Chapter Text
In hindsight, John thought, the smug expression on Mr. Copper's face as he'd carried a large box into the classroom should have told him that this wasn't going to be a Monday like any other.
However, he really hadn't anticipated the box to contain several realistic looking baby dolls and the sentence “Congratulations, you're going to be parents” to come out of his teacher's mouth.
The statement was followed by a moment of absolute silence. Then everyone erupted into chatter at once.
“They've lost it,” Greg muttered next to John, shaking his head. “Now they've really lost it.” John only nodded in agreement.
“Oh, but this is exciting!” Molly whispered to their left.
"Bollocks,” Anderson sneered behind them. "What kind of bullshit is this?"
One voice rose over the others, the comment clearly directed at their teacher. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Owner of the voice was Sherlock Holmes. John raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at him.
Sherlock hardly ever spoke in class. He was known for correcting the teachers from time to time, but completely withdrew from the happenings around him otherwise. Despite sharing three courses with him, John had never exchanged a word with Sherlock in the two terms that they'd been classmates.
There were all sorts of rumours about Sherlock Holmes, none of which John really listened to, but they did spark his interest. If he was being honest he'd had a weird fascination with the boy since the beginning of the year, as Mike called it (he refused to see it as a crush, as Greg called it). There was an air about him that John couldn't quite explain, something that drew his gaze to him more times than he cared to admit.
Maybe that was why John had noticed that he'd spoken a few seconds before anyone else did.
The chatter died down as the other students realised what he'd said and focused on him. Mr. Copper seemed as surprised as everyone else that Sherlock had spoken, but looked quite delighted at the prospect of him contributing something to the discussion.
“Not at all, Mr. Holmes. Do you have something to say?”
Sherlock looked like he had a lot of things to say, John thought as he took in his stiff posture, the crease on his forehead, his set jaw. But he never did.
It was a shame, really. Whenever he opened his mouth, John ended up being stunned into silence. The force of knowledge and thoughtfulness behind the things he said was astonishing. It was quite the experience.
Not to mention that he had a lovely voice, too.
“Surely you must realise that this is the last term of Year 12 for everyone in this room but you,” Sherlock said. His eyes narrowed as he stared at the doll in Mr. Copper's hands. “We have more important things to focus on than a piece of plastic you're forcing us to carry around.”
“If you're worried about the educational value, Mr. Holmes, never fear. This project is part of your sociology class, it's not just for fun. And for the time being these aren't 'a piece of plastic', they're your children.”
Sherlock looked appalled. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Greg raised his arm.
“But for how long do we have to take them?” he asked, not bothering to wait until he was called on. “Like a week? Or only for the time of our sociology course, then?”
Mr. Copper let out an alarming laugh. “A week? My, Mr. Lestrade, you're in for a surprise if you ever get real children. They don't go away after a week, and neither do these babies. The purpose of this project is to create a realistic scenario to which you will have to adapt. We paid good money for these dolls, mind you, and it took ages for the school to be granted the necessary funds by the government, so they're going to be properly used. In fact, you'll be looking after them until the end of term.”
Anderson cried out before anyone else got the chance to react. “The end of term?”
John couldn't help but agree with the sentiment behind the question. What the hell were they thinking? He had enough to do with his courses and work, how was he going to look after a baby doll on top of that?
“You can't be serious!” Greg revolted. “That's what, over a month? You can't force us to take care of a doll for a month! We're in Sixth Form!”
“Yeah, actually, how exactly is that going to work?” John chipped in. “This is gonna take up a lot of our time. We can't do this,” he gesticulated towards the box, “on top of our classes!”
“You can, and you will.” Mr. Copper sounded like he didn't see any problem with the arrangement. “If you'll just let me finish, everything will be explained. As I said, this isn't just for fun. This project will make up 40% of your sociology grade, as well as 25% of your AS-level. The school is aware that you have a lot to do. However, we agreed that this project will provide valuable experiences and lessons for all of you. Starting with managing your work under less than ideal circumstances,” he explained with a nod in John's direction.
“Less than ideal circumstances, my arse,” Anderson muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear. John rolled his eyes and saw Sherlock doing the same from the corner of his eye. His lips twitched at the sight.
