I do not own Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes Series, Sherlock Holmes Books or any media Sherlock Holmes as a character and the rest of the characters of the series had been produced, depicted or reimagine. I am not even associated with the writers, producers, staffs, productions, publishers, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, the BBC or far off people related to any medium Sherlock Series had been published, portrayed or filmed. All canon characters are borrowed from the original creators and portrayal of actors of each role. The original characters and storyline, however, is mine and I'd appreciate it if it would not be duplicated, plagiarized or translated without my consent anywhere on and off the web or any printed copy – including your school newspaper. The story is purely fictional and has nothing to do with anyone dead or alive – none that I know of at least. Rated T due to 'mild' swearing - just one bloody word, but, I don't want any trouble.
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He noticed it one morning. Nothing had changed, but, all at the same time, nothing was the same. He moved a little slower, his sight was failing and his body turning frail. He was older and he didn't realize when it happened. It all happened between him running around London solving crime and figuring his life out – his life was passing him by. Was it a bad thing? No, certainly it wasn't. He was no idiot. He understood that people got older as the years passed and body (transport) would wear out as it should. Did he regret it? Well, certainly he missed a lot in his life though regret was not one of those things he liked to dwell on. We must always press forward – one must always try to press forward.
He had grays. His brows creased that morning when he found the grey for the first time. For a moment he entertained the idea of colouring his hair to hide it. But, what would be the point? He might be a lot of things and John had as so much called him a drama queen before, still, he realized that it was part of life. So, he had let it go – even when Graham (George?) had pointed it out he was turning into a grandfather. He didn't even flinch or scoff as he would when he was younger. It took a lot more to get a raise out of him as the years took advantage of his mind and body.
He forgot his keys. He was in his fifties and he forgot his keys as he rushed around. He was not a man who forgot easily and he forgot the simplest of things. Mrs Hudson, older yet still as charming as ever, had to open the door for him. She chuckled, largely amused that he managed to locked himself out. He, however, was not. He spent the next hour excising his brain, trying to maintain a certain level of memory. Yet, he understood that it was bound to happen – at least he was not suffering from Alzheimer or Dementia, he reasoned with his stubborn self. He relented, as he aged, he would forget things.
And he did. He forgot many things. Meetings, birthdays, street names and even a couple of weekend tea with his old dear mummy, though, that was mostly on purpose. Or so he said. He grew fond of many things. He got to watch people around him grow old as he did. He teased John when his hair turned completely white. John had scowled and Mary was beyond amused and was hollering that you would think she was under attack.
He went to Godfrey's third wedding – to the same woman. He hated to dress up but, he had gone to celebrate a friend. He noticed the woman sneaking out the back halfway through the ceremony and he would have found it was amusing if it was Gawain who she was pulling, unfortunately, it wasn't. He had held his tongue but when the fall out came six months later, he was not surprised. Still, he said nothing, not even to John and he had simply accompanied the men for a pint (more like several) to drown Galahad's pain away.
He learned a lot, he learned plenty over the years. John and Mary had two more children after Elizabeth. A brilliant child, he would say and Mary would just snicker at him. He was completely smitten by his goddaughter the moment he saw her. And he learned most from one woman, one woman in particular that was walking towards him. Her hair was no longer the original colour but her eyes were still sparkling. She was beautiful as the day he first met her, the day he realized he would lose the war. He had won some battles in between, but, he had lost the war. He surrendered his heart to her and he did not regret it.
"Hey, there you are," She greeted him before climbing onto the couch, curling to his side. She does that often and he had always loved it. They fit perfectly well in this old place.
"Yes, I needed a break," He admitted. It had been a long day and an old man could only go so far.
She chuckled, patting his arm lightly. He liked it when she does that.
"You must know I don't do well in social events," He added, a sigh escaped his lips.
And another chuckle escaped hers. "Of course, but, it is your granddaughter's wedding,"
He shifted in his seat and she moved to accommodate him.
"Our," He corrected her easily and she smiled.
"Yes, our," She agreed. "So, what are you doing hiding out here?"
"I was going to ask Mycroft for a cigarette, but, he had seemed to enjoy the festivities too much he decided not to join me," It was not the truth, but, he got a laugh out of her.
She had noticed it earlier, the scowl Mycroft was wearing on his face. He was just uneasy to be at social events as Sherlock – especially when he was on his own. He was always on his own – that thought saddened her.
"Do you think he's alright?" She asked after a moment passed.
He sighed. "He is many things right now my dear, alright, I doubt is one of it,"
She nodded. It had been ten years since Mycroft's partner passed away. She was such a lovely woman, slightly offbeat with a sense of humour as dark as Mycroft's.
