Hello!
Back to Elfie's POV as they head to Sherlock's childhood home. Reading back, I did notice that I made Sherlock and Elfie a bit distant at the beginning of the chapter. To address May2306's previous concern and others who may be wondering; No, I don't plan on breaking them up. I have…other things up my sleeve.
Spoilers ;)
Thanks for the continued support! Reviews, follows, favorites, etc. really do mean a lot to me.
I do not own BBC Sherlock or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's canon.
Much love and many thanks
Chapter 7: A Makeshift Family Vacation
"Elfie, call the museum. You'll be taking some time off. Tell them to give you…oh about a week or so. After that, you'll need to start packing right away. Bring somewhat warm clothing and some good walking shoes; the countryside is quite different from the city, but of course you know that. We'll need to pack a bag for Hamish as well, but that shouldn't be a problem. Oh, and pack a pair of heels…and a dress, preferably one the more nicer ones you own. We'll more or less have to make our way into town and my family holds a sort of prestige there. I don't enjoy dressing up from crowds, as you very well know, but we might as well just go with it. After all, we can't have people knowing that I'm on the case in risk of compromising its results. In short, my dear, the question really is when can you be ready?"
Mary and I, seated on the bathroom floor beside the tub, just stare up as Sherlock in complete confusion. We were just in the middle of Hamish's bath and I was just telling Mary about how sporadic Sherlock's moods have been these past few days and, well, now he's just proven me right. What is it now? Just moments ago, he was going through an emotional roller coaster and now he apparently wants to travel for a case and bring me along. And not just go anywhere, but to the countryside where he grew up.
I'm at a complete lost.
"I'm sorry?" I finally manage to put my thoughts together and ask.
"We're going to the country in the morning," he replies as if my question were the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard, "didn't you hear me?"
"Yeah, I heard you," I reply with a roll of my eyes, "but why are we going to the country?"
"A case, Elfie, why else?" He scoffs, "I'll explain the details on the way, but now you should start to pack. Oh and Mary, your still here. Well, good night now."
"Sherlock, don't be so rude." I say at my best girlfriend's defense, "I'll be a few more minutes with Hamish and Mary is helping. You can either start explaining this case right now or wait until we are done."
"Elfie, this is important."
"So is taking care of our son."
"Elfie, please."
"Sherlock, I'm not taking off to the countryside with you unless I have a good reason too. Now, take a seat and explain."
Surprising myself on how harsh I just sounded, I turn my attention back to Hamish who is gently splashing away at the fading bubbles in the water. I didn't mean to snap at him; it's just that sometimes Sherlock pushes my buttons. He pushes everyone's buttons and normally I'm the one who just deals with it and doesn't react. However, It does tick me off when he doesn't fill me in on his plans and then just expects me to follow his lead. I'm not just a follower; I need to know where I'm going and why. He can't expect to just drop everything and say 'okay, lets go.' That's not how the world works.
"Mary, John is waiting for you in the living room." Sherlock says in a low (but somewhat kind) voice, "If you don't mind I need to speak with Elfie in private. Always a pleasure to see you."
"I, er-You as well, Sherlock." Mary stammers, getting up and dusting off her black slacks, "I guess I'll call you later, Fee."
I give her a small nod as I rub the washcloth up and down Hamish's back one more time. As soon as she leaves, Sherlock takes her place beside the tub and folds his long legs in close to his chest. We don't look at each other but I can tell that he's sorry for being so rash…even if he won't say it.
Noticing Sherlock, Hamish lets out a tired giggle and reaches his arms out to him. Sherlock smiles meekly at him and takes one of his little hands into his own. They study their intertwined fingers, each thinking a hundred miles a minute, and smile at one another. I still can't really wrap my head around the fact that Sherlock Holmes is a father and a damn good one at that. He and Hamish are honestly inseparable and just two of a kind.
The consulting detective and his three-year-old son: the perfect pair.
Who would have thought?
"Dad," Hamish says, trying to hide a yawn, "out now?"
"Are you done, young man?" Sherlock softly replies, ruffling the boy's damp curls. He then looks over at me and I nod. "Do you have a towel?" he asks and I just motion my head toward the towel folded up on top of the toilet seat. Sherlock grabs it then gently lifts the sleepy toddler up out of the bathtub and into a standing position in front of him.
