It was certainly not how John had intended to spend his Friday evening, but then Sherlock and emergency rooms seemed to go hand in hand. At least once a month (with a far too alarming frequency, in John's opinion) Sherlock would get himself so badly injured that it wasn't something John could just patch up at the flat, this time it was a knife wound, a long crimson arch from his shoulder to his elbow that required stronger pain medication than John was allowed to issue (and stronger pain medication than he felt comfortable with Sherlock taking, if he was completely honest) and a few dozen stitches. Needless to say that, and the fact that the adult A&E department had been moved to the fifth floor of the nearest hospital to make room for a children's emergency ward had left Sherlock in a foul mood.

In fact as they crossed the brightly lit corridor to get to the elevator, John could swear he saw a little black storm cloud above Sherlock's head (though to be fair his hair resembled one anyway), crackling with pent up rage and irritation.
"If you don't want to end up at the hospital, stop getting yourself cut to shreds!" John hissed at him as Sherlock jabbed the call button with a completely unnecessary venom.
"Oh yes, of course, how foolish of me, next time I'll just ask the violent child molestor to put down the blade shall I? Maybe invite him round for tea and biscuits? He looked like a jammy dodger man, don't you think?" Sherlock spat sarcastically, stepping into the thankfully vacant lift - John wouldn't wish a pissed off Sherlock on anybody.

John sighed softly as the elevator began to clatter down to the next floor. He had not yet worked out a way to explain to Sherlock that he was his best mate and he didn't want to see him hurt - not that it would actually stop Sherlock acting recklessly and jumping on criminals, because that's just the way Sherlock's mind works when it's on a case, but it might make him think twice before he did it. Nobody got on on the fourth floor, Sherlock took a long moment to scowl at the open doors
"Who puts an accident and emergency ward on the fifth floor?" He demanded, irritated. "Patients could bleed to death in transit. When did children become more important than adults? Surely adults are more likely to be critically injured in their day to day lives?"
"Does seem a bit daft." John agreed as they hurtled down to the third floor. Maternity. An unassuming blonde woman waddled into the lift, cradling her bump and Sherlock surveyed her with mild interest -likely deducing her current stage of gestation alongside her life history.

"Look all I'm asking is that next time you stop and think before..."
"I'm ALWAYS thinking John, if I stop it will only waste valuable time!" Sherlock protested. The lift jerked violently and John ended up nearly in the woman's lap as the lights went out plunging them into darkness.
"Sorry sorry... are you okay?" John fretted, she hadn't fallen over but she had careered backwards into the wall.
"I'm fine." She squeaked as they both straightened up. (Sherlock had somehow maintained his balance - the lanky prat's centre of gravity must be higher)
"Oh great." Sherlock grumbled, hitting the emergency call button as John pushed the battery operated push light high on the wall. It wasn't much but it illuminated them enough to see each other.

"The call button's not working." Sherlock did not sound worried, just increasingly annoyed.
"They have back up generators, we'll be moving again in no time." John promised, sparing a glance at the blonde girl, who nodded calmly. John raised an eyebrow at her, wondering how she was so collected when she was stuck in a lift, evidently heavily pregnant. She giggled.
"Oh don't worry, I've got hours yet." She said reassuringly. "Early labour, I was only going for a walk to get it started really." Sherlock rolled his eyes, he evidently could not care less about her impending arrival. John scowled at him and offered her his hand.
"I'm John and this moody git's Sherlock." John pointed his thumb at Sherlock who did not seem best pleased at being described as a 'moody git', 'if he'd wanted complimenting he shouldn't behave like said moody git'John thought bitterly.
"Amy." She said brightly, shaking John's hand.

