Happy new year!

So, how are you, guy? This is the first post of the story in 2016, and the title happens to be 'First Day'. A pure coincidence, but it makes me smile.

As always, my thanks go to my wonderful betas, thedragonaunt and missClaraOswinOswald, for they were so kind to beta this chapter during holidays. Credits and praises belong to them!

And in this chapter...

As new lives begin to settle in, Molly finds herself not coping as well as she had expected.

sherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlollysherlolly

Chapter 9 First Day

'It was ridiculous.' Standing by the opened door of Molly's leased house, John shook his head and sighed heavily, as he watched Sherlock ruffling the papers on the writing desk near the parlour. Despite the unexpected incident with the Tamapagowats in the morning and the obligatory visit to the fortress staff afterwards, the botanist had already made some progress in his work, on the very first day. There was a small basket of fresh samples sitting next to the desk's legs. And from the appearance of his friend, muddy trousers and dirty face, the surgeon was glad that the gardens were to his satisfaction. Because it meant that he would remain on the island, at least for the time being.

'What was?' Sherlock mumbled back, crouching on the floor to lay out the leafy spray. John bit his tongue upon seeing this action. Molly wouldn't appreciate the mess in her house. But it wasn't his place to say.

'I believe Dr Watson was talking about the fact that they mistook the chieftain for Saiyun's father.' Molly emerged from the kitchen, hurrying to the table with a copper tea pot in her hands. 'Though I wouldn't be so surprised. That is typical of the Company. They tend to see things as they perceive them, especially when it comes to the Formosans.' She stopped to put down the boiling tea and three wooden mugs. Then she peeked at John. 'No offense, sir.'

'None taken. I'm not their man.' John simply shrugged and laughed. 'Uh! It's a shame, thought, that you were not there to witness it. Young Fredrik Bos was so confused when the deputy governor's man said his father-in-law was in the castle.'

'More confused when the flogging was halted?' Molly giggled, pouring out the dark, steaming liquid.

'Or when his wife slapped him in the face in public?' Sherlock cut in, snorting with amusement, hands still fumbling the wet branches on the floor. John couldn't help but chuckle, going to the table to grab one of the teas, before he moved one of the wicker chairs to block the front door, propping it open.

'Poor Fredrik,' Molly sighed deeply, as she walked to the writing desk to place the tea next to the scattered papers.'He seemed so happy to see Saiyun outside the tower. Who would have thought she blamed him for all that…Only minutes ago she was so worried about him.'

'Technically, it was his fault,' Sherlock spoke, jumping to his feet to take the teacup. John saw Molly startled a little by his movement. 'And his wife knew it. No matter what her family might believe.'

'Yes, but…' Molly began, but her tenant simply went on, pushing her away from the desk while he shuffled the scribblings. John narrowed his gaze upon seeing this. But Molly simply stepped back. 'I feel sorry for him. Who would wish to be arrested at his own wedding?'

'Then he should have remembered his time to return.' Sherlock sneered, 'Seriously, what kind of soldier would forget that?' he laughed lightly, looking down at her, as he finally found the piece of paper he wanted and slowly reached for the mug on the desk. Taking a small sip, he gave his landlady a wide grin. Molly stared up at him, her hands twitching in the pinafore around her waist. John could hardly read her expression from where he was standing. But he knew that face of his friend well enough. Sherlock enjoyed teasing people, especially when said people were not present.

'I did't know you held such high opinions of soldiers, Sherlock,' John cleared his throat, glaring at his friend and walking towards him, noticing his friend raising one of his eyebrows. 'But the reality is, my friend, it's not entirely unusual for soldiers and staff to overstay their leave. Only most of the time, they will turn up by themselves to beg for forgiveness, instead of being arrested. The Company really should have known better,' he shrugged, watching his friend's gaze narrowing before looking down at the mess he'd made. He had collected quite a few white flowers, the surgeon noticed.

'Known better, you say?' Sherlock hummed, lowering the cup in his hand. 'How so? He is their man. Surely the arrest had to comply with…whatever regulations they abide by?'

