[[Author's Note: Hey, guys! Things to say before I say anything about this chapter: 1. I edited the last chapter because ate all my dividers and edits, so, you can re-read that for added clarity on the subject of Moriarty's demise (ish?). 2. Well, that was it really. That's awkward. Hmmm... So, nice weather we're having? Anywho, I was feeling under the weather and I wrote this chapter as a pick-me-up because while I was very loopy with Nyquill, I watched a ton of movies and musicals and when I fell asleep I dreamt very odd things. Like, emreally/em odd. So, I wrote up emone/em of them, the other you will get in a later chapter (I already wrote it up and it is really trippy). I hope you enjoy. Read and review (and give a lab rat its wings), let me know if there are any problems with the chapter or if you want to give me a suggestion or prompt. See you guys later! I own nothing but the OCs and a bottle or magic juice called Nyquill.]]
"What in the name of everything good and holy are you doing?" A still sleepy Sherlock, hair sticking up in all directions, clothes crumpled from bed and fists rubbing at his eyes asked the second he stepped into the living room. It wasn't the fact that Addie was standing on a dining room chair fixing streamers to the wall, it was that his flat looked a little like a Halloween pumpkin, drunk off cinnamon ale and candy corn, threw up all over the place.
"We talked about this, Sherlock!" She replied, not bothering to turn around from taping up a bright orange and black strip of paper in the perfect position.
"No, we bloody well didn't!"
"Yes, we did. We agreed we would have a Halloween party so that John and Mary can take a load off while we take Del trick or treating."
The consulting detective wracked his brain, trying to place the conversation as he poured himself a cup of tea. "Where was I when this happened?"
Addie sighed, affixing another strip of paper and gauging her chances of having this conversation end before Sherlock decided to be a child and make a fuss. "You were debating the Muppets versus Fraggle Rock with Delilah. We all asked you your opinion and you said, and I quote 'Do whatever you bloody want, I don't care' and proceeded to tell Delilah why exactly Fraggle Rock was the superior puppet show."
He sipped on his Earl Grey and frowned. The idea of people in the flat, all ridiculously dressed and forcing him to partake in the merriment made his skin crawl. "Well, I've changed my mind. I don't want a party."
"And I wanted to travel to Middle Earth, shit happens." With a flourish, she hopped down from the chair and admired her handy work. The streamers were perfectly hung and she felt like a grand accomplishment had been overtaken. Well, at least until she saw Sherlock picking at the tape in the far corner of her streamer. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, if you do not desist from that this very instant, I will end you!" Tiny as she was and sort of delicate-looking, Sherlock couldn't help but a shiver of fear run down his spine when he turned his head to see Adelaide in her too-big pajamas, hair in a messy bun on her head, hands on her hips and a look that told him she was not the least bit kidding. His fingers floated off the streamers on their own accord and his feet carried him a few feet away from the wall, his hands up in a defensive stance. "Thank you, love."
Sherlock, the child he was, pouted and gave her his most convincing puppy dog stare, relaying how very opposed he was to the whole ordeal and trying to persuade her to call the whole thing off. When he was ignored, he slouched, throwing himself onto the couch with Bart. "Addie!" He cried pitifully, earning him a glare.
"Lock, John and Mary need a break. Greg needs a break. Molly needs a break. Even Mrs. Hudson needs a break. It's been a rough couple of months. We really need to do this for them. After all, it's sort of our fault that they're tired." She said slowly, kneeling down next to him on the couch and attempting to tame his hair.
"It's not our fault. It's my fault." He mumbled, picking at invisible fibers on his pajama pants. It had been a few weeks since their showdown with one James Moriarty, but everyone seemed to still want to look over their shoulder, not quite trusting their own shadows or the strangers on the street. It had made their little group very tense and a little jumpy and it seemed to Addie that this would be a good way to start lightening their spirits. Mrs. Hudson had been thrilled with the idea, proclaiming that she would provide food for the party if she decorated. John and Mary would bring candy while Greg and Molly would bring the drinks.