"But, he is here and he is functioning, it was more than we could expect of him," He continued. His thoughts were with his brother, always. They might have not seen eye to eye on many occasions, one being Mycroft's initial reaction to Sherlock's marriage. He had not acted much of an arse towards anyone, but, he had made his doubts known to Sherlock. It was a good thing he didn't sway.
"Maybe he'd find another company, I see Olivia eyeing him with interest," She suggested jokingly. Though, Cousin Olivia – a distant cousin of hers - did indeed display her obvious interest in the man. Olivia too, had lost her partner some years before, but, age had been kind to her.
He chuckled, noting the humour in the statement. "Yes, that would be an interesting match; they could take over the world,"
"Oh no, we wouldn't want that," She shook her head as she laughed. And her laughter, like always, was infectious that he started to laugh as well.
It was easy being with her. He liked how he was with her, how he changed over the years because of her. She was the person who brought the best out of him and stuck through the worst of him.
"Mum, dad, really?" They were broken out of their little bubble when they heard their eldest son walked into the room, mildly berating them, more amused than angry.
"Yes, we needed a break William, you know how it is with old people," He said easily to his son and the younger man shook his head. To his side, the woman chuckled, clearly amused.
"Patricia was looking for you, she was hoping for a dance with her grandfather after her dance with her dad," William explained. He was used to it. All his life (and his sibling's life), he was used to the fact that his parents would hide away just the two of them. It was not the norm when he and his siblings were children, but, as they got older, approaching their teen years, it became frequent. Just the two of them and they found that was sickening as a child, and endearing as adults.
"Yes, yes of course. Tell Theodore I will be there shortly, I believe your younger brother fusses just as much as his daughter," Sherlock waved his hand dismissively at his oldest son and his partner-in-crime gave him a look. "I mean, please tell your brother and niece I would be there shortly,"
William grinned. Sometimes his father was still like a child and his mother would always reprimand him. Still, it was more of a loving gesture than anything else. He nodded, turning on his heels, out the room, leaving his parents be, as they should be.
He watched as William disappeared before turning to the woman who was still glue to his side. Maybe they could spare a moment more here? Just the two of them? Well, obviously not. They need to move along for now, there was always later in the day – much later.
"Well, my dear Molly, I believe we have been summoned," He said, almost regretfully. He had always enjoyed the moments with her, just with her.
She smiled, "No darling, it's you who had been summoned," feeling a little mischievous.
He pulled a face, panicked. He still was not good with social events. The years can pass but he was still one Sherlock Holmes. "You wouldn't let me go out there alone!" He exclaimed, clearly terrified at the idea.
Molly laughed and her body shook as she did. Sherlock's panicked face was her undoing. Oh she loved to tease him so. And despite the years, he was still gullible when he was panicking.
"Of course not," She said as she got to her feet, "Come on, husband," She held out her hand and smiled at Sherlock who looked beyond relieved.
"Don't ever leave me," He said as he took her hand. Fear enveloped him, he hated the idea of being anywhere without her, even on cases, he would try to involve her way after her retirement from Bart's.
"Wouldn't dream of it, Mister Holmes," She slid to his side as he planted a chaste kiss on her forehead. That still took her breath away.
"Yes, we better get a move on or Patricia would start to panic," One step at a time, Holmes; he reminded himself.
He held her close as they made their way back to the back garden where the wedding party was being held. The old cottage had seen its fair share of wedding; his and Molly's, Mycroft's and Anthea's, William's and Georgia's, Theodore and Sarah, Gabriel and Amelia, Imogen and Arthur, and even Mrs Hudson's third marriage. It was home.
"Ah dad, there you are!" His second son, Theodore, looked relieved to see the old man approached.
And seemingly out of nowhere, Patricia appeared behind her father. "Grandfather, I thought you've ran off to solve some case," She looked apprehensive. She certainly was worried.
"It was one time and I returned in time for the dancing," Sherlock scowled. It was indeed one time and it was during Edward's wedding that he ran off to solve a case. His grandson was amused, but, his son William – the father of the groom was not. He was never allowed to live it down since.
"Right, we're starting, dad, you may cut in at any moment," Theodore interjected. If they kept with the story, they would never hear the end of it.
Sherlock nodded boringly. "Yes Theo, I know, it is not my first time attending a wedding you know,"
Molly pinched his side and he jumped a little, "Mrs Holmes!" He yelped only to be met with her innocent gaze. Of course, nothing's change and he wouldn't have it any other way. He pulled her tighter as the music started and Theodore walked towards the dance floor with Patricia in his hand. Well, she had grown up. It felt like it was only yesterday that Theodore had laid the bundle who was Patricia in his arms. The little girl won him and over the years, she grew as brilliant as he thought she would be.
