(A/N: This has been the week from hell in a month that just keeps getting worse. Honestly, writing this fanfic is currently my biggest form of therapy to cope with a shitstorm of things going on. To those of you reading, I appreciate it in ways I cannot express. Every notification of a follow or favorite on it is a little boost during a very difficult time. To the one or two people who have left reviews on various chapters, your words make my day. Seriously. You have no idea how much positive energy it feeds into dark days. I apologize when updates are slow, but as you can probably tell from this note, life isn't cooperating with me at the moment. However, I had fun writing this chapter, and I hope it cheers you up the way it did me.)
Chapter 20 – Prepared for Zombies
"Just coffee for me, thank you," I ordered, receiving a stern look from John.
"You can't live off coffee and tea alone now, Sherlock. Victoria needs you healthy and properly capable of taking care of her and the mini detectives." He grinned at the nickname for the twins, which had stuck within a matter of a few days.
"Do you honestly think I don't know that? I already ate, but I can't have coffee unless I'm out. The smell alone started making her wretchedly ill. It can't be anywhere near the flat, but I still need caffeine to function." Opening the bag beside me, I pulled out one of the motion sickness bracelets. "Hopefully these will work as well as Dr. Sange claims they do. When I called last night, he said many of his patients have excellent results with them."
John inspected it, turning it around in his hands skeptically. "What is it?"
"A motion sickness bracelet, John," I huffed and took it back. "What kind of doctor are you? They're a common homeopathic remedy also used for morning sickness. Those suffering from such problems place one on each wrist so the beads press against specific pressure points, alleviating the troublesome symptoms."
The waitress returned with our coffees, and I quickly poured in sugar before drinking it nearly without taking a breath.
"Have you been getting any sleep? You look like hell."
"Let's see… My fiancée and I are expecting twins. She's up half the night sick, and the other half she's tossing and turning because she's either too hot or too cold. All day while she's at work, I'm either worrying about her and/or the twins, reading everything possible about pregnancy and parenting, or am taking cases to distract me from worrying, which doesn't actually help by the way." Leaning back in the café's chair, I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "No, I can't say that I've been getting any sleep. How about you? Having any adjustment difficulties to expectant fatherhood? You appear well."
"For starters, we aren't expecting twins, so Mary's not suffering the extremes of everything Victoria is. But every pregnancy's different, and Mary hasn't been sick much at all. Could be, the next time she'll be miserable from the beginning and will curse me to the depths of hell every day of it." He shrugged and took a sip of his coffee. "It's completely unpredictable. I could go home and find she's started suffering morning sickness, and that's the end of what I thought might be the easiest pregnancy ever."
"True." John's breakfast arrived, and the waitress obliged me with another cup of much-needed coffee. "Aaron rearranged his flight schedule again. He departed Boston last night, has a layover in Amsterdam, and arrives at Heathrow this afternoon, so Victoria gave me what she called a 'honey do' list of everything I'm to accomplish while she's finishing with the last group of test subjects. Cleaning, laundry, food shopping, all so very domestic … Somehow, I hadn't thought if I settled into the domestic life, I'd be the one taking care of quite this much of the household chores."
"Well, Sherlock, to be fair, her career comes with relatively standard hours, a stable income, and benefits, and yours has none of that. When you do take cases, clients are willing to pay rather obscene sums of money for your services, but you also have days, even weeks when no case strikes your fancy, and you mope around the flat, claiming you're bored and have nothing to do. You were a shit flatmate for lifting a finger to help with anything, but I'd hope you're a far better husband and father given that being the world's only consulting detective surely offers you more flexibility in your time than the average man."
John had patients on his schedule and couldn't stay long, eating quickly, not chatting much more, and tossing a few notes on the table to cover his part before rushing off. But I sat a while longer, mulling over what he'd said.
To be certain, he wasn't wrong regarding how different our careers were, though when I was on a case, between the two of us, Victoria and I left not a surface uncovered; papers, books, notes, and such scattered everywhere while we worked at home, silently and focused, together yet each in our own worlds. Victoria didn't mind my absolute distraction, using the opportunity to accomplish far more work at home than she could manage if I weren't occupied.
