7.
And isn't this a crime? We know by now that time knows how to fly.
- Goodbye So Soon, The Great Mouse Detective
Four years old.
Sherlock couldn't wrap his head around it; Elspeth was four years old already. How did that happen? He'd been monitoring her progress carefully because the growth and development of small children had always fascinated him, but he'd never been close enough to a child to keep an accurate record. But the months had flown by and now he was in a shop, staring at party decorations with a blank expression while Elspeth fidgeted in the trolley, trying to clamber out of the seat designed specifically for children her age.
He had no idea where to begin. The party – if you could call it that; Sherlock had only invited his parents and Mycroft because Elspeth didn't attend school or nursery, so there were no children to ask to come over – was only a few days away, and Sherlock had left it to the last minute to prepare everything. He'd brought Elspeth's presents in a couple of hours, demanding the help of a poor, startled looking shop assistant. Molly had looked after Elspeth that day.
Elspeth let out a squawk of protest, still fighting against the restraints, and Sherlock turned, absent mindedly picking her up and keeping one hand on the trolley so it didn't roll away.
"Ooh," Elspeth said, her attention caught by the bright colours. "Pretty."
"Mmm," Sherlock hummed. "What should we get?" he asked, playfully bouncing Elspeth up and down on his hip, making her giggle. She looked at the decorations in front of her with a serious expression, thinking.
"Everything!" she decided, flinging her arms out. Sherlock moved out of the way before she could hit him on the head.
"We can't get everything," he told her.
Elspeth huffed. "Please," she begged, wrapping her arms around Sherlock's neck and clinging onto him, burying her face into his shoulder. "Please, Daddy, please!" Elspeth lifted her head, batted her eyelashes, and pouted. Her bottom lip trembled. Sherlock glared down at her; she always made it hard to say no to her.
"No," Sherlock said, stern as he could manage. "We can't get everything, you can pick a few things."
Giving him a suspicious, narrow eyed glare, Elspeth asked, "How much is a few?"
Sherlock frowned, considering his words, and said, "I'll tell you when to stop."
Holding Elspeth on his hip, Sherlock picked up the various decorations that she pointed at. Banners, streamers, balloons, even those ridiculous paper plates and cups with drawings of princesses on them. Sherlock drew the line when she asked for a pack of silly, pointed party hats; as amusing as it would've been to see Mycroft wear one, he wasn't willing to make a fool of himself. Elspeth pouted, threatening to make a scene, but decided against it when Sherlock threatened to cancel the party all together.
"Ooh, looks like someone's having a party," the cashier commented with a wide grin in Elspeth's direction, and she beamed up at the older woman.
"It's my birthday soon," she announced. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
The cashier gave Sherlock an understanding smile. "And how old are you going to be?"
"Four!"
Elspeth babbled excitedly all the way home and Sherlock half listened to her, distracted by his own thoughts. He just hoped that the party went well.
Sherlock didn't sleep the night before Elspeth's birthday, which he expected, and he was wide awake when Elspeth emerged from her room. She'd tried to stay up late the previous night because she thought that being four entitled her to a later bedtime, but failed miserably and ended up having to be carried to bed by Sherlock.
Her eyes shining, Elspeth darted down the corridor and into the living room, scrambling onto the sofa so she could throw herself onto Sherlock's lap.
"Good morning," he said with a pleasant smile, smoothing her wild hair back and hugging her to his chest. Elspeth hooked her arms around his neck and gave him a wide, toothy grin that spread from ear to ear. "What are you doing up so early? Is it a special day?" Sherlock dug his fingers into Elspeth's side and she squealed with laughter when he tickled her.
"It's my birthday!" Elspeth whispered, like it was a big secret.
"Yes, it is," Sherlock said. His smile grew wider and he hugged her even closer as he kissed her forehead, so astounded but happy that his daughter was four years old. Sherlock pressed another kiss to her forehead, then both her cheeks, even the tip of her nose. Elspeth giggled. "Happy birthday."
Elspeth laughed again and, with her arms still around his neck, stood up on Sherlock's lap, craning her neck as she looked around the room. Sherlock knew what she was looking for but waited patiently, wondering if she would work it out herself. He had hidden the presents rather well, if he did say so himself, so he would be impressed if Elspeth did find them.
