*Helloooooo lovelies! Did you miss me? ;) I missed you guys a lot. I'm sorry I haven't been around that much. I've been very ill and sometimes I'll feel better, but other times I won't. I debated for a long time whether or not I wanted to continue with this storyline, but I decided that I've already gone pretty non-canon by adding Delilah. So here's my continuation of this story. There is a bit of smut in this chapter (it's their honeymoon, what do you expect?) so if that bothers you, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I hope it was worth the very long hiatus, and I will see you all in the next one!*


Chapter 11: The Honeymoon

"Are you alright love?" I asked, looking at Sherlock as we got off the plane. "You're looking a bit pale."

"I need a cigarette. I wasn't expecting for the flight to take so long."

I nodded. "We'll go and find somewhere you can smoke before I hail a cab. Then we'll head to my grandparent's house."

Sherlock smiled at me wanly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "You know me so well."

"No, I just don't wish to deal with you being rude to the cab driver on the ride over," I teased, giving Sherlock a playful shove.

"You mean you don't feel like having to apologize profusely as you usually do?"

"Precisely. Come on. Let's go and find you a quiet corner so you can destroy your lungs."

I took his hand, fighting the urge to pull back, still startled by the feeling of his wedding ring against my hand. He seemed to sense my recoil and gave my hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze. We grabbed our luggage on our way outside. Sherlock pulled a package of cigarettes from the front of his jacket pocket, making a beeline for the smoking area outside. I stood back, not keen on wanting to receive his secondhand smoke.

I watched him and when I saw that he was almost done, I threw my hand out for a cab. He crushed the cigarette under his shoe heel before walking over to me as the cab pulled to the curb.

"Are you excited Lila?"

"Of course! I haven't stayed here since before my father passed away. I'm wondering how much its changed."

"Well, Mycroft and your family had the cottage cleaned. All of the bedding had to be changed, as well as some of the fixtures. He wanted to make certain that everything was perfect for our arrival."

"But you said that-"

"Your family did fix it up the best that they could. Mycroft only helped them a bit by providing the supplies that they would need. Don't worry my darling, you'll see it soon enough. I promise you, it is much improved."

His thumb ran over my wedding band and I looked up at him, smiling. He smiled back down at me before leaning in to press a long, slow kiss to my lips. I reached up to gently fist my hand in his hair. We kissed for a few moments before pulling away and I settled back against him.

"Delilah, can I tell you something?"

"Anything you'd like dearest husband." That word was still foreign in my mouth, but I liked to hear it.

"I was terrified yesterday."

"I could tell."

"No, I mean, I wasn't terrified of giving my speech. I was terrified that you would walk away from me."

I sat up, turning to look at him. "Walk away from you? Why on Earth would I do something as silly as that?"

"Because…well I thought that you would realize exactly how horrible of a husband I would be for you. I mean, I go gallivanting off in the middle of the night, I have some very persistent enemies, and I'm a bit impossible to put up with."

"If you haven't realized Sherlock, I make a horrible wife for you. I mean, I go gallivanting off in the middle of the night," I moved towards him, closing the gap between us, our eyes locked. "I have some very persistent enemies." My lips hovered over his and I could hear his breathing quicken. "And I'm a bit impossible to put up with. So if anyone should have left anyone at the altar, you should have left me."

Sherlock smiled. "Ah, but I didn't. I suppose that we'll have to deal with each other."

"I suppose that we will."

We kissed again and that was when the cab began to slow down. I looked up at the cottage and gasped. In the evening light, the house was glowing. The path to the house had had lanterns put in and from inside each lantern glowed a candle. Inside I could tell that there were more candles going and judging by the smoke coming from the chimney, a fire had been started in the fireplace.

Sherlock got out and opened my door for me, helping me out. He'd grabbed both packs, slinging them over his shoulders while paying the cab driver. As the driver pulled away, he took my hand, walking me up the path to the old cottage. I gasped as I stepped inside.

The walls had been painted a soft blue with white trim, the old dark wood paneling having been removed. I walked down the hallway straight to the kitchen, looking around at how it had been modernized. The sink and faucet were new, the fridge replaced as well as the cooktop. I looked outside, seeing the garden glittering with more of those lanterns. I felt the tears touch my eyes.

"Oh Sherlock, it's perfect!"

Sherlock dropped the packs on the kitchen table before pulling me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm glad that you like it Lila. I was worried that you wouldn't."

"Why wouldn't I? Sherlock, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. This is perfect."

"I'm glad that you think so." He swept me off my feet. "Now, why don't we go and see the bedroom?"

I giggled as Sherlock whisked me up the stairs. "A bit eager, aren't we Sherlock?"

"Well, we haven't had a chance to make our union legally binding yet, have we?"

"Still worried I'm going to realize that you're a horrible husband and run away?"

"Precisely. Can't have that after all the trouble I went to to set this up."

I laughed as he set me down on the bed. "Of course we can't."

He pressed a rough kiss to my lips, causing me to gasp. I met his kiss, fisting my hand in his hair, pulling him closer to me, deepening it. I loved the feel of his body on top of mine, his lips moving against mine. His tongue dipped inside my mouth and I tasted mint and cigarette smoke, a heady combination. He pulled away, pressing kisses to my jawline and neck. I groaned as he sucked the tender skin where my neck met my collarbone.

"Sherlock…I love you," I murmured as I unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the floor. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you too my darling," he replied, tugging my shirt up over my head before unhooking my bra. "You are everything in my life that is good and right."

I turned his face to me, looking into those deep galaxy colored eyes. "Make love to me."

"I intend to."

He leaned down, taking my right nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. I gasped, arching up against him. He smiled, caressing my left nipple with his hand as he continued to suckle. My hands found his shoulders and my nails dug in, eliciting a hiss from him. His lips travelled lower, kissing every inch of skin, leaving a trail of warmth down my body that pooled between my legs.

