The Chaos of 221b
Clank!
Molly's eyes snapped open. She shot straight up in bed, dazed and confused. She did not recognize the room she was in.
"Fuckin Hell!"
Her mind kicked into overdrive. Every minute sound of the bedlam before her seemed to be amplified tenfold, as if her breath were that of a gale. And even though she knew the voice of the of the person who had sworn, it took her a few moments to recognize.
It was John's. He was in the kitchen.
More bangs erupted. And then...a child's squeal.
That came from Rosie.
"JAWN!? WATSON!?" And now Sherlock.
Molly blinked. Her fear addled vision cleared and her ears stopped pounding. She felt the tension release from her body. Her heartbeat slowed back to normal and she became aware of her surroundings.
There was a periodic table on the wall, and a detailed bug collection mounted above the bureau. One of John's jumpers hung on a hook near the door.
'Oh' Molly thought. She huffed and laid back down.
She looked at the cracked ceiling. There was a doodle of a smiling Sun in sunglasses, with a smaller, Planet Earth by its side. Earth's arms were crossed and it had a frown on its face. Arrows indicated that the Earth was rotating around the Sun.
The picture made her smile every time.
The front door slammed open with a creek and a thud.
She could hear Sherlock run into the kitchen and then more crashing.
SChlupp!
Somebody had fell.
"Jesus Sherlock!"
"Jawn!?"
Silence.
Molly did not want to deal with this right now. It was her day off and she did not want to get involved. 'Molly. Do not get up.' She gritted her teeth.
The unexpected was to be expected in this flat. Molly just needed to wait in bed until things played out more.
All of sudden laughter erupted.
'No surprise there.' Molly grabbed Sherlock's pillow and shoved it over her head.
"Really John? Spaghetti Balinese? And you Watson! Jam and Milk?" Sherlock laughed. "What do you have to say for yourselves?
"Sherrrrlock!" said John.
Molly imagined John's shut eyes, gritted teeth, and pinched nose. She'd seen it often.
"Why were there roller skates in the cupboard above the stove?!" John asked.
"Experiment. Law of gravity." She imagined Sherlock flapping his right hand. She'd seen that plenty of times, too.
"Watson," Sherlock continued, "I can see you decided to participate."
"Es-peer-min!" squealed Rosie.
"EXPERIMENT!" interrupted John, "Sherrrrrlock...huff...just take Rosie! You're cleaning her up!"
John stomped into the kitchen. Clank. Clink. Bang!
"Well, Bee, it's just you and me."
"Dada?" said Rosie.
"Don't worry Watson, Pops will be fine soon. He just needs to blow off some steam."
'Like a geyser,' thought Molly.
"Tea John! And for Molly too!" shouted Sherlock.
Molly froze. She was hopping to hide.
John shouted, "Make your own bloody tea!"
"Language, John."
Molly could hear Sherlock make his way to the bathroom. As the tub filled, she could hear Sherlock talk to Rosie.
"What shall it be today, Bee? Raspberry? Blue Berry? Vanilla? Cinnamon Spice?"
"Charry!" said Rosie.
"Yes. Cherry. Of course. It's Wednesday. You always use Cherry on Wednesdays."
Rosie giggled.
Molly laughed to herself.
There was a knock on the bedroom door. "Coming in," John announced. He laughed when he opened the door. "Trying to hide, are we?"
Molly lifted the pillow off her head and glared at John.
"You should do the same. You weren't in bed. When was the last time you slept?" Molly asked. John's clothes were rumpled and he had bags under his eyes.
"Ha. Only Sherlock knows that." John took a long slow breath and released it. He ran a hand through his graying hair. "Sherlock always forgets what that means."
John wandered to the other side of the bed, sat down, and pulled his shoes off, dropping them to the floor one at a time.
He stretched his arms out, lent back, and plopped the rest of the way onto the bed.
Thwak!
The bed shook as John's head landed harshly on Molly's hip.
"Hey!" said Molly.
"Fuck!" said John.
Molly pushed him away and cradled her hip.
John rolled onto his side and held his head.
They both errupted into giggles.
"God, I'm so tired," he said.
Molly could hear splashing in the bathroom.
Rosie's voice said, "Papa?"
"Don't worry. Pops and Molly are tired. Here, try this one." Sherlock chuckled. "See? The bubbles are much more interesting with the slotted ladle."
Back in the bedroom, John stretched out and closed his eyes. "I hope I never have to get up again."
Molly grabed his hand and squeazed gently. "If only."
She could hear the water draining from the tub.
"No!" Rosie shouted.
"I agree. Clothes are boring. You need to at least wear bottoms. John would be cross. He cares too much about social constructs. Plus, you will get cold. Yes, the yellow one. Great choice."
Sherlock and Rosie moved into the den. She could hear him on the baby monitor near the play pen. "I'll be right back, Bee. I need to check on John and Molly. Remember that we have audio surveillance. If you need us just give a shout."
The door opened. Molly and John took one look at Sherlock and broke out into laughter. Sherlock was soaked.
"It's a good thing you are wearing a dressing gown. We don't need another dry cleaning bill," said John.
Sherlock shucked it off. "I have a discount," he said.
"We need one with all the times you use it."
Sherlock yanked his t-shirt off and threw it at John.
"Hey!" John lept into sitting position.
Sherlock pulled off his bottoms and tossed them at Molly.
"Watch it!" she shouted and flung them right back at Sherlock's ankles. He jumped over his pajama bottoms and laughed.
"I'll leave the machine washing to you, John," says Sherlock.
"You always do. AND I take your clothes to the dry cleaners as well."
"Boring!"
John pinched his nose as he flung Sherlock's t-shirt onto the already ruined rug.
Molly was glad she didn't live here full time. She loved Sherlock, but he was a lot of work. She needed a break every once in a while. She couldn't fathom how John kept up with Sherlock around-the-clock.
"Dada! Song! Song!" said Rosie.
"Give me two minutes Watson!"
Sherlock lept onto the bed. He kissed Molly, then John, and jumped back off. He pulled on a new pair of bottoms and a t-shirt, and ran out the door.
"Watson, I'm going to play Antonio Vivaldi's Opus 2, number 1. He was an Italian Baroque composer. You will like him.
The flat filled with music.
Molly laughed. "I think I'm up now."
"Not me. I worked all night at the A & E, and before that we had a case. I don't care if Sherlock sets fire to the kitchen again, I'm going to sleep."
Molly chuckled some more. "I'll make sure that doesn't happen. Goodnight John." She got up from bed. It was slightly damp from Sherlock's t-shirt, so she found a spare blanket and covered up the worst of it. John was to tired to care anyway.
Molly looked over at him. John was already asleep. She kissed him on the cheek, smiled, and prepared her self for another chaotic day.
'It's great to be in 221b.'