Mycroft rolled over in bed with a quiet groan. It was far too early to be awake, but he could have sworn he heard crying. You were still curled up tight under the blankets, mouth slightly parted as you slept. You hair was a mess and he thought he spotted some drool on your chin, but you were still his beautiful wife.
He was about to wrap himself around you and just go back to sleep when he heard whimpers and cries. Mycroft couldn't ignore it this time. He definitely heard it. Carefully creeping out of bed so as not to disturb you, he slipped out of your bedroom and into the nursery.
There inside the crib was three-month old (Daughter's Name), wriggling around, red faced and crying. He reached in, cautiously lifting the little baby up and out and to his chest. With one hand behind her head, the other placed at her back, Mycroft rocked the little girl in his arms and shushed her.
After just a few minutes, she had calmed down, reveling in her daddy's touch. Mycroft chuckled quietly to himself, a pair of very similar grey eyes staring straight up at him.
“You just wanted attention, didn't you, (D.Name)?” He cradled her close and swayed with her whilst making his way to the rocker he so often saw his wife, you, in. He sat himself down, humming a soft lullaby he once heard you sing. He personally didn't recognize it and couldn't remember the words, but the tune stayed in his head. Anthea could vouch for it. She's caught him on multiple occasions, humming to himself in his office.
“Your mother is still sleeping. Let's keep it that way, yes?” The baby girl gurgled, kicking her legs out. “My darling, you are growing so well..” Mycroft kissed the top of her head, rubbing her tiny and pudgy hand with his index before she latched onto it. A bright smile erupted onto his face at her grasp, wiggling his finger around to test the grip.
He leaned back in the chair, his daughter still snuggled tightly to his chest. Mycroft could still remember when he relayed the news to his mother that you were pregnant. She nearly had a heart attack. She was finally getting her first grandchild. He would never lie that he had an almost identical reaction when you had told him that there would be a baby in the home.
Mycroft was definitely nervous at first. He wasn't sure he should be a father. Yet, here he was now with a daughter tucked safely away in his arms. Mycroft would have it no other way now. His own little family, no matter how dysfunctional it was at times.
“You are such a spoiled little girl,” he mumbled, her grip on his finger loosening as she grew tired. “What with Grandma and Uncle John producing new clothes and toys for you every other day.” Mycroft tenderly ran his fingertips over the the bit of (h/c) strands on her head. “Even your Uncle Sherlock has purchased things for you. Do not worry, my darling, we thoroughly checked it all out. It won't kill you. And we won't even talk about your mother...”
As (D. Name) began to fall back to sleep, Mycroft inched his way out of the chair and stood up to put her back. He stood over the crib, pressing one last final kiss to her forehead before lowering her down into her bed.
“But remember, the one who spoils you the most will always be me. You're daddy's little darling.”