposed this meant he could keep going. "Perhaps it'd bring me delight to start my own conspiracy. I've taken quite a liking to consuming soap, you see. I'd love to spread the joyous taste of it to other Londoners, if only they were mad enough to want to try it too," he added, taking small steps across the flat to the kitchen as not to disturb the little baby.

"It'd take an abundance of hard work to secretly turn London's townspeople into soap addicts," he informed Iris, grabbing a jar of food for her with a free hand. "And part of me finds making it all a reality to be absolutely hysterical. However, I don't have the time for silly things like that due to other circumstances, you see." Sholmes sets the table.

"That, my dear fellow, is a secret conspiracy." Sholmes sits Iris down on her high chair. He scoops out the mashed paste from the jar onto her plate. "Have you ever thought of plotting the same thing?" He looks up at her. She only babbles in response.

"Buh-bhh-bwuh..." She mumbles with her unready voice. "Th-that's alright. I can just tell you more of mine over our delectable meal." responded Sholmes.

While feeding Iris her mushy baby food, Sholmes goes on and on, rambling about conspiracies he's yearned to start for devilish fun. Like all conversations, he eventually switches to other subjects and derails.

It's all background noise to little Iris though.