Mr. Copper talked right over the comment. “As for the amount of work the baby's going to be, well, that's why you'll be paired up. There's a doll for each group of two students.”
“How's that gonna work?” Janine asked, cocking her head. “One of us takes the baby home and does all the work and the other one gets to sit back and relax?”
“No, no, not at all. You're going to have to cooperate. Everything will be exactly as it would be if you had a real baby with your partner. You're going to work out how to split the work. We're currently contacting your parents, as some of you might have noticed. Most of them have agreed to accommodate your partners for the duration of the project when the need arises, for the sake of realism. Those of you who can't arrange anything of the like will have to take turns, like separated parents do. Yes, Miss Adler?”
John craned his head to get a look at her as Irene spoke. When she raised her hand, she usually had quite a lot to say.
“You speak of realism, Mr. Copper," she began, "but you might have noticed that there's an uneven number of male and female students in this class. Also, I don't see how this project can be anything but unrealistic for me, seeing as I'm gay and won't have to deal with an unplanned child ever in my life.”
Mr. Copper seemed unfazed. “Don't worry, Miss Adler, we're a modern school and we value tolerance and inclusion. This project isn't limited to mixed pairs, there'll be same-sex couples looking after the dolls as well.”
Irene looked indignant. “That defies the whole point of your so-called realistic project! How the hell would a same-sex couple accidentally end up with a baby?”
Mr. Copper sighed. “Please, don't take everything I say at face value, alright? Just go with it. Participation in this project is not negotiable.”
“I don't see why not.”
Sherlock had spoken again. Now his arms were crossed before his chest. “There's no point in doing it if there's no chance of us ever ending up with a baby by accident at all.”
John raised his eyebrows. Well. Maybe some of those rumours about Sherlock were true, after all.
Greg seemed to have read his thoughts, as he elbowed John in the ribs. John rolled his eyes, ignoring the suggestive smirk, and returned his attention to Sherlock.
“You can discuss all you want, you're doing this project. All of you.” Mr. Copper smiled at the groan going through the class, then clapped his hands. “Now, to the pairings. As there are twenty-four students in this class, I'll be putting you into groups of two now-”
“What?” John sat up in his chair. Greg gasped to his left.
“Seriously? We have to do this thing and can't even chose our partner on our own? What's the point in that?”
"The point is, as I've said before, that you'll learn to adapt to circumstances that aren't preferable to you. I thought of a good arrangement after taking different aspects into consideration. You can make suggestions for changes, but the final decision lies with me, got it?”
Mr. Copper sighed at the cross faces staring back at him.
“Think of the positive aspects. You're getting the full hands-on parenting experience right here for free, and you even get to give the kid back in the end! Just see it as a free trial. I mean, who gets that chance?” He cleared his throat as he took out a list. “Right, so, first the groups, then the details. I'll listen to your suggestions and we can discuss. Miss Adler, let's start with you.”
John looked around as he zoned out of the conversation. It wasn't that he was unpopular, he got along with most of his classmates well enough, but he found it hard to imagine himself looking after a baby for over a month with any of them.
He sighed. He'd just wait and see who Mr. Copper had paired him up with. As long as it wasn't Anderson...
“Do we at least get to pick a baby?” Irene asked as she went to the front of the classroom with Janine to collect their doll, peeking into the box.
“No. Just as in real life, the gender and looks of your baby are a surprise.” He grabbed a doll at random and handed it over to Janine, who clumsily held it against her chest. “And here's your care package. Next one's – ah, yes. Mr. Anderson.”
Anderson, as it turned out, got paired up with Sally Donovan, so at least that was out of the question. John sat back as his classmates received their dolls one after another. He had to give the school credit for diversity; each of the dolls had a different face and skin colour, resembling the students appropriately.
“Next one on my list is Molly Hooper. Miss Hooper, I paired you up with Greg Lestrade.”
Molly's cheeks turned a faint red. Greg suddenly straightened in his seat. John suppressed a sigh. Any slim chances of being paired up with Greg had just gone out the window.
He and Molly went to collect their doll and John looked around as Mr. Copper returned his attention to the list. Maybe he could get Mike or Sarah? They were nice enough.
“Next one's Sherlock Holmes. I've paired you up with John Watson.”
