Am I being an obsessive little shit now that I've got time on my hands? Yes I am! Don't mind me, just had this idea of "what if"? Totally indulgent but I wanted to explore this side of Sherlock, the protective side he's shown towards Watson and Kitty in the show. Now with someone that's completely dependent on him, and alone in the world
So here's my new Elementary story:
His to Hold
Summary: After a tragedy leaves a baby alone in the world, Sherlock finds himself holding more than just a case. With her in his arms, he discovers something he never expected.
Her weight felt… right. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible, he’d never done this before. Never had reason to. Never allowed himself to imagine what it would feel like to hold something so helpless, so utterly dependent on him.
God, she had been waiting. That was the part he couldn’t shake.
Not the crying. Not the fear. The looking for someone.
The helpless way she’d yanked at her ears and rocked, looking—not around, but toward. Like she still expected someone to come. Someone she knew.
But no one would.
Her mother was gone. Murdered. The body not yet cold. And no one had come.
Except for him.
He hadn't expected this. Not the hollow space in his chest expanding the longer she slept on him. Not the ache of recognition in her helplessness.
Not the quiet voice in his mind whispering: You understand this, don't you? You know what it's like to wait for someone who never comes.
There's a story in his blood he never tells, not even to Watson.
A story of corridors and coldness, of being too loud, too strange, too much. Of silence stretched too long in too many rooms. Of watching other children be held and wondering why no one ever reached for him that way.
He'd convinced himself it didn’t matter.
That he’d grown strong in the absence.
That intellect could replace touch, that purpose was better than comfort, that connection was a weakness he’d long since burned out of himself.
But now, this baby.
This tiny, soft, dreaming creature, folded like origami against his chest.
She was not a case. Not data. She was something else entirely.
And something in him called for her. Something fragile and furious and ancient that would not let him put her down.
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part 2 , part 3 , part 4 , part 5 , part 6 , part 7 , part 8 , part 9
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sherlockholmes replied to your story: You forgot to mention the part where she makes you throw up every…2 minutes??
you: saving the best bits for us ;)
sherlockholmes: Define ‘best bits’.
you: what? i personally LOVE throwing up every time i try to eat something more than a piece of toast and drink something more than water (if i’m lucky)
sherlockholmes: Sarcasm.
you: si señor !
sherlockholmes: I hate you.
you: 😡😡😡
sherlockholmes: I’m joking!!! I really do love you.
you: that’s better <3 i love you too, got to go and throw up again ! 🤮
sherlockholmes: I’ll be home soon. x
Liked by y/ninstagram, justjared and 921, 824 others.
sherlockholmesupdates Sherlock seen leaving a house in Notting Hill this morning, returning around 45 minutes later with shopping bags. 📸: justjared
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sherlockfan82 it’s my house he was leaving 💁🏽♀️
sherlockfan3 if only…
sherlockfan14 OMG I SAW HIM IN THE SHOP HE WAS BUYING LIKE 5000 DIFFERENT TYPES OF PASTA
sherlockholmesupdates Probably for another experiment! :)
randomuser29 haha how come y/n liked this post? isn’t she that singer?
sherlockfan9 can’t blame the woman for being a fan
Liked by sherlockholmes, arianagrande and 1,925,888 others.
y/ninstagram the only thing this child is letting me eat (other than toast) is pasta, so i need to start getting creative…
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sherlockfan92 uhhhhhhh guys ??? suspicious much?
sherlockfan66 HE LIKED THE POST WHAT DOES THIS MEAN
sherlockholmes You?? I’m the one coming up with all of these variations.
y/ninstagram thank you for feeding your girls, mi amor <333
y/nfan98 i have ascended. to heaven or hell, i’m not quite sure…
sherlockfan10 i’m SOBBING.
Liked by y/ninstagram, harrystyles and 1,182,028 others.
sherlockholmes Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. We’re finally getting some more ladies in the Holmes family, much to my delight.