Her eyes widened. Grinning, Elspeth leapt off Sherlock's lap and headed straight for the cupboards in the kitchen. He tried not to laugh; she was way off.
"What are you looking for?"
Her voice came out muffled because Elspeth's head still stuck in the cupboard. "My presents," she called. "Where are they?"
Sherlock didn't answer. He watched Elspeth continue to dig through the cupboard, intervening when she tried to climb in. He knew that would end in disaster and tending to any injury that was sure to follow was not how Sherlock wanted to spend the morning of Elspeth's birthday.
The first birthday she was spending with him, he realised. Sherlock supposed that was somewhat significant.
"Oh no you don't," Sherlock said, grabbing Elspeth by the waist and pulling her backwards, picking her up when she started to complain. "You are such a monkey."
Elspeth laughed and started to make monkey noises, gibbering as she wriggled about in Sherlock's arms. "Presents," she said to him. "Where are my presents? Where are they please?"
"Well, since you asked so nicely," Sherlock teased. He carried Elspeth back through to the kitchen, putting her on the sofa so he could fetch her presents from his bedroom, the only room she wasn't allowed to go in. He had to make a couple of trips because he'd brought her so many, and on reflection, Sherlock realised he may have spoiled Elspeth a bit. But it was her first birthday with him, and he wanted to make it special – he'd even gone through all the trouble of making sure that the decorations were up on the wall before she woke up. "Happy birthday, Elspeth," he said, kissing the top of her head.
Elspeth made quick work of the presents, tearing the wrapping paper away with wild abundance and exclaiming at every gift. She'd never had so many presents in her whole life.
Sherlock, perching on the arm of the sofa, watched Elspeth with a smile of his own. He – with the assistance of the girl in the shop – had put a lot of thought into her presents, especially since he'd been clueless about what to buy for a four year old girl. She took a particular liking to the art set he had brought her. The girl in the shop had assured him that a lot of kids liked it because it came with easy to use paints and a wide variety of coloured crayons, and Sherlock made sure to buy Elspeth her own sketchpad so she would stop drawing on his paperwork.
"Thank you!" Elspeth said, crashing into Sherlock's side when she ran across the sofa and wrapping her arms around him for a few seconds, hastily returning to her presents. She was so excited that she didn't know where to begin, trying to use everything at once. She looked up. "I'm hungry."
"That's because you keep running around," Sherlock told her. "Come and have breakfast." Elspeth didn't move, reluctant to leave the gifts behind. "Elspeth, your presents will still be there. It's time for breakfast."
It took a few more minutes to coax Elspeth away from her presents. She ate her breakfast quickly and Sherlock ushered her into the bathroom before she could get anywhere near her gifts again, knowing it wouldn't be long until his parents and Mycroft arrived. Sherlock didn't want a repeat of Elspeth running around in her knickers.
"I don't want to wear a dress," Elspeth grumbled, letting Sherlock wrestle it on her. It was pretty and expensive, and Sherlock knew that she probably wouldn't ever wear it again, but it was nice for a special occasion like this.
"You have to wear one."
"Why?"
"Because adults like it," Sherlock murmured distractedly, focusing on the braid Molly had once shown him how to do. Elspeth wriggled.
"Why?"
Sherlock paused. "I don't know. We'll ask one."
Elspeth looked rather pretty in her dress and she stopped squirming for a minute to admire herself in the mirror, then hurtled down the corridor so she could carry on playing. Sherlock wondered why he had bothered making the effort when he knew she was only going to get in a mess later on.
He checked the clock, realising he ought to get dressed himself. Wanda was constantly nagging her youngest son about lounging about in his pyjamas all day.
"They're here!" Elspeth shouted while Sherlock was buttoning his shirt. "Can I answer the door?"
"It's unlocked," Sherlock called back. Elspeth grinned, reaching up and opening the door for her grandparents and Mycroft.
"Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!" Wanda sung, picking Elspeth up and pressing a sloppy kiss to her cheek. She wiped her lipstick off Elspeth's cheek with her thumb. "Four years old already! You're getting big now, Elspeth!"
"Absolutely huge," Timothy agreed. "Do I get a hug from my very grown up granddaughter?"
Timothy hugged Elspeth, making her laugh by pressing several kisses to her cheek, and Sherlock exchanged reluctant pleasantries with his mother and Mycroft. His brother sneered at the decorations.
"I take it they were Elspeth's choice?"
"Don't be mean, Mike, Sherlock make a wonderful effort," Wanda scolded. "Come on, Elspeth, darling. Your granddad and I have got lots of lovely presents for you – and don't you look absolutely beautiful in your new dress? Like a little princess, right, dear?"
"Just like a princess," her husband echoed.
Wanda and Timothy predictably spoiled Elspeth rotten with their gifts as well, but Mycroft's present overshadowed them all. He had brought his niece a large, handmade doll's house with sets of furniture for each room and matching dolls that were meant to be a family of four. Mycroft Holmes looked rather smug when Elspeth unwrapped his present, and Sherlock resented him for it.
"You really shouldn't have gone to so much trouble," Sherlock said through gritted teeth.
"It was no trouble, dear brother," Mycroft replied, smirking.
It was Sherlock, however, who got the last laugh. Elspeth was initially pleased with her doll's house, setting up the furniture and putting the dolls away in the various rooms, but she then got bored of it and returned to the art set Sherlock had given her. Mycroft stopped smirking.
"I can't believe she's four already," Wanda gushed, sitting on the sofa with her husband. "How time flies by . . . oh! Don't forget the cards! Timothy, where's our card?"
"Right here," Timothy said. He handed the card to Wanda, who gave it to Elspeth. She looked at it with disinterest, putting it to one side so she could continue drawing. Sherlock opened it for her.
"What do you say, Elspeth?"
"Thank you," Elspeth said promptly. She hadn't even been listening but that was usually the correct response when she was asked that question. She didn't even look up.
"Mike, don't forget your card," Wanda said.
"There's a special present in it just for you, Elspeth," Timothy added. Elspeth's head shot up then, and this time she took the card, opening it herself with great care. She couldn't imagine what present would be inside. She was sorely disappointed when she found – what looked like – a piece of paper.
"What's this?" Elspeth asked, holding it up to Mycroft.
"It's a cheque," he explained. Sherlock took the cheque from Elspeth before she could rip or lose it, raising his eyebrows when he saw the amount Mycroft had written. "Your father can open a bank account for you and put that in, so when you're older, you'll have some money of your own."
"Oh." Elspeth screwed her nose up. "I'd rather have money."
Sherlock smirked, then remembered that his mother was present. "Elspeth," he said, trying to sound stern. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Say thank you to your uncle."
"Thank you, uncle Mycroft," Elspeth said, sounding about as sincere as she felt.
"Did you intend on adding so many zeroes, or are you succumbing to the woes of middle age?" Sherlock asked Mycroft, tucking the cheque into his pocket and making a mental note to take it to the bank the next day. Opening a bank account for Elspeth didn't seem like such a bad idea.
"I thought it would be a fitting gift," Mycroft said, his lips twitching into a dry smile as he acknowledged Sherlock's criticism of his age. "It is the first birthday she has spent with us, after all."
"I think it's lovely," Wanda said. "You really should start a savings account for Elspeth, Sherlock, give her something to look forwards to when she's eighteen." That was another fourteen years to go, but it was never too early to start thinking ahead. "It'll be handy for University and whatnot, don't you think, Timothy?"
"If she decides to go," Timothy said. Wanda gave him a scandalised look.
"Of course she'll go, she's a bright girl for her age already. It wouldn't surprise me if she went to Oxford or Cambridge."
"Try not to put too much pressure on her, mother, we don't want Elspeth to suffer a complex before she's five," Sherlock said. His daughter turning four was hard enough to wrap his head around. "I'll have to enrol her in a school before we can even consider University." School. That was an intimidating thought. Sherlock had despised school when he was young, but that didn't mean Elspeth would, of course.
