In the days that followed, Felicity healed rapidly. The physical trauma her body had endured was so slight compared to any lasting mental damage surrounding Charley's death and Felicity's dream about Sherlock and John dying that her hurt shoulder hardly bothered Felicity. The pain medication she was given kept her alert while erasing the majority of the pain, allowing her to spend her days on the couch, either watching telly with her Dads or listening to one play the violin while the other typed out his blog. Mrs. Hudson or Molly visited often to help Felicity bathe and change (Sherlock and John may have been Felicity's guardians, but they were not about to go down that road, regardless of the fact that John was a doctor), and the constant company and happiness around Felicity made her feel better. She deleted the dream from her mind-skyscraper and instead focused on something she could control.
Such as… her guardians.
During their time cooped up in the flat before the Moran fiasco as well as now, she could see the tension in them. Felicity was young, but she wasn't stupid. She could see how they were dying to plaster each other to the walls and kiss; she found it incredibly endearing, so much so that she had to fight down giggles whenever she caught them eyeing each other. She started to push to be allowed to visit Mrs. Hudson more often and for longer and pushed to meet and stay with the famous Mummy Holmes as soon as possible. Sherlock and John had given up a lot to take care of her and she wanted to return the favor by giving them the alone time they so desperately wanted. Her hypersensitivity to her guardians had revealed something else to her- both were hiding something.
One night, when John had been asleep and Felicity had been dozing on him in front of the telly, Sherlock had come home almost silently, but Felicity, even half asleep, could tell that his footsteps held excitement. When he'd gone to shut off the telly, She had seen a small box in his hand in the light from the telly, and Felicity knew exactly what that box was for. In comparison, on a day where Sherlock was sawing at his violin and Felicity was coming down the stairs from getting a book from her room, she'd nearly bumped into John in the hallway. He'd clearly been hurrying to get to his room after coming home from a shift at the clinic and he'd clutched his bag so tightly to his chest that Felicity had doubted that even Sherlock could get it off him to get what was so obviously inside- a wedding ring. Felicity had only winked at John and had sauntered back out into the living room with her book, just barely resisting the urge to hum 'Here Comes the Bride'.
Felicity wasn't sure when either man would propose and who would beat who to the punch, but the idea that her guardians were going to marry kept her very happy through the monotonous boredom of healing. Finally, after about two weeks of healing, Sherlock and John sat her down to ask if she felt up to going into the country to meet Mummy Holmes. Sherlock had barely asked the question before Felicity had given him an empathetic "YES!" so in no time at all their whole family was packing to go and visit the Holmes Estate. Felicity could only gather things with her left hand (John, having had a similar injury, refused for her to use her right arm in any manner) and John packed them for her, but that was hardly the point. She was going to meet Mummy. The idea that she had grandmothers again made Felicity giddy. Mrs. Hudson was obviously her first grandmother, but Mummy would take the spot as her second and it made Felicity happy to see her previously broken family tree coming back together.
After lots of packing, a bit of bickering between Sherlock and John ("No, Sherlock, you cannot bring a liver with us; for god's sake!") and a lot of excitement on Felicity's part, they were finally ready to go. Felicity had done a bit of snooping and could confirm that both men were bringing their engagement rings for the other and they both remained blissfully unaware that the other wanted to pop the same question. Mycroft's car came around as usual and once the security guards had loaded up their luggage Felicity bounced into the backseat, ignoring John's cautions to be careful with her sling. She really wanted to get in first so that Sherlock and John could sit next to each other; she could care less if it hurt a little bit along the way. It turned out that the Holmes Estate was in Wales, buried in the countryside, so the drive was long but relaxing. Once they got onto country roads they rolled down a few windows and let in the breeze. Felicity, unable to help herself, chattered the whole time about meeting Mummy and exploring the grounds and picnics and science and everything she and Mummy could do together. A lot of it was just to burn off anxious energy, but she made a point to talk about spending more time with Mummy than with Sherlock and John, making it clear (even if it was a subliminal message) that the two men would be free to do as they pleased.
Eventually, the Holmes Estate became visible upon the horizon. The front drive was gated but the rest of the grounds were not, allowing spectacular views along with privacy. The gate and fence were made from wrought iron and although their architecture suggested that they were from another time period, the iron still shone as black and as strong as the day it was made. The driveway was made from a pristine white gravel and the lawn was impeccably kept. Towering trees dotted the drive until it reached a large circle. In the middle there was a large and beautiful garden with all sorts of flowers. The circle stopped at a set of great stone steps that led up to the mansion itself. The front had tall columns that rose up to meet with the roof, and they broke up the red brick façade of the estate. Small additions of the same with stone that made the stairs and the columns added sophisticated touches to the style of the house. However, the only thing Felicity could stare at was the woman waiting on the steps.
