Previously...
No, he'd made the right decision, to distance himself from Molly Hooper as much as possible under the circumstances. She didn't even have to be in the room with him for his body and memory to betray him. How much worse would it be if he stopped fighting and gave in? He'd be just as bad as all those other boring, normal men - unable to think for themselves, obsessed with sex, depending on another person - a woman - for their happiness...No.
No, no matter what John or Mrs. Hudson or Mycroft thought, no matter how much Wills refused to believe him (and it was very obvious his son found his reasons suspicious at best), he knew he was right.
He was confident he'd be able to convince them all of that truth…
...that is, if he could manage to convince himself first.
Nearly a month later and he still hadn't been able to delete his feelings for Molly, to place her into a box labeled 'Mother of my child-soon-to-be-children and nothing more.' It certainly wasn't for lack of trying; as he'd said to Mycroft only a few days earlier, "It's all a gigantic, snarled ball of yarn that the cat's got at, no matter what I do. It won't…" He gestured wildly to indicate both is frustration and his indignation. "It won't organize itself! I can't separate Molly from Wills and I can't separate the bare facts from the emotional responses! Why is that?"
"Probably because you're in love with them both. Sentiment does tend to clutter the mind."
That conversation had ended with those ridiculous words. He wasn't in love with Molly, certainly not the way his brother had implied! It had been nothing but sex and an attempt to have some kind of a normal relationship that was clearly beyond his capabilities. No matter what anyone else might think.
"Sherlock, why is your mother texting me about their visit with Wills?"
He winced (inwardly, thank god) and put on a neutral expression as John held up his mobile in (unneeded) explanation. They were sitting across from one another in the front room of the flat, John tapping away on his computer and Sherlock ostensibly in his mind palace organizing things a bit.
Too bad Molly Hooper kept undoing all his efforts.
"She sent me a snap and everything," John prattled on. He glanced briefly at the photo on the screen. "The message just says how well he's doing, but I don't understand-"
"You should have that printed on a t-shirt," Sherlock snarked. At John's glare he rolled his eyes but decided explaining was preferable to listening to his flat-mate whinge. "She sent it to you because she's not speaking to me, but wants me to see what I missed out on."
It had been two weeks since Wills' and Molly's visit, two weeks during which he'd busied himself with case after case and come up with excuse after excuse not to interact with his parents except via the occasional text. He'd seen Wills only once during that time, when he'd collected him for the promised visit to the British Museum-and done his level best to keep the conversation off the subject of Molly and the new baby, with mixed results.
John's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Why would you miss out on a visit with Wills-oh," he interrupted himself as his mobile buzzed with another incoming text. "That's why."
Although he knew exactly what he'd see, Sherlock nevertheless hopped to his feet and grabbed the phone from John before he could do more than exclaim "Hey!"
There was the picture of Wills John had mentioned, eating an ice lolly and mugging for the camera with his grandfather laughing next to him at the kitchen table. The next photo was of Molly and Wills and his mother. The other two were laughing at something off camera but Molly's expression was strained in spite of the smile she'd gamely pasted on.
"I wasn't invited," he said, keeping his voice flat and uncaring even though he knew it was pointless; no matter how convincing he might sound, John wouldn't let it drop.
"And whose fault is that?"
Ah John, so predictable. You could run the trains by how predictable John bloody Watson could be.
"Mine, obviously," Sherlock replied, doing his best to sound bored. Dismissive. And why shouldn't he? He and his parents didn't exactly spend every waking moment with one another; just because a grandson had been added to the mix, why should that change?
But it has changed, an inner voice that sounded annoyingly like Mycroft at his most smug reminded him. You let it change and you actually enjoyed the change. But at the first sign of trouble, when you decided it was safer to go back to the way things were, no one else was willing to play along. So here you are, in a strop because Mummy and Dad have no intention of cutting Molly out of their lives the way you have.
"I'm not in a strop," he muttered before he could stop himself.
"Sure, keep telling yourself that," John replied, as if he had any idea why Sherlock had said what he'd said. Then, as if to prove himself some kind of mind-reader, he added, "And while you're at it, keep telling yourself that you're better off alone, that alone protects you and everyone else around you." He stood up, draining the last dregs of his tea before slamming the mug down on the desk next to his computer. "But keep in mind that just because you've decided to cut Molly out of your life, doesn't mean the rest of us are going to."
With those words, he reached for his phone, slipped it into his back pocket and headed into the kitchen for no good reason that Sherlock could deduce. Probably thinks I need some 'space', he thought with an attempt at a mental sneer.
The truth being - not that he would ever admit such a thing aloud - that the absolute last thing he needed at the moment was space.
No, what he really needed was a case. Something to help him focus, get him back to the things that really mattered.
He winced as a veritable cacophony of inner voices pointed out exactly how wrong-headed that thought had been. Wills was more important than any case; he would drop his investigations in a heartbeat if his son ever needed him. It would only take a single phone call-
As if on cue, his phone rang with Will's particular ringtone, the theme music to some video game or other his son had picked out for himself. "What's wrong?" he found himself answering the phone, even though common sense told him it couldn't possibly be an emergency. Not if he and his mother were visiting the grandparents.
"I'm bored," Wills whined in response. "All they want to do is talk about the baby. It's not even born yet and it's sucking up everyone's attention. Can't you come and take me for a hike or something, Dad? Please?"
"If your grandparents had wanted me to come, they would have asked me," Sherlock replied, knowing how weak a response it was even as he voiced it. "Besides, it would take an hour for me to get there, and for what? You'd be getting ready to head back to London by then."
"I'm staying overnight," Wills said. "Can't you come, please? Mom is leaving before dinner so you won't even have to see her if you don't want to. I miss you, Dad," he added.