Sherlock quickly undid the button on my pants before tugging them and my underwear down around my ankles. I kicked them off unceremoniously before tugging his pants and underwear off. He pressed another kiss to my lips, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I moaned, aching for him to be deep inside of me. I murmured my thoughts to Sherlock, watching as he smiled down at me mischievously.

"All in good time. You asked me to make love to you and so I am."

"But Sherlock-"

He pressed a finger to my lips, cutting me off. "Now now Lila. Let me go about my own way tonight. Please."

Without waiting for my reply, he shifted himself down, his face between my legs. The hot breath against the sensitive skin sent shivers up my spine. I tangled my fingers in his hair, lifting my hips slightly.

"Someone's a bit eager aren't they?" He murmured and I bit back a groan as he teased me with a whisper of his lips against my clit. "Oh yes, someone's eager indeed."

"Sherlock, please!"

"Please what?" He asked, sliding one finger deep inside of me.

"Sherlock!"

He chuckled before going to suckle and lick my clit. I moaned, letting my head fall back against the pillows, allowing the heat to wash over me. I looked up to see Sherlock staring at me, no doubt watching to see my reactions to him. He slid a second finger inside of me as he continued to work my clit and I gasped, my hips thrusting up against him.

"Sherlock…oh God, Sherlock…I'm so cl-close…Sherlock!" My hips bucked up against his mouth, my body arching as the orgasm flashed through me like a fire.

Sherlock lifted his head, sliding himself deep inside of me. I gasped, still surprised at how easily he filled me. He leaned back, one hand cupping my breast, the other stimulating my clit as he thrust deep and slow inside me. I could feel myself building once again and judging by the look on Sherlock's face, he was growing close as well.

"Go with me?"

"Are you…sure?" He asked, voice tight as he held himself back.

"Please Sherlock. Go with me."

His thrusting grew more frantic and I was flying towards that edge, careening over it into bliss. I heard Sherlock call my name as he orgasmed, thrusting violently before lowering himself on top of me, his face burying itself in my neck. I smiled, lazily running my fingers up and down his back, enjoying the feeling of him shuddering against me. He slowly pulled out and I was already getting up, not wanting to get any of our mess on the bed.

I walked quickly to the bathroom, cleaning myself up before going back to the bedroom. Sherlock was lying in bed, one arm draped over his eyes, the other sprawled across my side of the bed. I smiled, staring at him from the doorway.

"Why are you staring? Come and join me."

I chuckled softly. "What, I can't look at the spent body of my husband in the bed?"

"The spent body of your husband would like it if you were curled next to him. Come Lila, lay with me."

"In a minute. I wanted to go exploring."

Sherlock sat up and I could see the exasperated look on his face. "Delilah, your husband is naked in this bed and you are instead considering going exploring at nine thirty at night after we flew for a good portion of the day and were stuck in airports?"

"Well, I haven't been here in a long time. I'm a bit-"

"Over-eager as usual. We will explore in the morning, I promise you. But now I would like to lay down with my wife in this king size bed and rest for the first time in a very long time. Please."

I sighed, knowing that Sherlock rarely said please unless it was something that he wanted terribly. "We at least need to blow out the candles before bed."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. But as soon as that's completed we're going to bed."

"Yes."

We both went through the house, blowing out candles. I'd thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top, running outside down the paths to blow out the lanterns. I raced back to the cottage, glancing up at the sky before I did. I smiled at the sight of all the stars. That was one thing that I'd missed while living in London, the sight of all the stars filling the night sky.

I rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock tucked back in bed under the covers. I stripped out of my pajamas, sliding in next to him. He flinched away at the cold of my skin compared to his.

"It's only September, why are you so cold?"

"I'm still a stone lighter than I was when we first met, that's why. Now come and warm me."

Sherlock sighed, but rolled over, draping his arm over my waist, pulling me tight against him. "You are very lucky that I love you."

"I know. Luck of the Irish as the Americans say."

Sherlock chuckled. "I always forget that you like those shows. Which one have you been watching lately?"

"Supernatural. It's about-"

"Two brothers who hunt creatures that could never possibly exist. Yes, I remember you telling me about it. I don't understand how you watch such drivel."

"And your shows are so much better than mine, correct?" I said with a giggle. "Come on Sherlock, you said you were tired."

"So I did," he replied, running his fingers through my short locks of hair, playing with one of the curls. "Will you be letting your hair grow out again or are you going to keep it short?"

"I like it short Sherlock," I murmured, closing my eyes as his fingers began to massage my scalp. "I thought you liked it short as well?"

"I do. But I also liked it long."

"You can't have it both ways. One or the other."

He lifted my face up to his, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. "I don't care so long as I get to hold you in my arms for the rest of my life."

"Of course you can. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." I muttered, feeling myself beginning to doze off. "Sherlock?"

"Yes Lila?"

"I'm so glad that I found you."

"And I'm glad I found you." I was nearly asleep when I felt Sherlock shift to lean down and whisper in my ear, "Good night my beautiful thief. Sweet dreams."

I smiled, drifting off peacefully into slumber.


"Come on Sherlock, quit being such a baby!" I called back to him, pushing past the brambles. "It's only a little ways away!"

"But I've got thorns in my sleeves and my pants. This is ridiculous. I don't go fishing." He practically spat the words and I turned towards him, eyebrow raised.

"If you didn't want to come, you could have stayed at home. I would much rather go by myself than listen to you whine the entire time."

Sherlock heaved a sigh. "Delilah, I hate the outdoors. You know this. It's why I chose to live in London in the first place. Besides the fact that there are more crimes for me to work on there than there are in any other city in England."

"Like I said, you could have stayed at home and poured over the books in the library. I only wanted to go fishing for our lunch as I don't feel like going to the market today." I turned to follow the path once more, carrying the pole on my back. "If you want you can go back. But as I said, we're almost there."