"Is it your first, Amy?" John asked, making a vague gesture towards her belly.
"Oh please tell me we're not doing small talk." Sherlock groaned, banging the back of his head against the wall.
"Sherlock!" John scolded.
"Of course it's her first, look at her she's barely twenty!" Sherlock argued, now that John could see her properly in the dim emergency lighting, Sherlock was right - Amy looked very young indeed.
"Twenty one actually... Bit rude, your boyfriend." Amy told John who ran his hand instinctively through his hair.
"Yeah he i... wait he's not my boyfriend." He corrected as an afterthought, ignoring Sherlock's dark chuckle.
"Yes, it's my first." Amy confirmed, hand on her swollen stomach. John stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out his mobile, unsurprised to see they had no signal. Just before 8pm. He sighed.

"It shouldn't be too long, they've got procedures for stuff like this." John said aloud.
"Depends what it is." Sherlock said unhelpfully. "If it's a power outage exclusive to the hospital, they'll be up and running in no time. If it's a regional power outage, the emergency generators cover will only extend to lighting the operating theatres and the emergency exits. It seems the latter is the most likely, considering the contact lines are out and the CCTV is off." He pointed to the emergency call button, still in darkness and a small box above their heads. "Could be hours."
"Shut up, Sherlock." John growled at him.
"Only stating the facts." Sherlock sniffed haughtily, sliding down the wall to sit down. His impossibly long legs reached the other side of the lift, so he had to tuck his knees up, giving him the look of a petulant child sent to the naughty corner.

"Might as well get comfy, we could be here for a while." He told Amy, helping her to the floor.
"Don't think I've been comfy for five months, but I'll try my best!" She laughed, sitting in an awkwardly curled ball on the floor, her belly too large to accomodate the position. John joined her, sitting between her and Sherlock, who was twiddling on his out-of-use mobile phone.
"We were just leaving, but someone will have noticed you going, right? Your partner or..."
"No... no I'm here alone." She said softly, averting her eyes slightly. John immediately sensed he'd said the wrong thing, it was usually Sherlock putting his foot in his mouth, not John.
"Tactless, John." Sherlock scolded, pleased to be in the right for once. "Obviously recently widowed." John cringed.

"Oh..." She sounded slightly surprised and looked at Sherlock with wide eyes. "Is it really that obvious?"
"Wedding ring, fairly new by the looks of it, recently removed from your ring finger, you've still got a tan line. It's hanging round your neck... if you'd just been divorced you wouldn't attach that much sentiment to it, it's on the same chain as an RAMC locket, closed but assuming it contains a picture of your husband - You're an army widow, within the last few months - presumably no more than nine given your current state." Sherlock reeled off. Amy's hand flew to her neck and she clutched her locket, emblazoned (John could just see) with an army seal on it.
"Uh... sorry about him." John mumbled awkwardly.
"No... no it's fine. All correct." She said with a tiny nod. Sherlock nodded back, not extending any sympathy, merely acknowledging the fact he'd got it right.

"I lost Jay six months ago, he was killed in Afghanistan." John felt a slight pang in his chest, he'd been out there, he'd seen it, he'd seen good men die... he always knew some of them had sweethearts back home, when he came back he'd considered visiting the fiance of his deceased comrade Dolly (Dalton, but they all went by nicknames out there) but hadn't found the heart to - he made a mental note to email her when he got home.
"I'm sorry." John offered, reaching forward and taking her hand as a comforting gesture. She gave a weak smile in return.
"We'd been married less than a year..." She said softly. Sherlock moaned.
"Oh don't give us the tragic backstory." He complained.
"Shut the fuck up, Sherlock." John growled. "Please continue." He told Amy reassuringly. She hesitated.

"We've been together since I was 13... we met in foster care actually... my parents died when I was a baby, his gave him up for adoption when he was five but nobody wanted him... people want to adopt babies. We were thick as thieves... when you don't have anybody else in the world, the one person you do have... it makes it more special I think." She mumbled, still fingering her gold locket. John shot a glance at Sherlock, who was staring at the ceiling and counting under his breath. "He joined the army when he turned 18... promised me when he came back he'd marry me... he did." She smiled wistfully.
"He sounds like an amazing man." John told her earnestly.
"He was... he really was. We got married last year and I fell pregnant almost straight away... he was so excited. We didn't have a good upbringing... nobody really likes carehome kids... think we're trouble. He promised when he came home that we'd do it right but he never came home." She sighed heavily.