'Yes, but there were also Formosans involved.' John inhaled deeply, looking towards Molly, who gave him a knowing smile. 'Which means there are boundaries. Things they just don't accept, including going uninvited to their events, such as weddings. Or arresting their people, of course'

'I do wonder who gave the order, though.' Molly said quietly, letting out a long, heavy sigh. 'Even though they considered Fredrik to be their man…Making the arrest in a Formosan clan is certainly unusual…if not unprecedented.'

'I can easily think of a handful,' John grunted with a shake of his head, recalling the aggressive stance of Captain Pedel in the council chamber earlier that morning. The chief of musketeers wasn't the only one who disapproved of the Company's policy towards the locals but he was definitely the most vocal. Speaking of whom…

'Is Archie now studying with Captain Pedel's son?' John asked, bearing his gaze to Molly, who gaped upon hearing his question.

'Yes,' she answered, ' Um…why do you ask?'

'No matter. I'm merely…it crossed my mind. That's all.' the surgeon shrugged, turning his attention towards the samples on the floor. 'It's a pity, though. I believe he would have liked to meet the Tamapogowats today. He is very fond of them, is he not? And these…' he pointed at the messy greenery next to where they stood. 'would be to his liking, I suppose.'

'It's true,' Molly muttered with a slight nod, glancing up to Sherlock. 'That is why I want him to go to the schoolroom today. It's earlier than Mrs. Pedel and I had agreed. But um…I believe it is better to have him stay out of the garden for now. Or else Mr. Holmes wouldn't be able to work,' she let out an awkward smile. John saw Sherlock immediately open his mouth.

'I wouldn't mind to having him around,' the botanist said, looking at his landlady with a frown. 'What made you believe he would be a bother? If he is really interests in what I am doing, then surely…'

'You met him last evening, sir,' Molly bit her lip, 'he was full of questions, curious about everything concerning you and your work. And…if I am not mistaken,' she continued, fingers clenched tightly together, 'you instructed in your letter that you would like to be undisturbed when you're working…Absolute seclusion were the words you used.'

'Ah…' Sherlock gasped, inhaling deeply. 'I did say that, didn't I?' he smirked a little. 'When I wrote that letter, I was expecting the company I would encounter here to be less…adequate.'

John saw Molly's eyebrows rising. 'Adequate?' she said.

'He means he doesn't mind the boy standing close admiring him,' the doctor grinned broadly, folding his arms in front of his chest, while his friend tossing him a glare.

'Oh,' the mother paused, 'I see.'

'Perhaps you may still bring Archie with you sometimes?' John said, 'I mean to say, Molly, I've seen you take him to work for so many years. It is somehow odd now seeing you alone. A few in the castle were asking where the boy was.'

'They were?' Molly replied, sighing slightly and looking out of the window. She remained silent for several moments until she shook her head, saying she should leave them for it was about time to start making the evening supper. Sherlock scoffed out loud upon hearing her, pointing at the bright sky outside. But Molly simply nodded, hurrying to collect the empty teacups and the pot to return them to the small kitchen, before she left by the front door, closing it behind her.

'That was unfair,' Archie grumbled, rocking his chair at the dining table. Mrs. Hudson gave him a firm look and gestured for him to stop, but he ignored her, turning to Molly.

'I never met Kuyun and Saiyun in the castle before, mama,' he whined peevishly, lowering his face to poke at the strew on his plate, making the it click.

Molly pursed her lips mildly. Normally, she would chide the boy a little for playing with his food. But today she hadn't the strength to do so. It was his first day of school and her first day at work without him. She hadn't thought much during the day until leaving the fortress to make tea for Mr. Holmes and Dr Watson, when Mr. Holmes said he wouldn't mind having the boy around, watching and asking questions.

On hearing that, she could hardly ignore the sense of loss lumped up within her chest. She missed her son, foolishly but terribly. He was quite reluctant to go to the Pedels days early. But Molly had explained to him that, because Mr. Holmes's ship had arrived ahead of schedule and circumstances had changed, it would be better for him to start studying today. Archie wasn't happy about it. But he complied without much resistance, as he always did.