Sherlock grumbled but continued to follow behind me, carrying his pole over one shoulder, the small tackle box in the other hand. I nearly tripped into the creek, managing to catch myself at the last minute, arms wind-milling. Sherlock caught me by the waist, steadying me.

"Thank you. I had no intention of getting wet today."

"Oh really? No intention at all? I mean, it is our honeymoon."

I shoved him playfully, shaking my head incredulously. "Is that all you can think about?"

"Well, I do have this beautiful red-headed woman standing in front of me. And it's not my fault that she stole my heart, the little thief." He set the pole and tackle box down on the ground, pulling me into his arms. "But I can safely say that I don't want it back."

Sherlock kissed me and I smiled against his lips before pulling away. "You're stalling."

"How did you know?"

"Because that was your I'm-trying-to-distract-you kiss. You used the same one on Janine when you were trying to keep her from discovering the truth about our little ruse."

His eyes widened before he laughed. "I feel as if I've taught you too much."

"Quite the contrary," I said, taking my pole off my shoulder before digging in the soft earth. "You haven't taught me enough. There's still a lot that I could learn. But I could say the same for you. You have a lot to learn from me as well."

"Oh do I now?" He continued to stand there, watching me curiously. "What exactly might I learn from you?"

"Well, the first thing you could learn is how to dig for earth worms so that we can bait our hooks." I watched as his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Oh come on Sherlock, it's only a worm."

He knelt beside me, flipping over rocks. I heard him groan when he saw one wriggling and I grabbed it up quickly before it could dig its way back into the earth. I tossed it into the small pail that we'd brought with us. I began to dig with my fingers under the rock that Sherlock had lifted, producing nine more worms for my efforts.

"Sherlock, you're telling me that you can stare at a bloody body in the street, but you can't stand the idea of touching a worm? Surely you must be joking."

"Bodies were once human beings that I can relate to, not annelida."

"But what about when you dig up bodies in a graveyard? I've seen you do it before."

"I tend to ignore them when they fall on me as I'm engrossed in getting to the body."

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to have to get over your hesitancy Sherlock as you're going to be baiting your own hook."

"Lila, you can't be serious!"

"I am very serious Sherlock. I dug up the worms and a good fisherman baits his own hook. It's either that or I send word to John and Mary that you are being obstinate and uncooperative on our honeymoon. I highly doubt that either one of them will be pleased to hear that." I gave him a sweet smile, watching as he stared at me incredulously.

"You are the most devious, underhanded person I've ever met in my entire life."

"Aye. That's why you love me so much."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps."

"Come on Sherlock. Let's go. I'll show you how to bait your hook."

He groaned and grimaced throughout the entire process, but eventually managed to get a worm on his hook. I teased him the entire time for it and he at one point stuck his tongue out at me, sending me into a fit of giggles. We both cast our lines into the water before settling underneath the shade of an ash tree. The sun streamed down on us as we curled up next to one another, watching our poles for any sign of fish.

"So, why exactly did you want to go fishing this morning? There was more to it than you not wanting to go to market." I opened my mouth to say something, but Sherlock cut me off by saying, "You forget that I know how to read you as well as you read me."

"Fine. My father and I would always come here to go and fish in the fall and spring. We would bring my grandparents quite a few brown trout and that would be our supper for that night. It was a wonderful time that brought our family together and it was one of the few times that I could see my father without training. He really enjoyed fishing, said that it soothed his soul."

"This was actually one of the last things that I did with him before he went on his final mission. We came here and spent a week together. Olivia hadn't been able to make it. Now I understand why. She'd fallen under Moriarty's spell at that point. So my father and I went fishing every day together and walking the town in the afternoon. It-" I froze, watching as Sherlock's rod gave a small twitch. "Sherlock, look!"

We both held our breath, watching as the rod continued to dance a bit, not enough for the fish to have taken the bait, but enough to where it was nibbling. I motioned for Sherlock to take the rod and he did slowly, trying not to startle the fish.

I watched as it began to bend a little more and I shouted, "Now!"

Sherlock jerked hard to the right and I was amazed when his rod dipped low, the line running out towards the opposite end of the creek. "Reel Sherlock! Don't let it get to the other side where the branches are!"

He began reeling and pulling, struggling at the fight the fish was putting up.

"Is it…always like this?" He panted out, sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Aye, keep going! You've got this!"

After a few more minutes, Sherlock gave one last mighty tug and I watched with delight as a large brown trout flopped out of the water and onto the bank. I rushed forward, grabbing the fish by its mouth, lifting it's wriggling body up in front of me. I pulled the hook out carefully, doing my best not to hook myself.

"Good job love! That's a beautiful fish! It's at least four kilograms, if not more." I offered it to him, watching as he grimaced. "Come on Sherlock, it's all part of fishing. I'd like to get a picture of you with the fish."

"Must I?"

"Yes." I handed him the fish, placing his right hand under its belly, the left thumb hooking into the mouth. "Hold tight and don't let it go. That fish will flop back towards the water."

I snapped a photo quickly, watching as it began to struggle in Sherlock's hands. I laughed as he struggled with it, taking it from him before he dropped it. "Do you want to kill it or should I?"

"Kill it?"

"Aye, this is going to be our lunch and the poor thing is suffocating as we speak."

"How do you kill it?"

"Right. I forgot. Hand me that screwdriver out of the tackle box would you?" He handed it to me wordlessly and I positioned it right where my father had showed me the brain was located all those many years ago. "Would you care to do the honors?"

"I'd rather observe, thank you."

"Your choice." I slammed the palm of my hand down into the screwdriver, barely wincing at the crunching noise it made. I jerked it back and forth, destroying the brain. "You sure you wouldn't like to learn?"

Sherlock's face had paled considerably. "I'm quite certain."