However, what was the point of creating such a job for myself and becoming the world's only consulting detective if I couldn't make everything about it just as I wished? So I sat in that café and decided the benefits of my job included the flexibility, time, and resources to become the world's greatest husband and father. I was Sherlock Holmes. Anything worth my time was worth me being the best.
Then I went home and checked off my 'honey do' list with a far more positive outlook.
Satisfied there were no human body parts or other remnants of experiments left in the kitchen and I'd taken all the rubbish out to ensure Loki wouldn't get into anything, I collapsed in my chair at half past eleven and texted Victoria. Are you on your way home? xxx
I had enough time to shower, change, and be ready to head to the airport when she arrived, if she left her office on time, which she often didn't.
No. 2 more hrs so I can take the 2 wks off. 3 hrs tops. Mind getting A? Please.
Aaron's flight schedule had him arriving at 1:50, and Victoria's '3 hours tops' likely meant she'd meet us at the restaurant for our dinner plans with Lucas.
I love you… xoxoxo
Mini detectives are being good today. Not feeling too sick!
Damn her Samsung Galaxy phone and its Swype keyboard. She could text insanely fast. It almost made me consider trading in my iPhone… Almost.
Good to hear you're feeling well. Take care of work. I'll get Aaron sorted. I love you and my mini detectives. xxx
Aaron wouldn't receive any texts until he landed, but I sent him an update on the situation regardless. Welcoming party of 1 meeting you at Heathrow. Victoria needs to tie up a few more things. Apologies. –SH
I could handle Aaron. Yes, I knew him to be a bit odd, but it would be fine. Of that, I felt confident. Donovan considered me a freak. Aaron and I would be fine. Just fine.
Despite how busy Heathrow was or the fact we'd never actually met in person, I didn't see the need to hold a silly sign notifying Aaron to my presence as the one waiting for him. We'd seen one another via Skype a few times when Victoria had invited me to take part in their electronic time together.
And I did recognize him. I recognized him the moment I spotted him in the crowd, well before he'd come near enough to notice if I waved at him. Aaron wasn't as thin a man as me and was older than Victoria and I — turning thirty-nine in two months — but he wore it well with a neatly-trimmed ginger beard and hair grown with just the length to show his natural curls, carefully styled to look as though it were rather messy, but his appearance was anything other than unkempt. He wore a black business suit and white button down shirt, no tie, yet he had a casual way about him much like Victoria.
His particular casual style was where his oddities became strikingly apparent. Aaron was unmistakably Aaron, not your typical businessman because of the neon green Converse he wore with his impeccably tailored suit, coordinating with his neon green backpack, which no doubt held his high-end laptop, rather than something staid and appropriate for a man with a successful cyber security company like AVT TechLock and advanced technical degrees from CalTech and MIT. He topped it all off with headphones, again neon green, clearly blasting music just like Victoria often did, as he was literally dancing his way through the airport, singing along at parts, oblivious to anyone gawking at him.
Due to his business savvy, Aaron was wealthy, not Lucas Fielding wealthy, but he traveled first class and wanted for nothing. However, what I found immediately likable about the rather eccentric Aaron Taylor was that he owned a not-so-quiet self-confidence.
"Sherlock!" He'd obviously spotted me through the crowd and yelled, headphones still on, loud enough to catch my attention as well as that of everyone in the entirety of the airport.
I simply smiled and waved, waiting for him to make his way over, finally moving the headphones to hang around his neck. "Man, it's great to meet you in person." He threw an arm around me in a tight half-hug, and I stood there in a moment of shock before patting his back, attempting some form of appropriate reciprocation. "God, Victoria wasn't kidding. Your mom feed you Miracle-Gro as a kid? I feel like I should stand up straighter or something, fake that extra inch and hit six foot. But whatever, everybody's tall to my runt sister."
