Chapter 4 The Hare

Cousin Anthea was exactly as disgruntled as Molly had expected her to be when she saw Molly storming through the kitchen, and almost knocking down a kitchen maid on her way, before she was about to run up to the stairs. Of course, the state of her gown didn't escape the mistress's eyes, as Molly stammered and lied how she had a fall in the field. The lady of the house chided her with a high pitched tone and thereafter dragged her into her own living room, where she made others close the door after clean water and extra clothes were brought.

As soon as they were alone, Anthea sat her down and began to really ask her what had happened in the field by pointing out everything she'd seen. The dirt and grass in her hair. The mud stains on her gown, the dried tears and traces of blood on her face…not to mention swelling and bite marks at her lower lip and the loss of her collar fastening…

'Who did this?' she demanded, lifting Molly's chin up with both hands. Her slightly sided head told Molly that she already had the guilty one in mind.

'No one. I told you I fell on the ground!'

'Repeatedly? Forward and backward?' she pointed to the mud on both sides of her dress. 'And you didn't fall on your knees at all?' Glancing down at the lower skirt of Molly's gown, Anthea stared at her.

'No, I…' Molly murmured, feeling blood rushing up to her face. She tried to back away. But it was almost impossible given Anthea was sitting nearby.

'Why did you fall so many times?'

'I…I was…' Molly began to stammer, staring down her folded hands.

'Pushed?'

'Chased by a rabbit!' she blurted out, immediately bit on her tongue.

Anthea's eyes widened. 'A rabbit?' she repeated.

'No..no! A hare!' Molly heard herself uttering.

'A hare chased you?' Flatly, Anthea asked. 'And the blood and swelling on your lips were…'

'He bounced over… and...and bit me!'

'He?' She raised one of her eyebrows, a twitched at the corner of her lips told Molly that her cousin was far from convinced. She looked away, face burning from embarrassment, blushing almost as much as when she was kissed by Sherlock when he pinned her to the ground…

'How do you know that hare was a he, Molly?' Anthea breathed in before she asked, clearing her throat at the same time. Molly's palms started to feel wet.

'It was a very big hare…and…' she stammered, trying to look away. 'I stepped into its hole. He must have thought I was a snack…or…'

'A snake, hun?' her cousin hummed. Molly looked back as her cousin once again examined her face and arms, then her gown. 'Or maybe to him you were a weasel. Take off your clothes.'

Molly fidgeted at the request. 'Wh-what?' she asked.

'I have to make sure he didn't hurt you other than…these!' she sighed looked upon Molly's face. 'And you need to change no matter what. Undress.'

Molly didn't move. 'I'm fine, Anthea.'

Her cousin sighed again, looking up and down at her for a moment, before she took out a kerchief from her sleeve, soaking it in the water by the side table then starting to wipe Molly's face clean. 'But you were crying,' she said quietly, frowning at the darken blood stains on the cloth. 'Hmm,... isn't that hare intriguing? He must have bitten himself before he bit you because your skin isn't broken but there is still blood…'

'I…I did kick pretty hard, though…'Molly mumbled under the rubs. Her cousin's moves stopped as she gave Molly an almost expressionless look, then gestured Molly to stand up to take off her gown and undergarment, looking closely at her before Molly began to put on the clean clothes.

'You kicked at the hare?' she asked, as Molly's head was covered by the smooth undergarment pulling down. Molly moaned, murmuring something similar as a 'yes', trying to avoid Anthea's question.

'So, you kicked the hare before he bit you? Or the hare bit you first?'

'…Does it really matter?' Pulling the green long dress down her torso, Molly struggled as the fabric caught on her braid.

'Well, you have about seven… or more bite marks on your lips and face. I just want to know how many jumps did that animal take to inflict so many damages.'

Molly found her jaw tightened. She looked up at Anthea and began to…

A loud knock echoed at the door. Molly turned to look over her shoulder, as Anthea granted the entrance. With a crack, Sally pushed in. A large wooden bowl was in her hands.

'The broth for Lady Margaret, my lady?'

'Leave it there.' Anthea nodded at her, pointing to the side table before she frowned. 'That's a lot of soup, Sally. Didn't I say I just need-'

'Oh, You may as well have a cup? It really doesn't make a difference for me to cook more. It's nice and warm.' Sally grinned and winced while she produced two cups from her pocket and handed them to Anthea. She sighed, turning around to filled the two cups, giving one of them to Molly and settling herself down to have a small sip.

