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CHAPTER SEVEN
Sherlock knew he had hurt Molly's feelings by not coming to their bed. While he didn't always sleep with her, it had always been a matter of him not being tired and having things he had to do. He usually stayed with her until she fell asleep. He knew she liked it and there was something remarkably satisfying about hearing that last little sigh before she drifted off to sleep nestled against him.
But this time, he had avoided their bed out of anger. Because his feelings about his father overwhelmed the feelings he had for his wife.
Sherlock had moved down to the kitchen not long before Molly was sure to rise. Of course, he was right on time. The kettle had just boiled when Molly exited the bedroom, wrapped in Sherlock's tartan dressing gown.
Molly walked to the kettle as she did every morning to turn it on, noticing that it was warm. Sherlock walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I've already made a pot."
Molly had tensed slightly in his embrace. "Talking to me now, are you?"
Sherlock pressed his face into Molly's neck, taking in her scent. "Molly. You know full well I wasn't angry at you."
"He's reaching out to you, Sherlock," Molly said quietly. Her hands covered Sherlock's and he felt the warmth of her skin against his. "Why can't you accept that?"
"Because I know him," Sherlock replied. "He's not here for me. He's here because he needs something. Siger Holmes cares about one thing and one thing alone: Siger Holmes. Why should I bother with him?"
"Because he's family." Molly's slender fingers laced with his.
"Don't care." Sherlock pressed Molly closer still. He didn't want to delve into it further, but he knew Molly wasn't going to let it rest. She could be annoyingly persistent.
"Do you know what I would give to have another day with my dad?" Molly asked. She pulled out of Sherlock's arms and turned to face him. She shook her head slowly, sadly. "To know my mother... At all? Your dad came to see you and you shouldn't let that go."
"It should be plainly obvious to you that the Holmes family lacks the nobility of the Hoopers." Sherlock sighed. He reached a hand up, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Molly's face. "I would just like to not be arguing with you. It is remarkably inconvenient for me."
Molly blinked at him. "Inconvenient?"
Sherlock grimaced. "And by that I mean... I love you?"
With a sigh, Molly cradled Sherlock's face. She got up on her tiptoes, giving him a light kiss on the mouth. "Maybe next time, you say it without the question in your voice. But I love you too."
Sherlock leaned down, pressing his forehead against Molly's. He gently stroked her back. "Tea and then you need to get ready for work."
"Mm." Molly threaded her fingers into Sherlock's curls. He sighed softly at the feel of her lightly combing through the locks. "Just promise me something, Love... No more angry experimenting?"
"No more angry experimenting." Sherlock pulled away from Molly. "Have some tea."
As Molly began to prepare her tea, Sherlock took out his phone and sent off a quick text:
Come to Baker Street in one hour.
-S
Sherlock was sitting in his chair, fingers steepled. He took a deep breath, centering as the door opened and Siger entered. "Bit surprised you asked me over, Sherly."
"No you're not," Sherlock replied tersely. He gestured to the chair that would forever in his mind be 'John's chair'. "Sit."
Siger went along with Sherlock's demand, sitting down across from him. He looked around the flat. "Where is your wife?"
"Work," Sherlock raised his head, looking down on his father imperiously while the tips of his fingers brushed his chin.
"Right." Siger nodded. "Hardly proper, isn't it, Sherly? Having your wife out, elbow deep in corpses."
"She's a pathologist," Sherlock replied. "How else is she supposed to do her job if she doesn't slice up cadavers?"
"I'm saying you should be the one earning a wage in the house. It's embarrassing otherwise."
"My work sustains me adequately. I charge on a sliding scale, depending on how interesting the case and how much the client annoys me. And there's my trust as well." He furrowed his brow. "What do you suggest I do with Molly? Keep her in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant?"
"God no," Siger sneered. "Women are absolutely intolerable when they're pregnant."
Sherlock nodded. "Well, that does explain why all of your known illegitimate children overlap with mother's pregnancies."
Siger rolled his eyes. "Sherly, your mother and I are still happily married."
"A happiness that is directly proportionate to how much you are not in each others presence," Sherlock shot back. His back straightened, muscles tensing. "When was the last time you saw each other? Fifteen, twenty years? Molly still works because she enjoys her job. Because she is good at it. It was her abilities as a pathologist that first made her desirable to me."
"Well, that certainly explains it," Siger commented.
Sherlock lowered his hands slowly, balling them into fists. "Pardon?"
"Never did have much use for a pretty face, did you, Sherlock? The wife proves that."
Sherlock relaxed his hands. He chuckled softly. "Are you trying to bait me, Father? Get me to lash out about how attractive my wife is? Quite frankly, the fact that you find Molly plain is something of a blessing. I do recall you trying desperately to pull Mycroft's girlfriend from uni."
"Why did you call on me?" Siger demanded, rising to his feet. The fury on his face was so familiar to Sherlock. He had seen that look so many times during his childhood.
But he was not a waifish child any longer and rose up. His father was still taller than he was, but he did not shrink in his presence. He was not afraid. "Why did you come, Father? Certainly it wasn't to check up on me nor was it even to investigate into my wife's suitability. Marrying the daughter of a butcher rather pales in comparison to a stint in rehab and faking my own death."
Siger smirked. "You think I don't like you precious Molly, Sherly? I adore her. Your mother cannot stand her."