"I know. I was trying to make it sound less horrible." Addie clambered onto him and buried her face in his chest, tightly wrapping her arms around his thin frame. "Come on, Sherlock. Don't be difficult. We'll be out with Del half the night, anyway. Please." It still had been obvious to her that convincing her significant other to have a party, dress up in silly clothes and go out for treats was asking a little much of the socially awkward detective, but she was planning on baby steps.
"Addie—"
She decided that an attack on his weaker points was in order. "Think of how happy Del will be to be out with you!"
"That's hardly fair to—"
"And I'll be so glad to have you with me around London for trick or treating. You know the city is no place for two girls alone on such a night."
"Don't appeal to my protective side, Ad—"
"I know I would feel so much better with you—"
"FINE!" He cried, promptly grabbing a pillow and attempting to smother himself with it.
Not taking a single moment to enjoy her success, she pressed onto more delicate matters. "Now, about what you're going to wear—"
He pulled the pillow down just enough for his glassy blue eyes to peek from behind the fabric. "Adelaide Galatea Villalobos, if you think you are going to get me in some idiotic getup, you are sorely mistaken."
"It's a fancy dress party, Sherlock! That's sort of what it entails!"
"I don't want to dress up! What's wrong with being me for the evening!"
"Nothing! It's just something fun. Please, it doesn't have to be anything terribly complex, just something to lighten the mood."
"I hate this plan, Adelaide." He said, deadpan.
Addie couldn't help but giggle at his expression, knowing that he was very, very opposed to this idea. "Please?"
"NO."
"You're such a spoil-sport, Sherlock." She kissed his cheek and whistled at Bart to come to her. She had him hold a basket full of laminated pumpkins, ghouls and skeletons while she hung them around the living room and kitchen. The detective stared silently as she worked, eventually settling into a comfortable position on the couch at which point Cassiopeia decided to curl up on his lap.
It was a long while before either of them said anything, but Sherlock now had his interest piqued as to what the evening would entail. "So, party and fancy dress? Who is coming?"
"The usual lot. Molly, Greg, Mrs. Hudson, Mary, John and Del," Addie replied, as she set the table with large cauldrons filled with water into which she would later drop dry ice into to make a ghostly fog appear. "Oh, and Mycroft said he would come by, as well."
"And is he dressing up, as well?" Sherlock asked, sarcastically, a lone eyebrow rising up to meet her challenging stare.
"Actually, he said something about being James Bond," she replied shortly, turning back to the table and leaving Sherlock to pout and mumble on his own. "Of bloody course…"
"What? Are you jealous?"
"He hates field work! Why would he be James Bond?"
Addie laughed, collecting the last decoration from Bart's basket and feeding him a biscuit for a job well done. "What sort of job you do has no impact on what you dress up as, Sherlock."
"Alright, what are my options?"
"Options? What options?"
"What can I dress up as?"
"Well, you can be a scary clown or a zombie?"
He rolled his eyes, "Be serious."
"I am, Sherlock. It's already Halloween, there isn't much option as to what you can do."
"Fine, what else?"
"I'm sure John can lend you some things and you can be a doctor."
"Yes, if I chop my legs off to be his size, sure. Next?"
"Police man?"
"Yes, fantastic way to lower my IQ. Next?"
"Lion tamer?"
"Wha—I'm not even going to ask. Next?"
"Mad scientist?"
Sherlock scoffed and gestured at himself. "Hello!"
Addie smirked, rolling her eyes. "Right. You still have things in the closet. Vicar, traffic attendant, security officer—"
"Those are all boring, Ads!" He pouted, holding Cass closer to his body making him look far younger than he actually was and looking far less than pleased. Addie had not replied, she was sweeping up bits of paper that were on the floor before tossing them into the rubbish bin. "What are you dressing up as?"
"I'm dressing as Christine Daaé."
"From the Phantom of the Opera?" She nodded and grinned. "Fine, I'll be the Phantom."
"Sorry, mate. Bart already has the job."
"Bart? As in our bloodhound?"