For some reason, I felt a momentary twinge of anger regarding his casual use of the term 'sister' when referring to Victoria. They were raised as siblings, not cousins, and had always referred to one another as brother and sister, and I couldn't place why I suddenly felt protective of the right to claim someone as a sibling, minding the technicalities or even the sentimentality of its meaning. It was an errant emotion to file away and examine at another time.
"I suppose it's a matter of perspective. Our seven inch height difference has never seemed particularly excessive in my personal opinion, but she has remarked on it numerous times." A thought crossed my mind, and I added, "Perhaps I don't find it notable because she's only an inch shorter than John."
"Hey then, true dat, Shezza." He clapped me on the shoulder and headed to baggage claim, leaving me to follow.
"Shezza?" I questioned, quickly catching up to him.
Aaron laughed in his easy way, head swaying to the beat of whatever song remained stuck there. "What, bro? Nobody's ever given you a nickname before? Everybody seriously calls you Sherlock?"
"Yes, actually, they do."
He seemed surprised and possibly a bit appalled by that. "Yeah, that doesn't work for me. You're marrying my sister, and I don't have much in the way of family, just her and our parents. To everybody else, I was the family addict's kid, right up until I made a lot of money and wasn't an embarrassment anymore. By then, too late, fuck them." Aaron shrugged, nonchalant about the whole matter. "So you see, Shezza, you're marrying into my very small family, my limited trust circle. For that, I give you a nickname and a warning. If you ever hurt Victoria, you better hope like hell your brother really is the British government, because then he might, just might, have enough connections to help you hide from Lucas and me coming after you."
I swallowed hard and nodded. "Shezza has a nice ring to it. Maybe I could use it undercover on a case or … hm, something."
"Awesomesauce." He didn't stop walking until he'd reached baggage claim, always walking with a purposeful stride, multi-tasking on his smartphone and occasionally glancing up at a sign, though he clearly knew his way around Heathrow without any difficulty. "Lucky says dinner plans are up to Little Red. She still craving Italian, or we back to Thai? No, lemme guess, it's something else now."
"No detective in the world could deduce the answer to that, not even me. While taking tea this morning, she asked if I knew anywhere we could get lasagna and spring rolls for dinner." Honestly, I didn't whether to laugh or cry in despair at her cravings sometimes.
"Well, color yourself lucky, Shezza." Aaron lugged a huge, bright green, rolling suitcase off the conveyor, followed shortly by a matching garment bag. "You've got big bro here for ten whole days. I got your six, man. We'll double team this insanity, keep Little Red and the mini detectives all chill."
My sight remained zeroed in on his black luggage tags and their bright green lettering. "I suppose if you're prepared for zombies, Victoria's pregnancy symptoms should be a piece of cake for you."
Aaron glanced at one of the tags, casually flicking it with a finger. "Pretty epic, right? 'Zombie Outbreak Response Team' … Ha! Saw these on Amazon and had to have 'em. … But seriously, we're talking about my baby sister. It doesn't matter what it's for; the zombie virus, the plague, pregnant with twins, or a freaking hangnail, if she needs me, one phone call, and I'm on the first flight out of Boston. Don't forget that, because I know you've got my number, and that rule applies to you needing me because of her."
"Thank you, Aaron." I felt quite fond of him already, eccentricities and all. "It truly is good to finally meet you in person.
He grinned that wicked smirk of a grin I knew well from Victoria. "So, Shezza, how are you at karaoke? We like to hit this one place over in Soho…"
(A/N: I hope you like Aaron as much as I do. 3 BTW, in my mind, Aaron's jam while he had his headphones on is "Virus (How About Now)" by Martin Garrix & MOTi. Thanks again for reading, following, favoriting, and reviewing this fic. You're all amazing. Also, if you are interested in the Pinterest board I talked about setting up for posting visuals along with the story like the dream cast and such, it's up now. Find me on Pinterest, username macpetreshock, and the board name is: All That is False and Specious - Sherlock.)