John's head snapped up. What?
He'd heard correctly, seeing as everyone in the room was now staring at him. So he hadn't been the only one wondering who would end up with Sherlock. Funnily enough, this arrangement hadn't occurred to him.
Speaking of. He wondered what Sherlock was thinking, but was strangely nervous to find out.
John licked his lips. Nothing for it. He squared his shoulders before glancing at Sherlock, who looked like he'd just bitten into something sour.
Perfect.
Before either of them could say anything, Mike raised his voice.
“Oh, that works perfectly, doesn't it, John? You've got three classes together, don't you? And you don't live too far from each other.”
John blinked in horror. Never mind the fact that Mike apparently knew where Sherlock lived – if he was trying to help John with his non-existent crush, he'd never hear the end of it.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, giving John a once-over as he considered Mike's words. “I suppose,” he said.
John swallowed. “Right.”
He rose from his chair to collect their doll, Sherlock following a moment later. John felt strangely aware of his tall presence looming right behind him.
Mr. Copper held out a doll with light brown skin to Sherlock, who persistently refused to take it. John rolled his eyes and snatched the doll from his teacher's hands. Sherlock took the care package wordlessly and returned to his seat. John followed him there, sitting down beside him. They waited in silence until the last pair had received their doll.
Mr. Copper clapped his hands once. “Now, everyone settled? Great. Let's get the introduction bit over with before we wake your kids up and your life's over for the next five weeks. Oh, come on, guys. It's a joke, you're allowed to laugh.”
John looked up in surprise when Sherlock huffed and shook his head.
“Idiot,” he said through his teeth. John tried to disguise his snorting as a cough and failed miserably. The first thing he heard Sherlock Holmes say that wasn't related to class, and it turned out to be this?
Sherlock's head spun around as he giggled. His eyes fixed on John's, and John, though his mouth suddenly felt dry, returned the look with a smile.
“You're not wrong,” he pointed out in a low voice, tilting his head towards their teacher. Sherlock blinked. John regarded him for another moment, then looked away, still smiling.
Well. Maybe this wasn't going to be too bad after all.
The next twenty minutes were spent with explanations of the project, the baby simulator and any remaining questions. John groaned when he heard that the doll was programmed to cry for different reasons and calm down only once its specific needs were tended to. Figuring out what it wanted would take ages. Especially if Sherlock continued to refuse any cooperation.
“Now, if you'd all open your packages, please. You'll find two bracelets inside. The red one is the main bracelet, but the blue one works the same way. You can put them on now, once you've decided who's wearing which. The only difference between them is that in extreme situations, the baby might require the main bracelet to be calmed. Mind you, sometimes it won't calm down at all. That's part of your challenge.”
John took hold of the two bracelets. He looked at them for a moment, then threw a questioning glance at Sherlock. His expression spoke volumes.
“I refuse to wear the main bracelet.”
John sighed. “Yeah, I figured as much. That's fine, I guess. Here, let me-”
He took Sherlock's wrist, startling him into complete stillness as he put the bracelet on. “There, all set. Can you do mine?”
Sherlock blinked a couple of times as he looked down at his wrist, then seemed to remember himself. He took the bracelet and wrapped it around John's outstretched wrist, his fingers ghosting over his skin so lightly it almost made John shiver. He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Good,” Mr. Copper continued, drawing the attention back to him, “as you'll have realised by now, the bracelets are where your ID chip is. You'll need it to show the baby you're there. There's a slot for the chips at the doll's back, you just have to press them in and the sensors will register that you're there. The bracelets can only be taken off if you cut through them, so don't even think about giving them to someone else. There is an extra bracelet for babysitting purposes, but the computer will register when it's being used too often. That will drop your final score once the system evaluates your data at the end of the project.”
“I'm sure you can change the records before handing the doll in,” Sherlock muttered. John gave him a stern look.
“Alright, you can unpack the rest at home. Most of what you'll need is in there. Two diapers and a bottle with sensors, another romper suit, the third bracelet. You'll have to take care of the rest yourself. I'm gonna pass these handbooks and the guidelines for the report you'll have to write on the project around now.”