"Yes, as in our bloodhound. I got him a cape and mask and everything." She sat finished her preparations and stepped lightly to the living room, settling down next to him with a grin. "You can always be Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny."
"Yeah, I always wanted to play the ponce she settled for while her soul was linked forever to a deformed, brilliant and slightly mentally ill man," he argued with a frown.
"Maybe I should let you play the Phantom," she replied with a wicked grin.
He shoved her lightly, a small grin betraying his exasperation. "Be serious."
"Well, you have a few hours to decide what you want to do."
Addie could, of course, hear him rattling through the storage closet like a man on a mission. Of course, she could hear his barely concealed curses while he decided on what he was going to wear, but she would be called an insane woman if she ever, for one minute, decided that she was going to interfere with his witch hunt. No, she just sat down, ordering her things on the bed before giving Bart a good scrub and getting him dressed before dealing with her own wardrobe.
"Bloody fuck!"
"You alright, Lock?" She called from the bedroom, while finishing trying the cloak around Bart's neck, face already half-covered with the phantom's mask.
"Fine!" Was the only terse response and she laughed to herself before jumping into the shower.
The first of the guests, Mrs. Hudson, arrived and Sherlock was dressed in his usual black slacks, black shirt attire, brooding testily in the corner while the Fairy Godmother-dressed woman buzzed around the kitchen, setting the food. Molly and Greg arrived next, dressed as a honey-bee and a fireman, respectively, and made small talk in the living room.
"Why aren't you dressed, Sherlock?" Molly asked with a kind grin as she sipped on punch. "Not much for parties?"
"I think it's a childish, stupid tradition," he replied haughtily, although Molly could clearly detect the sour tone in his voice.
"Couldn't find something you liked?"
"Bart took the only good option," he replied, staring at the pup that was happily bounding at the door, probably at the knowledge that the Watsons were coming up the stairs.
"You realize you're jealous of a dog, right?"
"You realize you're dressed as an animal who gets its guts ripped out when it decides to sting something, right?"
"Yeah, but at least I inflict some damage. I'm not sulking because I can't find a suitable costume to compete with the dog."
"I'm not trying to compete with the dog!"
"Oh, sorry. Silly me. You're sulking because you can't find a costume that's cooler than the one the dog is wearing." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it, recognizing that she was actually right. "It's not about being the most recognized character, Sherlock. It's about being the one who succeeds in the plot line."
"Oi! Hey, guys!" Addie exclaimed happily, opening the door to Robin Hood, Lady Marian and one of the merry thieves. Sherlock looked up from his glass of punch at the noise, staring, a little dazed, at the open-backed cream colored gown with the layered skirt, the dark curls neatly pinned to cascade over her shoulder, and most importantly, the woman on which all of this was on. Addie had her back to him, with Del in her thief dress hitched on her shoulder and chatting excitedly.
"So, are you going to go change now?" Molly asked, a wide smile stretching her tired features.
"But, but—"
"Honestly, Sherlock, if you go out with Deilah, Addie and Bart, dressed like that, you deserve to be lynched."
"She won't care."
"No, she won't, but you sort of owe her, don't you. Getting kidnapped by that maniac and his people. Twice."
Sherlock looked affronted, even if the claim did strike true in his soul. He had been far more accommodating since Moriarty's death, figuring he did not have to make their collective lives more difficult than it already had been and trying to apologize for those heart-wrenchingly awful hours in which she lived in fear for her life. "She doesn't hold that against me, Molly."
"You're right." She sipped on more punch. "You do."
Sherlock groaned, a savage sound ripping through his throat before stomping off in the direction of his room. "Cover for me!" He called over his shoulder. Molly looked very pleased with herself before she gave John and Mary a smile and a wave.
Meanwhile, the detective pulled out random pieces of clothing from his wardrobe and tried to make a coherent dress out of it. He was failing miserably. All he had come up with was wrapping his face in a white scarf, putting on glasses and a coat and calling himself the invisible man. There were many problems with that decision. He would not be able to eat or drink and he'd hardly be able to see in the dark. Not to mention it's not exactly a practical dress for the streets of London. He groaned, looking at the tuxedo hidden at the back of the wardrobe and resigning to his fate.
