First Results
"Infants benefit from skin-to-skin contact."
"So do I."
Incredibly uncomfortable between Sherlock Holmes and a woman who was certainly not named Alice Bates despite her claims, Lily swallowed and leaned against the door frame. Sherlock Holmes appeared to be blushing, and it showed on his pale chest though not on his cheeks. Toby gurgled and writhed in his father's grasp, sensing the tension and discomfort in the arms holding him. He began to whimper softly and Sherlock scowled, tearing his eyes from his staring match to his son. Hesitantly, he rocked him back and forth.
"It's quite all right, Tobias. Your mother is merely being her infuriating self."
Seemingly unconvinced, Toby whimpered louder and Irene smiled at him.
"Daddy bothering you, sweetheart?"
Confidence oozed off of her as she scooped her son out of Sherlock's arms and into her own. Bouncing him gently, she smiled at him.
"Much better now that you're with Mummy, aren't you dear?"
Her bouncing, though originally quieting him, grew a little aggressive and Toby began to wail. Finally in her element, Lily walked over quietly to the little family as Sherlock cocked his head, looking at his son as he buttoned up his shirt.
"That's...a mixture."
"What are you going on about?" Irene looked aloof.
"His cry. It's a blend of the one he uses when he's hungry and the one he uses when he's scared or uncomfortable."
"What?" Irene looked startled and Lily took that moment to gently extract the baby from his mother's arms.
"Mealtime, sorry."
She only lat herself scowl after she was out of the room and heading up the stairs. It was clear that both parents felt affectionate towards their son, the issue was they were constantly butting heads with one another. Sighing, Lily relaxed and settled into the rocking chair in Toby's nursery, unbuttoning her top and offering him a breast. Toby was agitated enough that he refused the food and continued wailing.
"Toby, come on. It's all right."
The baby ignored her and his screams increased in volume. Sighing, Lily stood, slipping her breast back into her shirt and she walked the room, humming 'Abide With Me' softly to the screaming baby. As it is with babies, Toby continued his wails for a good fifteen minutes until he settled down and accepted the offered breast. Whenever she paused to attempt sitting down, he would begin to cry again, so she fed, burped, and soothed him some more, walking around the nursery, down the hall, and back.
More screaming during the diaper change and another fifteen minutes to get him settled enough to go to bed left Lily exhausted and she walked back downstairs to find something to eat while she sat down for a little while. Much to her surprise, Sherlock and the woman who was certainly not named Alice were still in the sitting room.
Uncertain once more, she timidly knocked on the door, causing them both to turn and look at her.
"Um...I was going to get something to eat...do you need anything?"
"You've just eaten," Sherlock pointed out as not-Alice simultaneously said "No, thank you."
"Mr. Holmes!"
He turned to look at the woman who was not Alice.
"What?"
"You're being rude again."
"She doesn't mind, do you Lily?"
Not allowing Lily to answer, the woman (not Alice) shot back.
"I'm sure she does mind. She takes care of a tiny screaming version of you all day, I doubt she wants to deal with an adult version."
"I believe it's fair to say there's a good bit of you in there as well, Irene."
He said her name pointedly, in a manner that was far from accidental, then looked at Lily.
"Sherlock!"
"Oh she knew it wasn't your real name. Nobody calls you that. You might as well be Irene as anyone. It's easier to you have a name that we all use than swapping back and forth with this Alice nonsense."
"I'll just go then," Lily said uncomfortably, "If you need anything, I'll be in the kitchen."
Neither of them seemed to particularly notice and the bickering escalated into a debate.
As hot water sprung from the shower head, Sherlock took off the remains of his dripping clothes and left them in a small pile by the door before stepping into the shower. Not a moment later, he heard the door open and a low sultry voice chuckle.
"Will you need any help, Mr. Holmes?"
"Certainly not. And this shower is hardly large enough to accommodate two."
"I would enjoy proving you wrong."
"No doubt," Sherlock replied, tilting his head back to allow the hot water to run over his already-dripping curls.
"I'll leave you to it, then."
The door closed again and he allowed himself to sigh with relief, relaxing as he borrowed shampoo, conditioner, and soap to clean himself off. Long after he was clean, he soaked in the remainder of the hot water, bringing his body temperature back up and allowing himself the small enjoyment of a long shower at Irene Adler's expense.
When the water finally began to cool, he pulled a towel off of the hook next to the shower, dried his hair, then his body, and wrapped it around his waist. Usually he would consider meeting Ms. Adler in a towel a terrible idea, but they had already compromised once and he would rather be in a towel inside the house than without one outside.
He padded into the living room and her eyes slowly ran over his body, caressing the edges in a way that was clearly intended to make him uncomfortable. It was mildly successful, but only because he was at loss and in nothing but a towel, which he forced himself not to pull tighter, knowing it would be seen as a weakness on his part.
"I don't suppose you have something I can wear other than this towel?"
Her smile was almost predatory and he sighed internally, fully aware that until the rain stopped he was stuck with her and it would all be a long competition, a battle they played every time they were together.
"I have a dressing gown you can borrow."
"Pants? Trousers? A sweater perhaps?"
Shaking her head, she smiled at him.