"Oh enough about me, you don't need to hear my sobstory!" She said firmly, realising John had been looking at her sympathetically.
"Agreed." Sherlock murmured.
"Sherlock, we have JUST got out of A&E, if you don't want to go straight back there the minute this lift starts again I mean it: shut up." He warned.
"Are you threatening me?" Sherlock asked, quirking an eyebrow.
"Yes. If you can't say anything nice..." He started.
"Boring." Sherlock cut in, leaping to his feet.
"What the hell are you doing now?" John asked exasperatedly as Sherlock moved to the doors and began prying them open. "For fuck's sake Sherlock!"
"Just seeing where we are." Sherlock answered, catching a brief glimpse of the elevator shaft, but before he could wrench the doors open fully he winced and fell back, clutching his injured arm. "Ugh. Between floors apparently." He grumbled, rubbing his sore arm. John sighed.
"Just sit down and behave, alright?" Sherlock scowled but did as he was told.

For the next half an hour John struggled to make small talk between the three of them, Sherlock doing his absolute damndest to wind people up, and Amy becoming slightly agitated as the minutes passed. She started doing some pregnancy breathing exercises and Sherlock genuinely looked like he wanted to punch her.
"Must you do that?" He demanded.
"Unless you want me hyperventilating and using up all the oxygen in here then yes!" She grumbled still 'whit-whoo' breathing. John hit the emergency call button once more, it was still dead as it could be.
"Common misconception. Elevators are not air tight, we have the entirety of the elevator shaft and likely the floor below us filled with oxygen. We shan't suffocate even with your incessant over breathing."
"Oh you are SO lucky I'm all the way over here!" She growled, unable to get to her feet and deck him.
"Okay, okay just... just calm down." John urged them both, placing his hands on Amy's shoulders. She keened at the touch, leaning backwards into it, still breathing deeply.

Then she gave a whimper, her eyes clenching shut and her fists forming balls.
"Was that a contraction?" John asked worriedly.
"Bigger than the others... I've been getting little ones for half an hour or so." She mumbled embarrassedly, somewhat humilated by her situation.
"Oh hell. Right..." John bit his lip, and even Sherlock knew this wasn't a good situation to be in. As Amy eased up, Sherlock's face became more tensed.
"Realistically speaking, how long does this labor thing usually take?" He asked glancing at the clock on his phone.
"They said I'd be ages." Amy promised. "My waters only broke at 6pm... I'm not in establish-oh." She whimpered again and gripped tightly onto John's hand.

"John, you're a doctor, do something!" Sherlock fussed.
"You're a doctor?" Amy queried despite her obvious discomfort.
"I'm not that kind of doctor." John said hurriedly.
"You have delivered babies before though." Sherlock pushed.
"That was ONE woman and ONE baby, in Afghanistan... we were pushed for time and it was an emergency..." John said, a note of panic in his voice, wishing he'd never told Sherlock the story about the baby boy he'd delivered during a hostile evacuation.
"What do you call this?" Sherlock argued, signalling to their surroundings.
"You were in Afghanistan?" Amy panted, leaning slightly forward.
"Uh yeah... army doctor."
"You didn't..." She screwed her face up, her contractions coming thick and fast. "You didn't know Jay MacDonald, did you?"
"No... not in my regiment." John said, heart racing as he assessed the situation. He had even less supplies to work with here than he did in Afghanistan - he had a pen knife in his pocket (and a gun, but that was useless) and that was it.

"Fuck." He said decisively, realising he didn't have much choice. "Well uh... yeah I do sort of know what I'm doing so... if it's okay I'll take a look, just to you know... see where you are because your contractions are quite close together so... bit of a worry."
"Suppose so." Amy sighed, laying her head back against the wall. John was a medical man, and he knew the human body better than most people, but there was still something decidedly awkward about removing a woman's knickers and giving her a cervical examination on the floor of a lift with Sherlock watching cautiously over his shoulder. Luckily Amy seemed just as embarrassed about it as he did. A quick internal sweep confirmed John's worst fears.