"Suit yourself." I grabbed my knife from my pocket, jabbing it into the fish to bleed it out. I looked up at Sherlock. "Love, turn away."

"W-why?"

"Because you're going to vomit."

Not two seconds after I said it, Sherlock turned to the right and retched. I had to bite back laughter, instead getting up and going to him, rubbing his back. "It's alright love. It's alright. I'm done. You don't have to watch anymore. I'm very sorry. Please forgive."

"It's...alright…." Sherlock gasped out. "I'm not….I'm just…."

"You're not used to this way of life. It's fine. I don't expect you to get it. I thought it might be something fun that we do together. Come on, let's get you back to the house."

I began to pick up our things when he grabbed my wrist. "No. No, I'm fine. Really. You wanted to fish, let's fish."

"Are you sure? We can go back."

"Yes. I'm…sure."

I broke into a wide grin. "Perfect! Let's catch some more fish then!"

We caught two others by noon and the third one Sherlock even helped me kill without getting ill. We carried all the supplies back to the house, putting them in the closet before placing the fish in the sink. I looked at Sherlock.

"Would you like to watch me clean them?"

"Sure. Why not? I've already killed one of them."

Together we cleaned and de-boned the fish. After the first one, Sherlock seemed to have embraced the idea of cleaning them and helped me halfway through the second fish. When we began the third, he decided to try his hand at it by himself. I pressed a kiss to his cheek as he pulled out the spine.

"I knew you'd eventually get the hang of this. I'm quite proud of you."

I snapped a photo of him standing over the kitchen sink, fish in his right hand, knife in his left. He looked at me curiously.

"Why are you taking so many photos?"

"I wanted to create a memory book."

"A memory book? For what purpose?"

"So that when we're both old and grey, we can show our children how we were in our own younger years. I'd like to give them an example of what love should be like. All the little moments that make up the big picture."

"And what big picture would that be?" Sherlock asked, setting the fish and knife down in the bottom of the sink, grabbing me by the hips.

"The picture of a happy marriage that no one but your parents, John and Mary, and ourselves have. You and I have both seen it walk into 221B. How many requests a day do we receive to investigate a husband potentially cheating on his wife? I don't want our children thinking that that is the norm."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You're right Lila. How are you more brilliant than I am?"

"I'm not. I'm more empathetic than you are. There's a difference. Now, are you going to finish cleaning that fish so that we might have some lunch?"

He finished cleaning the fish and I began to prep the vegetables so that we could steam them. Sherlock looked at me questioningly. "What, not going to fry them? No fish and chips?"

"Not with these fish, no. I'd much rather steam them in the oven than fry them."

I placed the fish in the oven, setting the timer for an hour before retreating to the library. Sherlock's show had come on and I knew that he'd be shouting at the telly in no time about the boy not being the man's son or whatever else they decided to put on. I took a deep breath as I stepped into the room. Nothing had changed since I had last been there. I looked at the puzzle on the table, feeling the tears touch my eyes.

My father and I had been working on it the week that we'd come up there. We'd joked and said that it would still be sitting there by the time I was married and maybe eventually we would complete it. I touched the edge of it, looking at the half-completed lighthouse, the bottle of glue sitting next to it. I tried to hold back the tears, but found that I couldn't. I sank down into the chair at the head of the table and began to weep.


"Delilah, where are we going? Dad said to keep close to the house!" Olivia protested as I dragged her through the woods. "We're going to get into trouble and I'm going to tell Mom that it was all your fault."

"We're going on an adventure Olivia! Come on, we can't stay at that cottage all the time. Besides, Papa takes me here all the time. I know how to get there."

"What happens if we get lost? Or a bear comes and eats us!"

"A bear? Really Olivia? Come on." I tugged at her arm, dragging her down the path. "It's just up ahead. You can't miss it."

We arrived in the clearing for the creek and I noticed that there were two people sitting on the edge of the bank, talking and laughing. I approached slowly, watching with delight as Sherlock and my father turned to face us.

"Oh, hello love. I was having a nice chat with your father about everything that has been going on in our lives." Sherlock smiled, but I watched as his smile fell when his eyes rested on Olivia. "Lila? Why did you bring her here?"

"She's good Sherlock! She wants to be our friend!"

"Is that why she has a gun pointed at you?" My father asked calmly and I turned to see Olivia standing there, green eyes wild with rage.

"I will burn the heart out of you," she said, but it wasn't her voice, it was Moriarty's.

I shuddered, stumbling backwards. "No…no, this…you're not real. Not real!"

"Oh, but we are real Delilah. As real as you are. And you've awoken the monster. Tell me, why won't you just die?"

And now I was laying on the floor of my flat, bleeding out everywhere, black eyes staring down at me, smiling. But instead of Moriarty's voice, it was now Olivia's. "Come on sister, why won't just die? We'll make it painless even. Give up."

"No!" I sobbed, but the pain seared through me as the toe of Moriarty's shoe found the open wound and pressed down. "No."

"Too late!" Moriarty raised the gun up to point at me. "Good night dearest sister. I don't think you'll be surviving it this time."

"NO!" I screamed, swinging violently, struggling when my arm was caught and I was slammed down into the table. "NO LET ME GO!"

"Easy Lila. Easy. It was a dream and only a dream. It's me. Sherlock. Easy my darling. You were only dreaming, I promise you. They're not here." I struggled to catch my breath, feeling my chest tighten. "If I let you up, will you swing on me again?"

I shook my head, managing to choke out, "Let me up. Please."

He released his hold on my shoulder and I straightened myself up. Sherlock pressed an inhaler into my hand and I took a deep pull from it. I shook it again, taking another pull. I still felt as though I couldn't breathe, but that was a combination of anxiety as well as asthma. Sherlock quickly guided me to the couch in the living room, sitting me down before kneeling in front of me.

"Delilah, are you alright?"