She could tell that she was tall for a woman, maybe six feet tall, with the same elegant frame as Sherlock. She had slightly different features and silvery blond hair instead of Sherlock's dark brown, but it was obvious that she was his mother- her cheekbones were more than just reminiscent of the detective's. She was wearing a white dress that wrapped around her and looked more like a member of the royal family than she did Sherlock's mother. Almost as soon as the car had stopped Felicity was opening the car door before the guard could and was bouncing up the steps to meet Mummy Holmes. "Hi, I'm Felicity it's so nice to meet you!" Felicity burst out, smiling hugely as she offered her hand out of politeness. The slightly austere look fell off Mummy's face at Sherlock's expression in the background (a mix of amusement and worry) before she crouched and hugged her new granddaughter, laughing when Felicity managed to hug her enthusiastically even with just one arm.
"The pleasure, dear, is all mine," Mummy told her when they pulled apart, a warm smile on her face. "I was so sorry to hear of your ordeal- how are you improving?" She asked, examining Felicity in a way similar to Sherlock except this time it was a motherly instinct, not a curious one.
"I'm healing so quickly it's boring to wait for everything to be alright again. John is overly cautious about the whole thing," Felicity sighed, shooting John a mischievous grin when he huffed at her as he and Sherlock ascended the stairs, hand in hand. Sherlock had not made it a secret to his mother that he was involved with John (to the contrary, he asked her advice on getting a ring), but John was still incredibly nervous about meeting Sherlock's family and embarrassed for when the time came for Sherlock to meet his. Sherlock was always so graceful and elegant, and it was clear that his mother was too- whereas John always felt the tiniest bit stupid and uncoordinated. It didn't help his nerves.
"This must be John Watson. A pleasure to meet you at last, Doctor," Mummy Holmes told him warmly, and they shook hands, John's anxiousness instantly disappearing with her acceptance. "Why don't we head inside for tea, hmm?" She asked Felicity, who instantly took her hand and walked in with her first, chattering excitedly about her beautiful house and how she'd dreamed about meeting her and topics that a girl like herself probably shouldn't find interesting. Past the front doors lay a large foyer, with marble stone and walls. It had large windows to let in the light, creating the feeling of lots of space. Beyond that lay a large hallway that was paneled in wood. Paintings and statues lined the walls as they passed, and John started to feel more and more poor by the second.
"Sherlock," John got his attention in an undertone while Felicity talked with Mummy about the Rembrandt painting a few feet ahead of them, "I didn't expect-," He struggled to find the right words to say and Sherlock, after a moment, kissed him into silence.
"It's alright, John. My parents have always insisted on a luxurious existence, much more than I ever have. Do not feel like a stranger here- this house is as much yours as it is mine." The detective insisted when he pulled away. John looked into his eyes a moment, finding comfort and reassurance there. With that in mind, he kissed the tip of Sherlock's elegant nose before tugging him along. Mummy and Felicity had disappeared, but they could easily hear Felicity's voice from the parlor down the hall. Knowing exactly where they had gone and knowing that at this point, Felicity and Mummy would be focused on each other and not himself and John, Sherlock tugged him back so that their chests were touching. Before John could protest, Sherlock kissed him again, letting go of John's hand only to rest it on his hip. He allowed the hand to sink lower, cupping John's arse gently.
"Sh'lock-!" John went to protest, but cut himself off with a barely muffled moan of appreciation when Sherlock squeezed the flesh in his hand. "Sherlock-your mother is right over there, with Felicity!" John hissed in a whisper, having finally got his head on straight. He untangled himself from Sherlock's hands, holding them by the wrists so that he could keep track of them. Sherlock had an odd way of making him forget common sense, and he wanted to make a good impression on his mother. "You know I want to, but later. Behave," he told Sherlock's pouting face, finding it much harder than usual to say 'no' to the detective. He took a deep breath, and then let it out. "Ready?" he asked Sherlock, who offered him a sly grin.
"You're in control here, John." He said in a ridiculously low voice that made John want to lean right over and kiss him senseless. He quickly released Sherlock's hands, blushing furiously.
"Don't you- start that. Manipulative little- ugh," John sighed, kissing Sherlock's forehead. "Now come on," he ordered, weaving his fingers through Sherlock's again and pulling him towards the parlor.