Sherlock smiled, nodding. "Of course. Of course the only way you could approve of my wife would be because Mother dislikes her. Do you have any opinion other than what is contrary to Mother?"
For a long time, Sherlock and Siger just stared at each other. His hatred for the man was only outstripped by his hatred for Moriarty and Moran. He continued to glare at his father with the utmost contempt. He heard Molly's voice in his head, reminding him that Siger was family. He pushed it aside. Molly didn't understand who this man was. His mouth curled in a small smirk. "You have a case for me. At least Mycroft has the decency to be direct when he wants to exploit me."
Siger pulled away from Sherlock and settled back down in John's chair. He steepled his fingers. Sherlock hissed in a breath, recognizing the habit as one he himself possessed.
"Do you remember the Duke of Holdernesse?"
Sherlock stared at his father, blinking blankly. He sat back down in his chair. He shook his head. "No. Should I?"
"We spent a month at his Chateau in Provence," Siger pointed out, giving Sherlock a pointed look.
Sherlock waved his hand dismissively. "Deleted it."
"Did you delete every dignitary I ever introduced you too?" Siger questioned, arching his brow.
Sherlock chuckled coldly. "No. I deleted every single interaction we had together." His gaze narrowed. "It seemed terribly inefficient to hold onto any of those memories, pretending they have any sort of sentimental meaning."
"Of course." Siger smiled tightly. "Holding onto those memories would have meant a little less hard drive space for your grisly murders and the memories of your romantic encounters with your lovely wife."
Sherlock fought to suppress his anger at the slight against Molly. "So why should I care about this Duke?"
"His son has been kidnapped from school. Lord Saltire was last seen at the Priory School in Derbyshire. He disappeared two nights ago."
Sherlock yawned. "I am rather busy in London. John has just returned from his honeymoon and will no doubt wish to stay with his wife until they are settled into a routine as a married couple. I also have far more pressing concerns." Such as tracking down Irene Adler.
"Oh." Siger nodded slowly. He rose to his feet. "That is disappointing, Sherlock. I hate to explain to Molly why a ten year old boy is allowed to remain missing. Why... Such a thing could even make her wonder about the fitness of her husband as a father." His gaze bore into Sherlock. "Seeing as that is preying on your mind."
Sherlock's lip curled. "You know nothing about me."
Siger frowned at his son. "You're telling me that you do not wish to have children with your wife? That due to what you perceive to be an unhappy childhood you do not ache to 'do it right' with your own bride?"
Sherlock remained quiet for a long time. His father was as good as himself or Mycroft. He did want to have children with Molly. He'd been thinking about it since the false alarm when he'd believed Molly was pregnant. The idea of a creature that was a little bit of him and a little bit of Molly appealed greatly to him. He also did want to give a child a better life than he had with his family.
But he would share none of that with Siger. Any right Siger had to the personal details of his life had been negated years ago.
"One hundred thousand pounds," Sherlock replied coolly.
"Excuse me?" Siger questioned.
"One hundred thousand pounds," Sherlock repeated, rising from his seat and tugging down the bottom of his jacket. "That is the fee for my services."
Siger frowned. "Isn't that a bit excessive?"
"I told you," Sherlock kept his voice even. "I charge on a sliding scale with my clients based on how much they annoy me. How much do you want this boy back, Father?"
Siger stewed for a moment. He then nodded in agreement.
"Fine then." Sherlock gave a sharp nod. "Text the details to me. We are quite done, are we not? If you would please leave. I need to collect John and we will be at the Priory School by nightfall."
Siger glanced at Sherlock. "Is that all?"
Sherlock shrugged. "There's really nothing else to say, is there? You've gotten what you came for."
With that, Sherlock strode into the bedroom to commence packing.
Molly arrived home from work just as Sherlock was carrying his suitcase out into the sitting room. "Ah Molly. I'm glad you didn't linger at work. I was concerned I would end up having to text you."
Molly frowned at the presence of the suitcase. "What's going on?"
"Case," Sherlock replied. He put down his suitcase and took hold of Molly's shoulders. "That was why my father has come. I'm just waiting for the cab. John and I will be in Derbyshire for the next few days." He gave her a gentle kiss on the mouth. "Will you be all right on your own for a few days?"
"Of course," Molly replied. "I'm just... You took a case from your father? You saw your father again?"
Sherlock could see the concern in her wide brown eyes. She was so expressive. Even without his skills, he could read her easily. Molly wore her heart on her sleeve, especially in regard to her feelings for him. How could he have been so blind for so long? Sherlock pressed his forehead to Molly's. "Yes. I needed to. I needed to speak to him, without the veneer he puts on for strangers. He wished to give you a good impression of him."
Molly bit her lower lip. "Well, why are you taking a case for him then?"
"It's work," Sherlock replied with a small shrug. "It seems interesting. Besides, he's agreed to my rather ridiculous fee. I'd like to find out why." He tilted Molly's chin up and kissed her gently once again. "I shouldn't be long. Text me if you need anything."
Molly gave Sherlock a swat on the backside as he picked up his suitcase once again. He jumped up and turned to his wife, giving her a shocked look. She was smiling coyly at him. "Be careful, love. I'll just spend the next few getting actual work done without interruption."
"There's a girl," Sherlock laughed softly.
Molly sighed. "Sherlock... Are you sure you want to know about your father?"
"Honestly..." Sherlock sighed. "I think I already know. I just need to make sure."