"Fine. Fine. Just…just a bit of a bad dream. Nothing…nothing to worry about."

"Well, the timer went off for lunch. I'll go and bring you your plate. Then we'll go out into the gardens. Does that sound fair?"

"Aye." I watched as he eyed me suspiciously. "What is it Sherlock?"

"Nothing, I'm just worried for you. You haven't had a nightmare in a while and you did nearly have a full blown asthma attack. I'll be right back."

I sat there patiently and my phone buzzed in my pocket. I opened it, reading the message quickly.

Hello Del. Wanted to let you know that Scarlet is doing very well with Sheryl. Hasn't left her side since you dropped her off to us yesterday. Hope everything is going well on your honeymoon –MW

Everything is going well. Got Sherlock to go fishing. He did very well. I was quite surprised. –DH

Sherlock fishing? I'll have to tell John that one when he gets home. He'll never believe it. –MW

Well if he doesn't, tell him that I have the pictures to prove it. :) –DH

Haha, I will. Well, you two lovebirds have fun. We'll see you when you get back? –MW

Of course. Give my love to Sheryl and John for me. –DH

I will. And you give my love to Sherlock. And tell him that he needs to take care of you! –MW

I will. Love you Mary –DH

Love you too Del. –MW

I pushed the button on the side, locking the phone. When I looked up I saw Sherlock standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. "What?"

"Nothing. Everything alright with Scarlet?"

"How did you-"

"You always smile at your phone when Mary texts you. If it were John, you would have been more worried. You've come to associate John with bad things and Mary with good news. Which is about right if I actually think about it." Sherlock approached me, offering his hand. "Are you coming to eat?"

"Yes. Of course I am." I took his hand and he helped me up. "How did it turn out?"

"Well, it smells delicious. I'm not certain about the taste as I've been waiting for you."

He pulled out the chair for me at the table and I sat down, watching as he sat across from me. I smiled at him. "Well, go on and try it. I want to watch your reaction when you taste fresh fish from the creek."

Sherlock cut a small bit off with the edge of his fork before taking a bite. His face lit up and he took another bite, combining it with some of the broccoli and carrots. I smiled, digging into my own plate, watching as he enjoyed the food.

He leaned back from the table after cleaning his plate, looking surprised at himself. "I never eat like that."

"No, you don't. But we're also not working, so you're not distracted by anything either." I popped a piece of broccoli in my mouth. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I did. Thank you very much my darling."

"Of course. Now, why don't we wash up and then we'll figure out what to do from there?"

We quickly washed the dishes, storing the rest of the fish in the fridge for lunch the next day. Sherlock took my hand, leading me out into the garden. We walked through it and I pointed out all my old hiding places where I would read books or play with my sister or my dolls. As we reached the back of the garden, I gasped.

The pond had been cleaned up and there were flowers blooming everywhere around the water. I saw that more lanterns had been lit and soft music played mysteriously. I looked around, finally spotting some rocks that weren't actually rocks, but instead they were speakers. Sherlock swept me up into his arms, beginning a slow waltz around the garden.

I smiled up at him, moving with him, instinctively knowing where he was going to step and what he was going to do. He dipped me low before pulling me back up, spinning me away from him and then pulling me back in. I laughed, moving with him again.

"Surprised you don't recognize this song."

"Should I?"

"Considering your father sang it to you and you hum it around the flat constantly, yes, you should."

I listened closely, realizing that it was Danny Boy playing on the violin with some minor tweaks to it. I looked up at Sherlock, watching as he smiled. "You've always enjoyed the song. I decided to learn how to play it and record it. I learned every song that you hum on a regular basis actually. They're all on this disc."

"Sherlock…that's…why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you so good to me? I mean, look at what we came from to where we are now. The cold, unfeeling consulting detective married to one of the most stubborn, obstinate thieves in the United Kingdom. It seems like we're in a dream."

"Isn't that what love is though? A dream that two people share when they wish to be together and they work hard to keep it alive?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I suppose you're right. It's just…so much has changed in two years. I feel as if we've been on a rollercoaster the entire time."

"If this is a rollercoaster, then I hope that you're strapped in my dear because I have no intention of getting off, only of going faster."

"You would want to go faster," I said with a laugh and he pressed his forehead against mine. "Sherlock, I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of waking up from this dream. Afraid that my sister will come back and destroy everything. I'm afraid of losing you."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. "Dearest Lila, don't be afraid. We've bested them enough times and should they return, we will best them again. They are nothing. Besides, from what you told me, your sister will be out of commission if she hasn't been killed."

"Oh, she's not dead."

Sherlock stopped moving, staring down at me. "How do you know that?"

I turned pink. "I…well, I follow their blog."

"Ah."

"I was going to stop, but I figured that keeping track of them would be our best bet on staying ahead of them."

"Good thinking."

"You don't approve?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at me. "Why would you say that?"

"Your tone tells me everything that I need to know Sherlock. Do you think that it's bad for me?"

"I think that it is toxic for you, yes. I believe that you need to leave the investigating to myself and John. Not because you are incapable of investigating, but because of the personal vendetta you have against them."

"I do not have a person vendetta!"

"Delilah, you have vowed to kill them. They have taken your father and your childhood friend from you, as well as nearly claiming the lives of Max and Madeleine. I don't blame you for wanting them dead. But you have too much emotion invested in this."

"I…" What could I say though? Sherlock had a very valid point. "I suppose you're right. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Why don't we go back to the cottage? Your show is getting ready to come on."

"Will you watch it with me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but smiled. "If it will make you happy, yes, I will watch it with you."

He took my hand and we wandered up the path towards the cottage, blowing out the candles in the lanterns along the way.


"Do you want to head into town?"

I looked up from my book, swinging my legs off the arm of the couch. "For what?"

"Well, I could use a breath of fresh air. And you said last night that we'd need more groceries soon as we've still got another week and a half left of our honeymoon."

