Oh Dear

by "Ah, Russell, what is to become of me?"

It was about six weeks after we returned from Africa that I began to feel it. I was so tired. I felt happy one moment and like crying the next. I just couldn't figure it out. I thought maybe it was the aftermath of being home again after our wonderful time in Africa. Perhaps I was merely depressed.

But then I became dizzy. For no reason at all, a wave of vertigo would wash over me. I hid all of this well from Holmes. I did not like to share such trifles with him. It is not my nature, nor the nature of our marriage, for me to share something so personal unless it involves us both. Besides, I thought it would pass.

Finally, it became obvious something was really the matter. I guess it was late September of 1925. I fainted one morning while trying to work on a translation at my desk. Holmes found me that way, fallen from my desk chair. I had tried to get up from my work and the dizzy spell just took me. I hit my head on the desk on the way down and gashed my forehead. It bled all over the place and I suppose it looked dreadful. Holmes came in from caring for the bees and saw me. The next thing I knew he had carried me to the sofa and was on his knees next to me. He wrapped a rag around my head and was lifting my head up for a sip of brandy when I fully came around.

"How silly of me," I said this without a great deal of conviction. "I must have tripped and bumped my head."

"You did not trip. But you most certainly bumped your head on the way down. You fell because you had another spell of vertigo. I have watched you fight your way through several of them and was concerned you would do this." Holmes said all of this calmly while wiping off my face. He was right up against me and had picked up my hand in one of his. His grey eyes were filled with concern but his voice was neutral, "When are you going to do something about it?" he asked.

"There is nothing to be done about anything." I replied hotly.

"Come, come Russell. I know what is going on. You are depressed, fatigued and having these spells more frequently. Also, you have not had any sort of cycle for several months. I know that you are far from regular in that regard but this is too long."

I came up from my position on the sofa and stared at him. I was irritated that he had noticed all I had been hiding from him. "What are you suggesting?"

"I am suggesting that you are showing all the signs of being pregnant."

"Holmes! Pregnant? Me?! You are out of your mind. We have been over this already. I cannot have children. You said you did not want any anyway."

"What I want and what you think is an established fact may have nothing to do with it. I suggest we use the rabbit I have captured in the garden."

"What?"

"Russell, we can run the test ourselves and eliminate the possibility if nothing else."

"I cannot believe you are going on about this, Holmes. Are you having some sort of regrets?"

"No. I am merely stating the obvious. Just lay there while I get a needle and draw some blood. I have the candidate in a cage outside."

Clearly, Holmes was out of his mind. I was shocked. Such a thing had never occurred to me. I could tell he had been thinking about this and was quite determined, so I let him go ahead and get the needle ready. I really felt strange: A baby? What in the world would we do with one? It would be so completely odd to think of the two of us as parents. After all, we did not have a conventional home life. What could we offer a child? I always thought it was best we could not have them. But what if it were true?

Ridiculous; it was not true. I was becoming concerned about my health, but I really thought pregnancy was the least possible reason. More likely, it was something horrible and incurable. Perhaps that was why Holmes was acting so irrationally. Maybe he suspected something truly deadly and did not want to tell me. He was merely distracting me with this other thing about the rabbit and the blood test. How odd of him. Usually he came out and told me the truth. He knew me better than I knew myself most of the time. It was quite true what he had said about my cycles. I had not had anything of the sort for months. Also, my breasts were so tender, perhaps that was related somehow. I remembered wincing when he had touched me.

It must be a type of cancer. I suppose he had known of it but did not know how to tell me. This was all going to be very difficult. Perhaps ignoring things was really the best alternative for now.

I had reasoned through all of this and had decided to get up and go on about the day. Holmes and his needle and rabbit would have to wait. If something was seriously wrong with me I would rather work and think about it than pretend it was something else. I could not fathom Holmes' way of dealing with it but had decided it was not mine.

I rose up on the sofa and was trying to clear my head enough to get up when he returned. "You can forget the needle, Holmes" I said. "If you think there is really something wrong, then tell me. There is no sense in playing this sort of game. I am not pregnant. If anything, I should see a doctor, but I think for now it is best if I just return to work."

"Sit, Russell." He commanded me. "I think the explanation for your ailments is quite simple and we can test my hypothesis for certain if you will just hold still."