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sherlockfan97 i’m not crying YOU ARE
y/nfan23 WE ALL ARE WTF
johnwatson I think we need to talk.
sherlockfan10 shiiiiit, john didn’t know ?!
y/nfan19 if he hurts her, it’s on SITE.
y/ninstagram love you both. <3
sherlockholmes ❤️
harrystyles One more to add to my collection of godchildren. x
sherlockholmes I’m sure you didn’t mean to sound like Rumplestiltskin, but you did.
harrystyles I just need Baby Holmes and it’s complete!
harryfan01 HARRY IS GOING TO BE THE GODFATHER?! FUCK.
mollyhooper Congratulations are in order I suppose! I had no idea. xxx
DAD!FICS - Henry and his characters with kids, wanting kids, making kids. That’s it. That’s this list.
Author’s note: My sincere apologies for how crazy long this list has gotten 😂 It’s like the whole fandom is agreeing on one thing: this man needs a baby ASAP. Also, thank you dear @littlefreya for your ever wonderful suggestions!
--
With Henry
Single dad Henry is trying to figure out a hair tutorial to please his 4-year old, and it’s the most adorable thing ever. With Flowers In Her Hair by @wanna-do-bad-things
Single dad Henry kinda hittin’ on da nanny? Picture Perfect by @fun-with-jane is a short fic series that’ll get you kinda hot, and kinda bothered (the slow burn..ARGH)
Getting you pregnant is, apparently, a very VERY exact science including honey-wine-&-cookies.. baby. Freyja Dag by @geek-eat-repeat
And don’t forget about timing! THE TIMING! Let’s Make One Of Our Own is the sweaty hot smut you might just crave (am I the only one ovulating right now?), fic by @littlefreya.
Sometimes it’s also just a situation of super sperm, followed by an “oopsie baby”. And when two bullheaded fuckbuddies-to-be-parents are involved, things can get pretty ..engaging: The Rules Of Engagement by @ladyreapermc (multi-chapter).
Or perhaps it’s a situation of Henry and his untameable Hunger, by @littlefreya (yes, it’s breeeeding smut my lassies -- again, forgive me for I am thirsty)
Pregnancy ain’t always sunshine and rainbows. There’s also a lot of change and self-doubt. But that’s nothing some coconut oil and love can’t fix, in Two Months by @littlefreya
There’s a lotttt of first times with having children, which in turn will probably give quite a few heart Flutters for poor protective dad Henry. By @littlefreya
And he’s not just protective, he’s also pretty observant. This Cute Little Drabble makes you wonder when you last bought tampons... by @toomanystoriessolittletime
Newborns? They can be a little fussy. But again, daddy bear is here to fix it! Everything I Ever Wanted by @fuckoffbard
With the brood expanding, it’s getting a little difficult to garner the ever-craved attention of momma bear in This Is War by @cruelfvkingsummer
And when mom isn’t home? Well..the question arises what happened to all the cookies.. Daddy’s day by @angrythingstarlight
Okay, one more by @angrythingstarlight because I couldn’t choose: Baby Talk
And Henry’ll learn soon enough that changing your facial hair should go with a disclaimer. Especially when toddlers are involved. Daddy Who? by @viking-raider
And facial hair also reminds me of this fic; Domestic Life by @writernerd23 (-> “Your face is scratchy, Daddy.” <- CUTE)
The Accidental Family by me. A domestic sad-fluffy short series about memory loss -- After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.
And to carry on with the more sad fluff-stuff. How would Henry deal with the less rosy parts of trying to have children - like miscarriage? Negative is a beautiful fic that got me balling my eyes out and you should definitely read it if you’re in the need for some sad, sad fluff. By @oddduckthatgirl
Perhaps things didn’t quite go as planned - whatever the plan was. This sad-to-fluff fic brings you on the rollercoaster of extremely sad to fuzzy warm and happy. Better Off by @toomanystoriessolittletime
More tear-jerkers? 😭Falling Again by @deathonyourtongue follows struggling AU dad!Henry as bills keep piling and the loss of his wife haunts his every waking moment.
Back to the fun stuff - *chants* Rugby dad! Rugby dad! I couldn’t pick just one from the extensive list of rugby dad Henry fics by @hlkwrites and @achaoticaugust - let’s be honest; this should be a genre on its own, so here’s a few:
Henry Cavill, The Rugby Dad Part 2 (smut, daddy kink) I laughed perhaps a tad too loud at the drunk make-out session on the front lawn - here’s some short sexy rugby dad Henry drabbles.
