Hello again.
Okay, so I am aware that these sort of stories are supposed to be a daily update kinda thing, but with my work I won't be able to do that. I will update as soon as possible; hopefully weekly.
Thank you for the support and for those who have read my other stories and came over here to read this...HELLO OLD FRIENDS XOXO.
Enjoy the next segment.
I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's cannon.
Much love and many thanks.
Chapter 2: Cuddling
The wind outside is howling like crazy causing the walls of 221b to screech and stretch. A small but warm fire is glowing in the fireplace as my son and I sit up close on our assortment of blankets. Charlotte is swaddled up nice and snug in my arms, cooing and wiggling her chubby little arms about to grasp onto anything she deems interesting. She is very observant for a three month old. She is always studying things and rarely ever cries; always focused on what is going on around her. In short, she may have my eyes and hair, but Charlotte is Sherlock's daughter.
Sherlock is working, yet again, but I don't mind it. He spent the first month and a half of Charlotte's life here at home, working from his laptop and studying the evidence he's already collected. The entire back wall of our living room is decorated with pictures of maps and papers with fast written notes scribbled on them. Sherlock will stand in front of the wall, mumbling to himself while either cradling Charlotte in his arms or bouncing Hamish on his hip. I can't complain about him working at home if he continues to spend time with his kids. Sometimes, I'll catch him sharing his notes with them; what can I say? It's kind of adorable.
He seems to have discovered the source of the video or at least where the signal broadcasted from. It really came of no surprise to me when Sherlock said that it came from an abandon warehouse in a less desirable part of London just as I wasn't surprised when he and John went to investigate there was nothing to be found. I know that the video was very real, but any common criminal could have made it just as an awful prank. Sometimes, I really think my husband is chasing a ghost.
"Mummy," Hamish asks, plopping down to sit next to me, "can I see sister?"
A warm smile grows across my face as I carefully lower Charlotte down just a tad so Hamish can have a look. With her bright green eyes, Charlotte stares up at her brother and giggles. Hamish giggles back as if as Charlotte reaches a pudgy hand up to him; "Mummy, why she so tiny?" my first born asks, setting a hand atop his sister's.
"Because she is new, sweet heart." I reply, "Believe it or not, you were once this small."
Hamish squints up his face in disgust and just shakes his head; "No, Mum, I not small. Not ever." he says with affirmation, "I big, I told you."
"Yes, of course, sorry," I reply with a chuckle, "would you like to hold her?" With a very excited nod, Hamish holds his arms out as if to take her like a tray of food. I laugh and help him guide his arms the correct way as I pass his sister over. "Now, be very gentle Hamish." I coach, wrapping a protective arm around his shoulders, "Charlotte is still delicate."
"I gots it, Mum," Hamish replies, adjusting himself into my lap.
I wrap my arms around my kids as the three of us cuddle close together. The storm outside seems to have picked up causing the wind to howl even louder. Surprisingly, Charlotte is unphased; she just stares up at Hamish and I as if we were two of the most fascinating people in the world. I can't help but smile at this scene, but part of me wishes Sherlock were here to see it. Even though he's been home, it's not exactly like he's here. His mind is on the case; its always about the case. Yes, I know being a detective is who he is, but sometimes I wish the work would take a back seat.
It will never happen, but one can hope.
"Mummy? You doing it." Hamish says, breaking me from my thoughts.
"Hmm? What, what was I doing love?" I ask
Hamish just looks up at me with a giggle and then turns back to Charlotte: "Don't worry bow dat, Sister," he tells her, "Mummy stops talking for bits then zones out."
"I do not," I tease, kissing my son's cheek.
"Do too!" Hamish giggles, facing me "You an Daddy do it. Daddy calls it his...er...his mind..."
"A mind palace, Hamish, but don't worry yourself about it now. You are far to young to understand it; Give it a few years and I'll teach you."
I quickly look up to see Sherlock leaning in the doorway with a proud smile on his face. His hair is completely a mess and he's wearing his sweats and that over-sized, navy blue jacket I've only ever seen him wear when he's at home sick. However, despite his look of complete disarray, I'm over the moon to see him.
"Here, Mum, take sister," Hamish says, handing Charlotte back to me, "I gots to see, Daddy. Daddy!" Hamish then stands up on wobbly legs and manages to run to his father with open arms. Poor Charlotte starts fussing due to the fast change of who was holding her, but I calm her by giving her my index finger to suck on.
"Oh, hello there. What a welcome home," Sherlock says, scooping his son up into his arms, "How are you Hamish?"
"Good now dat you here," he replies, kissing his father's cheek, "Where were you?"
"Working," Sherlock replies, adjusting the excited toddler on his hip
"Your always working," I say in a quiet voice but Sherlock hears me. We make eye contact and I bite my lower lip in embarrassment; "Sorry, I didn't mean that to sound like I was complaining."
"It didn't," he replies, giving me a smirk that causes my nerves to melt away. He then comes over to my side and sits beside me, hooking his free hand behind my neck; "Come here," he whispers, bringing my head in close. I smile as our lips lock in a deep kiss. If it weren't for our children making noises at the moment, that kiss could lead to a lot more.
