Hello,

to any of you who are still reading this story, I am so very sorry for the time it has taken to update this. When I started on this chapter, the whole thing felt so extremely out of character that I got very frustrated and just left it for ages, and focused on other writing projects instead. Then I got a horrible case of writers block so I didn't work much on any of my stories and then school started, which left me with very little time.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. To make up for my huge gap in updating, this is an especially long one.

Also, a guest reviewer who reviewed one of my other stories mentioned that I made characters like Sally and Anderson very one dimensional in this story, which I agree with. I didn't want to force it in this chapter, but I tried to get Sally in, and tried to remedy the issue, at least to an extent. :)

And lastly, thank you to everyone who has favourite, alerted, reviewed, helped and generally just stuck with me during this story, and also to everyone who read and reviewed (and favourite and followed etc. :D) 'Him and Her' because without the encouragement by that story I would never have started this one.

.

.

.

Sherlock woke up lazily the next morning, a feeling fairly new to him. Irene was still asleep, curled into his side, her arms partially on his chest. Sherlock lay there for a while, simply staring at the ceiling and occasionally playing with Irene's hair, enjoying the total quiet. Although it was eight in the morning, the flat was still completely silent, even though both John and Mrs Hudson were early risers. He suspected that after the emotional ordeal the day before, everyone would be drained and tired.

Even Nero, who generally woke either crying early in the morning, was still asleep. Sherlock untangled himself from Irene and got up, walking toward the crib where his son was still sleeping peacefully. He smiled at the little boy, relief once again crashing down on him that Mycroft had acted when he did. He realised he once again owed his brother a lot – especially now that Mycroft had to put up with the fact that Irene would become a constant part of his life.

Sherlock supposed that unlike him, Mycroft had spent the night tossing and turning, imagining the horrors in his life now that Irene was a steady part of it. However, although his brother was angry, Sherlock knew that over the years, his bond with Mycroft had grown, his older brother having realised that Sherlock needed to live his own life without his constant interference. This was a hurdle in their relationship, but the shock from his revelations yesterday would slowly subside and fade.

Sherlock yawned slightly and decided he may as well get dressed. The memory of last night's events left him wide awake.

Moriarty is dead, he reminded himself, a strange feeling of relief and content settling over him. While Moriarty had been a fun and entertaining distraction at the beginning, the game had got too out of hand. Especially now that there were people Sherlock loved more than anything in his life.

He was no longer surprised to hear himself admit that to himself. All those barriers had now been overcome.

Nero started whimpering then, apparently Sherlock's getting dressed had roused him. Sherlock smiled and walked over. Nero was attempting to somehow sit up in his crib, but he was still too young to sit up on his own. To spare him the effort Sherlock reached in and picked him up, making sure that Irene was still asleep.

Together the two of them walked into the kitchen.

.

.

.

Nero seemed perfectly content after Sherlock fed and changed him and simply sat in his lap, apparently still tired. Sherlock was glad; he hoped that Nero would stay quiet so that he wouldn't wake anyone else up. He was expecting a visitor this morning, and would much prefer to conduct the subsequent conversation in private.

Sure enough, only a quarter of an hour later, there was a soft knock at the door. Sherlock hummed slightly in response, and Mycroft Holmes entered the room, looking almost afraid of what he might find.

Sherlock did not stand up to greet him and for several seconds the two brothers just stared at each other, until Mycroft's gaze dropped to Nero.

He was quick to look away.

Instead he continued to survey his brother, trying to assess what emotional impact the previous evening had had on him. He had seen how much more vulnerable his brother had become as soon as Irene Adler had been introduced into the deadly game between Sherlock and Moriarty and it worried him. Although he knew that Irene had not been working for the consulting criminal, he had witnessed how much of his emotional side Sherlock had exposed and how much easier it would have been to completely destroy him.

Although Moriarty was dead, Sherlock's weakness stayed. His little brother's job may not be extremely dangerous, but anyone Sherlock cared about became effective means with which to target him.