Three minutes later, he was dressed to the nines in his coal black tuxedo with his white shirt and black bowtie. He combed his hair until he looked sufficiently like an idiot and paced nervously. He really hated this idea, but it was the only one he had, it was the only one that would not look ridiculous, and he sort of enjoyed the idea of playing opposite to Addie. Even if it was as a ponce. Just as he was about to cross the threshold into the hall, he stopped mid-step and retreated. Pulling open a drawer and looking under his collection of unused handkerchiefs, he pulled out the delicate gold and diamond band he had gotten from his mother, and rifled a little further until he found a thin golden chain to thread through the piece. With the article secure in his fist, he walked out to the party.
"You clean up nice, Sherlock," Greg remarked, patting him on the back a little unsteadily.
"And you like dressing up as public service."
"I like to see how the other half lives, mate." He swallowed down the rest of what was his fifth beer of the night and went off to chat with Mrs. Hudson. He laughed, predicting how terribly this night would end for at least one of them, and turned towards the living room. Addie was on the armchair, chatting excitedly to Mary while Del played with Cass on the floor. The feline had already shed the crown that Addie had attempted to set her up with and was, instead, wildly chasing some string the child was waving around.
Hands clasped behind him, he stepped towards the armchair and bent down to her ear. "Christine Daaé, where is your red scarf?"
Addie jumped, a little startled at the sudden presence behind her and turned in her seat. As soon as she did, she spent a few moment gaping while Sherlock stared expectantly at her. "Er. Monsieur?"
"You can't have lost it, after all the trouble I took. Fourteen and soaked to the skin—"
"Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf. Oh, Raoul."
"I'll be the first to say this: Sherlock, you look bloody hot," Mary blurted out after staring at him with her jaw on the floor for a few minutes.
"Mary!"
"I'm sorry, John, but look at him!" John rolled his eyes and laughed, clearly not seeing the virtue of arguing this point with her. "Addie, tell him he looks hot. Go on," she urged, ignoring the fact that Sherlock was turning a healthy shade of red in the cheeks and ears.
She smiled, appraising the man slowly and causing him to fidget in his flesh. "You look very hot, Sherlock," she obeyed, tossing him a wink in the process.
He smiled, looking at his shoes to keep his nerve. "So do you, Addie." John began swatting imaginary bugs out of the air and cursing under his breath. "What exactly are you doing, John?"
"It's all this damn sexual tension. It's like a swarm, they are." They all shared a laugh until Delilah began swatting at the air, like her father and repeating sexual tension over and over.
"Well, that's instant karma, if I ever saw any." Sherlock said with a grin while they explained to Del why she shouldn't be saying what her daddy was saying, and how this was applicable to a lot of things Daddy said. Addie stood, getting a basket ready to go out and ask for treats with Del and pouring herself a glass of punch in the process. Sherlock stood behind her with a smile and swooped down to kiss her cheek. "You look very pretty, but I think this would complete your dress." He closed the chain around her neck and watched as she reached to look at the band that hung just below her collarbone.
"This is beautiful. Where'd you get it?"
"Had it around. Thought you'd like it," he said casually, standing back and allowing her to hand him a glass of punch.
"Marking your territory, Raoul?"
Sherlock smirked, considering the weight of the question in a way very different from her joking tone. "In a way."
"Well, it's fantastic. Thank you." Without so much as a second thought, she continued her work until they noticed that Delilah was ready to go out onto the town. "Are you excited Del?"
"Yeah! Candy!" She cried, bounding in that way small children did and clutched her uncle's leg while anxiously waiting to be handed her basket.
Sherlock smiled and bent down to talk to the little girl. "Alright, merry thief. Here's the deal. You are not to leave our sights or walk further than three feet away from us for any reason whatsoever. Do you understand?" She nodded. "And if you see anything weird, you are to tell us immediately." She nodded again. "There will be no candy-eating until we are back here, am I understood?" Delilah nodded fervently, a very serious look on her tiny features before she grasped her basket and walked in front of her godparents.