And now, she felt as if she had failed him. Had she known Mr. Holmes wouldn't care about him staying close, Molly would have brought him with her. Archie always enjoyed the gardens of the castle. And he was particularly disappointed this evening because he had learned about what happened to Saiyun and her family before he went home. Molly couldn't be certain what he had heard from the Pedels, for Captain Pedel was known for his attitude towards the locals, but it seemed all Archie cared was that he had missed them when they came to the town so unexpectedly.

'You can still come with me to the village this fortnight. Saiyun has just married. They should welcome more visitors,' Molly whispered, stroking her boy's hair. It felt oddly clean under her fingers. If he had come with her today, his hair would have been more greasy.

'I would like that,' the boy hummed in respond. Molly bit her lips, as he wolfed down his food. She could not recall any time when her son had been so hungry.

'Did you eat anything during the day?' she asked, wiping the gravy from his chin.

Archie shook his head, still gobbling. 'Tea.' he muttered. Molly frowned. Mrs. Hudson tutted, disapprovingly.

'Oh, we can't have that,' she hissed, standing up swiftly. 'You will bring a small pie tomorrow. I'll go and see if the stove is still burning. No, you stay here, Molly,' she raised a hand, gesturing for Molly to sit down. 'Mr. Holmes is about to come for supper. You stay here with Archie. I can't hear anything at the front door back in the kitchen.' With that, she left the dining room, stepping heavily on the wooden floor with her heels until Molly heard the squeaky door slam shut.

'Why does Mr. Holmes come for supper again?' Archie asked, putting down the spoon in his small hand.

'He's our tenant.' Molly replied, looking into her son's face in the dim candlelight. His brown eyes were sparkling. 'That means I shall do the housekeeping and provide his meals, twice a day.'

'Oh,' the boy grinned, looking up at Molly. 'Can I talk to him later? Did he cut anything from the gardens today?'

Molly couldn't withhold a sigh. Archie was so drawn to Mr. Holmes's profession. She really should have brought him with her today.

'I don't believe he'd mind if you ask,' she smiled, taking the empty plate and spoon from the table. 'But for now, you should have a quick sponge bath by the fire. Go and fetch your clean clothes while I put these away,' she patted his arm. In the faint light, she noted there were some ink stains on his fingers. Archie let out a mild protest but did as he was told. Molly closed her eyes, briefly, once he left the dining room. Archie rarely protested at having a bath, unless he was weary. And, for the first time that day, Molly felt she was quite worn out. All she really wanted, at the moment, was to carry her son upstairs and snuggle under the cover with him. as if he were still an infant.

'The display is different.' Sitting at the same place as last evening, Sherlock spoke quietly, chin directed towards the items on the mantel, when Mrs. Jansen entered the room, handing him the warm water- 'No tea!'- he had asked for.

'I gather the new one belongs to you?' he asked, glancing up at the small portrait standing on the mantelpiece. It was a portrait of a man. A young looking man, he noted, with a face a lot like Archie's. Must have been her late husband, the school master she had mentioned earlier in the day.

How dull and common it was. He brooded, looking into the painting with a narrow gaze. The man in the picture had a small smile on his face. What kind of man would smile while sitting for a portrait?

Turning his gaze towards the chair in front of him, the botanist looked at the sleeping boy. He had been most enthusiastic when Sherlock came in for supper. He asked about his work and how he had found the gardens in the fortress, as well as complaining how exhausted the school had made him. It didn't take long before his eyelids began to droop.

Sherlock stared at him for a while, once he realised the child had stopped talking. Finishing his meal- venison stew with rice and a small piece of bread-, he studied Archie's small, sleeping figure for a moment. There were faded ink marks on his right hand and his face was freshly cleaned. The boy had just been washed before he arrived. Judging by the state of his clothing in general, it seemed that his mother kept a routine, washing him regularly, perhaps even daily. Which shouldn't have been a surprise, for he had noticed that a lot of people in Formosa seemed to maintain the habits of constant washing and bathing. Especially the Formosans he met today. Otherwise, it wouldn't be possible to remain so fresh and clean under the warm sun of the tropical winter.