Sherlock didn't look at all shaken from the previous night. But, unlike before, it did not look like he was trying to hide his feelings behind a mask either. His feelings, though muted, were laid bare for Mycroft to see. Right now, the elder Holmes almost wished they wouldn't be, because he could clearly see the affection so prominent in his eyes.

"You're determined, then? To continue with this new life you've chosen for yourself?" Mycroft asked carefully, walking over to an empty chair but not sitting. Sherlock nodded.

"Yes." He said shortly, but then took a deep breath, remembering how much he owed his brother. The least he could do was to attempt to give some sort of explanation of his current predicament.
"Before perhaps…before I might have wished it to be otherwise, though there was no going back. But not now."

Mycroft nodded slowly, but the need to protect his brother from experiencing feelings so detrimental to him was still strong. Even though he felt it would have no effect on Sherlock, he had to try.

"Moriarty is gone, but she will always be used to target you Sherlock, no matter who the enemy is. She has become your biggest weakness. I saw that you were utterly prepared to give up everything for her, to die for her."

"I would have done the same for John. Or Mrs Hudson. Or Lestrade."

Mycroft nodded, not mentioning that his name wasn't on the list. It didn't need to be. He would never let Sherlock die for him.

"But Moriarty said it himself", he continued. His brother was clearly set on his new path in life, but it was his job to protect him. And that meant showing him exactly what it meant for Sherlock to have Irene Adler present in his life.

"She could make you feel anything, do anything with the impact she has on you. You let her in further than you let anyone else, even John. No one has ever achieved that level of closeness with you."

"You're still worried about where exactly her loyalties lie," Sherlock said, making his question a statement. Mycroft remained silent, but Sherlock knew he was right. However, trying to explain to Mycroft that Irene was trustworthy and would not voluntarily hurt him would have no effect and so the pair of them once again lapsed into silence, Mycroft absorbing everything Sherlock had said.

"You trust her?" he asked at last, needing to hear in confirmed one more time. Sherlock had already implied it through his body language and other replies, but Mycroft wanted a straight answer.

"Completely."

The elder Holmes nodded and rose to leave, but Sherlock stopped him and gestured for him to sit.

"I want to thank you" he said and even Mycroft was surprised at the level of sincerity in his voice. "This is the second time I owe my life to you, and now Irene and Nero's too. I know how much you…resent my current situation, but I'm…grateful that that did not stop you."

Usually, hearing such a statement from Sherlock would have made him uncomfortable, and he would have been careful to keep his indifferent mask in place. But now Mycroft finally allowed himself a tiny smile, amused at his brother's slight discomfort but also touched by his words. "It's my job," he replied finally and Sherlock nodded.

"I have one more favour to ask" he said as Mycroft made his way to the door. The elder Holmes sighed.

"What now?" he questioned, but Sherlock knew he wasn't quite as irritated as he was letting on.

"You're going to hate me for this" he said with a small smile. Mycroft raised his eyebrows.

"Don't tell you're getting married?" he asked sarcastically and took a moment to appreciate the look of confusion that flashed across Sherlock's face, before it turned into horror. Mycroft allowed himself a grim smile.

"The snipers you brought down and captured last night" Sherlock said after clearing is throat and trying to dislodge all pictures of Irene in a white wedding gown from his mind. "Am I correct in assuming that they were major operatives in Moriarty's network?"

Mycroft nodded, frowning slightly. He guessed where his brother could be going with this, but Sherlock was rarely predictable.

"That means that Moriarty's web of crime has considerably weakened and will no longer pose a major threat to Irene, if any threat at all. I'm confident that Moriarty was the only she directly consulted with."

"Your point?" Mycroft asked somewhat impatiently.

Sherlock smiled grimly as he described his request to his brother. Mycroft was certainly not pleased, but, after a short discussion and a long battle of stares, finally relented.

He cast a lengthy look at Sherlock before he left, and couldn't help as his gaze drifted to his bedroom door, before he quickly looked away, determined not to think about the woman currently occupying his little brother's bed. But he finally allowed his gaze to drop to the tired and quiet infant in Sherlock's lap. His eyes swept over Nero, taking in his tuft of black, curly hair, his perfect lips and already angular cheekbones.

