Hello everyone! I thought I'd go ahead and do an update today in honor of Mother's day today here even though Mothering Sunday in the UK was in March (oops). I know it's been a little bit since an update but this semester is so close to being over and then I'll have a little bit more time on my hands and things will pick up. In the meantime please enjoy and Happy Mother's day to all the mothers out there regardless of where you are and know you deserve it and you are loved and appreciated!
Ever After
It's days like today when Sherlock is thankful that Molly is a heavy sleeper.
With all the noise and the ungodly sounds they've been making for the past hour it's truly a miracle they haven't been caught yet and as Sherlock tries to wipe the flour from Annabelle's face and hands he hopes this breakfast makes up for the damage they've done to Molly's kitchen. He had almost forgotten it was Mother's day and the only reason he wasn't still asleep and in danger of having an upset wife on his hands was John, who had asked him just the day before what he planned on doing for her. His response had been silence and John Watson, who knows Sherlock Holmes better than anyone, knew exactly what that meant.
"Don't tell me you forgot," the doctor pleaded, arms crossed in what looked to be disappointment. "Haven't you celebrated with your own mum before?"
Sherlock answered with a scoff but he wasn't fooling John. "If you haven't realized by now my family is a bit…let's say dysfunctional. Days like that haven't been around in a while."
John's blue eyes softened at this and he patted Sherlock's arm. "Well you don't want Annabelle to grow up thinking that's a normal occurrence do you? The two of you should do something nice for Molly, spend the day with her and just be happy. Cook her breakfast, make her something, she'll love anything you do for her as long as it comes from the both of you."
After the conversation Sherlock had gone to bed restless, unable to sleep as Molly dozed peacefully beside him. His mind was spinning as he wondered what the perfect gift for her would be and as soon as the first hint of daylight had begun to seep through the curtains he quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed to Annabelle's room.
Needless to say the toddler was not pleased to be woken up so early but as soon as Sherlock mentioned the day they had planned for Molly she was alert and dragging him to the kitchen with all thoughts of sleep behind her. He started with putting her at the table, a pile of crayons and a stack of crisp white paper in front of her. With the instructions to make mummy a card for her special day Annabelle furiously began to draw and scribble on the paper while Sherlock went from cabinet to cabinet hoping they had everything they needed for pancakes. With his search ending victoriously and all the things lined neatly on the counter he fully expected the next step to go smoothly.
Yeah, right.
By the time Annabelle had abandoned her artwork and joined him in the kitchen it was nearly unrecognizable. Although his cooking skills had bettered over the last few years they were nowhere near perfect and the now flour coated counter and floor proved it. While Annabelle was fascinated by the footprints she as making on the dusted ground Sherlock was busy whisking his bowlful of lumpy batter that looked more or less questionable.
"Have you finished your picture yet, love?" he asks Annabelle, who looks up at him with a streak of flower across her chubby cheek and smiles.
"Yes!" she shrieks and suddenly her little feet are pattering against the ground and she grabs the paper off the table, clutching it tightly and showing it off proudly.
Sherlock glances at the paper and stares the rainbow colored stick figures and the scribbles that tell him it's some version of the three of them, happy together. He gives her a warm smile and ruffles her hair with his free hand.
"That is one of the most beautiful drawing I've ever seen. Mummy will love it." With pride and excitement in her step Annabelle puts the drawing away and comes back to stand by Sherlock's side, glancing up at the counter with wide eyes.
"Daddy, what are you doing?"
"Making breakfast. We're going to give it to mum in bed, because it's her special day." Her tiny eyebrows scrunch up but she seems satisfied with the answer and watches Sherlock scoop the batter onto the griddle and listens to it sizzle.
When he's finished and has a plate piled high with oddly shaped pancakes and a handful of roses rested neatly in a glass he quietly ushers Annabelle down the hallway with her picture in her hands. She throws the door open and launches herself onto their bed and Molly stirs when tiny hands shake her shoulders excitedly.
"Mummy, wake up!" blinking sleep from her eyes Molly rolls over and sees her daughter bouncing beside her, holding out the drawing while Sherlock smiles beside her and winks, motioning for her to look at it.
"Oh this is lovely," she coos and wraps her in a hug, smoothing back her hair and grinning madly at Sherlock.
"It looks like you two have been awfully busy this morning," she remarks, watching Sherlock set down his tray and perching on the edge of the bed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered in her ear.
"This is just a little thanks from the two of us."
He gave her the tray and she smiled at the flowers and food he had obviously worked hard to make nice. Picking up her fork she brought a bite to her lips, raising an eyebrow at him before chewing it thoughtfully.
"Looks like your cooking skills have improved," she teased, offering him a bite before giving a smaller one to Annabelle who was now taking refuge in her mother's lap. "I love it, all of this is perfect."
Sherlock sighed in visible relief and ran a hand through his hair, waiting for her to take another mouthful of pancake.
"I'm glad you like it because you may not feel the same about the state of the kitchen."
"Sherlock…"
"Happy Mother's day love."
