Chapter 9
Laura sat behind her laptop with tilted head. She was bored. SO bored.
After seeing her father falling apart over whatever transpired between him and her step mother, only one thing was sure.
Love was not stable. It wasn't certain. Even between two people who obviously loved one another greatly, like her parents did.
Her grandmother and uncle John both assured her that a parents love for their child was different. But Laura, given the things she'd witnessed by her grandfather... wasn't so sure.
She hadn't heard what transpired between Sherlock and Molly, but she did see her father slowly shrink within himself. He even barely acknowledged any of the three of them as they were scuttled away from the house and brought the long to the family estate.
To her mind, love can falter. She loved her father more than anything, and the thought of losing him again was very painful.
Maybe if she proved useful, he would have reason to keep her around even if ...
Getting up from the desk, she walked down the hall to sneak a peek in on her brothers, who were sleeping soundly. She almost envied them, their seemingly uncomplicated lives. But at the same time, she was grateful for it. If anyone brought harm to either of her brothers, there would be hell to pay. Even if their dad didn't seem to care.
She explored the house for some time, marvelling over the antiquities located in not so secret rooms. Things passed down in the family for hundreds of years.
On the way back to her room, she stopped in front of a tall window and looked outside. There were a number of guards walking about the property as well as in the house. It was on lockdown, with no one on or off the land unless expressly cleared by their uncle Mycroft or grandma.
If only she could talk one of them into letting her have her hands on a gun. But her parents were very firm that she wasn't to touch a firearm. This made little sense to the thirteen year old, since she felt it would be handy since someone always seemed to be out for her.
With a sigh, she returned to her room, and plopped down in front of the laptop once again.
Suddenly, a sly smile crossed her features and her eyes lit up. Her fathers expression.
Quickly, she typed in for Youtube.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Sherlock returned to his house late in the night. He set his keys on the kitchen table and went to the sink for a glass of water. The house was dark, but he knew Molly was awake. Knew she wouldnt' sleep until she knew he was home and safe no matter what had transpired between them.
He sat down on his chair in the livingroom, glass dangling from his fingertips and he let out a sigh. He had to get some sleep. His body needed it, and he had a long day ahead of him. But he couldn't make himself go into his bedroom. More to the point... he didn't want to.
By now, surely Molly would know the truth. But it didn't matter to him. To his mind, she should have known. NEVER should have doubted him.
No matter how he tried... he saw her differently now. Saw THEM differently now. He wouldn't leave her. There was the children to think of. And he did make a promise to stay. But to share with her the kinds of things he did before?
Trust has hard to earn, but so much harder to earn back. Maybe he was just too used to the ever so loyal wife of his.
"Sherlock? " Her voice was soft, standing the hallway entrance.
Sherlock didn't look up at the sound of her voice. Just kept staring into the dark.
"We should talk. "
When he didnt respond, she came to sit down near his legs and looked up at him.
"I am so sorry. I know I should have known better. There was just too much going on. Which, I now, thats how life is when you are married to Sherlock Holmes. " She tried to joke, but her half hearted chuckles fell flat.
"Sherlock, please. I know its going to take time. But will you please just talk to me. Say...something. Anything. "
Sherlock continued to stare into the dark for several long moments. Suddenly, she stood up, almost knocking Molly over. She scrambled up and watched as Sherlock adjusted his jacket slightly before turning around. He straightned and looked down at her, and sh felt the chill from his expression.
"Goodnight. Mrs. Holmes. " He said, before walking purposefully down the hall and into not their room, but the guest one. With an ominous click as the door shut behind him, Molly's eyes closed against it.
Sherlock stood at the door, his hand still braced at the place he set it to close the barrier between him and his wife. All the while her pleas beating him about the head. There was a war going on inside Sherlock Holmes. One he scarcely needed at the moment. He heard Molly shuffle back down the hall, heard her sniffles. She stopped just on the other side of the door set to knock, but she could not hold a fist. She finally flatted her hand against the door and braced herself as she held back a sob. Sherlocks head bowed when he heard to soft brush of her hand against the wood just on the other side of his own. He didnt' move until he heard the door close to their bedroom.
No. Sherlock thought to himself. There would be no sleep tonight.
For anyone.