"He has your eyes" Mycroft admitted quietly, before turning around and holding his umbrella tightly for support as he exited the flat. Although he hadn't looked back, he was certain that Sherlock was smiling.

.

.

.

Mrs Hudson was up the second she heard Sherlock's heavy footsteps walking around the flat playing his violin. He had composed a new song for Nero, who happily watched from the playpen Mrs Hudson had acquired for him several days ago. John got up not long afterwards, not making his presence known for several minutes as he watched the lovely scene before him – Sherlock playing his violin was nothing new, but seeing Nero laugh and attempt to make sounds to match the music was endearing. So was the fact that Sherlock didn't find it irritating at all. Instead he seemed greatly amused as he watched his son attempt to sing. The sight of it was so absurd that it left John speechless for a moment, before his expression changed from surprise to one of joy. It seemed that Sherlock had decided to drop all reserve after last night and be completely open with his feelings. He would have never thought he could have seen the cold and unaffected detective so changed.

And yet…Sherlock was still Sherlock. He was more human, but his brilliance and genius – in short, everything that made him what he was - was still there.

"I can't believe you just let me sleep" Irene said almost 20 minutes later, emerging from the bedroom in dark blue skinny jeans and one of Sherlock's shirts. She looked completely refreshed and calm. Only her eyes gave away any indication of what had happened, and even those feelings were masked by the relief she felt.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her humorously, a small smile of amusement playing on his features, knowing he shouldn't take the note of accusation in her tone seriously.

He simply made a small hum of appreciation in the back of his throat, but pulled out a chair. Their eyes connected for a second, and both of them were suddenly caught in a moment of oblivion as they smiled softly at each other. Both of them seemed very relaxed, and John would never have known what a big impact the last evening had had on them, if he hadn't been there to witness it personally.

Irene sat down next to Sherlock, holding out her arms for Nero, her affectionate smile widening as her son reached out for her. She immediately held him close to her chest, stroking his hair with one hand, while Mrs Hudson pushed a plate of toast, eggs, tomatoes and sausages in front of her.

"Nero seems content" Irene commented. "Did you change and feed him?"

Sherlock nodded, while Irene raised her eyebrows in surprise and nodded in satisfaction, glad that the way Sherlock behaved with Nero no longer seemed unorthodox to him.

The three grownups ate in silence for a moment, each thoughtful, before Sherlock disrupted the silence. As usual, he spoke his news in a complete nonchalant manner, though he knew it would have a large impact on Irene.

"Mycroft was here this morning" he said conversationally, picking up the newspaper and disappearing behind it.

"I assumed" she said, in the same tone as Sherlock, concentrating on trying to balance her scrambled eggs on her fork, while holding Nero securely. John just shook his head.

"I suppose he wanted to question you to see if you wouldn't get rid of me, am I right?" she said with a small smile, and even Sherlock smirked.

"Obviously. He isn't thrilled, as expected, by my situation, but I managed to make him do one more small thing for me".

John raised his eyebrows in interest, wondering what it could be. Mycroft had already proved to him just how determined he was to protect his younger brother, and John knew that he now held the elder Holmes in a higher regard. But he also knew that though however disguised, Mycroft's primary interest was to ensure his brother's safety, he too had his limits, and finding out that Sherlock had fathered a child with a woman the elder Holmes despised most of all certainly breached them. How Sherlock had managed to persuade Mycroft to do something else for him was beyond his understanding.

"Which would be?" Irene asked, this time also curious. The direction of her thoughts was the same as John's. She knew very well that the elder Holmes despised her, a fact which would generally have amused her, should she not owe him hers, Sherlock's and Nero's life. The fact that she was now a steady part of his younger brother's life would probably result in him getting many nights of restless sleep, and she too wondered how exactly Sherlock had managed to persuade Mycroft to exert himself once more for them.

"The snipers the Ministry of Defence managed to capture yesterday were very important people in Moriarty's network, certainly somewhere in the top circles." Sherlock continued. "They were interrogated yesterday, and as Moriarty is dead, they don't have to fear his wrath, so as expected, they told Mycroft's men absolutely everything. Moriarty's web of crime has reached and effective end. "

John took a moment to absorb what Sherlock has just said, but Irene was already a step ahead of him.