"You're bored, aren't you?" I asked, sliding my bookmark into the book.

"Perhaps. The cab will be here in about five minutes. I've hired it to take us to The Maigue Restaurant. Have you been?"

I shook my head. "No I haven't. Does this look alright?"

"Is that one of the outfits that I picked out for you?"

"Aye."

"Then yes, you look fine." He pressed a kiss to my cheek, taking my hand. "Come on darling. We don't want to miss the cab."

"I'll go on one condition," I said, adjusting the black leggings and the hem of my dark grey dress.

"Oh? And what might that be?" He asked as I walked towards the front door, slipping into my black boots.

"We play Deductions at lunch."

Sherlock grinned from ear to ear. "Do you really think that you'll beat me?"

"Oh of course I do. I've been practicing." I patted his cheek as I walked out the door. "Come along Sherlock dear. We don't wish to miss the cab now do we?"

The ride up to the restaurant was quiet. In my head I was practicing my deduction skills on the cabby. Sherlock was looking out the window, but I could hear him snickering to himself when he glanced at me. After the third time, I let out a huff of exasperation. "What is so funny?"

"You are darling. Practicing on the cab driver?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not practicing. I'm warming up."

"You warm up as much as you need to darling. Keep in mind that I have been doing this for much longer than you have and I have no intention of losing."

"Why is that? Because I'm the only intelligent person that you can beat seeing as your brother crushes you every time?"

Sherlock's face flushed. "That's…what…"

"Oh look, we're here!" I got out of the cab before Sherlock could, stretching lightly as I waited for him to join me. "Are you coming Sherlock? I'm assuming that you made a reservation. From what I've heard from my family, they won't let anyone in without a reservation."

"Yes, I made the reservation. What did you mean back in the cab?"

"Nothing Sherlock. I was only picking at you."

Sherlock frowned. "If you say so. Come on, let's go and get some food."

We were both seated immediately after Sherlock gave them his name and we ordered the appetizer and the main course right away. It had only taken me a quick glance over of the menu to decide what I wanted. The waiter whisked away our menus and I turned to Sherlock, smiling.

"Are you ready?"

"You want to play before our food arrives?"

"Why not? What's stopping us? Or are you afraid to lose Mr. Holmes?" I smiled at him coyly from across the table, watching as the glint of determination appeared in his eye.

"I'm afraid to hurt your feelings when I beat you at this game."

"We'll see. You choose first."

Sherlock's eyes scanned the room and his smile grew wider. "The old woman coming from the restrooms with her escort."

I turned to watch her, taking her gait, demeanor, and any other detail in that I could until she returned to her seat at the table. I turned back to Sherlock. "Alright. You go first."

"Are you certain?"

"Very."

"Very well. Widow, approximate age 85-90. It is her birthday judging by the amount of people sitting at the table with her. And seeing as most all of them share common features with her, there is no doubt that in my mind that they believe this to be one of the very last times that they will see her. She seems to have had a fall within the past few months, given that she is walking with a pronounced limp. She has her hair regularly done, as well as her nails, so she grew up in a wealthier family when she was born. No doubt her need to keep up her appearances has carried with her her entire life. And on an end note, she will more than likely be dead by the end of this year if not beginning of next judging by the clubbing in her fingers, sure signs of heart disease and failure."

I smiled up at him over the rim of my glass. "Is that all you noticed?"

"Is that…what else was there to notice?"

I fought back the urge to laugh at him, instead turning my focus to the woman in my mind as I watched her walk across the restaurant.

"You are right on all accounts husband. I won't argue with you that it is her birthday and that she grew up in a wealthier family. What I will disagree with however is that she has had a fall within the past few months."

"Why do you say that?" Now Sherlock was turning his attention to the old woman sitting across the room.

"Look at her escort to the bathroom. There is a shade of lipstick on his neck that he managed to miss. If you notice, it is the exact same lipstick that the old woman is wearing. He is one of three at that table who do not look alike. When she rose from the table, all three of them rose to go with her. But why? Why would they all fight over her? Simple. They are all lovers of hers."

Sherlock's eyes went wide. "And how do you figure that?"

"Even from this distance, I can tell that they are all too old to be her children, but too young to be her age. The one sitting next to her is the one she visits most often. Perhaps even her partner after her husband died. He has a bottle of Viagra in his pocket. I saw him check it while he was waiting for her to exit the restroom. Now, if an eighty-five or ninety year old woman had been widowed for as many years as she has been, then she would be unaccustomed to sleeping with someone, especially with someone as hungry as a man on Viagra. Hence why she has a limp. For the most part though, she is completely healthy, minus the heart condition that she's developing. But a few rounds in the sack with her three suitors could potentially correct the problem."

Sherlock was looking at me with three heads. "How on earth did you figure out that the other two were sleeping with her?"

"Simple enough. The man sitting next to the woman shot them both dirty looks when they started up to help her. He suspects that she is with them, but he has no proof. And given the fact that she slipped the one at the end of the table a note and has been flirting with the other sitting across from her, I would say that those are very good indications that she is interested in them on more than just a friendship basis. Wouldn't you agree Sherlock?"

He looked at me in shock. "Where in the world did you learn to do that?"

"You and your brother have taught me many things these past two years Sherlock. Where else would I learn it from?" I took a sip of my water. "Here comes our food. Perfect timing. Do you care for round two after we've finished eating?"

He slowly shook his head. "No…I think I'm alright."

I smiled, watching as they placed my appetizer in front of me. "Thank you so much."

We ate in silence and internally I was cheering myself on for having finally beaten Sherlock. But it seemed to be bothering him and I couldn't help but feel bad that I'd bested him. He'd always prided himself on being the most intelligent person in the room. I took his hand as he finished his main course, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, pulling away from me. "You won fair and square, just as you said you would."