"Mister Holmes, I do believe it is your turn," Molly pulled him out of his daydream after a few moments. He realized the song was halfway over (despite the fact it was the extended version for the wedding) and Theodore was looking at his direction, hinting in not so subtle way that he should cut in.
Sherlock smiled, taking his wife's hand before kissing it softly. "I will be back for you Mrs Holmes,"
She laughed easily, "I will be waiting Mister Holmes,"
He cut into the dance easily, taking his lovely granddaughter into his arms. Patricia giggled; she was happy, obviously happy.
"Tell me Princess, when did you get to be so grown up?" Sherlock asked as he swayed Patricia around the dance floor. "It felt like it was only yesterday you were ruining my experiments,"
Patricia rolled her eyes, "I can still ruin your experiments grandpa, and I would never be too old for that,"
"Ah yes, of course," He smiled.
"You approve of Christian, don't you?" She asked suddenly, worries etched on her face.
He frowned. "Certainly, why do you ask?"
"Well, you hardly spoke to him," She said carefully.
"You know me sweetie, I don't do well with people, it did took me nine years before asking your grandmother to marry me," He replied pointedly.
Patricia smiled, "You like him then?"
"Yes, what's not to like?" Sherlock said, "He certainly had his shortcomings, but, he more than make up for it, besides, your grandmother likes him, I see no point to disagree with her,"
A laugh broke. Patricia moved closer to hug Sherlock and he patted her back easily. "You worry too much, just like your grandmother,"
They stayed that way for a few moments as the song changed to another song.
"May I cut in?" A familiar voice broke them apart and Sherlock's face lit up as he saw his wife's smile.
"Of course you may, grandma," Patricia replied happily. She took a step back and found Christian grinning widely at her. It took him almost no time to pull her towards him, gently. "I've missed you," Sherlock could read the words mouthed by the young man and smiled as he took his own wife's hand.
"I was going to wait till you come for me, but, I figured I'd take the initiative," Molly said as she slipped her arm around Sherlock. They started to dance slowly as other couples joined them.
"I'm glad you came, I was missing you," He admitted pulling Molly closer. It was easy to just dance with her in his arms. They stayed like that quiet with the music over them and the chatter of the crowd who were excited for the happy couples. From the corner of his eyes, Sherlock could see his and Molly's children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren, even John and Mary with their family. This is home. He decided. Home was not a house. Home was where he was the happiest and it was with these people he was the happiest.
"We did well, didn't we, Molly?" Sherlock asked as they waved at the bride and groom who were departing for their honeymoon – he had opted to use that term compare to the crude one he used to use as a younger man.
"Yes we did," She said, sniffling a little. Of course she would be all teary eyes. He pulled out his handkerchief and handed it to her. Apparently she had run out of tissues.
The first time he stayed at a wedding until the end was his own. He remembered it well. He and Molly danced until their feet hurt and she cling to him just as he did to her, they were in no hurry as Mycroft made an arrangement (his version of a wedding gift) for a private plane to take them to their honeymoon destination. The world was certainly easier with her. He got older, he forgot many things and he was still the insufferable man he was, but, he had no regrets.
Why? He had her and he had a life of which he was proud of. He could see his world expanded around her, around their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. He learned to really laugh, be less of a cynic and love her unconditionally. He regretted nothing, he missed none and he had everything in the palm of his hand. He was and will always be the luckiest man in the world for he found her and had the chance, despite many missteps and mishaps, to be by her side.
"I love you, Molly Holmes" He whispered to her over the joyful sound of the crowd.
She beamed at him, still very much affected by him. "I love you too, Sherlock Holmes,"
Author's Note:
HOLY CRAP! This turned out to be a monster. Whew! I can't believe I wrote this. I don't even know why. I was just listening to The Beatles' When I'm Sixty-Four and found myself inspired to write something sickly sweet. It is also partially inspired by Robert Forbisher (Cloud Atlas) who said; 'My life extends far beyond the limitations of me," – that was the loveliest line ever written! This IS my first fanfiction for the Sherlock Fandom, so, I would like to apologize for any errors – spelling and grammar and continuity and such, and I am not sure if I'd write more Sherlolly or Sherlock Fanfiction. This had been fun and this is my VERY late submission for the Sherlolly Appreciation Week. You can drop me a line, ask questions or just say hi if you'd like – my inbox is always open. Suggestions are welcomed, if I am inspired, I might write more Sherlolly – maybe, no promises. Till then!
Note to my followers who largely follows me because of Boys over Flowers Fanfiction – I haven't forsaken that fandom, I am just taking a wee bit of a break. And you might see a lot more variety in fanfiction for several different fandoms in the future, depending on my mood.