"You didn't…?" she said, suddenly full of hope.

Sherlock nodded, very pleased.

"I did, actually. You no longer have anything to fear from Moriarty's network, which means the one main source threatening your safety would be the British Government."

"Which Mycroft is practically in charge of…" John said, catching up. He paused, absolutely shocked.

"As of tomorrow, all files that are considered dangerous to the country with the name Irene Adler will be deleted. You're no longer considered a threat here, and are free to resume your old identity, if you wish. Any information the government could and would have used against you will be wiped from the records."

"You're kidding" John said, shaking his head. "I can't believe you got Mycroft to do that for you".

"It shouldn't be too hard, given the influence he wields" Sherlock commented nonchalantly, but paused when John sent him a reproachful look.

"But of course I'm glad he agreed to do it" he added, and John nodded in satisfaction.

"Irene?" he asked, after a pause, realising that she had been quiet for the course of his and Sherlock's conversation. Irene looked up at him, a thoughtful expression in her eyes, before she bit her lip thoughtfully and shook her head.

"I don't know if I want to." She spoke in a quiet voice, before taking a deep breath when she realised that John didn't understand what she was saying. Sherlock had already made the leap, but waited patiently for her to say it out loud, needing to hear it from her.

"I don't know if I want to resume my old identity" she repeated, and John exhaled in understanding.

"I think I've changed" Irene continued. "Going back to that identity would be like returning to the life I led then, and I don't want that."

"I assumed" Sherlock said, with a healthy amount of satisfaction at being able to read Irene, and the sentiment that had induced her decision, so clearly. "But you wouldn't be going back to your old life, Irene. You can keep your name, considering you've changed considerably since we first met."

Irene raised her head, a spark of faint playfulness in her eyes and opened her moth, but before she could tease Sherlock with her question, he shook his head.

"Before you ask, I happen to know that Irene Adler is your official identity. You can't attempt to fool me with that one."

She raised her eyebrows in slight surprise, but realised that he had probably known this for some time, clever as he was.

"When did you find out?" she questioned, a small smile playing at the edges of her lips. Sherlock smirked.

"Right after I met you for the first time. And after I was lucid enough to form a proper sentence". He added as an afterthought, while John chuckled.

"Mycroft gave me access to most of your files, though he decided to keep the more scandalous from my eyes, evidently under the impression that some of the things you had done would make me scared if you." He rolled his eyes, while Irene smiled suggestively at him. "In terms of your identity, I have to admit you surprised me there" the detective continued. "I would have been ready to bet that your name was an alias or a fake identity to protect you. But I suppose" he said, eyes now twinkling slightly, "that that would have been very predictable. And dull."

Irene lips twitched into a slight smile at his last statement, but she remained thoughtful, before she finally raised her head and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes, a wide smile breaking out across her features.

"Thank you" she told Sherlock, and he returned her smile. John looked down, suddenly very interested in the tablecloth, wondering if he should attempt to exit discreetly now, and give the couple some privacy. Luckily, Nero, who had been very quiet during the whole exchange, saved him from any discomfort by suddenly laughing and grabbing a strand of Irene's hair.

Irene exclaimed in surprise and pain, while Sherlock tried to patiently pry his son's hands away. John just laughed.

.

.

.

Lestrade and Sally visited Baker Street that afternoon. Lestrade wasn't quite sure what impact the previous evening had had on Sherlock, and was slightly concerned about him. Yesterday had been a whirlwind of anxiety, fear and overwhelming surprise and shock. Not only had Lestrade genuinely feared for Sherlock's life (as well as Irene's, obviously, though he didn't know her), but the shock of discovering Sherlock's newfound domesticity had been something almost blinding and unsettling for him.

But only at first. He now found himself marvelling at the new life Sherlock had created for himself and he was thrilled that even Sherlock (yes, Sherlock Holmes) had found love. He knew too little of Irene to truly understand her character, but yesterday had been enough to show him her determination and fiery spirit. He already respected her for her willingness to die to protect her son, and he was interested to find out what other parts of her character could possibly attract the until then seemingly asexual detective.