So it must have been late, if the boy had already been washed and changed before I came, Sherlock reckoned. Mrs. Hudson had already retired to her room a quarter hour ago. And Mrs. Jansen, although she had heard of his question, was so weary that she barely gave him a response.

'Um?' the young woman raised her eyes, as she turned slowly and gently shook the sleeping boy's shoulders. Archie groaned a little, opening his eyes and lifting his arms to his mother, only to drag her down into the chair, while he fell asleep again.

'The portrait on the mantel,' Sherlock said, again, watching his landlady taking off her cap and seating herself in front of him with the boy in her arms. 'Does it belong to you? I didn't see it yesterday.'

She looked up from her son, confused, until her eyes fell upon the little silver framed painting. 'Oh,' she uttered. 'Ah…yes. Mrs. Hudson put it there, when I was gone. Very thoughtful of her.' She gave a broad smile, looking at the portrait for a few moments. Sherlock noticed her embrace seemed to tighten around the boy. An affectionate gesture, he recognized, recalling the awkwardness Mrs. Jansen had shown whilst mentioning her late husband this morning. The man in the portrait must have been very precious to her when he was alive, Sherlock thought, inhaling deeply.

'Archie has his look,' he said, pressing his lips together. Not entirely sure why he cared to bring up the obvious.

'Yes, he does,' the mother smiled widely, stroking the sleeping boy gently. Archie groaned, flipping himself in her arms until his chest was pressed forward against hers, arms around her neck. 'His look, his way of talking and everything.'

'You are very proud of that,' he heard himself saying, stating the obvious, again. Mrs. Jansen let out a chuckle.

'I am,' her smile widened. From the flickering light of the fire, Sherlock could see the dimples forming on her cheeks, as she looked up again at the portrait on the mantelpiece.

'How very…' he heard himself begin, a sneer escaping his lips. 'Dear…and I must say, typical of the affection you hold. Seeking resemblance in you son to console the loss of you husband. How very…'

'I don't believe it is any of your concern, Mr. Holmes,' she frowned, raising her voice slightly. 'Whether I seek solace from my child or not.'

'It isn't,' Sherlock remarked, smirking as he went on, 'I merely wish to say that the sentiment here is quite-'

'And if you must know,' she cut in, chewing her lip, as she stared at him. 'If you must know, Mr. Holmes, that portrait isn't Tom's. It's my father's.'

Sherlock opened his month. Oh, he heard himself whispering.

'Your father,' he said, glancing up at the mantel once again, taking in the shape of the man's brown eyes.

'Archibald Hooper was his name,' she whispered, boring her eyes into his. 'I named my son after him. So yes, you can say I do take solace from my child, for the loss I have endured.'

There was a crack in her tone, making Sherlock freeze in his seat. He stared at the woman sitting before him, watching her closely. Her arms wrapped tightly around the boy. Her breath was steady and loud, contrary to the boy's small heaves. Her gaze, although seeming calm as it seemed, was blinking very slowly, as if focused entirely on him. She glared at him, with her head slightly tilted to the side. All of a sudden, Sherlock found himself unable to speak. He opened his mouth several times, without making a squeak, until Archie groaned and moved again in his mother's arm.

'It's quite unconventional to name the first son after the maternal grandfather,' he heard the words came escape from him, not knowing why he had said that.

'Archie was born less than a year after my father passed,' she choked when she spoke, clearing her throat while looking down at the boy, stroking her palms on his back. 'I was still grieving at the time. So Tom…agreed.'

'I see,' Sherlock said, listening to the small whimpers the boy was making on his mother's shoulder. 'It was…'

'I believe it's about time to bid you goodnight, Mr. Holmes,' Mrs. Jansen interrupted, shaking her head with her eyes shut, as she moved unsteadily onto her feet with Archie in her arms. The chair squeaked against the floor, while she carefully took small steps carefully towards the staircase. One of Archie's arms fell from her shoulder.

'Ma'am,' Sherlock reached out, steadying the boy's small frame. His mother sighed, giving him a tight smile.