"Holmes! This is ridiculous."

"Indulge me, wife. Give me your arm." His voice was commanding and certain. Without further protest, I offered up my arm, he found the vein and inserted the needle. As soon as he had drawn the blood he left the room and headed towards the garden. I got up, unsteadily, and followed him. I watched as he injected the hapless rabbit he had caged. Its only crime was eating lettuces and I felt somewhat sorry for it.

"Does the method really work, Holmes?"

"Doctors use it all the time. The chemical composition of a pregnant woman's blood is lethal to rabbits. It is a certain test."

"How long does it take?"

"I'm not certain. I think we should go on in and have some tea and check on the creature in an hour or so."

"I still think this is useless."

"I know you do. Come inside with me."

We went in and made ourselves tea and ate the scones Mrs. Hudson had left for us. It was her day to visit her lady friends and she never left without being certain we should not have to survive on my culinary skills. I was suddenly quite ravenous. In the early mornings, I found eating an unworthy chore. But by this point in the day I really wanted something substantial. I ate the scones and also took cheese and apples from the larder and ate those. Holmes read his paper and pretended not to notice me, but I could feel his gaze as it fell on me. I refused to answer it and went on about my feasting.

After an hour or more he rose from his chair and headed toward the back door. The silence between us was deafening. He looked at me and said, "Are you coming?" I shook my head in the negative and continued with my apple.

He was back in a moment with an odd expression on his face. He crooked his finger at me and bid me come with him. At this point I did what he asked and followed him out. He pointed to the cage and did not say a word: Our rabbit was indeed dead. I said something totally inane like, "Oh dear" before looking at Holmes in wonder. He smiled and stepped forward to wrap his arms around me right at the point I felt my feet give way. In short, I swooned.

He held me up and spoke right to my face, "Russell, dearest, it's okay. Hold onto me and we'll get you inside." I fought to stay upright and tried to clear my head. I couldn't. There were so many things going through it that I could not focus. I simply clung to Holmes as he led me into the house and up the stairs to our room. Before I knew it, we were lying on the bed and he was pulling me to him. He was stroking my hair and began talking, "Russ, love, this is not by any means an unusual situation. Really, men and women have been facing the same news for millennia. It will be alright."

"But how is it possible Holmes? I was told it would never be so I put it out of my mind. I mean, we have not discussed the whole idea at all since our wedding night."

"I don't think I need to explain how it's possible." He said this grinning and kissed my forehead, "It is, however, surprising. Between my age and your injuries I never really gave it much thought either. But these last few weeks your symptoms seemed more and more obvious."

"Damn it, Holmes. I really dislike it when you notice something about me of which I have no knowledge. It isn't fair."

"Quite right; it isn't. I just have all those years of experience in life that you don't."

"What kind of parents will we be, Holmes? I cannot imagine myself as a mother. You have been a father. I can see you in that role. But what of me? I am not adequate to the job."

"Russell, I have hardly been a father. My son died the week that I met him. I can only hope that I'll be of more use this go 'round. As for you, why wouldn't you be adequate to the job? Don't you remember how little Jessica took to you? You are gentle in your own way and will do just fine. All we do now is get you to a doctor and let nature take its course. We really have very little to say in the matter at this point. What's done is done. I had ceased to think of it too, but life has a way of bringing you things when you least expect them. I have reason to know that." He smiled and kissed my neck. I couldn't really sort out my own feelings at that point, but Holmes' were fairly clear; he was pleased.

I don't know how long we lay there that day. Holmes kept his arms about me and stroked my hair. I slept that way and we talked on and off of all sorts of things. Before I knew it Mrs. Hudson was back and I decided that even though we were going to wait to tell Mycroft and Uncle John until after I saw a doctor, she should know. After all, I think I wanted a woman's sympathy and advice at that point.

I went downstairs as she was putting away the groceries she had brought home with her and sat at the kitchen table. "What is it Mary?" She asked this before I said a word. The woman had not lived with Sherlock Holmes all these years without learning to read the signs of an important piece of news underway. Also, she was simply so maternal towards me that she knew I had something important to say.