Baker street was full of children dressed as superheroes and cartoon characters, pirates and ghosts while they asked for treats and Addie, Sherlock walked leisurely behind Delilah and Bart as she knocked on doors and adorably asked for a treat. "What made you change your mind?"
"Other than the fact that I was being a dick, you mean?" Sherlock replied, Addie's hand grasped in his. "Three feet, Del!" he called to the tiny girl, who immediately slowed her pace.
"You normally wouldn't care if you were being a dick."
"I do care. It's just easier to seem like I don't." They stopped at another door and waited for Delilah to do her routine. "I don't know, really, to be honest."
"Well, I'm glad you did."
"Really? Am I a devilishly handsome Raoul?"
Addie grinned, rolling her eyes in the process. "Well, you're no Phantom, but…"
"It's always something, isn't it, Christine?"
"Well, I did leave my soulmate for you, Raoul. Cold and alone in a basement of horror."
"You asked me to love you and I did. Is it not enough?"
"It is, but my song will always be the Phantom's." She scratched Bart behind the ears as he returned with Delilah in tow. "Sing with me Phantom. Speak!" Bart let out a howl and swished his tail madly beneath his cloak, causing the group to laugh and attract the attention of other people in the neighborhood.
"Lucky sod," Sherlock muttered, giving the dog a hearty pat. "Did you get a lot of candy, Del?"
"Loads and loads, Uncle Lock!"
"Ready to head back so you can have some?" The girl nodded happily and could barely contain herself to walk the allotted three feet in front of her keepers all the way back to 221. She bulleted up the stairs with Bart in tow and quickly to a seat on the floor in front of her parents to show them the haul.
"Oh, brother dear, what are you wearing?" Mycroft asked as he sipped on punch and nibbled on a biscuit Mrs. Hudson had forced upon him. He looked pretty much the way he did all the time, were it not for the prop gun he had tucked under his jacket. Well, when you had a job like that of Mycroft Holmes, being James Bond was a bit of a downgrade.
"It's a tuxedo and everyone thinks I look fetching, so stuff it," he said with a pleasant smile.
"I'm trying to decide if you're the conductor or the Opera owner," Mycroft replied, looking him over. "Adelaide is obviously Christine and Bart the Phantom."
"He's Raoul, Myc. Play nice," Addie warned him.
"I am, Laide. I'm just trying to figure out why he would want to play second fiddle to a dog," he reasoned, a smart smile on his face as he observed Addie look at him disapprovingly.
"Raoul does end up with Christine, after all, Mycroft," Molly piped up as she collected another biscuit from the table and joined the conversation. "Say all you want, but she did run off with him at the end, even when she plainly had the choice to stay with the Opera Ghost."
Mycroft nodded, conceding the point and gulping down some punch to keep another comment from bubbling up. "And what is that lovely thing?" He asked, clearly recognizing the band hanging from Adelaide's neck.
"Have another biscuit Mycroft, you look far too thin," Sherlock intercepted, all but shoving the biscuit into his mouth.
"The boys are being weird. How about we go to the corner and talk about shoes?" Addie suggested and Molly all but ran with her and away from the Holmes' brothers unusual communication.
"That's Mummy's ring, Sherlock."
The detective rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm well aware, Mycroft, considering she was the one who gave it to me."
"So, you've proposed."
The younger brother scoffed. "Of course not. Who in their right mind would agree to marry me?"
"I'm glad you realize that. Then why give it to her?"
"Can we talk about something else?"
"Sherlock—"
"It went with her dress. She'll either put it on the bureau and forget about it or keep on wearing it."
"She's going to ask about it, you know."
"And I will be prepared with a witty reply."
"She's not you, Sherlock. She won't be distracted by a smart remark. She'll ask."
Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "One night, Mycroft. One night where you're not giving me a migraine."
"Grumble all you like, but you know I'm right."