A Rugby Dad’s Guide To Injury Time (smut) I just love smut when it slow, sensual and JUST a tiny bit awkward because you’re on the couch and someone’s leg is in a cast 😜
A Rugby Dad’s Guide To The Off Season (smut) And after the hard toil of keeping a family up and running, it might just be time for a hot (tub) little break
With Sy
A few short, golden moments in becoming first-time parents with Sy - including skin-to-skin daddy cuddles - what else do you want? Evermore by @hauntedelation is a fluffy fic that gets me all kinds of fuzzy inside.
Talking “short” golden moments..this one includes one short reader, a coffee mug and one teasing oaf-of-a-bear Syverson. (smut) Of Short Girls And High Shelves by my fellow Lisa, also known as @killjoy-assbutt-1112 (hi girl!)
Cankles, have never been so hot a subject to talk about as they are in this lovely fic by @crimsonrae: Cigarettes and Morning Breath
And before you know it, you have a whole brood. Will that stop Sy? Meh..probably not. Fourth Time’s The Charm by @cruelfvkingsummer
And once he HAS a daughter? Woof! Dad Syverson is probably just a LITTLE bit too overprotective. But that’s nothing a daughter-dad weekend can’t fix. Daddy Syverson by @connieisland
Imagine this: one big chunky Captain Syverson and one tiny, tiny babygirl cradled in his arms. Are you melting yet? Siobhán is just the cutest little fic, by @littlefreya
We really want Sy to get a daughter huh? And that’ll be particularly funny when daughter sweet becomes old enough for Prom Night -- we’ll be back with overprotective daddy Sy who is ever stubborn, but also ever sweet. By @littlefreya
Onto the holidays: Santa brings back home a 5-year old’s one true wish in Santa Letter Wish by @lovelycavills
And sometimes? You wish the babe would wait JUST a few days before getting born. Christmas, Baby by @its--fandom--darling
Now. To finish off the Sy vibes; are you perhaps in the need of one heck of a good series? Willow Run is one of the first series I read here on Tumblr and it is SO GOOD. I won’t blab and just let you read ❤️ you won’t regret it. By @deathonyourtongue
With Geralt
Geralt, Destiny, one stubborn girl and the Law of Surprise - it’s a recipe for great adventures and funny grumpy dad!Geralt moments. This wonderful multichap fic A Soldier’s Daughter is written by @viking-raider
I know it’s canonically impossible for a Witcher to get anyone pregnant (due to the Trial of the Grasses). But you know..if ..and when..and maybe..then: A Gentle Soul by @killjoy-assbutt-1112
With Marshall
Some mild roleplaying, rough smutiness and unexpected news make this love-making sesh a wild-wild ride. Heart Of Darkness by @littlefreya
Sleepless is a wonderful multichap fic with Marshall x single!mom reader. @feralrunaway gives you awkward barbecue chat and protective Marshall being ever protective. There’s no masterlist, so here’s (I think) all the chapters: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6
Can you imagine big hunky chunk Marshall being worried when you get all teared up with emotion? Baby Blues gives you allll the cute caring dad!Marshall you need. By @the-soot-sprite
With August
A child born out of love and chaos, is all August craves when he comes back home. Mother Of Murder by @littlefreya (smut)
Bad guys, accidental babies and *BOOM* suddenly it’s not just you who calls August “daddy” ((pun intended here, please don’t hate me 😂)) Surprise, surprise.. by @maya-the-cute-ass-bee
And once such that surprise happens, August knows one thing for sure: he’d burn the whole world to a crisp if anything was to happen to you and his unborn child. In this Imagine by @littlefreya
With Napoleon
Sobs, cries and accidentally getting pregnant by spies ((the puns are getting worse, I swear I’ll show myself out in a bit)). On a serious note though: this multi-chapter is an angsty rollercoaster with a tinge of fluff by @coloraturadiva - A Mistake
With Sherlock
Dad!Sherlock fics are surprisingly hard to find, but here’s one: Promises by @zodiyack is a bit of a modern interpretation of a Victorian household, and it sure as hell is delightful!
