Carmen

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Sherlock was awoken by the sound of Carmen's crying.

"Carmen," he groaned, rolling over in the bed to face her cot. Opening his eyes, and trying to blink away his sleep, the detective heaved a sigh. "Okay, okay," he whispered, bending over the side of the cot to pull his daughter's tiny body out. She was wailing, her face red and scrunched together as she swung her tiny arms about, bumping against Sherlock's hands in the process.

It had been nearly a week since the detective had technically "adopted" Carmen, and since that night, he'd gotten little to no sleep, a mixture of cases and his daughter's cries forbidding him from getting rest.

Yawning widely, Sherlock pulled Carmen close to his chest, leaning back against the headrest and closing his eyes as he ran his fingertips across the back of her soft head. "What seems to be the problem?" he murmured, peering down at the screaming girl on his chest.

In response, Carmen paused, taking a moment to gaze up at Sherlock with watery eyes. She sniffled loudly, sticking her lip out as another tear slid down her cheek.

Every time Carmen cried, Sherlock couldn't help but feel a little pang of sadness and guilt twinge in his chest. Staring down at the little girl with sad eyes, the detective took notice of the way his daughter was gripping tightly onto his shirt with her tiny fists. "Carmen?" he whispered, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. He frowned slightly upon feeling how warm she felt.

Thinking she was probably overheated from the babygrow she was wearing, Sherlock leaned forward, placing Carmen's tiny body on the bed. "Here we go," he murmured, gently unbuttoning the fabric. He quickly checked her nappy, but frowned once again when he noticed she was clean. So far, the source of the little girl's crying had always come from either a soiled nappy or hunger.

"Overreacting," Sherlock muttered, silently scolding himself. "You're probably just hungry, hmm?" he asked, pulling Carmen back into his arms.

Yawning once again, and gently bouncing his daughter in the crook of his arm, the detective left the bed, and slowly made his way into the kitchen, humming to himself as he walked.

Upon feeling her father's comforting embrace, Carmen seemed to calm down, relaxing into Sherlock's arms, a fistful of the detective's shirt still clutched tightly in her hand. She groaned quietly, squeezing her eyes shut in discomfort, her grip tightening.

"Hey," Sherlock whispered, stopping just as he entered the kitchen. Brows furrowed in worry, he glanced down at the little girl, placing a comforting hand to the back of her head. "It's all right," he reassured gently, bending down to press a tender kiss to the tip of her nose. "Shh..."

A small frown still on her face, Carmen opened her deep blue eyes, reaching her free hand up towards Sherlock, and splayed her tiny fingers across the detective's cheek. "Muu," she sighed, fingers curling against her father's skin.

"Hmm," Sherlock hummed in reply, keeping his head bent low towards Carmen's face. His raven hair brushed against her forehead as he smiled under her touch. "Better?"

Though he'd once been embarrassed by talking out loud to the little girl, the detective now found that he talked to her often, usually asking questions, though he knew she couldn't answer, and speaking to her about complications on cases.

"Come on then," he added, murmuring as he pressed another quick kiss to Carmen's cheek.

Keeping his daughter snuggled close to his chest, Sherlock glided around the kitchen, quickly making a bottle for the little girl. Knowing that he would probably be up with her for a little while longer, if not for the rest of the night, with bottle in hand, Sherlock sat down in his chair, settling into the welcoming cushions. Smiling down at the little girl in his arms, the detective gently moved Carmen to the crook of his arm, giving her the bottle of formula.