Funny Faces and Healed Hearts
With heavy feet and a heavy heart, Molly Holmes climbed the steps up to 221B Baker Street. It was a Friday, which marked the end of her third week back at work since her six-month maternity leave had ended. Until today, it had been like riding a bicycle; she had missed it in quite a few ways. The hardest part had been being apart from Alethea, and it was still hard. Thankfully, her daughter never failed to smile and gurgle with delight when she came home, and that made it more than worthwhile.
Today, however, had been tough. One of the bodies that had come through her morgue today had been a young woman killed in a drunk-driving accident. She'd been thirty-seven weeks pregnant with a girl. She'd managed to make it through the autopsy without incident, but she'd taken her afternoon break immediately afterwards and spent it having a good cry in the locker room. After her shift was over, she elected to get a cab rather than take the tube; it would get her home to her husband and daughter quicker.
When her feet landed on the landing, she could hear muffled sounds through the closed door of 221B: her husband speaking aloud and her daughter babbling. Already she could feel the healing balm begin to pour over her heart. As quietly as she could, Molly opened the door and tiptoed inside.
She found the sitting room empty, and deduced that the two people she loved most in the world were in the kitchen. Still quiet as a mouse, Molly sneaked up to the kitchen doorway, hiding herself as much as she could so she could be a silent witness to a truly beautiful sight.
Sherlock was sitting on a kitchen chair in front of Alethea's high-chair, which she was securely strapped into. He was feeding her little spoonfuls of mashed sweet potatoes. They'd only just begun to incorporate solid foods into her diet, and the results thus far had been mixed. She'd adored applesauce but repelled the strained pea mix (Sherlock had said this was an early sign of the extreme intelligence he knew Alethea would have). Judging by the relaxed expression and posture of her husband, Molly could deduce that this third attempt was a success so far.
"This is a very wise and smart choice, Lithi," Sherlock was saying as he dipped the spoon into the little bowl of orange mush. "According to my research, sweet potatoes are one of nature's unsurpassed sources of Vitamin A and is more rich in nutrients than any of the cereal abominations seen of the shelves of Tesco's. You've swallowed more than what you've dribbled onto your bib, so I am going to call this a victory. Just one more spoonful and you'll be finished, I promise. Now, open."
He moved the full spoon towards his daughter's mouth, and though she couldn't see her baby's face, Molly could tell from Sherlock's expression that Alethea had done just what her father had wanted her to do: accepted the food and swallowed it all.
Then something happened that Molly never in her life expected to see: Her husband gave an exaggerated gasp, widening his brilliant eyes and opening his mouth wide even as he smiled. Giggles burst forth from their daughter, and his expression relaxed as he joined his deep chuckles with her soprano giggles.
It was pure music to Molly's ears. Unable to hide or contain herself any longer, a sound burst from her chest that was half-sob and half-laugh. It immediately caught the attention of her husband, who immediately stood up with cheeks that tinged with a pink blush at being caught. But in the next moment, his gaze upon her deduced the kind of day she'd had and her mental state when she'd come home. His embarrassment immediately vanished, and worry replaced it. Wordlessly, her husband went to her, wrapped his arms around her, pulled her against him, and kissed her lips firmly.
Molly happily melted against him, returning his kiss as her hands caressed his curls. When they broke for air, she gave him a reassuring smile, letting him know that she would be okay and she would confide in him later. Appearing satisfied for the moment, Sherlock gave her lips one last peck and he released her.
His wife then made her way into the kitchen and immediately to the front of the occupied high-chair. Their six-month-old daughter immediately lit up in happy babbles and a gummy smile at the sight of her mummy; her little legs began to rock back and forth rapidly and her little arms reached out towards Molly. Laughing, Molly wiped Alethea's face of orange mush and removed her bib before lifting her from the high-chair. She then cuddled her daughter to her, kissing her dark and wispy head as she muttered how good of an eater she was being and how much she'd missed her today. When her throat got tighter, Molly stopped speaking and contented herself with rubbing Alethea's back and inhaling her lovely baby scent. The baby girl's babbling had dropped from joyous to almost soothing, having inherited her mother's compassionate intuition.
When Molly felt her husband join the embrace by wrapping his arms gently but securely around the both of them, Molly felt that her heart was positively overflowing.
Later that night, after they had put their daughter to bed, husband and wife were sharing a hot bath together. Molly lay between Sherlock's legs with her back against his chest, her fingers tracing along his arm as she recounted her day to him. He listened and comforted her silently, with kisses anywhere he could reach and hands that caressed her beneath the warm water.