"Right well, you're definitely in established labour." He said, biting his lip.
"Fuck." Amy said, agreeing with John's earlier sentiment.
"You're about 6 centimetres dilated." He informed her, pulling back and tucking her skirt back into place.
"What does that mean, relatively?" Sherlock did not like to admit he didn't know about everything, but pregnancy and birth was definitely not on his list of subjects he was knowledgable of.
"It means she's progressing quickly." John said with a sigh. "Try the emergency call button again." He suggested somewhat hopelessly, unsurprised when Sherlock pressed the button and got no response once more.
"I CAN'T be that far." She said shaking her head. "I was only 1 centimetre dilated when I left the ward and that was what... an hour ago? It takes ages... days sometimes!" She fretted.
"Most women would be thankful for a quick labour... your little one just has terrible timing." John sighed and looked around, trying to see if there was anything he could use to assist in childbirth. Nope.

"Maybe you'll get lucky and get stuck at 6 or 7 for a bit but generally when you've started dilating quickly you keep going... I'll check again in half an hour if we've not shifted by then, okay?" She nodded, and he felt suddenly very sorry for her, poor girl had only gone for a walk and she'd ended up stuck in this tiny lift in established labour with only the two of them for company. To be fair she had struck lucky that John had a bit of experience, John dreaded to think what Sherlock would be like in this situation on his own (shouting at the baby to stay in most likely), he'd already stood up and started furiously pacing the few steps across the lift back and forth, his palms pressed together beneath his lips.
"You know... my birthing plan didn't include a lift." Amy said half heartedly. John squeezed her shoulder gently.
"Sorry about that." He stood up and crossed to Sherlock who, despite himself looked quite frantic.

John braced his hands on Sherlock's shoulders, careful to avoid his wound, making sure the detective stilled.
"Calm down." He told Sherlock firmly, Sherlock gulped and lowered his voice to a whisper.
"I'm not good in medical emergencies." He hissed. "I have no idea how to behave in this situation."
"Just... just don't freak out. It's going to get messy and loud and I know you don't like loud but you're just going to have to grit your teeth. You don't need to do anything, okay. Hopefully the lift's going to come back to life soon and I won't need to do anything but if I do just... just stand back and let me work okay?" John spoke in an equally hushed tone and looked Sherlock in the eyes.

Sherlock was not used to handing control over to John, Sherlock was usually the one telling people to back off while he worked. Just this once he had to defer all practical usefulness to John. Sherlock was not used to being helpless and it irked him, but he had no time to worry about that. He cast a glance to Amy, sat on the floor in obvious pain and gulped once more.
"Okay. It's in your capable hands, Doctor." Sherlock said, loud enough for Amy to hear, in an attempt to reassure her. John pushed down the odd swell of pride he got from Sherlock calling him 'Doctor' in such a fashion. Now was not the time to analyse it.

"I'm sorry for causing so much trouble." Amy simpered, apologetically.
"Shh, it's okay, it's not your fault." John told her, sinking back to his knees beside her and dabbing at her sweaty forehead with his sleeve. "In a bit you're going to be a mum, yeah... do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
"No. Jay wanted to find out but he died before the gender scan." Amy panted, wringing her hands. "There's no family or close friends or anything so... it was up to me. I chose not to find out... boy or girl it's going to be called Jay." She said firmly, John took her hand once more and let her squeeze it with her contraction.
"Maybe take the stairs next time, eh?" He offered jokingly, she gave him a weak smile and nodded.

