My undying gratitude to my knowledgeable and invaluable Brit-picker and advisor mrspencil and my lovely and encouraging beta Wynsom.

This story is based on an actual event.

000

Leota loved her work. Really, she did. As a part of the housekeeping staff of one of the best hospitals in London, she certainly had her share of sick to clean up, bedpans to empty, toilets to scrub. But Leota knew that clean beds and germ-free rubbish bins were as important to a patient's recovery as top-notch medical care and attentive nursing.

And, sometimes, she was witness to some very entertaining and often fascinating bits of other people's lives. It was like living in a soap opera, most days. Today, for example, she had a front-row seat to a blessed event in one of the most intriguing families she'd ever seen.

She was on the maternity ward—her favourite part of St Mary's—when a heavily pregnant and rather frightened-looking patient was wheelchaired off the lift by a young, blond woman. This young blonde immediately began issuing orders to all and sundry as if she were a doctor herself, although Leota knew all of the doctors who worked in St Mary's and Bossy Blonde was not one of them.

"Dr Hooper! Dr Watson! We weren't expecting you for another four weeks yet," the head midwife greeted the women warmly. "How are we, then?"

Bossy Blonde replied for them both, of course. "Her water broke over twenty-four hours ago, and she has shown no signs of going into labour. I'm afraid we may have to induce."

"Well, let's find you a bed and then we'll check you out," the midwife smiled reassuringly. "I'll be right back."

"Mary, there's something wrong with the baby. I just know it!" the Distraught Patient wailed softly. "She hasn't moved in ages and it's happening too early and I don't want a C-section but I'm so scared there's something wrong and maybe we should get her out as soon as possible, but what if that's the wrong decision and I really wanted to have a natural birth in the Birthing Centre but that won't be possible now, will it, but maybe it would be better to. . . ."

"Shush, Molly dear," Bossy Blonde knelt by the wheelchair and gently brushed Distraught Patient's hair from her face. "Calm down. We'll make those decisions when we have more information. And whatever happens, we will deal with it together, yeah? It'll be all right." The girls held hands and waited. Leota smiled. Perhaps Bossy Blonde was so bossy because she was worried, too. Leota could forgive her for that.

And then the first intriguing development of the day occurred. The midwife returned with an odd look on her face. "I just talked with the chief administrator. You're to be taken to the Lindo Wing and given the best en suite room available," she informed them in a low tone. "Something about security. And you're to be allowed any visitors you like, even children. It's most unprecedented!"

Distraught Patient's eyes grew wide with shock. Bossy Blonde's eyes crinkled with laughter. "Mycroft!" they both exclaimed at once, Patient looking annoyed, Blonde looking pleased. Leota's eyes widened as well. The Lindo Wing was reserved for those either wealthy enough to afford private care or important enough to require complete privacy and extra security. These ladies certainly did not look rich; and they were so surprised by this development that they obviously did not consider themselves important. But why would they need extra security?

Bossy Blonde pushed the wheelchair after the midwife, who led them down the corridor. Leota trailed behind a bit, her curiosity piqued.

"How did he know?" Distraught Patient demanded. "Is he keeping us under surveillance? Still?"

"No, no, dear, it was me," Bossy Blonde explained. "When we couldn't reach any of the boys, I thought Mycroft was more likely to be able to track them down in a hurry than I would be. Of all times for them to take a case out of town!"

Patient huffed impatiently. "When is he going to stop feeling he owes me something?" she sighed.

"Never," Blonde chuckled. "It's his way of staying in control. Just accept it and enjoy it, Molly. You'll get the best care money can buy and not pay tuppence for it."

000

It was hours before Leota's duties required her to enter the Lindo Wing. As she pushed a broom down the corridor she could hear the small knot of employees gathered around the nurses' station speculating about the mysterious young women in the private suite.

"They aren't royalty, are they?"

"I heard they're high-class criminals of some sort."

"I heard they're witnesses for the prosecution against some major crime boss."

"Don't be ridiculous. One of them's Somebody in the government—that's all it is."

Leota spoke up. "I heard them talking earlier. Someone important owes them a favour," she volunteered.

But before the others could question her further, the next intriguing development arrived in the form of three very dishevelled but extremely good-looking men striding quickly down the corridor. They could not have been more different from one another, yet together they made a striking sight. And they were headed straight for Distraught Patient's door. All eyes followed them, drinking in the view. A few of the women sighed appreciatively. Speculation spewed like water from a fountain.

"Which one's the father, then?"

"Gorgeous Grey—he's gone into the room first, and the others aren't disputing his right to do so."

"Oh, but he's so old! My money's on Tall, Dark, and Handsome!"

"That's your wishful thinking, is all."

"Obviously, it can't be Handsome. Look at him-he's having to be pushed in by the short one."

"The short one—Captain Adorable, I'd call him; he's obviously the one in charge. Now there's a chap who looks like the father-type— used to telling people what to do."