'I hope you didn't bring too much attention, dear Sally. You know my condition is not yet to be told.'

Sally laughed and shrugged, fixing her gaze at Molly while shaking her head. 'Most of the talks, for now, are about how little Lady Margaret fell into a wallow in the open field, my lady. So, I don't suppose-'

'But I didn't -' Molly gaped as she protested. But cousin Anthea simply gave her a pat at her lap.

'You certainly didn't, my dear.' The lady of the house cleared her throat while looking up at Sally. 'She didn't fall in a wallow. That would be foolish! Do make sure those kitchen lots understand, Sally.'

'I certainly will.' Sally nodded.

'Little Lady Margaret was chased and bitten nonstop by a beastly buck hare in the field when she accidentally stepped into his hole and was mistaken as a snake. She is still in a state of shock. So I don't want any talk being heard in this household. Could you make sure of that?'

'Yes, of course. Would that be all, my ladies?' Sally asked as she went to pick up Molly's ruined gown and undergarment on the empty chair, giving Molly a wide smile while walking past.

'Ugh…not just yet! Do you happen to know Gregory's whereabouts?' Anthea said as she adjusted herself in the chair, giving Sally a wide knowing grin.

'I just saw him near the back yard before coming up.'

'Good. Then make sure you tell him exactly as I say. Little Lady Margaret was attacked by a buck hare in the field. So, I don't care what he and his men are doing right now. Go grab the crossbows or whatever they need in the armory and hunt those beasts down-'

'What?!' Molly exclaimed, mouth opened as she looked up at her cousin with a tug on her sleeve. But Anthea ignored her by pushing her hand away. 'Cousin, please…No!'

'I want them on the kitchen table before this evening. Do you believe that's possible, my dear Sally?'

'Of course, my lady. Daylight is long at this time of year.' The chief maidservant gave them a big grin. 'Oh, and since you mention hunting, if I may-'

'You're certainly allowed to join them, my dear.' Anthea's voice was almost like singing. Sally laughed out loud as she bid them goodbye before disappearing behind the door. Molly kept her head low the whole time until the cup of broth in her hand began to cool down.

'You don't have to hunt those rabbits down, cousin Anthea,' she whispered. Her own ears could hardly pick up the weak voice she made.

'But you were chased and bitten. Finish the broth.' The lady of the house lifted her chin and gulped from her cup.

'I…' Molly groaned, swallowing down the salty liquid, staring at the slightly murky broth in her cup.

'Hmm?' Anthea hummed as she kept on gulping, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she finished. 'Is there anything wrong with your cup of broth, Molly?'

'No,' Molly mumbled, taking another sip.

'Good. Finish what's in your cup and go brush the dirt and grass out of your hair. And after you do all of this, come to see me at my writing desk,' she said as she stood up, looking into the wooden bowl by the side table then leaving her cup there. Molly couldn't help but raise her voice.

'Why?' she asked.

'Because I'm going to send an invitation to your mother and I need you to write in the postscript.' Anthea beamed at her, as she turned to leave the room, leaving Molly gaping at what she'd heard while the cracks of the door still resounding.

o0o

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'I must say, my dear-' Mycroft spoke up while his mouth was still half full. Anthea lowered the knife in her hand as she heard her husband's voice from the other side of the table.

'Yes, husband?'

'It's a little too early to see game in our supper at this time of year.' His smile was blurry under the flickering light in the dining room as he spoke. Anthea smiled back.

'Indeed, it is,' she answered before taking a sip of her ale and couldn't resist grinning against the cup she was holding. She always enjoyed dining quietly with her husband, pity such chances were rarely given.

'The fuss you made today was quite unnecessary, wouldn't you agree? I believe for the following week the only talk in the town will be how our little cousin was attacked by…the beastly buck hares in the field. And since when do these kind of animals become so aggressive?' the master of the house asked distractedly, looking down at the table with his knife picking up another piece of the tenderly cooked game.

'I have no idea, my love. Those beasts in the fired are never my concern. But as you are well aware, little Molly never lies unless she has a very good reason. So, naturally, I took her word for it.'

'Naturally.' Mycroft nodded, swallowing down while looking at his wife.

Anthea gave him another smile, waiting for him to speak again.