"Is that so?" Mummy was asking Felicity as they entered. The room was carpeted in a plush burgundy, with wallpapered walls that had a Victorian feel. The large windows let in lots of light, revealing that Mummy and Felicity were already seated in armchairs that were arranged around a low coffee table that held a tea tray with some biscuits and the nicest china John had ever seen. The view out of the windows was spectacular- they looked out over the grounds of the Holmes Estate. "That is an interesting development." Mummy told her, the smile in her eyes apparent as she glanced up at her son and his lover's entrance.
"There you are," Felicity commented, carefully sipping her tea one-handedly. "Distracted by the Rembrandt, were you?" She added playfully, and John flushed darker, if possible.
"The Monet, actually." Sherlock announced, bringing John over to a loveseat off to Felicity's right he prepared cups of tea for the both of them while John looked about the room. It was full of bookshelves, and there was a huge oak desk off in the corner that had a strong reading light and not much else.
"How atrocious of you, Sherlock, to outwardly lie to your Mother and your daughter." Mummy said with amusement and just as much sarcasm as Sherlock could usually dish out, taking a delicate sip of her tea. Sherlock let out a dainty sniff, passing a cup of tea to John. For all his haughtiness, he was unable to hide his flush when Felicity started giggling.
"So, John, I hear that you served in Afghanistan." Mummy changed the topic then, to save John any further embarrassment. She and John somehow clicked right away; for such an imposing woman, she very easily made John feel at home. It was a miracle that the two of them, so different, had so much to talk about. Felicity sat and listened mostly. She was happier watching Sherlock and John sitting on the couch, hands clasped on the cushion between them, than she was engaging in small talk. She memorized the unconscious bliss on Sherlock and John's faces until she could feel that same bliss herself. The crucible had passed; their suffering, for the moment, was at an end. She, Sherlock, and John were a family, and they always would be.
After tea, Felicity insisted on getting a tour of the grounds (she craved fresh air after being cooped up in the flat healing for so long). Mummy was more than willing to oblige them, leaving Sherlock and John time to 'tour the house'. Once Mummy and Felicity were off, walking down the sloping green lawns of the Estate, Sherlock had grabbed John's hand and had towed him through the long, elegant manor hallways and stairs up to the fourth floor. Some frantic kissing and laughter later, Sherlock was pushing John down onto a large, fluffy duvet. "Finally," the detective groaned, tugging John's shoes off, then socks, as John frantically took his jumper and then shirt off. He undid the buttons on Sherlock's dress shirt as quickly as possible without ripping them out as Sherlock undid the doctor's belt. A brief round of tugging, a bit of swearing, and a lot of laughing later, both men were finally able to engage in the passions they'd been waiting to express for years.
OoOoOoO
Once Sherlock and John cleaned up, flushed with success, they ventured back down to the main floor of the house…to find no one there. It was getting late, dark out, even, and Mummy and Felicity were nowhere in sight. A butler informed Sherlock and John that dinner would continue as planned at six, and that Mrs. Holmes and Ms. Muller were not to be disturbed on the second floor. As soon as the butler said 'second floor', Sherlock's face flinched slightly as the butler walked away. "What is it? What's wrong?" John pounced, seeing his expression.
"The machine gun collection is on the second floor." Sherlock explained shortly, his face smoothing back over.
"Oh," John managed, suddenly frightened by the idea of little Felicity firing a machine gun. The idea in his mind was oddly lethal, even though Felicity was the sweetest thing he knew of. "Your Mother…she wouldn't let Felicity-?"
"Yes she would," Sherlock interrupted with a sigh, passing a hand over his face. "And going up to bother them now would be useless. I'm sure that Felicity is…more than enthralled with the collection and cannot be dissuaded now."
"Hmm," John mused. "What should we do in the meantime?" He looked briefly around them before seizing Sherlock and tugging him over to a spacious supply cupboard that blended in with the paneling of the hallway. The door had barely closed behind them before he was gripping Sherlock through his trousers and nipping at his collarbones. Because of their excursion in the closet, Sherlock and John were almost late to dinner. When they arrived, Felicity looked blissfully happy, and Sherlock hadn't seen Mummy looking so alive since before his Father passed. It was a welcome change in both important women in his life, and it was enough to make him forget (for the moment), about John. That was, until he saw John slide his hand into his pocket and twirl something, as if nervous.
"So glad you two could join us. I'm assuming that you got a very nice tour of the house, John?" Mummy asked sweetly, and Felicity, who had been taking a sip of water, choked and had to be thumped on the back, minding her sore shoulder, until her airway cleared.