"What would you think of being an honorary grandmother?" She dropped the bag of flour in her hand, sending a cloud of it all over the kitchen, and rushed to me at the table. Before I knew it, my neck was being grabbed and thoroughly drenched in tears. I stood to wrap my arms around her and the emotion of the whole scene sort of carried me away. Soon, we were both crying and when Holmes came into the kitchen we were wiping our eyes and laughing at the same time. We were also both lightly dusted in flour. He took one look at the two of us and shook his head.

"I suppose I am fated to be surrounded by women. The child will, no doubt, be a female."

"If you are lucky, Holmes it shall be; if you are lucky." I replied. He grinned and asked Mrs. Hudson,

"I take it you are pleased with the news?"

"I had understood from Mary that it was not to happen. I figured the fact that the two of you found each other was blessing enough."

At this, Holmes looked at me intently and said to Mrs. Hudson, "Your observations in such matters are most astute. I too thought there were blessings enough." I had the sense that something had just been said between the two old friends, servant and master, that I did not completely understand. I felt uncomfortable and spoke up into the silence,

"We don't want to say anything to the rest of the family until I see a doctor."

"How do you know for sure if you haven't yet seen the doctor Mary?"

"Holmes killed a rabbit for me." Her eyebrows went up a notch as she realized what I was referring to.

"Mr. Holmes! Pregnant women should not be subjected to your experiments. Now take Mary to a proper specialist and start treating her like the precious little mother she is."

"He has never taken care of me in that respect and I certainly am not going to allow it now. I'll get to a doctor soon enough but there will be no fussing about me due to my condition. Holmes, I assume you understand this. Mrs. Hudson, you will have to respect my wishes in this matter as well."

"Oh, very well, dear; we'll see how things go. I must warn you that your body is no longer quite your own. You are not going to feel completely yourself for some time now. But, of course, I would not dream of fussing over you. I'll wait for the baby to do that." That said, she shooed us both out of the kitchen and as we sat by the fire we heard her humming to herself.

Several months passed and before we knew it, I was in my seventh month of pregnancy. I had not shown the growing bulk around my middle much until the fifth month. But by this point, I could no longer see my toes and the whole thing was starting to be tiresome. I wanted to simply get the next two months over with as quickly as possible. The nausea and dizziness had passed and generally I felt fine. The only difference was that I fatigued rather easily. It was irritating, of course, but I knew it would not last forever. Actually, I had grown really attached to the little bump in my belly. I was eager to meet it face to face. I found myself patting my stomach and speaking to it. I tried to do it in private but Holmes caught me at it one day and was roundly amused.

Holmes enjoyed feeling the baby kick. He placed his sensitive hands on my abdomen any time I signaled to him that there was movement. The fact that we could both feel this new life forming was fascinating to him. He would concentrate himself to the task with all his powerful senses. I sometimes wondered if he was trying to communicate something to the child or learn something about it. I never asked but enjoyed watching him as much as I enjoyed feeling the baby move.

My work in Oxford was on hold for the time being. At first, this frustrated me but then my better senses told me that this was a time that would only come once and that my work would be there long after it was gone. I did try to work on my book at home and got some done but found my concentration was not at its normal levels. Instead, I became very interested in the remodeling project we had underway. We were turning the guest room (which had once been my room) into a nursery. I wanted it to be practical for a small child but to grow with her. I enjoyed picking out the colors and was fascinated by the tiny baby clothes I bought on my London shopping trips with Mrs. Hudson.

Mycroft and Uncle John were both excited by the prospect. Uncle John brought by all kinds of toys and visited often to check on me. Mycroft was a bit in awe of my person and treated me as though I were breakable. I had to laugh at him to convince him that I was still Sister Mary and not some fragile vessel. I don't know what he thought his relationship with this child would be but I could tell he was giving it some careful thought. He once told me, "Mary, I fear I shall be an awful uncle. I know nothing that is pleasing to a child. I am too old and set in my ways to learn what might amuse one. I only hope the child is interested in foreign affairs." I laughed and told him,

"Nonsense, Mycroft, we shall buy maps and a globe and let you teach the child where all his majesties' spies are located. You shall be the geography teacher."

The last three weeks before the term date were awful. I couldn't sleep. There was no way to get my bloated body comfortable and the kicking had become aggressive. I could feel little feet hanging from my ribcage and they seemed to be awake and active when I preferred to be asleep. I often sat up at night and read. I would go downstairs so Holmes could sleep but he would eventually follow me down and rub my back. I could finally get some rest if I leaned against him as he sat on the sofa.