Sherlock couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at that obvious attempt at emotional blackmail. Nevertheless, even knowing he was being manipulated, he said, "Fine, I'll be there in, hmm, two hours' time, depending on the trains. You'll just have to be bored until I get there."
"Thanks, Dad, you're the best!" Will crowed before disconnecting.
John had come back into the room, cup of coffee in hand, in time to hear the last part of the conversation. "Going to Sussex, I take it?"
Sherlock didn't bother to respond to such an inane question, already on his feet and heading for his bedroom to throw together an overnight bag. "I'll be back in the morning, so you and your latest fling can enjoy a night together without having to stifle yourselves."
John rolled his eyes and sipped his brew. "Mary's not a fling, you tit. We've been dating for three months now."
"Oh, has it been that long?" Sherlock threw over his shoulder as he made his way into the kitchen and down the hall. "Then why haven't you brought her round yet?"
"I was thinking of doing so," John called after him, "until you decided to spend all your time sulking."
"Bring her round for dinner sometime," Sherlock shouted back as he entered his bedroom, completely ignoring the 'sulking' comment. "Let's see if she has what it takes to be more than a short-term...ah, that is, I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would love to meet her, if it's that serious already."
He pretended it wasn't the image of Molly's chastising expression in his mind that made him tone down his comment to John.
Sussex - Two Hours Later
"What do you mean, you can't look at it until Monday? I need to be back in London for work on Monday!" Molly glared at the phone receiver as if it was personally responsible for her car's failure to start.
"Hendrickson always was unreliable," Violet Holmes 'tsk'd' sympathetically as her husband flipped through the phone book in search of another garage Molly might try. "What about Boothe, is he still in business?"
Siger shook his head as Molly continued arguing with Hendrickson. "Retired last year, don't you remember? Sold the garage to those developers, you remember, the ones from Brighton, or was it Bournemouth? One of those, anyway." He peered back at the phone book. "Nearest one is that chain but they close early on Saturdays." His expression brightened. "I say, Molly, don't you have one of those motorcar roadside assistance things? GreenFlag or Eversure?"
She shook her head as she hung up the phone, her expression decidedly annoyed. "No. And even if I did, the best they'd be able to do would be to give me a tow to the nearest garage. Which can't even look at my car until Monday." She let out an unhappy sigh. "I've been meaning to get it since we started doing more driving out of London, but I keep forgetting."
"Pregnancy brain," Violet said comfortingly. "Well, there's nothing for it, then. You'll just have to stay the night, and you and Wills can take the train back tomorrow. We'll make sure Hendrickson takes a look at your car first thing on Monday, and as soon as it's fixed you can come back and get it. Or we could drive it back for you, if you feel you can trust us with it."
Molly smiled for the first time since discovering that her car wouldn't start. "I trust you with my son, of course I'd trust you with my car, Violet. If you're sure it's not an imposition…"
"Tosh, of course it's not an imposition! There, it's all settled, then. I'm sure I can find something for you to wear to sleep in - you can have Sherlock's old room, he rarely uses it and I'm afraid we've turned Mycroft's room into a bit of a hobby room." She smiled apologetically, and Molly nodded and hugged her in thanks. "OK, that's sorted. So. What can I do to help with dinner? Shepherd's pie, didn't you say you were making?"
Ten minutes later she and Violet were chatting away in the kitchen, chopping the veg and rolling out the pie crust while Wills and his grandfather settled down in the front room for a game of rummy.
It was only as they were setting down to eat forty minutes later that Molly had an inkling that things weren't exactly what they seemed. "Wills, you've set too many places!" she told her son with a grin. She gestured to the plate next to hers. "There's only four of us, don't tell me you've forgotten how to count!"
Her grin faded as she saw the guilty expression on his face. Soon after the sound of a key in the front door lock alerted her - and the elder Holmeses, who looked up in surprise - that the extra setting wouldn't exactly go to waste.
"I might have asked Dad to come by since you were gonna leave before dinner," Wills mumbled, sinking down in his seat a bit.
Molly shook her head in exasperation. "Honestly, William, why would you do such a thing without asking someone first? What if I'd changed my mind and decided to stay later? It's not fair to put us-"
"Ah, Molly, I saw your car outside and wondered why you changed your mind about staying," Sherlock's voice interrupted her. He gave his son a stern look as he joined them at the table, sitting next to Molly without looking at her. "William, hasn't anyone told you it's rude to manipulate people like this? Not to mention it's dangerous to tinker with a car's engine when you don't know what you're doing," he added, causing the other three adults in the room to gasp aloud.
"You didn't!" Molly exclaimed, but even as she said the words she knew Sherlock was right. "William Henry Hooper, you look me in the eye and tell me you didn't disable my car!"
"I watched a youtube video, I was careful, it's easy to fix, I just wanted you two to talk to each other!" Wills burst out, shoving his chair back as he jumped to his feet. "This is stupid, you two not talking when you want to be with each other! I hate it!"
He dashed out of the room; Molly started to rise when Violet put a restraining hand on her wrist. "Let Siger and I talk to him, dear." She nodded at her husband, who obediently rose and pulled out her chair with his usual old-fashioned manners. "Wills might have been wrong to do what he did, but he's absolutely right about you two needing to talk."
With a determined nod of her head, she allowed her husband to escort her from the kitchen, making sure to pull the door shut behind her.
Sherlock looked at the door, then over at Molly. She returned his gaze, feeling somewhat stunned. "Soo," he said, clapping his hands together and saying the only thing any reasonable person could expect him to say. "Shepherd's pie, eh? Fantastic, I'm starving."
A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews and apologies for the delay in updating. Hopefully the next one will come a bit sooner.