"I shouldn't have gone about it in the fashion that I did."

"It's alright. It only means that I'm out of practice. The brain is like a muscle and I haven't been working it as hard as I could. In fact, I've been neglecting it. That only proved it to me. You opened my eyes Delilah. Don't apologize for that."

The rest of the meal carried on in silence and Sherlock paid for the check, scribbling his signature on the receipt before rising from the table. We exited the restaurant and I looked around, waiting for the cab. Sherlock instead took my hand and began to walk down the street with me.

"Care to play another round?"

I gave him a smile. "Sure. If you'd like. Would you like to choose or go first?"

"I'll go first. You choose."

"Alright. The game is on then."


"That really wasn't bad darling. Your three to my two. I'm impressed." I kicked my shoes off at the door, going straight to the couch to sit down, grabbing my book. "Thank you again for lunch by the way. It was delicious."

"Of course. Delilah, before you get back into your book, can we talk?" The sunlight was streaming through the long window of the living room, turning his black hair a dark brown with its light. He strode over to me, sitting down and taking my hand. "Will you listen to me?"

"Aye. What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine my darling. I only wanted to ask something of you. A rather large favor as this would be a great burden on you."

My brow furrowed together and I frowned. "Sherlock, what's wrong? Are you ill?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I wanted to ask you…would you stop taking your birth control pills now that we're married? Neither you nor I are getting any younger and I would like to have children while we're both able to chase them around."

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart begin to race. "Sh-Sherlock…are you…you can't be serious? You're serious? Oh God, Sherlock we were only just married! Are you certain that you'd like to try for children so soon?"

Sherlock took my face in his hands, resting his forehead on mine, staring me right in my eyes. "Delilah, there has been nothing I have wanted more on this planet than to have children with you. I want to watch our little boys run around in the sunshine after their baby sister. I want to watch them grow and teach them the things that I wish I could have known when I was there age. I want to press my hand against your growing belly and feel them kick against it. But most of all I want to have a little girl with your smile and eyes look up at me the same way that Sheryl looks at John and Mary."

I felt the tears touch my eyes and Sherlock gently wiped them away. "I never knew that you wanted such things. You've never told me that before."

"Well , now I am telling you. I understand if you have hesitations about this and you don't want to. But I thought that I would try my hand at asking you and see where you stand on the issue. If you don't wish to then-"

Before he could say another word, I was throwing myself in his arms, pinning him to the couch, pressing kisses to his lips and face. He finally pushed me off with a chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes then?"

"Aye, that you should take as a yes. Come on Sherlock, why don't we go and start trying to create our family?"

I took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.


It was three days since I'd stopped taking my birth control and Sherlock and I were still very much enjoying our honeymoon. He and I had both joked the day before that if we didn't have moral obligations in London, we would probably stay in Adare the rest of our days away from people. Sherlock had become more and more relaxed as he'd stayed out in the country. We'd even gone fishing again and he seemed to find some enjoyment in it.

I sat under the shade of the willow tree by the pond. I'd realized that Sherlock had had a bench created in memory of my father and placed it under the tree so I would have a peaceful place to read. I was halfway through my book when I heard Sherlock shouting for me from the house. My heart leapt to my throat and I immediately thought of Olivia and Moriarty having discovered where we were staying on our honeymoon.

I reached for the pistol on my hip, drawing it from its holster and approaching the house cautiously. The back door was open and from inside I could hear Sherlock talking. I couldn't make out what the other person was saying. I padded through the house, gun raised, searching for Sherlock. I finally found him in the library.

"Yes. Yes we'll be there as soon as…I know…calm yourself, I promise you we will-"

"Sherlock, what's going on? Who are you talking to? Is everything alright?"

"John, I'm going to put you on speaker phone. You tell Delilah everything that you just told me."

Sherlock set the phone down on the table and I felt my stomach drop to my toes. I looked at Sherlock, seeing the grim look in his eyes. I took a deep breath before asking, "John, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you. Del…you…you and Sherlock need to come back. Moriarty and Olivia…they…they…"

"They took Mary," Sherlock told me softly as John broke off into sobs. "Sometime today while John was at work they broke into the house and took Mary. John just came home to find Sheryl screaming and a note from them."

I could hear Sheryl screaming in the background and my heart gave a twinge of sympathy. "John, listen to me. I want you to put the phone up to Sheryl's ear."

"What for?"

"Right now she needs a woman's touch and while I can't be there, I can at least try to sooth her." The screaming grew louder and I knew that John was doing as I'd asked. "Little Sheryl, can you hear me? It's Auntie Del. Hush little one. Hush."

The screaming was softening to cries and I smiled. "It's alright Sheryl. It's okay. We're right here. We'll be coming home soon. I just need you to be a good girl for your aunt and mummy until we get back, alright? It's okay baby, hush now. Hush."

She'd quieted down and John came back on the line. "How on earth did you do that?"

"Dunno. We're catching the next flight out of here and we'll see you as soon as we land in London. Go to 221B with the note, Sheryl, and Scarlett. Tell Mrs. Hudson what has happened. Call Irene and Molly, they'll help you as well." I looked up at Sherlock, seeing if he disapproved of anything I was saying. "If anything changes, call us immediately. We'll see you shortly."

Sherlock hung up the phone and I was running out of the library and up the stairs, throwing our clothes haphazardly into the bag. I could hear Sherlock speaking to his brother downstairs as I packed. I was running through dozens of scenarios in my head of what could possibly go wrong and what could have happened. I slung my bag and Sherlock's over my shoulder, opening my phone as I went down the stairs. I hit the button for Olivia's blog, knowing that I was about to dive back down into the rabbit hole.

She had been posting a lot recently, more than she had in quite a few months. I scrolled through them, barely noticing that Sherlock had taken the bag off my shoulder and was guiding me out to the cab that was waiting. I was nearly three pages in when we arrived at the airport. Sherlock gently took my phone form me, looking at me with concern in his eyes.