"I tired, Dad." Hamish yawns as his father gently wraps him up in the soft white fabric.
"I know; it is late for you." Sherlock coos, drying the boy off, "and it's been a long day for all of us."
"Who that lady?" Hamish asks, "I no see her all the time."
"You mean you've never seen her before," Sherlock corrects, "Well, she is my mother. Do you know what that makes her to you?"
"Gr-Grandma?" Hamish replies after a moment of thought.
"Good man." Sherlock says, wrapping the towel around Hamish's waist, "and we will be going to her home tomorrow. It's far away from London, out in the countryside. How do that sound to you?"
"We come back?"
"Yes, of course we'll come back. It will only be for a short time. This is what people call a holiday, although it's not really a holiday because I'll be working but that doesn't matter. Think of it as a…an adventure, like in one of your books."
"Oh-tay."
"Very good. Now where are your clothes?"
"Bedroom." I reply, getting up, "I got it, Sherlock."
"I am capable of doing it, Fee," he says, "It' fine."
"No, I've got it. You should really go see if John and Mary and Violet…"
"Fee, I've got it. Let me." He says, gently taking hold of my hand, "Please."
We exchange a quick look and all I can do is nod. Sherlock, with a bit of help from me, stands up and walks into the bedroom with a half-naked Hamish resting on his hip. I remain in the doorway just watching them as Sherlock manages to get Hamish into a diaper and ready for bed without a fuss. He really is quite good at this fathering business.
"She very pretty." Hamish says
"Hmm? Oh, your Grandmother." Sherlock replies, tossing the towel aside, "Yes, yes she is. Put your arms up please"
"Why I never see her?" Hamish asks while Sherlock pulls the light blue, long sleeve, pajama shirt on him.
"Because she's been away for a very long time." Sherlock replies.
"How long?"
"Very long. I was still very young when she…went away."
"Like me?"
"No, no, Hamish, I was much older than you but not old enough to be a grown up. Come now, let's finish this up so we can get you to bed."
"She made you sad," Hamish states, touching Sherlock's cheek, "You cry, Daddy. I saw it."
I hear Sherlock take in a deep breath as he holds Hamish's hand in place: "Lay down please," he says, "I need to get your trousers on you."
Hamish does so without a complaint. Sherlock slides the blue flannel pants on him then helps the toddler up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
"Hamish," He says, sitting beside his son, "do…do you remember that night when I came home after I had been away? The night-well, the night when you first met me?"
Hamish nods excitedly: "You come home." He says with a giggle, cupping Sherlock's face again, "It was raining and Mummy let us sleep on couch and her eyes all red. You did have hair all on your face, kinda like Jawn."
I let out a small chuckle; Hamish would remember something like that. The boy has such a strange attention to detail. Then again, he is a Holmes.
"Yes, I did have a bit of facial hair didn't I?" Sherlock says with a small chuckle, taking the boy's into his, "But, Hamish, what Im trying to say is-Well, do you remember how Mum was that night?"
"Mhm," he replies with a nod, "She was happy cause you were there."
"Yes, that's right and I was happy to be with her. She was crying, do you remember? That's why her eyes were red."
"Mhm."
"The reason she was crying that night, Hamish, is the same reason I was crying tonight. I hadn't seen my mother in a very, very long time and…and I missed her. They were good tears, Hamish, not sad ones; just like when Mum missed me and was happy to see me again. Do you understand?"
"Not sad?" Hamish asks, looking up at Sherlock.
"No, I'm not sad." Sherlock replies wrapping an arm around the boy, "I'm just…relived."
"What that?"
"I'll tell you another time. Now, it's time for bed."
Hamish nods and cuddles up close to his father's side. Sherlock places a kiss atop of the boy's head and wraps both his arms around him in a warm embrace. Sherlock's eyes then meet my own and he smiles: "It's interesting what you said; about how you wouldn't just take off to the countryside with me without any explanation." He says, addressing me now, "There was a time when you'd follow me anywhere, no questions asked. I guess it's selfish of me to assume that I never had to explain my ways to you, however…I realize the error behind that now. I didn't mean to upset you, my dear."