'Poor little cousin must still be in shock, mustn't she? You're right to invite her mother after such a morning. Although…I do hope you'd inform me before you decided to send the invitation.'

'Oh, forgive me, my love. I merely wished to comfort little Molly from the ordeal she had to endure today, first being insulted by Sherlock…then being chased and bitten by the hares in the field,' she took in a deep breath, shaking her head and knowing that her husband was watching. 'Could you imagine how dreadful it must have been for her?'

'Ah! Our poor girl. I suppose this is why she is nowhere to be seen? How was she before she retired?'

'Poor appetite, I'm afraid,' Anthea sighed quietly, glancing down at the cooked hare on her platter. Molly had been particularly upset when she heard they were to have game as evening supper. But she refused to tell Anthea why simply stated that she had to go to bed early.

'I was hoping to see her this evening and apologize on behalf of my foolish brother. I do hope Sherlock and those buck hares didn't break her spirits.'

'Not at all! She didn't just stand there and let him had his way this morning, as I'm sure you have already been told, my love. In fact, I believe Molly had kicked Sherlock pretty hard after their…um…shall we say… encounter. There were talks about Sherlock had to go to his friend John Watson to have his leg tended before dusk. So I suppose that-'

'I had heard of those talks as well, my dear. But what I was told was that Sherlock claimed he had a fall a rock in the field earlier today.'

'Oh! I don't know there's such difference. That's just what it is with the talks, I'm afraid.'

'Indeed.' Mycroft chuckled as he took another bite from his knife, then sighed after he turned to reach the cup by the side.

'What is it, my love?' Anthea asked, raising her eyebrows.

'Nothing, my dear. Only that I feel somehow weary thinking about our little brother and sister. You'd expect them to resolve whatever disputes they may have after being together for so many years. But instead, they still quarrel like children.'

'Perhaps that's because they are still children.'

'I'm afraid you are right,' Mycroft murmured as he sat back in his chair, a position which only appeared when he was trying to ask her opinion.

Anthea hid her smirk, sitting back in her chair as well. Her hands folded on her stomach, waiting for her husband to figure out what he had in mind.

'I only hope that,' with a sigh, Mycroft spoke up. 'They can settle their arguments before Molly's mother arrives. Though I begin to doubt if it is even possible, given their behavior today.'

'Ah,' Anthea responded. 'I don't believe you need to be over worried about that, though.' She let out a small mirth.

'How so?' Mycroft grinned back, leaning forward to look into her, folding his hands under his chin.

'It's really not that complicated. No matter how they both claim, the fact is they do care for each other. So I suggest just let them be for the time being. But if you really wish them to reconcile quickly…' she paused, lowering her head to conceal her smile.

'Yes, my dear?'

'If we wish them to reconcile quickly, I believed the best way is to make a chance for one of them to willingly give in to the other, for they are both very strong-headed at the moment.'

Mycroft's gaze lowered as he brooded on her suggestion. 'Humm…I see what you mean. But chances like such rely on given circumstances. For now, I'd say it's almost impossible.'

'Chances could be made. And we still have time before my cousin Margaret arrives. And in the worst case…' she bit her lip to withhold a laugh.

'In the worst case, my dear?' Mycroft raised his voice slightly, clearly amused.

'If there's no chance at all, in the worst case all we need to do is to lock them both in the dungeon so they will come out with many babies.' Turning her face away, Anthea pursed her lips as laughter burst out at the other side of the table, before she glanced back at her husband to join him in the most hysterical laugh she had had in months.

o0o

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Standing by the guest in his own home, John Watson, the town's physician, was concerned.

If he had to be completely honest, then concerned might have been an understatement. Ever since he began to work alongside the Holmes' younger master Sherlock, he had never been free from worry. But this time it was definitely different. And if he hadn't known any better, such bizarre circumstances would probably drive him livid. For, his strange friend had been, since his arrival, silently sitting there staring at Mary's breasts as she fed their daughter at the other side of the room.

'In the name of all the saints and holy…John!?' Mary hissed as she cast him a dangerous glare from the chair she was sitting by little Mary's cradle. Her eyes almost disappeared under those tangled eyebrows. 'Do something! He's been like this since you let him in. Kick him out or I'll do it myself! Then we'll see if he's the only one being battered!'