"I know. You usually are," he conceded, much to his brother's surprise.
"Oi, Sherlock, did you steal all of the neighbor's candy or what?" Greg asked, as they all sorted through Del's candy.
"Not really, she's just really cute." He replied, leaving his brother to sit on the floor with Addie and Molly who were helping Del choose her grand total of five sweets for the evening from the hoard of candy she had collected.
"Pixie sticks don't feel like a candy, so don't waste time with it, Lilah," Molly said helpfully, and the little blond pushed all the pixie sticks away.
"Keep the Fun Dip, that's always good. And the gobstoppers." Addie commented and the child put them aside. "And chocolate. Have to have chocolate." Tiny fingers picked out the best chocolate bar from them all. She also picked a caramel apple and some gummy bears and gleefully sat down to feast on her picks while the adults sampled from her sweets as well.
Sherlock laughed watching Addie battle with her own packet of fun dip and watching her lips turn a dangerous shade of red. He opted for the safe choice of a Mars bar and sat down on the floor to eat. Mary had fallen asleep on the couch and John looked like he was on the verge of following the same path. Lestrade was drunkenly making passes at a very uncomfortable Mrs. Hudson while Molly secretly fed Bart half of her own caramel apple, giggling quietly at how vexed the animal became when the coating got stuck on his teeth. The detective wrapped an arm around his Christine and pulled her close, resting his chin on her crown while he watched the people in his living room. "Are you having fun?"
She licked more red dust off of the sugar paddle. "Very much. Thank you for indulging, Sherlock."
"Always," he said simply, before taking another bite from the chocolate and deciding he was bored of it. "Mycroft, could you please pull Lestrade off of Mrs. Hudson?"
The elder brother deigned to look at the now sloppily drunk detective inspector who was telling Mrs. Hudson about that one, older piano teacher who used to give him butterflies as a teenager. "I'll try, certainly. It's a little disturbing." This fantastic pillar of the establishment none-too-gently grabbed Lestrade by the scruff of his fireman costume and all but dragged him to the chair besides Molly, hoping the pathologist (who was more of a giggly drunk) could settle him down long enough as to not sexually harass the landlady.
"Aunt Addie?" The now colorfully-mouthed Delilah tugged sleepily at her aunt's dress to get her attention, which she gave without a moment's hesitation.
"Yes, love?"
"I think I had too many sweeties."
Addie tried not to swoon at the tiny girl's sad expression and tugged her into her ruffle-covered lap. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Do you want something for your tummy?" The child shook her head and balled up on her lap, her eyelids drooping closed for longer and longer every time she blinked until she was fast asleep. "Hey, Sherlock."
"Yeah?" His voice was also a little rough with sleep and his chin was resting heavily upon her as he battled to stay awake. "Do you remember the days when a party meant you were up until three a.m. and woke up at noon the next day?"
He scoffed. "No."
She giggled. "Yeah, me neither, but this is pathetic. It's barely eleven!"
"What can I say, Addie? We're prematurely eighty year-olds."
"I am dying for bed. Do you want me to take Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum home, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked cheerfully, the only one who didn't look like they were dying, gesturing to Molly and Lestrade.
"That would be good. Do try to avoid Molly, will you. She gets handsy when she's drunk."
"I hardly think that's—never mind," he tried to defending, stopping short only to be a very entertained pathologist who had just pinched his bum. "Oh, dear. This is going to be a long drive," he muttered, shouldering Lestrade just well enough so the drunken sod didn't tumble down the stairs.
"Would you like another biscuit, dears?" Mrs. Hudson asked, much more relieved now that Lestrade was gone.
For a second she remained still, until she heard the tell-tale, steady breathing of a sleeping detective. "He's gone, Mrs. H, but I'd love one," Addie replied happily, indulging the older lady in her maternal instinct.
"Here, these are my special chocolate and raspberry biscuits. Go on, get your fill."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
"They're all knackered, aren't they?"
"It seems so."