--
WEW! That was a LONG list - wonderful work dear fic writers! And, as ever; if you have any good recommendations that fit in this list, please add in the comments or reblog! ❤️
since it’s fathers day i thought this would be appropriate
Sherlock being a new Dad would involve:
He’d be a little uncertain at first; he never really had a bad father but he never connected on multiple levels with his father, so he doesn’t want that for his child. He wants to be able to understand them.
Helping you through your pregnancy and through your birth, and although he doesn’t show it to you, he is very nervous about the new child.
Long nights when your child won’t sleep, Sherlock will get up and stay up with them until they do fall asleep.
Sherlock playing lullabies on his violin to help lull your child to sleep; it works a lot of the time and when it doesn’t you will both read to them.
Telling Sherlock that he can’t tell the baby about the cases; Sherlock arguing at first but eventually giving in because he knows not to mess with you.
Him being hesitant to pick up your baby in the beginning because he knows how fragile children are.
You encouraging Sherlock to be a better father and better person.
Sherlock slowly becoming more affectionate with both you and the baby as he settles more into family life.
Him being proud of his family.
Introducing John to his baby and being protective of the baby when people pick them up.
John and Mary being godparents to your baby.
Molly being affectionate over the baby and offering to baby sit any time you and Sherlock need.
Mycroft telling Sherlock it’s unusual that he is such a good dad, but you reassuring him that he would have always made a good dad- he just needed the right circumstances to bring it out.
“I know,” he said quietly, over and over. “I know, Gigi, I’m here. Just another second.”
She was crying now, full and desperate. Her cries frayed something deep inside him. But he kept moving. Kept thinking.
One more second. One more button. One more fold.
Then he pulled off his shirt, scooped her back up, skin to skin now, warmth meeting warmth. And held her close.
The effect was immediate.
The change was elemental: heartbeat to heartbeat. No barriers between them.
And yet it felt something even rawer, deeper.
She startled for a second at the shift in temperature and texture, then went utterly still. Her cheek found the space beneath his collarbone. Her tiny hands against his ribs, grasping at tufts of his chest hair.
Sherlock felt it too. Not just her body relaxing, but something in himself releasing as well. A pressure he hadn’t realized he was carrying eased beneath his sternum, and he let out a breath of his own, slower, deeper.
He gathered her closer, one hand splayed protectively across her back, the other moving slowly through her fine hair, and rested his chin on the top of her head.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured. It was more than reassurance. It was a vow.
And somewhere beneath the warmth of her skin against his, he felt the echo of another cry — one that had gone unanswered, years ago, in another bed. A younger self, small and quiet, stunned by absence.
He hadn’t known what he’d needed then. But he knew what she needed now. And he would give it. All of it. Without hesitation.
When she stirred again, mouth searching, he gently offered his pinky to her. She latched on without protest, suckling softly, her rhythm sure and steady. Her body curled in more tightly, moulding to his chest like she’d been waiting for this shape, this warmth, this sound.
And in the firelight, he watched her slowly fall asleep, truly asleep. Her mouth slackening slightly around his finger, her breathing deep and even. Her little hand, still curled near his ribs, didn’t loosen. Not yet.
He didn’t move.
She had nothing — no cot, no familiar walls, no mother’s voice to anchor her.
Just his scent. His arms. His heartbeat.
And somehow, right this moment, that was enough.
He bent his head and pressed his lips to her temple. Once. Then again. And again. Until the words formed softly in his throat, too quiet to wake her but impossible not to say.
“My little bee,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”
She didn’t stir. But her fingers twitched faintly, as if she’d heard. As if she’d known all along.
The fire crackled low in the corner. Outside, the world carried on.
But inside that room, Sherlock Holmes held the baby he hadn’t known he needed.
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However calm dinner had been, bath time began as a very different story.
Sherlock had prepared the bath with his usual precision: checked the temperature twice, laid out towels, and unfolded the tiny onesie Joan had picked up less than an hour ago.