'Isn't that what I'm trying?' John rolled up his eyes as he pushed on his friend's shoulder. But Sherlock simply kept still like he was fully consumed in a mystery, eyes fixing on the suckling infant's lips in front of Mary's half-exposed chest.

The physician sighed, clearing his throat before raising his voice.

'Sherlock,' he called, walking over to stand next to his seated friend, arms holding across.

No response.

'Sherlock,' he tried again, this time somewhat louder, noticing that Mary winced as the child began to stir.

Still silence.

'SHERLOCK!'

The baby shrieked before the young master looked up. Mary groaned and glared at him, as she then turned away, standing up and starting to walk around, trying to calm their daughter down.

John frowned at his expressionless friend as he finally noticed him and removed his gaze - that was because Mary was walking away- then looked up at him.

'You've been very helpful, John. Look how distressed you've made of our little Mary!' The seated man remarked with a smirk. John found a hiss escape his gritted teeth. In the old days, he'd probably spit back, but not now. Not when his wife was so close to becoming murderous with their screaming child in her arms.

'Shut up, Sherlock. It's all your fault in the first place.'

'I wasn't the one who shouted, was I?' the young master simply snorted. John rolled his eyes again as he took over the wailing baby from Mary so that she could fasten her clothes back in place. The husband and wife stared at each other for a while -little Mary bawling in John's arms-, before they turned to face their ludicrous friend.

'Why are you here, Sherlock?' Mary asked, folding her arms across, reading the young man up and down with narrowed eyes. 'The bruise on you shin was taken care of yesterday. So what brings you here?'

'More specifically, why did you stare at Mary like that today? Don't tell me you were just observing. You'd seen her nursing several times and it had never caught your attention. Why are you interested now?' John asked as he gently rocked his baby girl against his chest.

'I'm not interested,' their friend sneered as he spoke. 'Just curious.'

'About what?' Mary breathed in and asked, looking aside to see the baby slowing calming down.

'Do your breasts hurt while being suckled by the baby?' Sherlock leaned forward and stippled his hands under his chin when he asked. Mary frowned at the question.

'Uh, no,' she answered and cast John a suspicious glance. John shook his head, looking back at her.

'Are you sure?' The young master's low voice raised again as if he wasn't convinced. Mary closed her eyes firmly.

'Yes,' she said, turning to John to take back the baby, who finally began to stop sobbing. Almost.

'Because you play with swords and recently gave birth,' their seated friend continued to reason, his gazes weren't entirely focused. 'So it's possible your tolerance of pain is…'

'I know what pain feels like, Sherlock.' Mary hissed through her teeth as she kept on rocking the baby, deliberately staring at the other side of the room to prevent herself from lashing out. But Sherlock seemed entirely oblivious to her annoyance as he resumed…

'So,' he sat back into the chair and continued to stare. 'Your breasts don't hurt when you're nursing.'

'No,' Mary answered flatly, then walked back to her chair by the cradle and carefully placed their baby in. John held his breath while he saw Mary stretch her arms in her seat, relieved that their daughter seemed to be finally settled.

'And, 'Sherlock continued seeming unsatisfied. 'Do they hurt when John's touching?'

'What kind of question is that?' Without a thought, John found himself exclaiming. Mary shot him an icy glare and he immediately bit his tongue. Luckily little Mary simply stirred a bit before she calmed down. But it was enough to make Mary frown again. Only that this time, there was more concern than annoyance when she turned and stared at their friend.

'Why do you want to know this, Sherlock?' she asked.

'Just tell me, Mary. Do they hurt while being touched?'

'No. Now answer me. Why do you ask?' Mary leaned back into her chair, casting John a concerned look as she waited for the response. But Sherlock merely looked down at his lap as if he was thinking. John sighed silently and exchanged a nervous look with Mary before she shook her head and asked again.

'Sherlock, why did you ask me these questions?'

'Nothing. I'm just curious,' he muttered as he remained head down. But John could see his expression become somehow grimmer, more frustrated, just like he came to them yesterday and asked for ointment for the bruise on his leg. But yesterday he and Mary didn't think much when Sherlock claimed he had fallen on a rock in the field. Everyone in the town had been talking about the ferocious fight between Sherlock and Molly. So they just assumed his silence was caused by the argument earlier the day.

But apparently, there had been more than that.