After soaking together in silence for some minutes, Molly smiled as she spoke: "I never thought I would see the day you would make such a silly face." Again, Sherlock's high cheekbones coloured pink, and Molly giggled in delight. "And you tease John mercilessly whenever you see him make a silly face for Hamish! Wait till he hears what a hypocrite you are."
Sherlock groaned, but he didn't sulk. "Well, it can't be worse than what happened two weeks ago when he and Hamish came for a visit while you and Mary went shopping."
"What happened?" asked Molly eagerly.
"Mrs. Hudson let them in, and the three of them saw me…holding Alethea's Piglet and Pooh toys in front of her and…"
Knowing perfectly well what Sherlock couldn't bring himself to admit, Molly laughed in pure delight. "Oh, you silly man! And you said when I was pregnant that you would never stoop to such 'base forms of distraction' for our child!"
Sherlock didn't respond. Suddenly worried that she had accidently struck a nerve, Molly carefully turned herself so she was facing him. "I'm sorry," she said, one hand coming out of the water to caress his cheek. "I was only teasing."
"I know," said Sherlock, giving her nose a reassuring kiss. "I was just thinking."
"What about?"
"Before I came to my senses about you, when I would compliment and flirt with you, it wasn't only to get cadaver parts or lab access. Every time you would smile at me, every time you blushed, every time you would laugh…it felt like the sweetest rush. I soon began to look forward to your reactions just as much as your help. Then, after I finally acknowledged that my heart was yours, it only grew stronger. It is still, to me, a constant thirst that will never fully be satisfied."
He paused to give her a kiss, and smiled at how red her cheeks had become from hearing his train of thought. He continued in a more tender tone.
"And then our daughter was born. Do you remember the first time she smiled? The first time she laughed? I know you delight in her joy as much as I do, and like me, would do anything to make her happy. So, if pantomiming with her stuffed animals or exaggerating my facial features makes her smile and laugh, then I will gladly do it." His nose crinkled a bit in the hint of a pout. "But, to be clear, only in front of you two."
Molly laughed, her heart and eyes brimming. "You wonderful man," she murmured before kissing his lips soundly.
When they broke for air, Sherlock caressed her neck. "Are you feeling better?"
Molly nodded. "So much better. I knew that I would have to face days like this coming back to work, and…just knowing what I'm coming home to makes it more than worthwhile." She bit her lip. "You're still okay with this? Me going back to work?"
Sherlock frowned and his eyes narrowed a bit. "Did I not say I support you when you decided to go back to work? Have you ever heard me tell you otherwise since you've gone back?"
Molly sighed. "No, you haven't, and I know I sound foolish right now…I just, I would hate it if you, or Alethea, would come to…I don't know…resent me because I chose to go back to work rather than stay at home."
Now looking fiercely resolute, Sherlock took Molly's face in his hands. "Never, Molly. Before we were husband and wife, before we were lovers, you were my pathologist, as I always unconsciously called you in my mind. Your job is part of who you are; it is what you are passionate about, what you excel in, and how you make a difference – a good one – in this world."
Molly's eyes burned with tears as her husband deliberately repeated certain words back to her that she had said three months ago, when Sherlock was offered his first big case that would take him away from home since Alethea had been born. He'd been torn, clearly wanting to take the case but not wanting to somehow hurt his girls by choosing this. Molly had shown no hesitation or doubts, and Sherlock had been able to leave with John happy in the knowledge that his girls would welcome him home.
Now, with her eyes and heart full, Molly wrapped her arms around his shoulders as she kissed him again, this time with all of the passion she had for him. As her husband made love to her right there in the bath, Molly didn't know or care how many times the words "I love you" were torn from her throat in between her soft mewls and moans of pure bliss.
After they'd managed to get out of the bath, get dried and changed into their pajamas and dressing gowns, neither parent could resist sneaking into their daughter's room to take a peek at her. Little Alethea Johanna Holmes was fast asleep in a soft lilac onesie in her yellow-painted room and lamb-white crib. Her little rosebud mouth was open in a tiny 'o', and the fingers of her right hand slowly spasmed and waved beside her dark head as she dreamed.
It was all the proud parents could do not to reach inside the crib and cuddle her, so they held each other instead as they watched her. They had known for a long time how wonderful and extraordinary the true love between them was, and the greatest proof of that was sleeping happily in her crib. Both knew that there would be more difficult days of doubts and sadness ahead, but they would get through them like today, coming out stronger and even more loving.
Their family may be small, but there was love, and that was all that mattered.
A/N: So yesterday I was feeling a bit blue, and then I saw some adorable photographs of Benedict with his baby boy. In one he's making a funny face to his son, and I got immediate inspiration! This was intended to be just a tiny piece of fluff, but ended up being a bit deeper and more emotional than I thought. I hope you like it nevertheless, and I would love if you left a review. :)