"Delilah, are you alright?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just-"

"I know you're going through her blog. I can tell because you get a look of fury in your eyes as you read. Have you found anything yet?"

"Nothing yet. I think that they knew I wasn't looking at it because they grew very bold about posting their plans. They even said that they were thinking about taking Mary out for lunch one day soon. Meaning that they had planned to take her in broad daylight, knowing that if John were home, he would try his hardest to stop them and may even succeed." We walked across the tarmac towards the plane that was waiting for us. "Your brother arranged everything?"

"Yes. He has men at Baker Street to watch over John and the others until we get back."

"Do you know what the note says Sherlock? Please tell me that it has nothing to do with us."

"It always has something to do with us Delilah, you know that."

"What did it say?"

"We'll discuss it when we get there."

I grabbed his wrist, staring up at him, not allowing my gaze to waver. "Sherlock, you tell me what that note said or so help me God I will torture it out of you on this flight back."

I could tell that he was at war with himself about whether he should tell me or not. "Let's get on the plane and then I'll tell you what it said, alright? I don't want to keep the pilot waiting and we need to make it back before nightfall."

I nodded, following Sherlock up the stairs. I took the seat across from him, folding my hands in my lap. He sat down, tucking his bag underneath the seat. I kept mine closely next to me, not wanting it to get far in case I needed to access something in it. I stared at Sherlock and he sighed.

"You can't even wait until take-off for me to tell you?"

"No Sherlock. I need to know now. I don't like it when you keep secrets from me. Now tell me what that note said. What could Moriarty and Olivia have said that would bother you so much?"

"They said that only you are allowed to search for Mary. If anyone else does they will kill her."

I grew quiet, staring out the window as we began to head out onto the runway. My mind began to race. "You're worried that I'll get Mary killed aren't you?"

"No. I'm worried that revenge will cloud your judgement and you'll end up getting killed. Mary I could care less about." I raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "What?"

"That is your best friend's wife we're talking about, as well as the mother to our goddaughter."

"Yes and you are my wife and the future mother of my children. Forgive me if I am more concerned with your well-being than someone else's. If the situation were reverse, I would expect John to care more about his wife than he does mine."

I sighed. "Just don't let John hear you say that please. I have no doubt that he'd probably beat you within an inch of your life."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, of course. I forget about you all and your feelings from time to time. It's…different to have to take that into consideration. We should be arriving in London in approximately two hours. This will give us enough time to discuss potential plans as to how we're going to rescue Mary."

"We? But they specifically said-"

"I know what they said. But we can plan before we arrive. Yes, you must look for her, but certainly there is some clue as to where they could be. You've been scanning their blog all day. Does it not give you a single hint as to where they're keeping her?"

"Unfortunately no. I have a feeling that either they're waiting for us to return to London or the hint is in the note, which is in John's possession." I sighed, leaning forward, going through my mind. "Let's see. If it were the middle of the day, she would have been fully dressed. What day was yesterday?"

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday. That means that Mary would have taken little Sheryl down to the clinic to see her father after their morning walk. She would have been carrying her gun on her no doubt. If this was after the walk but before John got home, then it would have been when Sheryl was down for her nap."

"Meaning that more than likely when Mary heard someone talking to the baby, she would have gone to investigate," Sherlock murmured. "So they knew her schedule."

"They've probably been watching her for weeks now, learning her every move and habit. With us out of town, they don't have to worry about my popping by for a surprise visit. This was the perfect time for them to move." I frowned. "But why wouldn't Mary shoot them on site?"

"For the same reason that you wouldn't have."

"Which would be what?"

"Think about it. Why would you not have pulled the trigger?"

A look of realization dawned on my face. "Of course! They had threatened Sheryl. Mary wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger. And I bet I know the bitch that would hold a baby at gunpoint."

Sherlock shook his head. "They wouldn't threaten the baby with a gun. They're not that messy."

"What would they have threatened her with then?"

Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket, punching in what was no doubt John's number. Sherlock placed it on the table between us. It rang once, twice, and half of a third before John answered.

"Sherlock, you had either be having an epiphany or be landing in London to be calling me."

"John, I need you to check Sheryl's neck."

"What? Why?" The man sounded confused and panicked and I could hear him scrambling down the stairs of the flat. "What do you think happened? You don't think that they injected her with some disease, do you?"

"No," I reassured John, glaring at Sherlock across the table. "We don't think that at all. I think that they may have told Mary that that was what was in it. If she's not showing any symptoms I doubt that they had a disease in there."

I could feel the man on the other end of the line relax. "If you're positive Del then that's good enough for me. What side do you think it would have been on?"

"Right," Sherlock and I said simultaneously.

"Alright, let's see. Easy baby. Be easy. Let Daddy look. That's a good girl. That's…" John grew very quiet on his end of the phone and I felt my heart sink in my chest. "Oh God."

"John, is there a puncture mark?"

"Yes. Yes there is. What-?"

"Take her to Molly at St. Bart's. Tell her to run a complete blood and drug screening on Sheryl. Take the note with you, leave Scarlett with Mrs. Hudson. We'll be landing in about an hour. We'll meet you there," I said quickly, doing my best to keep my voice calm so that John wouldn't panic.

"Right. Come on Sheryl, let's go and see your Auntie Molly."

John hung up the phone and I looked up at Sherlock worriedly. "You don't think that they-?"

"Injected her with diseases? I highly doubt it. I think they did inject her with a sedative though. Think about it, a baby in a traumatic incident like that, but it doesn't start screaming until right before her father gets home? They dosed her so the neighbors wouldn't be alerted that there was a problem." Sherlock frowned. "These bastards are good, I'll give them that. But you and I…we're better. We will get them."

"I know we will. I only hope that we can get them before they kill one of us."