He was also concerned for everyone's welfare at Baker Street. He knew that after recent experiences with Moriarty the whole occurrence must also have been extremely hard for John to deal with, and he hoped he was alright.

Of course, he was also worried about Sherlock, who was an expert at hiding any feeling he deemed detrimental to his intelligence and ability to remain objective. Yesterday, those few characteristics had very nearly crumbled, and even though Sherlock now had Irene to help him cope, Lestrade wasn't sure if Moriarty had partially succeeded in pushing Sherlock to his limits.

Sally had volunteered to go with him. When officers at the yard had caught hold of this, they had all asked her questions and were probably sitting at their desks eagerly awaiting her report of Sherlock's new situation in life.

But Sally wasn't going because of that. What she had seen yesterday had stunned her. She hadn't quite been able to believe that Sherlock, the man whose face broke out in an almost manic grin when he heard of someone's murder, Sherlock, who always publicly insulted and degraded everyone around him could have the emotional capacity to care for someone as much as it had been evident with Irene.

Sherlock had always scared her, because he had just seemed so amoral and inhuman. What she had said to John all those years ago ('Someday, we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will have put it there') hadn't just been her ego talking, she had genuinely believed it to be a possibility.

But after yesterday, not so much.

She had to go along, because as baffling as the concept was, seeing Sherlock in such a…domestic environment where he genuinely cared for someone and loved someone was something that was slowly starting to change her opinion of him. And if she was blatantly honest with herself, deep down, she really wanted to give Sherlock a chance to change what she thought of him, for the better.

Baker Street had a calm, almost tranquil feeling to it when they arrived. Both of them stepped into the flat not knowing quite what to expect, but from Lestrade's previous visits, he knew that there was either a deadly calm around the place (when Sherlock was "bored" and no one knew what dangerous and potentially criminal thing the consulting detective would do to relieve himself of the feeling) or a bustle of chaotic activity, with John having given up trying to restore any sense of normality.

But today, everything was comfortably still and fairly quiet, with occasional murmurs coming from behind the closed door. Lestrade felt almost apprehensive about entering the flat, but also very curious.

The scene that greeted him was both absurd and completely natural at the same time.

John was sitting in one armchair, with his computer on his lap, answering his emails. Mrs Hudson was cleaning the kitchen looking rather unperturbed, as ever, a soft smile adorning her features as she looked over to Sherlock.

He sat by the microscope, carefully examining something, with Nero perched on his lap. The little boy was silent and had an almost thoughtful expression on his face, leaning his head against Sherlock's chest, one hand absentmindedly touching Sherlock's arm around his waist.

Although Sherlock didn't look up from the lens, he knew that Lestrade was there. He had clearly been able to distinguish the DI's heavy footsteps on the rickety stairs, as well as the sharp clicking of Donovan's heels against the wood.

"Close the door, Lestrade" he said without looking up. "Irene doesn't want Nero crawling outside, he might fall down the stairs."

Lestrade's eyes widened very slightly at Sherlock's remark, but the absurdity of it crashed down on him, and he gave a soft chuckle, before doing as he had been asked. He nodded at John in greeting.

"How are you doing, Sherlock?" he asked, eyeing the detective curiously, his eyes drifting down to the little boy in Sherlock's lap. He really looked a lot like his father. He had the same cheekbones, hair, eyes, even his expression was thoughtful.

Sherlock frowned. "Fine" he answered curtly, as if the question was insulting and the answer obvious. Sally raised her eyebrows slightly; already her resolve to improve her opinion of Sherlock was weakening. Yesterday she had caught glimpses of a completely different man, but right now he seemed utterly unchanged.

John coughed slightly from his chair, and Sherlock finally looked up at the pair. The expression in his eyes was not one of ridicule and condemnation as usual; instead there was truth and genuine warmth.

"Fine" he repeated, but in a different tone. The honest and soft way he said it made Lestrade believe him.