"That was very nice, making a little party to get everyone's spirits up. It's been a rubbish couple of weeks, hasn't it?"
"That it has. I just wanted a moment to breathe."
"You'll have plenty of time for that now, dear."
She shook her head. "Until the next idiot comes along that thinks he can outsmart Sherlock."
The older lady laughed. "Oh, Adelaide. That's what we live for, isn't it? Another stupid adventure with that plod of a boy and his half-baked ideas." They both burst out in laughter, causing the same boy they were talking about to wake with a start.
"It was Mycroft who stole the fudge!" He exclaimed loudly, only making their laughter intensify while the man looked around the room, confused as to what was happening.
"Go to bed, Lock."
"Wait, picture first!" Mrs. Hudson fussed as she pulled out a camera from the Fairy Godmother bag. "Barty, you, too." The bloodhound, half-faced mask still in place, took a regal pose next to the couple before they were all promptly blinded by the flash on the camera. "Oh, you all look so adorable in your little get-ups. This is the best fancy dress party I've been to!" The older lady gushed at herself and the pictures she had taken throughout the night all the way to her own flat.
"Bed. Sleep. Now. Come. Pleeeease."
"I would mock you, but you can't even make logical sentences anymore." Carefully, she gathered Delilah up and placed her in the armchair, across from her sleeping parents, and silently hoping that John's terrible snoring didn't wake her up in the middle of the night. "Come now," Addie whispered, leading Sherlock back into the bedroom for a well-deserved rest.
The next morning, Sherlock was at the table, discussing the pros and cons of The Wiggles with Delilah and trying to fairly decide which of them was the best over a plate of scrambled eggs. John and Mary were sipping tea and talking about something that Sherlock was not in the least bit interested with Addie as they thumbed through an old album that the Holmes elders had provided them with.
"That looks like a face that has no friends," John joked, looking at a picture of young Sherlock, scowling in his particular way at the camera with an equally irate Mycroft.
"Their Dad told me that they were afraid they had missed some important developmental step because they didn't seem to smile."
"Well, the poor bloke was right, wasn't he?" Mary piped in, laughing madly at the thought.
"I am right here, you know!" Sherlock called from the kitchen table, before spooning in another bite of eggs into his mouth.
Addie, who had stood to refresh her tea, pecked him noisily on the cheek. "We're just poking fun, Lock. We love you just as well. John wouldn't want you any other way." She felt the man grin in spite of himself at the doctor's defensive retort. Addie hugged his neck, kissing the crown of his head and he could feel the fabric of her cerulean t-shirt on his neck and the cold tickle of metal on metal of the ring hanging on its chain. She mumbled something sweet into his ear before leaving a picture, face-down beside his cup of tea while he went back to having a very informed debate with Delilah.
"Del, say goodbye to everyone. It's time to go!" Mary called, gathering the dirty clothes bag and her purse. The tiny blond hugged Addie, who twirled her around a few times and gave her a big kiss on the cheek before running off to do the same with Sherlock, then pat Cass, and, last but not least, hug a very happy Bart, who refused to let anyone take off his costume and was still walking around as the Phantom.
"Have a safe trips, guys! Bye!" Addie closed the door behind her and grinned at a very guilty-looking Sherlock who was rifling around the candy for something sweet. "I'm not your Mum, have all the sweets you want. I'm going to get my work things and make some more tea, OK?"
He nodded, grabbing an array of lollipops and sitting at the table with a case file to read over. The back of the downturned picture caught his eye, forgetting it had even been there, and, popping a cherry-flavored pop in his mouth, he turned it over. It was a close-up picture of his mother and father, what looked like an eternity ago; fresh-faced and insanely happy, arms around each-other and his mother's left hand in grand display with the engagement ring in center stage. Under the picture, was a sticky note in Addie's tight handwriting that read 'You think I'm far more unobservant than I really am'. He scoffed, finally knowing how it felt to want to be swallowed whole by the earth. "Clearly." He tilted his head, hands steepling under his chin. "Then again, you still have it on," he mused, putting the picture aside and opening his case file.