But the moment Gigi’s clothes came off and her small body hit the cool air, she started crying — loud, distressed, limbs flailing.
“She’s cold,” Joan said, reaching for a towel. “Or startled. It’s a lot of new.”
But Sherlock raised a hand. “Give me a moment.”
He crouched by the tub, holding Gigi close to his chest, and began to speak in that quiet, hypnotic voice that had calmed her all evening.
“You’re safe, Gigi. This is water. You’ve known it before — warm, soft, weightless. Like clouds on your skin.”
Joan leaned against the doorframe and watched as the baby’s cries slowed, then stopped. Her wide, damp eyes fixed on Sherlock’s face as he gently slid her into the water.
One hand stayed at her back, steady and sure, while the other poured water over her belly with a washcloth. He moved slowly, never abrupt, never rushed.
She made a surprised sound when her toes hit the water, then another, louder one when he splashed near her hand.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. “That amused you, did it?” His voice was dry, but there was wonder beneath it.
Gigi kicked again. Another splash. A giggle.
A quiet huff of amusement slipped out of Sherlock.
“So, she likes bath time now,” Joan said, kneeling beside him with a towel ready. “Credit where it’s due.”
“She’s adaptable,” Sherlock replied. “Like most intelligent organisms. She simply needed time to understand that the situation posed no threat.”
Joan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.”
He didn’t respond, but a small, pleased smile tugged at his mouth as he poured water along Gigi’s shoulder. Her laughter bubbled up again.
Joan watched him with sleeves damp to the elbows, hair slightly mussed, a trace of baby shampoo on his wrist.
It wasn’t just that he was good with her.
It was that he was trying. With everything in him.
Continue reading on Archive of our own, Fanfiction or Wattpad.
Joan had hoped, prayed even, that maybe Gigi wouldn’t realise where they were.
That maybe, if she stayed in her sling against Sherlock’s chest, drowsy and warm, she’d get through the handoff with less panic. Maybe she’d let herself be passed off with only mild confusion, not heartbreak.
But Gigi knew.
The second they stepped into the precinct, her tiny body stiffened. Her eyes scanned the room, then widened. The familiarity struck like a blow. She remembered this place. She remembered the cold air. The bright lights. The echo of strangers’ voices.
And then she started to cry.
It wasn’t fussing. It wasn’t tired or hungry or overstimulated.
It was panic.
Grief.
Terror.
“No, no, shhh,” Sherlock whispered, adjusting his hold. “I’ve got you. You’re all right, Gigi. You’re all right.”
But as Sherlock was taking her off the sling, she was already reaching, clutching the front of his shirt with tiny fists, curling into him as if she could disappear into his chest. The wails got louder. Desperate.
The child services worker approached, blazer pressed, hair pulled tight, tablet in one hand. Her expression was neutral. Professional.
Joan tried to intercept her. “She’s scared,” she said. “Please, give them a second.”
The woman barely blinked. “We have another pickup in twenty minutes. This won’t take long.”
Sherlock tried to soothe Gigi, murmuring soft, familiar promises in her ear. But the worker reached forward and touched the baby’s back.
Gigi screamed louder, her whole face red and twisted with fear, her voice hoarse now. She clung harder, fingers gripping with the last of her strength.
“I’m sorry,” the worker said, and without hesitation, she reached for the baby and began to pull her away.
“No! Wait—” Sherlock’s voice cracked.
But it was happening too fast. She pried Gigi’s fingers from his shirt, one by one. Efficient. Practised.
Gigi screamed — high and hoarse — thrashing in her arms. Her face red. Her body arched. Her arms stretched desperately for Sherlock.
Sherlock reached instinctively—but froze, caught between his heart and the reality of what he was legally allowed to do.
The elevator doors opened.
The woman stepped in.
Gigi shrieked again, reaching toward him one last time.
The doors closed.
And then the silence came.
It hit like a wall. Cruel, sudden, absolute.
His knees buckled. Just slightly.
Enough that Joan stepped forward, then stopped.
He didn’t fall. He didn’t move.
Just stood, arms still half-outstretched, breathing like he’d taken a blow to the chest.
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