For a moment, I have to wrap my head around what he's just said. Is Sherlock…apologizing? Actually, genuinely apologizing for being him? This is way beyond odd; this never happens.
"I…I didn't mean to snap at you," I stammer, trying to let him know that he's not in the blame here, "I'm not mad and you know that I'd follow you to the ends of the Earth."
"I know." Sherlock replies, "But to be fair, I was rather demanding just now."
"Yes, yes you were. But I don't expect anything different from you." I say, folding my arms across my chest.
He gives me that half mouth smirk of his and my heart just melts. I let a small chuckle escape me as I go to his side. Sherlock stands up and wraps his arms around me as my lips land on his. We share a sweet and simple kiss and I can't help but let my cheeks turn pink. Only this man can make me so frustrated and then hopelessly in love with him in a matter of 5 minutes.
"Elfie," he whispers when we part, "I…I must confess something to you."
Confused, I back up a bit to look at him properly; "What is it?" I ask, raising an eyebrow "Is it to do with this case that you're so eager to start?"
"No, no, nothing like that." He says, now sounding like a nervous child who has just broken some adolescent rule, "No, I…It's my, um, responsibility-yes, responsibility-to tell you this." Sherlock looks toward the bedside table for a moment and then back up at me; "Thank you." He finally says, "Today was not easy for either of us and I want you to know that I am forever indebted to you for listening about my father and being as supportive as you are with my mother. Our lives haven't been as they should be and…and I take full responsibility for that. But, know that I love you my darling and I…I always will."
I set a hand on my heart and just look into those sea foam green eyes of his. His gaze says that he's hiding something but not wanting to ruin his good mood, I decide not to push it. Instead, I lean forward and kiss his lips again.
"I love you too, Sherlock," I reply, "always." He kisses me back but to both our surprises, Hamish wiggles his way between us.
"No more kiss," he giggles, "Bed time."
"Right you are," Sherlock says, swooping Hamish up into his arms, "Let's get you upstairs to bed. Your grandmother will want to wish you a goodnight before she leaves."
"Where is she staying?" I ask
"Some extremely posh hotel," he replies with a grunt, "Mycroft set her up there no doubt. He's having a car come around a pick her up now."
I giggle at my husband's annoyance for his older brother and reach my arms out to take Hamish from him: "I'll put him to bed if you want to see your mother to the door."
"Nope, I've got it." Sherlock replies, adjusting Hamish onto his hip, "Besides, as I've stated moment ago, you need to pack."
"About that: have you decided to tell what this case is about?"
"In good time, my darling. You just start packing and I'll be back in a bit to answer your questions. I promise."
We exchange another quick kiss much to Hamish's annoyance and then Sherlock and he head back out to the living room. I remain in the doorway for a few moments looking over at the bedside table. What was Sherlock looking at? Curious, I walk over and open it. Nothing…huh. Odd.
After another twenty minutes or so of me changing into my pajamas then pulling out clothes and my suitcase, all while wondering what is going on in that head of his, Sherlock enters our bedroom and starts to explain this new case to me. I listen intently and take in each detail, but it only deepens my already existing confusion: Why would someone threaten Sherlock at his childhood home? Where did they get that picture of his 'corpse'? Who are they?
To be honest though, I'm actually happy to hear about this. It has been far too long since Sherlock's had a case that has been this obscure and presents a genuine challenge for him. He likes the odd ones, everyone knows that; they bring him joy much like a new toy brings a child joy at Christmas. Hearing the excitement in his voice right now, I can't help but smile a bit. This is the Sherlock Holmes that I fell so madly in love with: the man with a mind like nobody else.
"And why didn't your mother tell Mycroft?" I ask, folding a pair of jeans into my suitcase, "I mean, if he's going to sell the property shouldn't he know about the vandalism at least?"
"Mother had told him that she'd need a few more days at the estate before it's remolded," Sherlock says, putting on his own pajamas, "The company won't be taking over for another two weeks which means we will have to solve the case before then. Lucky for us, our messenger gave us four weeks to comply, plenty of time to get to the bottom of this."
"You mean you, not us." I point out, zipping up the suitcase and setting it on the floor, "Sherlock, this person asked for you specifically. They used your picture, focused on your death and directed the message to you."