The nausea returned with full force and it felt as though taking a deep breath were impossible. I made Holmes go with me for a daily walk on the downs but it was getting more and more difficult to keep going. Finally, when my feet began to swell badly, he called Uncle John to come down and stay with us. Uncle John took one look at my feet and said, "To bed with you Mary. You may not get up until we take you to hospital. Your blood pressure is up and it is bad for you to walk around." From that point on, I was a prisoner in our room. Holmes tried to amuse me, as did Uncle John, but I was not in the best of humours; to put it mildly. Not only did my feet swell, but my hands. Holmes and Uncle John insisted on checking for the presence of protein in my urine on a regular basis. Uncle John took my pulse every few hours and kept listening to my heart and the baby's. I began to feel like the host to some giant parasite. I wanted the whole thing over with and quickly. Mrs. Hudson was a great deal of help. She had been in similar circumstances at the end of her pregnancy and kept telling me it was worth the wait. She also knew just what to bring me that would stay down and exactly what to say. If it were not for her female presence at the time, I should have gone mad.

Ten days before the date Mycroft rang us in the dead of night. I was up and happened to reach the telephone ahead of Holmes.

"Mary, I'm awfully sorry about this but I must speak to Sherlock now. It is absolutely imperative that he come to meet me in Whitehall at once."

"Mycroft, there is a baby due here any day now. You cannot have him. I don't care if His Majesty himself made the request." Holmes tapped my shoulder and reached for the receiver.

"Get someone else, brother. I have a family and cannot go traipsing off at every whim anymore."

I put my head on Holmes' chest and listened to the conversation from both ends,

"I am completely cognizant that the timing is off Sherlock. I have done everything in my considerable power to dissuade His Majesty and the Prime Minister that you are currently unavailable. However, neither personage is used to being told no and they have both insisted that you come at once. I believe the matter could be cleared up in a day or two. Mary's not due to have the child until the end of next week so I think it will be fine. Certainly Watson can stay with her in case she needs something?"

I could feel myself losing out against the might of England's pull and walked away from Holmes. I heard him say, "I will be there in the morning; you may have twenty four hours and no more from me." He crossed the room and picked up my braid so he could put his mouth to the back of my neck, "I will not be gone long, Russ." I felt like being unreasonable but stifled my surly response and said, "I know. We'll be fine." He turned me to him so he could look into my eyes. If anything, these past months had made us somehow closer physically and emotionally. We both knew we were taking part in something greater than the sum of just us two. It was, in many ways, our most daunting joint project to date. He knew I was not exactly feeling up to being left. He had curtailed his work a great deal through the whole pregnancy and had hardly been away at all since my seventh month.

"I will not be gone long. All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot keep me from you, wife."

I kissed him and said, "Go! You are going all soft with the prospect of fatherhood! Perhaps a day or two away will bring you back to your sensible self!"

He laughed and kissed me back. "Quite right; I hardly know what I'm saying. I'll go sort out Mycroft's mess and be back. In the meantime, I am sure you can stay in bed where you are supposed to be and keep Watson and Mrs. Hudson in fits because you will not stay still."

At this point, we heard Uncle John clear his throat with his usual, "harrumph... Mary, what are you doing down here? You are not supposed to negotiate the stairs." We both laughed and Holmes said,

"Good luck with that, old man. I am going to town to sort out something or the other for my brother. Can you try and keep this young woman under control until I get back?"

"You're leaving? Holmes, this really is not a good time." Uncle John sounded serious and strained as he said this.

"It's okay, Uncle John." I turned towards him and noted that he had not been sleeping well, either. I smiled at him and said, "I already approved and really nothing is going to happen so soon. Even if it did, women have been having babies with their husbands away for some time now."

Holmes raised an eyebrow and headed upstairs to pack his bags so he could take a late (or very early) train into London. I noted that Uncle John followed him to our room and spoke with him but I did not bother to find out the exact conversation; I figured I knew.