'Goodnight, Mr. Holmes. It has been a long day,' she said, resuming stalking towards the stairs. But Sherlock didn't let go. Instead, he grabbed the boy under his shoulders and took him in his arms, before turning back to his mother, as she regained her balance. Then without a word, he turned to the staircase and made his way to the first floor, with the sound of Mrs. Jansen's heavy footsteps following behind him.

Molly could hardly believe what had happened. Mr. Holmes had just taken her son from her arms without asking, then climbing upstairs ahead of her with no intension of seeking permission. Following closely behind, she realized neither of them was holding a light. But Mr. Holmes moved as if he could see in the dark. Jumping swiftly to the top of the stairs, he turned left, pushing directly into Archie's room before he paused to search for the bed. It didn't take him long to put the boy down, while Molly fumbled at the small desk, next to the bed for the lamp and flints.

'How do you know which room…?' she hissed into the darkness, feeling the sharp edge of the flints beneath her palms. But Mr. Holmes's large hand brushed hers away, taking the flint stone from her, then began to make the light. Within seconds, the lamp was lit. Light filled the room slowly. Molly blinked several times, when her vision became clear. Mr. Holmes was rubbing at the glass of the lamp with his sleeves, making the light flicker.

'It's not difficult to tell from the layout of the house. I surmised there are two rooms on the first floor. And Archie ought to take the smaller one.'

'Impressive,' Molly muttered, tiptoeing to the bed in front of her, where the boy slept soundly, unaware of anything happening around him. 'But I am perfectly capable of carrying him to bed. There's really no need to…'

'Including climbing the stairs?' he spoke with hesitantly, stepping to stand across the single bed, looking down on her, intensely. 'There are no stairs in your house, ma'am. I don't doubt that you have done this before, only in a different house.'

'Really, Mr. Holmes,' Molly began, but the man merely snorted.

'More efficient this way, ma'am. I believe you owe me the expressed gratitude.'

She sighed, listening to Archie's even breath. 'Thank you,' she said, looking up at him with a faint smile, then reaching down to take off Archie's boots. Mr. Holmes lifted the boy once again, after she had done, letting her pull the cover over the boy and tuck him in. Archie whimpered a few times, while being moved, grabbing Molly's hand tightly after she drew the blanket over him.

'He really is worn out.' Molly whispered. 'First day of school. And he insisted on waiting for you. So curious about your work and not convinced by what I can tell him.'

Mr. Holmes stiffened beside her.

'Apologies,' he let out a long breath, 'I was too drawn to the new samples. He shouldn't have waited.'

'Perhaps you could come earlier next time?' Molly glanced up at him, shaking her head. 'Or I can have Archie bring you a basket when you choose to work late. He wouldn't mind that, I suppose,' she hummed quietly, stroking the boy's head with her free hand.

'That would be fine,' he said, looking down at Archie for a moment, before he turned to Molly. Molly gazed at him. His eyes were bloodshot.

'You should go now,' she inhaled, deeply. 'It's late. And as much as I appreciate the help you offered, sir, it isn't appropriate for you to be here.'

'Appropri-' he sighed, pressing a hand to his forehead then walking towards the door. 'Then it's goodnight, I suppose.'

'Goodnight, sir.' Molly said quietly, as he turned to step into the stairwell.

She returned her gaze to Archie, who was still holding her hand in his sleep, until she heard the sound of Mr. Holmes's footsteps returning.

'Shouldn't you be come down with me, Mrs. Jansen,' he halted by the door, his long figure appeared exceptionally slim in the dark. 'To bolt the door behind me, I mean.'

'I can do it later.' Molly smiled, nodding, as she spoke. 'And Provintia isn't the sort of place where one needs to lock your doors, Mr. Holmes. You can leave your doors and windows open at night, if you don't mind finding monkeys in your kitchen next morning.'

He burst into laughter. Archie turned in his bed.

'Thanks for the warning, ma'am,' he chuckled, looking at the boy in bed and then turning away from the door to the stairs again.

'Goodnight, Mrs. Jansen,' he said in the darkness beyond the door.

'Goodnight, Mr. Holmes,' Molly whispered, unsure of whether he could hear he until his started to step into the stairwell, made his way slowly downstairs then left, with a slight creak of the front door.