John had never known Sherlock to be so quiet, the next twenty minutes passed without a thoughtless comment or tactless insult - the detective literally silent as he tried to cope with the situation.
"8 centimetres." John confirmed on his next check, wishing the lift would start moving or at least the emergency floodlighting would kick in, the tiny push lamp on the wall was only casting a dim glow making his job that much harder.
"How long until... the baby happens?" Sherlock asked cautiously, his voice an odd comfort to John's distress.
"Not long." John sighed.
"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry." Amy stuttered, shaking her head to free tears.
"Don't be." John stressed once more. "Honestly, you're doing really well, Amy."
"I'm not I'm rubbish, it hurts... it really hurts. I can't handle it. I can't... I can't cope." Her whole body wracked with the sobbing.

Sherlock crossed to her and knelt beside her, he took her face in his hands a little too roughly.
"Look at me." He insisted, drawing her wide blue eyes to his. "This is the hardest thing you will ever have to do and you are coping fabulously. Your body is a seething stew of hormones right now which is making you cry but that does not mean you are not coping. Use any mechanism you need, if you want to scream - scream, if you want to cry you keep crying, but don't doubt yourself. You're being incredibly brave and you're doing this all on your own. Don't doubt yourself, not now." John's mouth nearly fell open in shock. Sherlock did not do emotional support or kind words, but he'd apparently said exactly the right thing as Amy clung to him and continued crying into his shoulder. Sherlock shot John an 'I'm really not comfortable with this' glance, but he held her anyway and John felt oddly proud of the detective.

An hour later the lights had blinked on and disappeared into nothingness once but other than that the lift was still as stuck as ever, the emergency call button still disconnected and Amy was starting to get quite frantic.
"Oh god oh god it's happening. I'm actually going to give birth in a LIFT!" She cried hysterically, having been writhing around in agony for the past ten minutes. "John, John I NEED to push, you don't understand I NEED to push now!" She cried, Sherlock was still situated at her head, having his hand crushed with every contraction. He could not look more uncomfortable or out of place. John had checked Amy's progress only fifteen minutes ago and she'd still only been 8 centimetres dilated, but to put her mind at ease he checked her again.
"Right well... yes. 10 centimetres. It's baby time." John said grimly, he shucked off his jacket so he had something to wrap the baby in when it arrived, rolled his sleeves all the way up and pulled out his pen knife and laying it on the floor beside Amy's hip.

John spared them both an 'I've got this' look before setting to work.
"Can you turn over? Onto your hands and knees?" He asked her. She tried to prop herself up and cried out in anguish.
"I can't, no." She whimpered.
"Okay okay." John frowned, gravity being on their side would certainly help but she was genuinely struggling to move and distressing her was not going to help so he eased her down onto her back, head facing the ceiling. Sherlock had not let go of her hand and John was mildly impressed by his behaviour, by his own admission Sherlock was rubbish at this sort of thing, John had fully expected Sherlock to stand back making cutting comments ("Oh come on, you can do better than that! It's childbirth not rocket science, honestly." sprang to mind) but no - here he was, in the thick of it, helping in whatever little way he could.

"Next time you get a contraction I want you to go with it, bare down onto your bottom okay? Push when you get the urge." He told Amy in his most controlled doctorly tone, trying not to show in his voice that he was just as terrified as she was.
"Oh god! Oh hell it hurts!" She screeched, and it occured to John that the people on either floor two or floor three might hear her - though he was certain they were already working as hard as they could on getting the hospital back on track.
"And push." He ordered her gently. She whimpered and gave a pathetic attempt at a push. "Come on Amy, you can do this, a bit more force."
"I don't want to hurt it." She mumured, grinding the back of her head into the floor.
"Trust me, babies were designed for this, you won't hurt your baby." He promised "Next time, hard as you can, yeah?" He waited with bated breath for her next contraction which arrived with a howl (and a wince from Sherlock).

"You're crowning Amy, your baby's coming, you're doing brilliantly." John knew how unhelpful his words probably were when Amy was obviously this far gone but they were all he had. He couldn't tell her what he was actually thinking (that he never ever wanted to have sex with a woman ever again - he'd done this once before and it had put him off for 6 months.). Another push saw the baby's head begin to make an appearance.
"Brilliant, facing upwards, you're doing great." He reassured her, however as the baby's head came out he noticed something that made his heart stutter.