"Eww, stop it," Hamish says, situating himself between Sherlock and I.
"What? Me loving your mother?" Sherlock laughs, "One day you will understand being in love, Hamish, and then you won't be able to stop kissing that person. We'll see how disgusting you find it then."
"Hopefully that is not for a very long time," I add in, moving in to be as close to my husband as possible. Sherlock just chuckles and wraps an arm around me as he leans back against his leather chair. With a Charlotte lets out a small cry as she reaches her pudgy arms up to him to which Sherlock replies by giving her his left hand to examine. It's a rare moment this, all four of us cuddled up together by the fire. In fact, this absolutely never happens. Better make the most of it then.
"Daddy, Daddy, guess what?" Hamish suddenly exclaims as he stands up, "I made you something!"
"Did you?" Sherlock asks, giving me a quizzical look.
"The power went out so there was no television for awhile," I explain, "Hamish took to drawing while I tried to fix the issue."
"Ah, that explains why its so dark in here." Sherlock says with a nod, "Well, Hamish, then let's see it." With a bright smile, Hamish takes off toward his bedroom. Charlotte lets out a little fussy cry for attention, waving her arms about, just as we are about to kiss again; "What's this now?" Sherlock says, taking her into his arms, "What's the matter, little girl?"
"She just wants her Dad," I say, wrapping my arms around Sherlock's middle and resting my head onto his shoulder, "She loves it when your home."
"I like being home, believe it or not," he replies, kissing his daughter's nose, "Yes, I truly do."
I smile at him and place a soft kiss on his neck; "It's nice to have you home," I say, "but, dare I ask, Sherlock, why you're dressed like a member of your homeless network."
"I'm embarking on some undercover work," he replies,adjusting Charlotte to rest her head on his shoulder, "I have to get to the center of all of this."
"All of what exactly?" I ask, snuggling close to his side, "I mean, does Moriarty still have some sort of a network out there?"
"I'm not sure, which is why the undercover work is needed," he replies, "but I don't want to talk about that now."
"Oh?"
"At least not in front of the children."
"I see."
"But I promise you that I will solve this."
"I know."
"I promise."
"I know you do."
"Elfie Marie,"
I turn my gaze to him and just look into those seafoam orbs of his, completely in love with him. He knows that I don't like any part of this Moriarty ordeal, but he has to solve it. That's just who he is; Sherlock Holmes hates to leave any mystery unsolved. As if to wordlessly drop the subject, I stroke my husband's cheek and place a soft kiss on his lips.
"I love you," I whisper
"I love you too," he replies, "always."
"Daddy, look it!" Hamish squeals as he comes running back into the living room, swinging a large piece of paper around in his hands. With a grand thump, he plops down into my lap. "See, I made dis." Hamish proclaims holding his artwork up with pride.
On the paper is a large yellow smiley face, very similar to the one spray painted on our living room wall, surrounded by various scribbles of brown and blue crayon. At the very bottom there is an inscription that Hamish wrote (well, I did actually, but he told me what to put):
To Daddy
I Love You
Hamish and Charlotte
"It says Sister's name but I made it," Hamish points out, "See! It like our wall! Now you cans take home wit you when you goes to work."
I look at Sherlock and can't help but smile at the look of utter gratitude on his face. A small tear rolls down his cheek causing him to quickly wipe his eyes with his hand. He then takes the picture and looks it over as if it were the most important item in the world. This is another one of those rare moments; when the world's only consulting detective shows his softer side.
People rarely ever see the 'human side' of Sherlock Holmes, but I am one of the fortunate ones who gets to see it all the time. It's part of the reason I fell in love with him, really. He has a heart that can be hard to find under that hard shell of the emotionless facade he puts on, but I found it. Nearly 5 years ago, I found that heart and thus the human side of this exquisite man.
"What do you think?" I whisper, wrapping my arms around Hamish's middle to hold him in place in my lap.
Sherlock turns his attention to his son, who is so desperately awaiting his father's reaction, and give him a kiss on the forehead; "Thank you, darling, darling son," he says, clearing trying to hold back tears, "Truly, thank you."
"Youse welcome," Hamish replies, kissing Sherlock's cheek.
Sherlock looks up at me and I just smile back at him; "Whatever happened to the man who despised sentiment?" I tease in voice that only Sherlock can here.
"It seems the idea of it has begun to grow on him," he replies and we both just chuckle. Once again craving to be the center of attention, Charlotte lets out a small cry and pats her chubby, little hands against Sherlock shoulder. Setting his picture aside for the moment, Sherlock adjusts Charlotte to be cradled in the crook of his arm while he wraps his free arm around Hamish and I.
And so here we are; Sherlock and Elfie Holmes cuddled up together in front of the fire on a windy London night, with our children nuzzled up in our arms. It's almost like a scene from a movie, how perfect everything is right now. I never thought my life would end up like this and neither did Sherlock. We've both changed from the people we once were and I don't think anything would ever make us go back.
Not even Jim Moriarty.
I rest my head back onto my husband's shoulder and close my eyes, completely in love with this moment and praying that this will never end.