'Is it something to do with Molly-'

'I'm leaving,' he curtly cut off Mary's question short, leaping from his seat to head towards the front door. John immediately tried to stop him but Sherlock walked past. Mary called out quietly but he ignored her, too. Stopping at the door, the young master tentatively pushed the cracking thick wooden plank open so that it wouldn't wake the baby up. Yet before he could step into the front gardens, suddenly a call over the fence made him withdraw back inside.

'Good day!' the caller cheerfully sang. John couldn't help but open his mouth, staring at the intruder who was passing the fence without even asking, then just walking through their threshold into the front door.

'Sally?' the physician looked at the woman who fluently made the entrance into his home, as Sherlock tensed up next to him. His friend had never gotten along well with Sally, Lady Anthea's chief maidservant. When she first came to the town with Lady Anthea a decade ago, she had pulled the urchins on the streets - including Sherlock the younger master - onto her lap and spanked them into obedience. As the result, she'd won the respect from the grown-ups who'd witnessed it, and the reverence from the children whom she'd spanked, except, of course, for Sherlock's.

'What are you doing here?'

'Oh, here you are. Master Sherlock. I'm looking for you!' She lifted her chin up and greeted Sherlock with a wide grin before she turned and nodded at Mary.

'What does my sister want now? If she sent you to summon me to her presence then I'd have to disappoint you, Sally. I'm not in the mood of being-'

'Don't fret! That's not what I'm coming for.' She laughed out loud, giggling as Sherlock's gaze darkened. John let out a long sigh then turned around to see Mary slowly standing up. It was then he'd notice that Sally had dropped a large sack in her hand.

'Mary! You look well if I must say! How's your baby?' She blinked and smiled as Mary approached. But Sherlock snorted with a laugh before interrupting.

'She's fed and asleep, Sally,' he bit through his teeth then snorted again. 'And you are disturbing them. Say what you want and make haste!' the young master demanded.

'Fine.' Sally shrugged with a broad smile, completely unmoved by Sherlock's harsh tone. Quickly and steadily, she untied the sack in her hand and grabbed out what was inside - a two-foot-long furry dead animal - shoving it directly under Sherlock's nose. 'Here! My lady instructed that I must deliver this into your hands. So take it!'

But Sherlock didn't move. 'A hare,' he said. 'Why does my sister send me a-'

'No,' Sally shook her head, looking firmly at the young master. 'It's a buck hare.'

'I can see that!' Sherlock stepped back in disgust, looking at the dangling lower part of the dead animal, the feed of the hare swaying as Sally held it up right in front of Sherlock's face.

'My lady said it's best that you have the biggest one. After all, these animals chased and bit poor little Lady Molly so hard that she hasn't recovered from the shock until now.'

'What?' Sherlock's voice suddenly pitched. John and Mary exchanged a confused look.

'Ugh…Molly was what?' Mary asked.

'Oh, you haven't heard?' Sally blinked at them, slightly surprised. 'The little lady went to a walk in the field yesterday around noon after the…' She paused and glared at Sherlock, the dead animal still held still in her hand. '…disagreement with Master Sherlock. My lady expected her to spend the rest of the day there as she always does. But she came back within no time and was covered with dirt and grass. Wouldn't say a thing until we calmed her down. And then she told my lady that…'

'She was chased and bitten by…hares?' Mary sided her head in disbelief.

'No,' Sally tilted and shook her head. 'Not hares. One big buck hare was what she said. But…as you can see my lady didn't care that much when she ordered us to hunt these animals down. And she said that Master Sherlock should have the biggest one.' She smiled at Mary before returning her attention to Sherlock, frustratingly breathing in. 'Now, would you just take it so that I can get out of your sight, young master?'

Sherlock pouted and groaned in his throat, then slowed reached out to grab behind the furry head of the hare, wincing at the broken arrow penetrating through its skull.

'I shot this one, by the way,' Sally cheerfully added, then heading towards the entrance. 'Good day! Come visit us with your baby when you're feeling better, Mary? We can do with more company these days.'

And with that, she was gone, leaving Sherlock standing there holding the big dead hare in front of his face, until he finally sensing the unusual lengthy silence and looking up to them.

'Um…John, do you think you'd like to take this…'

'What…' Mary asked through her gritted teeth. '…did you do you Molly out in the field, Sherlock? No. Don't you try to distract us with that dead hare. Just tell me. What have you done?'