"DI Lestrade" Irene's warm voice suddenly rang out as she came out of Sherlock's bedroom. Lestrade and Sally immediately turned towards her, interested in the woman who had managed to capture the cold detective's heart. Sherlock also got up when he heard her approaching, and John grinned. The times that Sherlock willingly abandoned his microscope and research for someone else were very rare, and even though many people would interpret it as a common and polite gesture, it showed genuine respect and esteem on Sherlock's side.

Lestrade smiled slightly as he looked at Irene, now in such an ordinary environment. Just like with Sherlock, he had seen the more vulnerable side to her the day before, but now she seemed unaffected and confident. But Lestrade knew that after yesterday, she couldn't possibly be completely untouched.

Sally examined the woman carefully. She was dressed simply, in skinny jeans and a shirt that looked suspiciously like Sherlock's, with the top buttons open. She had no makeup on and her long brown hair flowed freely down her back. In her eyes Sally saw confidence and warmth.

"You must be Sergeant Donovan" Irene said brightly as she shook Sally's hand. "We met last year".

Sally's eyes widened, but Irene didn't elaborate further. Sherlock simply chuckled, while John raised his eyebrows.

"What am I missing?" he asked, and Irene grinned.

"Sherlock and I had to investigate the murder of a man whose wife killed him by adding additional poison to food he was allergic to, as far as I remember" she told him, and Lestrade's eyes widened.

Irene could see that the two from Scotland Yard had figured it out, but didn't feel like going through the history of her relationship with Sherlock.

"Would you like something to eat?" she asked, cutting off anything Lestrade wanted to say. "Mrs Hudson made cake."

"No thanks." Lestrade said, still surprised at Irene's earlier declaration. "We just wanted to make sure you were alright."

"Thank you" Irene said, and cleared her throat, raising her eyebrows at Sherlock. He looked at her in question, before he sighed.

"Thank you" he repeated, much to John and Lestrade's amusement. Even Sally cracked a smile.

Both Lestrade and Sally, when examining the pair closely, could see the affection in their eyes. But the blazing love and respect was also prominent.

Sally smiled to herself in satisfaction. For some people it might not be much, but the feeling and emotion in Sherlock's eyes when he looked at Irene and Nero spoke volumes.

.

.

.

Irene stayed with Sherlock for another month, the longest she had ever stayed in Baker Street. Even if John had still felt a dislike towards her, he knew that the feeling would be totally extinguished by now. Irene no longer scared him or made him nervous; instead he genuinely enjoyed spending time with her.

Spending time with Nero was something the ex-army doctor also enjoyed. He liked children, and wanted children. Having Nero at Baker Street made life just a little bit brighter.

Sherlock was also a lot easier to live with. The bond he shared with Nero was very strong, and as surreal as it might have seemed before, Sherlock was actually a brilliant father. He was protective of Nero, but spent plenty of time with him, and became so much gentler.

Even Mycroft occasionally visited his nephew. He could never truly get along with Irene, but he respected her, and over time, he realised that contrary to what he had believed, she was exactly the type of woman Sherlock needed. While it unsettled him at first, the gradual change in his little brother's personality suddenly became a positive thing.

Sherlock didn't change completely of course, and neither did Irene. Sherlock was still a brilliant detective, now even more so, because his understanding of sentiment and emotional motivation had grown. He was still arrogant and fiercely clever, and could at times be intolerable, but he became more bearable. Around John, Irene and Nero he was almost considerate and warm, around others he grew less mean. Even Sally could no longer say she hated him.

Irene also stayed fiercely independent. She was still strong willed and determined, but, just like Sherlock, gentler in her censure of others and her sadistic streak had vanished.

While John was disappointed, he wasn't surprised when Irene chose not to stay at Baker Street. For people like Sherlock and Irene, who had such similar personalities, truly coexisting was impossible. But because Irene was now safe and had nothing more to fear in Britain, she moved closer, and both hers and Nero's or Sherlock's visits were very frequent.

After all, the three of them needed each other.

.

.

.

Finished!

Once again, THANK YOU to everyone! Writing this has been very fun, and I couldn't have done it without you.

I hope you liked it!

Laura xxxx