"Honestly, this elephant in the room is maddening. Yes, John and I engaged in an act of copulation. End of story." Sherlock tried to say it with an air of disdain, but his ears were turning red and his mind was on other things. What was in John's pocket? Could it be what he thought it was- and if it was what he thought it was, Sherlock wanted to beat him to it.
"It is hardly the end of the story, Sherlock. I daresay that I will be teasing you and John about it for weeks." Mummy declared, an amused sparkle in her eye.
"Then I guess I should give you something else to talk about," John leapt in, and Sherlock saw his hand go for his pocket- if the detective was dead on his game, which he was, he knew that there was an engagement ring in John's pocket, and, being as childish as he was, he wanted to propose first. His mind half on the growing happiness and butterflies in his stomach and half on 'winning' the engagement battle first, Sherlock interrupted.
"Considering I am involved in being the butt of your horrific sense of humor, I believe that I have to provide you with other talking points as well," Sherlock insisted loudly, standing up so that his chair pushed back to the wall. John, to his credit, knew what he was doing and (by Felicity's judgment) whipped out his ring box before Sherlock did. Both men, in a rush, trying to speak over each other, declared:
"Will you marry me?"
Felicity dropped her glass onto the table, where it shattered against the edge of her plate, but no one paid any attention to it. She and Mummy were staring at the two men with large eyes as Sherlock and John stared at each other, half shocked and half giddy. The ring that Sherlock had picked out, with Mummy's help, was simple but elegant- exactly the way he saw John. The band was plain silver, with a stripe of highly polished finish going around the length of the ring. It stood out strongly and yet blended in, and John had done so and surprised him more than once. John could be incredibly brilliant, so unique, and yet he was also the one person who could ground him in normalcy and reality. The ring John had got for Sherlock, on the other hand, was also a plain silver band, but two parallel grooves went around the ring. For John, they symbolized the two different sides to Sherlock he had had the honor of witnessing. One was the brilliant, alive detective that got rid of his psychosomatic limp and had earned the praises of, "Fantastic!" and "Brilliant!". The other side was Sherlock's human side, the side brought out by Felicity's love. When Sherlock wasn't ruthlessly on a case, he was compassionate, kind, and loving. The two sides of Sherlock, while they were different and never intersected, were both parts of Sherlock and, in John's opinion, deserved to be symbolized in the man's ring.
Wasting no time, Sherlock reached across the table and took John's left hand, sliding the ring onto the appropriate finger with slightly shaking fingers of his own. Sentiment. He managed to identify happily as John, with his shorter arms, struggled but managed to do the same, the ring he'd chosen fitting nicely on Sherlock's thin finger. Both men stared at each other for a moment, the idea that they were each other's, that they had the other person to love and hold, sank in. When it did, John hurried around the table, grabbed Sherlock by the collar, and pulled him down for a kiss. He never thought in his entire life that he would end up marrying and being blissfully happy with the strangest and most brilliant man he had ever known, with an adopted daughter. That aside, he had never imagined that he could possibly be so happy.
Before Felicity could stop herself, tears boiled over her eyes and ran down her cheeks. In her short life, she had experienced moments of happiness, but the majority of the emotions she'd felt could be categorized under depression, and the feeling of being lost. Seeing Sherlock and John standing there, lips locked, bands on their fingers, the boldest spark of happiness she had ever felt blossomed into her chest with such life that it almost hurt. She had always thought that Sherlock and John were her example that things always got better, but she had never been more correct until that moment. "You competitive, childish git," John murmured once he and Sherlock finally broke their kiss. "You couldn't just let me have this, could you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, John." Sherlock practically purred in his ear before standing back, kissing his new husband's hand.
"Well," Mummy finally managed, beaming at the two men with pride only a Mother could conjure up. "When is the wedding?" She asked, breaking out into laughter, Felicity joining in with slightly tear-jerked giggles as she hastily swiped away her tears. The sound of their laughter punctured John and Sherlock's own little world; and before they knew it, John and Sherlock were laughing too.
Ω
OoOoOoO
A/N: Your reward for putting up with my shit and meddling and drama is fluff so fluffy you want to cuddle it and puke on it at the same time. I hope it wasn't too over the top- I don't really write fluff that often, so...
Writing this story was so much fun and it was such an honor to get reviews from all of you. You all helped me to become a better writer, and so I am very grateful to you all. I got some reviews expressing concern that I would drag it on too long, and I'm hoping to every god ever created that I didn't drag it out; I hate it when stories do that. Anyway, a big thank you to everyone who was along for the ride.
That includes louisuperwholocked- the bestest beta ever. I don't know how you put up with me, but you do- and I thank you for that.
Thank you all so much!