A collective groan went through the class. “And once you've all got them, you can wake your babies up. Today's lesson is almost over. You just put your chip into the slot and wait until it starts making sounds.”
John took the stack of paper from Mike, who regarded him with a fond smile, and passed them on to Sherlock with a roll of his eyes. Then he took hold of the doll again, letting out a deep breath.
“Right, then. Shall I?”
Sherlock sighed, drawing out the long-suffering sound. “If you must.” John bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling at his stance.
“Alright, let's do this.”
He unbuttoned the doll's romper suit, peeking at the bottom parts in the process. “Ah, it's a girl, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn't.”
“Right.”
He found the slot and pressed his chip in. A moment passed, then the doll started making a strange babbling sound.
It sounded a lot like “ma-ma-ma-ma”.
Sherlock sighed. “Perfect.”
John had to agree. He held the doll up, squinting at its face. “It's kind of cute.”
Sherlock huffed. “It's an eight-pound, infant-shaped robot wrapped in plastic.”
John eyed the baby again, then smiled. “Cute plastic, though.”
It was over in a second, but John could have sworn that he saw a twitch at the corner of Sherlock's mouth. He held back a grin.
As everywhere around them the other dolls started to coo, he asked, “So, your place or mine?”
Sherlock gave him a long, assessing look. “Mine,” he decided. “It's somewhat closer to the school and there's more room. My parents are out most of the time, so we'll be left alone more than at yours, with your sister being home all the time since she's dropped out of college.”
John's mouth fell open. “How did you-”
Sherlock had risen before he got to finish the sentence. “Come by this afternoon, I need to sort something out first.” He pointed at the doll. “Take the robot baby until then, would you? I'll text you the address.”
“Wait, you-” John was momentarily distracted by the crowing baby in his arms. When he looked up, Sherlock was already halfway out of the door. “You don't even have my number!” he called after him as he cradled the doll to his chest, but Sherlock was already gone.
* * *
John wasn't surprised when his text alert sounded not long after he'd sat down for lunch. He'd let Harry's laughter wash over him when she'd seen him come home with a doll, then dumped it on her to grab a bite. He picked up his phone to read the message.
57b St Vincent Road. It's a ten minute walk from the school's bus station. Red House. Can't miss it. -SH
John typed out a reply.
Alright, be there in about 40 minutes. Just got to finish my lunch.
So how did you get my number? And how did you know all these things earlier, actually?
He barely got to take another bite before his text alert went off again.
Really? You couldn't wait 40 more minutes to ask me these pressing questions? -SH
John smiled.
Indulge me.
This time it took a little longer for Sherlock to reply. John didn't know what he'd expected when he read the text, but it hadn't been that.
Fine. I know my house is closer to the school than yours because you take the bus there, while I walk. I can tell you're used to working in small spaces from the way you arrange your things on your desk in class. Even when you sit alone you put everything neatly in one spot at the top of your desk, where it'll take up the least space. Therefore, not much room at home. Even less so, now that your sister's back home. You started exclusively using pads of notepaper from West London College a few weeks into the second term, which you wouldn't if your sister still went there and used them herself. Child's play.
As for your phone number, Lestrade sits next to me in maths. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. It's his own fault for not setting a password on his phone. -SH
“What are you gaping at?” Harry asked, trying to peer at John's phone as she walked around the table. “Here, your doll's waking up.” She dumped the baby into his arms without much ado, and John only just caught it.
“Careful!” he cried. “And it's- nothing. Nothing.” He balanced the doll in one hand and his plate in another before setting it down next to the sink and unlocking his phone again.
That was incredible. Absolutely incredible.
When he'd grabbed the care package and the doll, he'd received another message.
You think so? That's new. -SH
How so?
People aren't usually too fond of being observed like that. They tell me to piss off before I even get to explain. -SH
So you do that often, do you? Well, telling you that would be a bit beside the point, seeing as I'm now on my way to you ;)
He didn't get another text after that, but was greeted by Sherlock waiting at the front door before he even reached the gate.
“You know you don't have to sign every text you send me, right? I got your number after the first one,” John said with a grin. Sherlock merely quirked his eyebrows as he walked towards him.
John took a long look at the house while Sherlock opened the gate. The red bricks really were conspicuous. It looked homely and not at all like a house John would have imagined Sherlock to live in. Not that he'd ever imagined anything like that.