"Maybe it doesn't matter who the father is," Leota offered the confused little group. "I saw them together, the patient and another woman—a Bossy Blonde. They were holding hands and all."

"That was the doula," a voice said from behind them. The Matron frowned at the little knot of gossipers.

Leota frowned as well. She knew that a doula generally developed a close, trusting relationship with her clients as their birthing coach and patient advocate. However, the affectionate bond between the two women she had witnessed seemed more than a business relationship.

"Have you nothing better to do? Get to work!" the Matron growled.

"But, you must know," one of the interns ventured. "Which one's the father?"

"The one who isn't asked to leave when the time comes," was all the reply they received.

They quickly dispersed. But the mysterious little family in the private suite remained the chief topic of hospital gossip all that day. Who were they?

000

When Leota arrived for her shift the next morning, she connived to be assigned to the Lindo Wing straightaway. Entering the waiting area with her bucket and mop, she noticed Tall, Dark and Handsome slumped in one of the uncomfortable chairs beside Captain Adorable. So Gorgeous Grey was the father after all. She was happy that she had put her fiver on him in the betting pool.

Watching the two men surreptitiously as she worked, she noted that they had changed clothes and cleaned up since she had seen them the day before and so apparently had gone home sometime that night. However, they both looked as if they hadn't slept at all; Adorable, in particular, had dark circles under his eyes. And yet they did not look grieved. Leota had worked at St. Mary's long enough to know grief when she saw it. These men seemed quietly subdued, but also quite pleased. Mother and baby must be all right, then.

A sudden bustle brought an elderly woman into the waiting area with a small, blond boy in tow. The two men rose politely to greet her in warm, joyous tones, and the boy flung his arms around first Captain Adorable and then Tall, Dark and Handsome with great excitement.

"So, a girl, you said! And small, but healthy, the precious little thing. What a relief—what a joy! I brought tea," Sweet Old Lady said, holding out a thermos bottle. "And some sandwiches. I know it's odd, having sandwiches for breakfast, but you must be starved enough to eat anything."

"I want to see Jussie!" the child cried in an exaggerated whisper, having apparently been told to be quiet in a hospital. "I want to see her!"

"We have to wait a bit, Ian," Captain Adorable said gently but firmly. "The doctor will tell us when she can have visitors."

"You ARE the doctor!" the boy exclaimed, jumping impatiently. "I NEED to see Jussie!"

"I'm not Justine's doctor. We have to wait. Sherlock, you and Ian walk down to the gardens and have your tea, why don't you? Just for a bit." Captain A. gave his companion a significant look that quelled T. D. & H.'s initial scowl of protest. Soon, Tall, Dark and Handsome and the little boy were walking hand in hand down the corridor.

Captain Adorable invited Sweet Old Lady to have a seat and then sat close beside her silently. She reached over and took his hand in both of hers.

"It was a hard night," Sweet Old Lady prompted him softly. "But she's all right, isn't she? Aren't they both all right?"

"Oh, yes!" the man hastened to assure her. "Yes, they're both fine, now. But it was quite an exciting night, to say the least. Her labour was unproductive for ever so long, and then when it was finally time to push, the baby's heartrate dropped dramatically. It was as if all of poor Molly's fears had come to pass. The doctor was called in and they were getting her ready to go to the operating theatre for a C-section when Molly suddenly said she would NOT have surgery if she could help it and gave one great Herculean push—and out came Justine all in one go! Mary said she was so impressed that she's decided to build an altar to Molly–the-Goddess-of-Child-Bearing in Delphi next time we happen to go to Greece."

Sweet Old Lady chuckled warmly. "Ah, our Mary. Nothing can frighten her out of her sense of humour, can it?"

Captain A. smiled. "No, I suppose not. But, well, Justine was born with the cord wrapped around her neck twice, blue and still and deathly quiet. Mary said it was the most horrifying thing she'd ever seen. It was a tense moment, I can tell you! The doctor revived the baby quickly, though, and doesn't believe she suffered any permanent damage. She looks quite pink and perfect now. All's well that ends well, yeah?"

"Oh, dear. Such a traumatic experience for a new mother," the Lady dithered nervously. "Oh, I'm so glad it turned out all right. And how is dear Greg?"

"It's been a long night, and Greg was calm as you please through it all, but once it was over he was a right mess. But he's pulled himself together. He's lost one child, you know; it would be too much if he lost Justine as well. Thank God, he's been spared that."

Leota then felt two pairs of eyes on her as all three of them suddenly realised that she hadn't moved the mop in several spellbound minutes. She blushed hotly and turned away, scrubbing at the floor with a vengeance.

Before she'd finished, Tall, Dark and Handsome returned with the high-spirited little boy running ahead of him.

"Can we see her yet? Can we? Can we?" the child demanded, forgetting to whisper.

"Not yet, love," Adorable said calmly. "Justine had a rough night. Getting born is hard work and she needs her rest."