"Oh fuck!" John was unable to keep the panic from his voice this time.
"What! What's wrong!?" Amy pleaded at the top of her lungs.
"Stop pushing a minute." John ordered, trying to assess this with a level head. "The cord's round its neck."
"Oh god oh god it's going to die, don't let it die please oh god!"
"It's not going to die!" John swore. "But you NEED to stop pushing while I get it untangled okay? Promise me!" She whimpered and nodded as John struggled to fit his fingers under the thick and deceptively strong cord which was strangling the tiny child the further it progressed into the world.

John swore loudly, even in the dim light he could see the baby was going slightly blue.
"John?" Sherlock questioned, worriedly. John refused to look at them, to deviate his attention even for a split second, he would not lose this one, he started to plead in his own head, to bargain with a God he'd lost faith in while he was in Afghanistan. Anything. Anyone else. Not this one. Not a newborn baby. Please. He begged as he finally tugged the ring of the cord over the baby's face. It made a pained choked noise and started gasping for breath, gulping in the fresh air desperately.
"Okay okay it's fine, breathing on its own, one more push to free the shoulders." John urged, Amy was sobbing as she convulsed with a final contraction and the baby slid into John's palms with a loud cry.

It was bloody and slimey as all newborns are, but the colour had returned to its face and it was howling with loud and healthy lungs.
"It's a girl Amy, a girl." John told her cheerily, fumbling for his pen knife and knotting the cord before cutting it. He wrapped the tiny infant into his jacket and leaned over to hand the baby to her mother, and saw immediately that there was something very very wrong, Amy's pupils were blown and the flush to her face was fading rapidly. Her head lolled dramatically to the side as she lost consciousness. John bundled the baby with little grace into Sherlock's outstretched arms.
"What's happening, what's wrong?"
"She's haemorrhaging - massively." John breathed, unable to calm down as the normal blood flow that accompanies the delivery of the placenta was at least tripled, gushing freely. "The placenta's not separated properly, it's ruptured somewhere... fuck." John growled.

"This shouldn't be happening!" He stressed, massaging her abdomen in an attempt to cause a contraction to stop the blood flow. It was no good, she was losing too much blood. "I've never even seen one of these on telly!" He despaired. "I don't know what to do! She needs emergency medical treatment NOW or she's going to... she's..." John sat back on his heels, staring at the rapidly expanding pool of blood.
"Is there anything you can do?" Sherlock asked. John shook his head, hands still on her abdomen his whole body trembling as he willed her to contract. He knew in the back of his head, she was losing too much blood, that nobody could survive this for any sustained period of time.
"No... unless this lift starts moving within the next thirty seconds or so..." Sherlock grunted as he dragged Amy up, propping her against the wall using the one arm that was not cradling the tiny baby. Sherlock held Amy's arms together and placed the infant on them.

John had never felt so helpless, watching as the life drained from Amy. Only a few minutes later, Sherlock placed his fingers to her wrist and shook his head very gently. She was gone. Sherlock plucked the child back from her arms. Amy hadn't really been holding her, Sherlock had been holding her to her chest, but it was all the same in the end, she had died with her child in her arms. John felt his eyes well with tears and he lay his head in his bloody hands.

He'd never cried in front of Sherlock, not once, but even the detective seemed to understand that under the circumstances a little emotion was not out of place.
"We can't save them all John." He said eventually, in an oddly soothing tone. "You did your absolute best... likely she was dehydrated from being in here for three hours... or unknowingly anaemic... you couldn't have predicted a haemorrhage, not on this scale certainly... even if you could have predicted it, there was no saving her in here under these circumstances." John knew Sherlock was making sense, but it didn't make it hurt any less. John had lost patients before, in battle, in the aftermath, he'd had people bleed out on him before but none of it seemed so tragic as a young widow dying in childbirth, leaving her newborn baby an orphan before she'd even opened her eyes.