“So this is your house, huh?” he said, stepping into the front garden and holding out the doll to Sherlock.
“No, John, this is actually a complete stranger's house. I led you here to get you arrested for breaking and entering and then carry out the project on my own.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. The effect was somewhat diminished by the baby doll in his arms. “Of course it's my house.”
John grinned. “You put a lot of thought into that,” he remarked. “Don't get any ideas.”
Sherlock snorted. “Hardly,” he said. “Why in the world would I want to look after a baby simulator on my own for several weeks?”
“Touché,” John replied, following Sherlock as he went inside.
The interior of the house was much like he'd expected from the looks of it. Despite the cleanness, there were a lot of odds and ends lying around without making the rooms seem messy. They just looked well-used and homely.
There were pieces of furniture next to each other that clearly didn't belong. The walls were a mix of vibrant colours – John spotted green and red wallpaper in passing- as well as a friendly shade of white, not the bright, clinical type they had at school, completed by pastel doors in yet another shade of green.
None of it should have fit together, but still somehow did. It all carried a sense of snugness, and John felt at ease instantly. He would have liked to see the rest of the space where Sherlock lived, but he didn't feel like intruding. He figured that he'd see most of it in the weeks to come, anyway.
“Before you ask, yes, this is my room,” Sherlock remarked dryly as he led John to the door at the end of the hall.
John rolled his eyes and smiled despite himself. “Git,” he muttered. Then he took a look around.
Sherlock still stood in the doorway, wearing an expression John would have described as nervous if it hadn't been Sherlock Holmes he was looking at.
“It's nice,” John said, glancing back at him.
It really was. The better part of the room was cluttered like the rest of the house, but Sherlock's bed (huge bed, John noticed) and his desk were almost painstakingly tidy. He hadn't expected any decorations, but was surprised to find various pictures on the wall. He noticed a periodic table, as well as a scientific figure of a honeybee in a frame hung up over his bed. John's mouth twitched at that. It seemed so Sherlock.
Sherlock gave him something close to a smile. “Mi casa es su casa,” he said with a perfect accent, his shoulders relaxing minimally as he stepped into the room.
Something inside John softened. Maybe he, like everyone else at school, had yet to get to know the real Sherlock. The prospect of doing that made his stomach flutter in a way he didn't want to examine any closer right now. Or ever.
He cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I sit on the bed?” he asked. Sherlock nodded.
“Suit yourself.” He himself sank to the floor in a graceful motion (graceful? John thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself, Really?) before the bed, eyeing the doll warily as John put it down next to him.
“Right, let's get this over with.” John sighed as he pulled out the stack of paper Mr. Copper had given them earlier. Sherlock regarded it with a scowl. John decided not to dwell on how adorable that expression made him look.
“Or we could just... not do that,” Sherlock suggested.
“Nope.”
He sighed, dramatically crossing his arms before his chest. “I am already regretting this.”
“Well, you're stuck with me for the next couple of weeks, so deal with it,” John replied dryly. “Okay, so there's a questionnaire we have to fill in now and another one for after the project.” He skimmed the questions. “God, this is gonna take forever. What do they need to know all that for?”
He nearly jumped when the doll suddenly made a loud, high-pitched crying sound. “Jesus!”
Sherlock watched the baby with an appalled expression. “Do something,” he demanded. John stared at him in disbelief.
“What am I supposed to do? You do something!”
“You have the main bracelet!”
“And I already had her over lunch, now it's your turn!”
Sherlock stared daggers at him. John stared right back, crossing his arms for good measure. “Whenever you're ready,” he said, raising his brows. Sherlock's eyes narrowed. It took another moment, but then he pulled himself up and snatched the doll from the bed.
“Careful,” John warned him, already reaching for the handbook. “You need to support her head when you pick her up, otherwise she'll start crying even more.” He skimmed the text. “Put the chip into the slot on her back, and then- ah, try rocking her back and forth.”
Sherlock stared at him again. John nodded encouragingly, miming the motion with his arms. Sherlock looked like he'd swallowed something bitter, but started rocking the doll anyway. The crying ebbed away almost immediately. Sherlock dropped his head back, closing his eyes.