It was hard to imagine Elspeth going to school. Sherlock would have free days again, the flat would be empty five days a week, she'd make friends and meet new people . . . it was all rather daunting.
Not that Sherlock would ever admit it.
The conversation immediately turned to about schools, and the various places of education in London. Wanda thought back to when Mycroft and Sherlock went to school, much to the brother's chagrin, and Timothy interjected occasionally with his own comment or account. Sherlock watched Elspeth play.
"Perhaps it's time for you to get the c-a-k-e –" Timothy spelled the word so he wouldn't attract Elspeth's attention. "– Sherlock."
"Oh, I'll get the lights!" Wanda announced, jumping to the feet.
Elspeth looked up, giving them all a suspicious glower when Wanda turned the lights off, but her face lit up the second she saw Sherlock carrying the cake through from the kitchen, all of the adults engaging in an off-key chorus of 'Happy Birthday'.
"Blow out the candles and make a wish," Sherlock said to Elspeth, even though he didn't believe in such trivial superstitions. With a large puff, Elspeth managed to blow out the four candles in one go, looking pleased with herself when everyone cheered.
"Can I cut it?" she asked.
"No."
"But –"
"No," Sherlock repeated. Elspeth didn't ask again.
Just as he predicted, Elspeth covered her face, hands and dress in cake. Sherlock suspected that she'd used the latter to wipe her hands despite Wanda offering her a napkin, but he didn't say anything. Clothes could be washed.
The excitement died down after a few games, and when Elspeth started to show signs of fatigue, Wanda and Timothy announced that they were leaving. Mycroft decided to go with them.
Elspeth said goodbye to both her grandparents, then wrapped her arms around Mycroft's legs and latched on, refusing to let go until he crouched down to her level with the intent of prying her away from him. Her hands were still very sticky but Elspeth didn't care, putting them either side of Mycroft's face and patting his cheeks several times so he was sticky as well. Kissing his nose with a loud mwah, Elspeth grinned up at Mycroft.
"Bye, uncle Mycroft! Thank you for my doll's house!"
Sherlock laughed, and even Wanda had a hard time hiding her amusement when Mycroft straightened up. It was hard for one to look dignified when they had bits of cake plastered to their cheeks, courtesy of a small child, and Mycroft ignored the stifled laughter of his family as he took his handkerchief from his pocket.
"Goodbye, Elspeth," he said stiffly.
Later that evening, Sherlock and Elspeth curled up on the sofa together in their pyjamas. She was hugging the bear he'd brought from Hamleys for her to her chest, half asleep in Sherlock's lap, and he absently mindedly stroked her hair while he watched the news. The flat was quiet after that afternoon's celebrations, the decorations looking considerably less impressive in the dim light of the evening.
"Did you have a good day?" Sherlock asked Elspeth.
"Yeah," she said around her yawn, snuggling closer to him. "It was the best birthday ever."
Sherlock smiled. Next year would be better, he supposed, as Elspeth would have friends to invite. But then he'd have to go through the tedious planning and buying presents and decorating all over again, and the thought made Sherlock grimace to himself. Perhaps he would limit the guest list to two or three of Elspeth's friends.
The doll's house Mycroft had brought her was in Elspeth's bedroom, and Sherlock scowled when he thought about it. It was typical of Mycroft to try and outdo Sherlock.
"Do you have a favourite present?"
Elspeth was quiet for a few seconds, and Sherlock wondered if she had fallen asleep. He could see the reflection of the TV in her eyes, though, and realised that she was only thinking. Eventually, Elspeth nodded.
Unable to stop himself, Sherlock blurted out, "Do you want to tell me what it is?"
"My art set," Elspeth mumbled tiredly, yawning again. "That's my favourite."
The art set that Sherlock had brought her. He knew it was childish but he couldn't help but feel smug about that, his arms tightening around Elspeth when he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He hadn't realised that time went by so quickly, but Sherlock intended on making every second of his time with Elspeth count.
Thank you ScissorLuv143, EICochrane, LoverofWords22, dancetillidrop, Adrillian1497, Marlene, Guest, Music of The Light, WerewolfHybrid31 and bellechat for reviewing!