Later that morning, after Holmes was long gone, Uncle John came into the bedroom to check on me. I was feeling fine, if a little nauseated, and was chafing at my confinement as usual. He checked my pulse and seemed a little concerned. I asked him about it and he told me not to worry but to stay still. I tried to stay still all day but really could not sleep. I remember that much, much later evening I was reading over a little book of Rabbi Akiva when I felt suddenly very lightheaded and disoriented. My head began to ache fiercely and I couldn't keep my mind or my eyes focused on the page. I put down the book and tried to sit up on the side of the bed to get a drink. When I swung my legs over, which was a chore in itself, I vomited violently. I went down on my knees to clean up the mess just as Uncle John came rushing in.

"Mary? What is it?"

"I'm fine, just the nausea got me," or at least that is what I was trying to say. It wouldn't come out of my mouth in the right order. I felt as though my mind were somehow playing tricks on me. Uncle John's form looked unsteady and I realized my sight was faltering. I reached for him, and fell against him, unconscious, there on the floor.

I have a vague memory of being heaved onto the bed by Mrs. Hudson and Uncle John together. I also remember, much to my later consternation and embarrassment, that he examined me and that I protested about wanting my own doctor. Not much later, there was an ambulance. I kept trying to fight my way back up to the surface of consciousness and speak. I could tell what was going on around me but I couldn't communicate with anyone. I became really frightened and I finally managed to say, "Holmes. Get him, please." There were tears rolling down my cheeks as people rushed about me. Everything seemed to fade in and out and all I could think of was that I needed Holmes and I needed this baby to survive even if I didn't.

Much later, a day and a half later, I woke, and Holmes was sitting beside me. We were in a hospital room and his hand was on mine. His head was bowed over and I noted that his face was ashen. I squeezed his hand and croaked through dry lips, "We've been here before." He looked up and smiled and said,

"Thank God." I could tell, from the way it was said, and from the emotion behind it, that the words were a prayer. He brought me a drink of water and helped me lift my head to drink. I took several sips and was finally able to speak more clearly,

"Holmes, is our baby alive?" I did not want to ask it and was having trouble forming words through the pain and the medicines, but I had to know. He stroked my face and said,

"Yes, dearest, Russ; he is alive and well. I am worried about his mother just now. We both need her very badly."

I smiled at the thought of our son, (a son!) and said, "Don't worry, husband; I shall stay here to love you both. I just need to rest now."

With this said, I closed my eyes.

It took me some days to find out what all had happened the night our son, Charles John Russell Holmes, was born, as well as what happened in the day and a half following.

My blood pressure had risen very quickly and caused my kidneys to begin to fail. Uncle John had been monitoring me for just such a problem but was surprised that it had worsened so quickly. His reactions, though, saved both my life and that of my son. It turns out that the only cure for the sudden onset of these symptoms in pregnancy is delivery of the baby. After examining me, Uncle John determined that labor was still not ready to commence and decided on the spot I would need a cesarean section if either of us was to survive. He actually prepped me for the surgery before the ambulance arrived, rode along in the ambulance and apparently scared the young surgeon at the hospital half to death by barking out orders as the doors opened. I was on the operating table within minutes of arriving. Charles was delivered quickly and was fine. I was another matter though. The injuries I had received at age 14 and that had convinced my doctors then that I would never bear children, were indeed awful. Apparently, the fact that I had conceived at all was quite a mystery to the doctors in the surgery. The upshot of it was that after Charles' delivery, they had no choice but to remove my battered female organs. They were afraid to leave them in for fear of internal bleeding and afraid to remove them because it would increase the risk of infection. In the end they removed everything and sewed me back up. The rest was up to fate. Holmes had been told my chances were fifty/fifty of ever regaining consciousness.

This was the situation when I woke that day and saw Holmes at my bedside.

I made a miraculous recovery. The word for blessing in Hebrew is Mitzvah. It was certainly a Mitzvah on many levels: there we were in hospital, with a son we never should have had and I was recovering, without infection, from a surgery that should have killed me.

Holmes told me over and over how sorry he was to have been gone when I needed him. I kept telling him not to worry. I reminded him that he had left Uncle John in charge and that was the best thing he could have done. I worried about Holmes in those days. He was almost emotional. It was an uncomfortable thing to watch and yet allowed me to see more of his humanity than I had previously... and I thought I had seen everything.

The day finally came for us to go home and I knew the moment we stepped through the door with that tiny bundle of a human, that everything we had ever thought or said or done would all be different now.

And it has been.