"Yes, but who's to say that the messenger isn't aiming for those around me." Sherlock says, leaning back against the headboard, "Since starting on this particular career path, I have had my life threatened hundreds of times so forgive me if I don't seem too shaken by this recent addition to that list. My main concern, however, is for you and Hamish. I need to take you both with me to the country so that I can protect you."
"You forget that Hamish and I were on our own for three years," I reply sitting beside him, "No one is getting near that boy unless I allow it. I can handle it Sherlock."
"There is no doubt in my mind, love," Sherlock chuckles, "However, I would much prefer keeping my own two eyes on you both. If these person wishes to harm me from the outside, they will most likely strike at you first."
"The papers don't even know that you're married and have a son; how do you know this person even knows we exist?"
"How do I know they don't? Look, Elfie, I have had those closest to me in the cross fire before and I sacrificed myself to protect them. I am not afraid to do so again."
I nervously bite my lower lip and look down at my lap. He's talking about that day on the roof of St. Barts. The day I thought I lost him forever. Moriarty had threatened to kill John, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade if Sherlock didn't jump. He made no direct threat towards me that day, but Sherlock was convinced there must have been some immediate danger waiting for me as well.
Even though he had fooled Moriarty as well as the world that day, Sherlock gave up his life for those he cared about. And now he's saying that he would do it again if he had to. I admire his bravery, but at the same time my heart is aching. I don't want to loose him again. Three years thinking he was dead was more than enough for me to go through. I won't let him leave again.
I can't bare it.
Breaking my train of thought, Sherlock moves closer to me and wraps his long arms around my shoulders. I close my eyes and rest my body against his, nuzzling my forehead with his while he pulls me up into his lap.
"You know that I never go into anything without a plan," Sherlock whispers as he gently strokes my back, "and now is no exception. I know what I'm doing by bringing you and Hamish along with me."
"Won't it be a bit crowded for you?" I ask, resting my hands on his chest, "John, me and Hamish? It seems like three's a crowd, especially when you're working."
A look of distress suddenly comes over Sherlock's face as he turns to look toward the bedroom door: "John's not coming." He states rather matter of factly.
"What? Why?" I ask, completely taken back, "Did you tell him he couldn't bring Mary along? Sherlock, honey, you do realize that they are going to be married and…"
"It has nothing to do with Mary, John's just not coming." Sherlock declares, "He volunteered to stay in London and look into a few things for me here. I wrongly assumed that he would be accompanying me: End of discussion. Moving on."
"But…"
"Please, Fee, just…just let it go."
I shake my head in confusion; did something happen between him and John? There was some shouting earlier, but usually if they fight they'll just forgive each other seconds later. What happened? Not wanting to push any more of Sherlock's buttons though, I decide that I'll just ask John about it later or try and get some information out of Mary.
"So, do you want me to help you with this case?" I ask, "I mean, I don't want to just sit around while you go off on your own. Violet could watch Hamish while we're out; I'm sure she'd like to spend time with him. I'm of course not trying to replace John, I wouldn't dream of that, but I know that you like having an assistant. Remember when we were first dating? I'd help out a lot, or at least I'd like to think that it was a lot. Anyway, I…I want to help now. I can, you know."
A small smile grows across Sherlock's face as he turns his attention back to me: "You have proven to me multiple times that you are more than capable of assisting me." He says, taking my hands into his, "I would be honored to have you at my side, my darling, darling girl."
I smile back at him and kiss him on the lips. We exchange a few more soft kisses and then decide to get some rest since apparently we have to get up rather early to catch the train.
"How will we even get tickets?" I ask, nuzzling up close to my husband once he's turn out the lights.
"Already did it," Sherlock replies, wrapping an arm around me, "I know a man who runs the ticket office, owed me a favor."
"Why doesn't that surprise me?" I tease causing Sherlock to chuckle. We lay there in silence for a bit but then a thought pops into my mind: "Sherlock, we…were going to your home."
"Yes, where I grew up." he replies, already half-asleep, "So?"
"So, you said you haven't been there since you ran away." I point out, "Isn't that, I mean, don't you feel a bit…is it going to be hard for you?"
There is silence and I think that he's already fallen asleep but then I feel his chest rise and fall with a heavy sigh.
"Go to sleep, Elfie." He says, "Worry about it in the morning."