"Death and resurrection do always take it out of one," Handsome muttered under his breath.

"You would know, dear," Sweet Old Lady murmured enigmatically.

000

Sweet Old Lady was escorted out by Gorgeous Grey later that morning. "I'm so sorry, dear; it's just my hip. I can't sit in these miserable chairs," Leota heard her explain as they went.

"Now, Mrs H, we're just glad you came by," Gorgeous assured her, with affection in his gravelly voice. "Justine will have all her life to get to know her Gran." He looked exhausted, as well he might, but immensely happy; gratitude simply oozed out of him. Leota thought it was beautiful.

But: "Mrs H?" And then "Gran?" How were all of those mysterious people related, anyway? Leota wondered.

An hour or so after lunch, she was instructed to go into the Mystery Room and clean the en suite bathroom and empty the bins. Leota was elated! A chance to see these intriguing people up close, and perhaps even speak to them.

She knocked softly on the door, and when there was no answer, gently eased it open and slipped in. The room was crowded with sleeping people. Leota smiled at them—how lovely they all were: uncomfortable and weary, and yet determined to stay together.

Distraught Patient, no longer distraught, was resting peacefully with a little smile on her face—Mona Lisa in repose. One hand reached towards the little cot where the baby lay. The other lay on the silver head of Gorgeous Grey. This poor chap was collapsed in a chair that had been drawn as close to the hospital bed as possible, his head on Patient's pillow and one arm stretched beside her along the side of her bed. In his lap was precariously sprawled the little blond boy, boneless as children are wont to be when asleep.

On the rollaway guest bed next to him was curled the doula, Bossy Blonde, one hand draped over Gorgeous' knee and her feet tucked snuggly beneath the thigh of Captain Adorable. Captain A. was sitting on the foot of the rollaway, one arm curled around Bossy's bent knees, his legs stretched out in front of him, a pillow wedged between his head and the wall behind him.

Tall, Dark and Handsome had somehow folded his entire, long body into a metal-framed chair that was placed at the foot of the rollaway. His curly head lolled over onto Adorable's shoulder, and he looked as child-like as the little boy in his equally boneless way.

Leota stepped quietly over to the baby's cot to see the cause of all this excitement. The band on the child's wrist said "Lestrade, Justine Marie". And she was, as Adorable had claimed, pink and perfect. Her little rosebud mouth moved thoughtfully in her sleep and whispy brown curls framed her tiny face. Impossibly small hands had escaped the swaddling and lay spread on the blanket like soft starfish, dimpled and with perfect little nails.

"You can't have her. She's MY baby," a small voice whispered behind her. Leota turned to smile down at the earnest face of the little blond boy, who had caught her in the act.

"Oh, you're her big brother, are you?" she inquired, amused.

He frowned. "No. I'm a Watson," was the enigmatic reply. "I'm Ian."

"This isn't your mother, then?" Leota pointed towards Patient.

The boy shook his head. "That's my Aunt. Aunt Mollllly." He rolled the l's around on his tongue several times before letting go of them, as if he were trying hard to get them right.

"So you're the baby's cousin," she concluded.

"No. I'm not a cousin. I'm a Watson," the boy repeated insistently.

Leota was now determined that she should piece together the relationships between all of these fascinating people, who so obviously were a family but who had no family resemblance whatsoever. "But that's your Aunt Molly's husband next to her, yeah?" The child nodded.

"So that's your uncle whose lap you were sleeping in."

The child who called himself Ian shook his head. "That's my Papa Greg. He's my mum's dad."

This was a surprise! And yet, second marriages resulting in second families were not uncommon, Leota knew. But—Ian's grandfather married Ian's aunt? Leota shook her head. "So, if your mum and the baby have the same father, I guess that makes you the baby's nephew," she ventured hesitantly.

Ian Watson looked at her impatiently. "I am a Watson," he pronounced carefully, as if she were slow-witted. "That's my mum and dad, on the ovver bed. They are Watsons, so I am a Watson. Baby Jussie is not a Watson. She is a . . . .Llllestrade." The difficult name seemed to strangle the child as he strove to shape it on his tongue.

"I see," said Leota, who really didn't see.

"And that's my Uncle Sherllllock," the boy added. "He's not a Watson, eivver."

"Is he a Lestrade, then?" Leota wondered.

At this, Ian looked puzzled. "His name is Homes. Hollllmes. But I fink Papa Greg is his dad. That what it seems to me."

Leota felt better. If a member of this enigmatic family was unsure himself of how they were all related, how could she possibly figure it out? They all cared for each other, that was evident. What did it matter what they called one another? But still. . . .

"So, not brother, not cousin, not nephew," she wondered. "What will the baby call you, then, Ian?"

"Best friend!" was the prompt reply, with a smile that lit up the room. "I'm Jussie's best friend."

And really, Leota thought, what could be better?