John's heart hurt. He could hear the baby crying and finally drew his eyes up to where Sherlock was kneeling, cradling the little girl in his arms, gently daubing her skin with the jacket of John's she was wrapped in. John had never seen Sherlock treat anything other than his violin with such tenderness, perhaps even emotionally stunted Sherlock Holmes realised the gravity of the situation, though his eyes were much drier than John's.

He couldn't stop trembling, his entire body shuddering his line of vision kept falling to Amy who did not look peaceful in death, her hair tousled and sweaty, clinging to her deathly pale face, from the waist down she was covered in blood which had finally stopped pouring (no heartbeat to pulse it out). Sherlock followed his gaze and frowned softly. Sherlock had seen his fair share of death, but never in a situation like this. He clambered to his feet, careful not to drop the whimpering child in his arms, he manouevered John backwards and sat in front of him, blocking his view of Amy, surely only trying to help.
"John, you did all you could." He said firmly to his blanched friend. "You saved Jay's life and you did your best for Amy." Jay. Oh yes. The baby had a name. John stared at her, Sherlock had wiped her mostly clean, her dark hair still sticking up at odd angles with drying amniotic fluid and blood.

"Oh god." John groaned. "Sherlock she needs feeding... if this lift doesn't start working soon..."
"She'll be fine for an hour or so and if worst comes to worst I'm fairly certain we can extract lactal fluid post-humously." John cringed slightly, he didn't like the sound of that but Sherlock was always practical. John shivered again and leaned forward, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock's arms were occupied, he could not offer any comfort to John physically other than his sheer presence.

John lost track of how long they kneeled there, in an awkward three person huddle beside a dead body. Jay sobbed her little heart out, obviously she was unaware of the situation but all John could hear was a baby, crying for a mother that would never come and he teared up again a few times. Sherlock appeared to be very deep in thought and only moved when the lights above flickered into life.
"Hello, lift 3 any occupants?" Came a crackly voice over the intercom. Sherlock got to his feet and made his way to the emergency call button, he heard a gasp as the CCTV came back online. "What happened!?" Came the voice once more.
"Death during childbirth, we've got a dead woman, a neglected newborn and a man in a state of shock." Sherlock reeled off, pressing the button as he spoke. It took John a moment to realise the man in shock was himself.
"Oh god, right well we're back online, if you press floor three we'll have a team to meet you when you come out." Sherlock pressed 3 and the lift clattered to life, bringing them back up to maternity.

"John." Sherlock said, dragging the doctor to his feet with his injured arm. "John listen to me." Sherlock urged, because all John could hear was Sherlock's voice and white noise. "I'm about to lie through my teeth, no matter how insane I sound I NEED you to back me up, got it?" John nodded stiffly, staring numbly down at himself in the newly accquired light, he was covered in blood that was not his own. Oh god.

The medical team swooped in as soon as the doors opened, swarming over Amy, confirming the tragic truth that she was dead but still attempting resuscitation that would never work. Sherlock did not hand Jay over, but he followed the medics away from the lift and into a side room, taking John's hand and tugging him along behind.
"Okay so, who are you?" A very frantic looking nurse asked, trying desperately to get a peek at the child, who Sherlock was concealing quite well.
"I'm Sherlock, this is John." Sherlock said, John was dimly aware of Sherlock's hand in his, it felt warm, safe, grounding but Sherlock was not relinquishing his hold on Jay, squirming and wailing in his arm.
"And which one of you is the father?" She asked.
"Well, neither of us and both of us." Sherlock replied quickly. "We're the adoptive parents." It was a mark of just how frazzled John was that he didn't panic or kick off or demand to know what the hell Sherlock was playing at, he just stared blankly at the orphaned baby in Sherlock's embrace.

A/n: What the hell is Sherlock actually doing!? Adoption does not work like that Sherlock! (Also, massive thanks to my RP partner Ella, she and I have been rping with Jay involved for a while and even though she says Jay was my idea I LOVE the way she writes her, so massive hugs to her!) Reviews are like gold dust to me! Please?