Years. It has been years.
Sherlock Holmes paced the living room of the Holmes's ancestral house, palms rubbing against each other. After his parents moved to their other home in Manchester, they had the house transferred to Sherlock's name (Mycroft didn't mind since he had that grand building he'd like to call a house) and they had moved there ever since, needing the space because the children are growing. Still visiting Mrs. Hudson every now and then, Baker Street served as their vacation home in the city.
Streaks of grey now visible on his hair, the thinking lines on his forehead more apparent than before. Other than the subtle changes, Sherlock's face still carried the same smart look, those sharp blue eyes still hinting an unending touch of his analytic mind.
To his surprise, Irene held him by the shoulders, her eyes crinkling to a kind smile. He stared at her, the ring on her finger glistening even in the dim light of the room. Despite what seemed like forever, she still retained her elegance, that air of intelligence whiffing in the air at her every step. The code of her safe no longer matched her measurements, but still the changes are unnoticeable to an ordinary person's eye. Sherlock did notice though, for he was never ordinary, but not that it counted. Irene was still his epitome of brains and beauty.
He saw in her eyes the same thing reflected on his. It wasn't the rush of a case or the adrenaline from danger but worry. Deep, deep worry.
As he was about to open his mouth to tell her what he was thinking, both their eyes darted to the door, a girl of sixteen years bouncing out and about to greet them with a kiss on each cheek. Relief washed over them, followed by annoyance.
It was their daughter, Arabella.
"Hey Mum, Dad!" she said, her smile immediately turning to a straight face when she saw the look on her parents' face. "I'm just gonna head over to my room, okay? No?"
Irene raised her eyebrows at her daughter. "Where have you been?"
"Erm… I… I…" Arabella started to explain but Sherlock held his finger up, giving his daughter a once-over.
"Not anywhere we should be worried about." he said, nodding to Irene. "So tell me… did you solve the case?"
Irene raised her eyebrows at her husband, seeing how casually this all suddenly seemed. But then, they were used to this: Arabella arriving late in the night, an understanding passing between her and her father. Irene loves them deeply, but her daughter evidently took on from her prick of a father.
At Sherlock's question, Arabella's eyes lit up even more. "Hardly a difficult deduction, dad. It was her roommate."
Sherlock smiled upon hearing her daughter's response, sitting on the couch and reaching for a book he was reading earlier that day. He turned to Irene, giving her a look that tells her she should let the situation go. Irene sighed, surrendering.
"Where's Hammy?" Arabella asked, dramatically searching the room for her twin.
"He went straight to his room as soon as he came home from school. Got the 'experiment ongoing' sign hanging on the door. Do you know what he's up to?" Irene asked, sitting next to Sherlock.
Arabella sat across them, shaking off her favourite accessories: Sherlock's old deerstalker and blue scarf. "I don't know. Most likely he's testing out the durability of a condom. Looking at the state of his eyes earlier today and his speech patterns, I bet he's going on a date in… a day or so."
At that, Sherlock looked appalled. "Durability of a condom?" he uttered, as if the word was completely foreign. Irene laughed.
"You're father was never a fan of using those." Irene said and with that, both of them laughed at the reddening Sherlock Holmes.
"Really, dad? Does it feel better that way?" Hamish asked, suddenly emerging from the stairs. His dark curls are all messed up, his long-lashed grey eyes lazy as compared to the alert blue hue of his sister's.
Irene and Arabella's laugh grew louder and Sherlock covered his face with his hands. "Look at him. Still alarmed by sex." Irene mused, nudging Sherlock.
Hamish scratch the back of his head, rolling his eyes at the ruckus as he started to walk back to his room. "Nevermind. I got my answer."
"Now, now grumpy. What's the rush? Is it serious this time?" Arabella asked, her arm going over her twin's shoulder.
Hamish eyed her, then his parents, as if pleading them to stop her sister from snooping. He sighed in resignation, seeing that both his mum and his dad are also expecting an answer. "Just because I'm planning to have sex with a girl, it already makes it serious?" he simply said. Arabella stared at him, disappointed.
"Just when I thought you were over..." she started nonchalantly when Arabella received a warning look from her mother. Her father, on the other hand, still had his eyes fix on her brother as if his words reminded him of some fond memory. Hamish just shrugged, trying to act like he was okay with it but knowing her twin, Arabella was sure he was still in dread.
People may think living as a Holmes would be difficult, but it wasn't. Sherlock and Irene may not miss much, but they are very understanding and very open. Even their uncle Mycroft is fun to be with, his condescending attitude amusing to the twins.
Starting their freshman year at the University of Westminster in the coming fall, Arabella and Hamish are set to leave for Baker Street in the start of next week. Both are excited to start this new chapter in their lives in their first home, 221B.
Not that their parents were happy about it.
/
"But it's a triple-murder JH! I need you there!" Arabella insisted, tugging on her brother's shirt one Tuesday morning. Hamish swatted her hand away, slamming his head back to his pillow.
"Jonathan Hamish Holmes! Mum wouldn't allow me to go unless you tag along so please, please, please…" Arabella pleaded, her eyes tearstained as she tried to shake her brother once more.
Hamish opened his eyes, grey eyes focusing on the pout his sister was giving him. "It isn't worth getting up to bed both know who the murderer is the moment we laid our eyes on the police report. Hardly matters."
Arabella huffed. "You used to be more fun to be with. Now you're just this pompous, pretentious bad boy."
Hamish sat up, studying his sister. There was something in Arabella's expression that gave the fruit of the situation away, one that Hamish was trying to avoid but was bound to happen.
"This isn't about the murders… This is about the people in charge of the bodies." Hamish hissed, seeing right through his sister's intentions.
Arabella couldn't look him in the eye, using long hair to hide her caught expression. Hamish gave a nudge and she met his eyes, blue to grey with a passing understanding.
"I just thought you wanted to see her." Arabella confessed, her tone apologetic.
Hamish averted his eyes, his hands already clenched to fists but not with the intention to hit his sister, but just to take all the emotions away from his face. Arabella handed him her phone, a text message onscreen.
'Hey Ara! I'm the intern doing the rounds in the morgue this week. Will personally be handling the triple murder thing and I'll let you sneak in to check the bodies. See you around 8?'
Hamish stared at the message, his face unreadable. Without looking at the sender, he knew exactly who the message was from.
Elizabeth Watson.