“This is humiliating,” he ground out.
John only sighed. “Right. Can you answer the questions like this? We'd best get started on them, who knows when she'll start crying again.”
All he got in reply was an unintelligible grumble. He picked up the questionnaire anyway.
“First one,” he read out loud, “name of your-” He dropped the papers. “Jesus, Sherlock, we forgot to pick a name!”
“What does it need a name for?”
“What does it- are you actually serious right now? We're supposed to treat her,” John stressed the pronoun, “like we would treat a real baby, so of course she needs a bloody name. God.” He shook his head, exhaling a deep breath. “You're not gonna make this easy, are you?”
Sherlock gave him a look that spoke volumes.
“Look, I didn't ask for this either, okay? But we're stuck with this robot baby now, so we're gonna have to get through it. And it'll be a lot easier if we just try and get along, so one of us doesn't have to do all the work.”
“I'm not trying not to get along with you,” Sherlock gave back, looking frustrated. “I was merely asking a valid question. I don't understand it. This whole thing. It doesn't make the slightest bit of sense to me. You have nothing to do with it.”
They looked at each other for a moment, and suddenly John felt guilty. He'd done it, hadn't he? He'd gone and made assumptions about Sherlock based on nothing but the rumours going around. But, as he realised now, they seemed to have nothing to do with the boy standing in front of him, looking so dissatisfied with himself for not having been able to make him understand.
“God, I'm sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “Really. I didn't mean that. Okay. Like I said, I'm not happy about having to do this either, but I think we're gonna get through this if we work together.”
Sherlock's face looked guarded, but he nodded. “So, what name do you have in mind for our daughter?” he asked after a moment, relaxing when John broke into a grin. "Any suggestions?"
“Er, none so far, actually,” he admitted, tilting his head as he ran his fingers through his hair. “I don't suppose you've got a preference, do you?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Well, how about...” He trailed off, looking around the room for inspiration. “Margaret?” he suggested, catching the name of an author on one of the many books Sherlock kept in his room.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I don't like it that much either,” John said. “What about... oh!” A grin spread on his face as it came to him. “I know! Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?” Sherlock echoed, raising his eyebrows in a silent question.
John smirked. “Yep. I deduce from that picture,” he pointed at the wall, “that you like bees. So we'll call her Beatrice, and then we can shorten it to Bee, and soon you'll start associating positive feelings with her because you like bees and then this project won't be so bad for you anymore.”
“That is... the worst reasoning I've ever heard.”
John's grin grew wider. “You like it.”
“I don't hate it.”
“And that's as good as it's going to get. Beatrice it is, then.” He filled in the gap on the questionnaire before reading out question two. “Answer the following questions with yes, no or undecided. Partner A, do you want children?”
And so they continued. John had been right, it took them ages to finish the questions. And yet it somehow didn't feel like it. Sherlock was surprisingly funny in response to one question, then just as thoughtful in response to the next one, and John realised after a while that he was actually enjoying himself. Enjoying getting to know Sherlock more.
When his growling stomach reminded him of the time, it was already getting dark outside.
“What the hell?” John mumbled, stretching his back. Where had the afternoon gone? He yawned. “It's getting late,” he said, standing up with a sigh. “I better get going.”
Sherlock blinked at him, then nodded once. “Yes. Of course.”
There was a moment of silence during which they both looked at the doll. Then John let out a sigh. “I'll take her with me for tonight, yeah? We can work out a schedule tomorrow.”
Sherlock nodded slowly. “Fine.”
John rubbed his eyes after he slipped into his jacket. He hadn't noticed how tired he'd gotten as they'd acquainted themselves with the details of the project. “That wasn't too bad, was it? Bit exhausting, though,” he mumbled after suppressing a yawn.
“That was only the first day,” Sherlock pointed out.
“I know.” John took the doll from Sherlock's hands. He hadn't realised that Sherlock had carried her the whole afternoon until then, not complaining once. He supposed it was only fair that he took her for the first night.
“Right. I'll see you tomorrow, then. Wish me luck,” he mumbled.
“Good luck,” Sherlock remarked. He looked at him for another moment and for a second John thought he was going to say something, but then he opened the front door and let John step through without another word.