"No dryer here either...your clothes will have to dry in front of the fire."
"Fine."
"Fine?" She raised an eyebrow. "You have no objections to being naked except for a robe?"
"I presume you have seen me in such before."
One of her shoulders raised and lowered in a half-shrug.
"A good dominatrix never tells."
"You're no longer a dominatrix."
"Darling, I'll always be a dominatrix. Just not necessarily one employed to do it."
His stomach dropped slightly, warm and pleased. She was flirting, he noted. She was flirting and he was enjoying it. Acutely aware of his bare chest, he blinked calmly at her.
"Am I going to have to search for the dressing down?"
"Don't tempt me, Mr. Holmes."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
When she brought the dressing gown—a quilted dressing gown, one clearly meant for men, he noted that the older woman that typically lived here had a husband, a deceased one, but she kept his dressing gown around. For this he was thankful. Retreating back to the bathroom to change and hang up his towel, he tied the belt of the dressing down firmly around his waist and returned to the sitting room where Ms. Adler awaited him.
"How do you plan on passing the time?"
"Thinking."
"Smart may be the new sexy, Mr. Holmes, but it doesn't entirely replace it."
"I am not interested in what is sexy."
"I could explain it to you if you like."
"Thanks but no thanks. I prefer my conversation stimulating."
"I think you would find me quite stimulating."
Again, he felt his body react with interest, but shoved the response under the cool exterior he was projecting.
"I am not interested in your sort of stimulation, thank you."
"You would."
"What?"
"Thank me."
"Ms. Adler do me a favor and try to think of something other than your profession."
"Everything is my profession."
He snorted and looked towards the fire, not deigning her retort worthy of a reply.
"Chess?"
When he looked over, she had set a chess board up on the small table between their seats. Staring at the board for approximately fifteen seconds, he glanced back up at her.
"I win."
"I haven't even started yet."
"You were about to open with the Sicilian Defense, leaving me to have your king in checkmate in four moves."
"Aren't we clever?"
"John says I'm a show off."
"He's not wrong."
"I don't see the point of stifling my intelligence to accommodate those of lesser intellect."
"Humility is certainly not a strong point for you then?"
He scoffed you.
"As much as humor is for you."
She smiled.
"I think it's sweet that you're attempting to be insulting. The attempt is noted, though you're getting low marks for effort."
Leaning over, she moved one of her pawns forward two spaces.
"Not the Sicilian Defense, you'll notice."
He barely looked before selecting a piece to move.
"We could sweeten the game."
"I hardly see the point."
She moved her bishop across the board in a diagonal dance and he countered.
"Entertainment, Mr. Holmes. You scorn my idea of entertainment so I am attempting to accommodate your forms of it. It's known to be polite, though I doubt you would recognize it."
"How do you wish to improve upon an age-old form of mental stimulation?"
"A small wager."
"What do you have that is of worth to me?"
"Plenty." The smile was evident in her tone and he was sure on her face, though he did not make eye contact under the premise of studying the board.
"All right then. What do you propose?"
"If I win the game, you belong to me for half an hour. You get no say in what I do to you during this time. And if you win, you get the same."
"I don't wish to do anything with you for a half hour."
"I can be completely silent for that time."
He already could see her moves playing out across the board and smiling, he nodded. He could see his victory in only a few short moves.
It took five minutes before Sherlock Holmes was a knot of frustration in a chair.
"Checkmate."
The word was poison on her red lips.
"You cheated!"
"There is a difference between cheating and knowing old rules."
"I refuse to accept this."
"Refuse all you want. I have still won the wager."
"Nonsense. I won't have it."
"Are you going back on your word, Mr. Holmes?"
That stopped him. Whatever else he had, he did have his pride and admitting defeat was an act that stated he had enough power to allow her some if she wished, while denying it was a sure way to depict himself as too weak to allow a single thread of control slip through his fingers. His teeth were gritted as he spit the words out,
"What will you have me do?"
She smiled.
"Nothing too terrible, Mr. Holmes. Get on the sofa over there and be quiet."
Lily ate in silence, munching on an apple as she slouched over the kitchen counter, her feet dangling off the wooden stool she sat upon. The arguing/debating/whatever the couple called it had died down into silence and Lily was relieved. She loved Toby dearly and each of his parents were polite to her individually, but putting them together was mixing an interesting cocktail which she had no interest in sampling.
They hadn't left yet she knew that much. If they had, the front door would have opened and shut and so far it hadn't. She had no interest in investigating what they were doing either, as she was certain to either interrupt a moment or stir them back into arguing. Taking the baby monitor in one hand, Lily whistled softly for Pan and took the monitor, the blanket from earlier, and the corgi all out into the garden.
In the sitting room, Irene and Sherlock were quiet. His bare foot sat on her lap and she was gently rubbing it, her thumbs kneading tension out of it. Their argument had fizzled out and the silence that lay over them was not uncomfortable for either. They were two people who did not quite know how to live with one another, but as evidenced by Irene's gentle foot massage, they may be able to get there if they gave it half a chance.
So there we are, another chapter done! Thank you very much for what reviews you have provided; they are great motivators and I love hearing feedback. Here's to another chapter: Huzzah!