A/N: UPDATE! It's taken a while, but I finally finished my novel! Yay! So I'm thinking lots of fic updates this week. I hope. Anyway, I hope you like it. Thanks so much to all of you who keep encouraging me and feeding me lovely reviews! You rock my socks!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel and Scarlett.
Molly had been in the bath a very long time. It was her sanctuary. She had insisted that when the Grand Remodeling began, that she was getting a large bathroom with an enormous tub. The old bathroom at the end of the hall by the bedroom was, in her estimation, tiny. Sherlock thought that was ridiculous. How much room could one possibly need anyway? But of course, whatever Molly wanted, she got without question if it was within Sherlock's power to provide it. And so, the very first new addition to the house was a spacious and private bathroom for the couple that could only be accessed from the bedroom. It was also equipped with a lock on the inside so that Molly might finally take a bath or use the toilet by herself for the first time in three years. A hot bath was where she could go and let the stress of her day slide from her skin like the beads of warm water. And after today, she most definitely needed it.
John had been as good as his word from months previous when he promised to recommend a pediatric ENT that would examine Scarlett. Despite Sherlock's objections, he agreed after John promised that none of the testing would be invasive for the little girl. Nevertheless, Scarlett had not enjoyed her morning at the doctor's office. After an exhaustive battery of tests, the doctor hadn't had the best news and now Molly was left to process.
"Scarlett seems to have sensorineural hearing loss, which means it's a disruption between her ear and her brain. Usually it's caused by there being some kind of genetic defect or malformation of the actual organ. You stated in your questionnaire that you had some history of hearing loss in your family, Mrs. Holmes?"
"Yes. My grandmother was born deaf. Do you think that's what's causing Scarlett to have this problem?" She was trying desperately not to get upset. She knew that upset patients often didn't understand what was being said to them, focusing only on their emotions. She was determined to hold it together. Molly looked from the doctor to Sherlock and back. "I'm a doctor myself and I'm not sure what you're saying."
The doctor sighed and shook his head. "We simply don't know. You're here today because your pediatrician diagnosed Scarlett with a slight loss a few months ago that was affecting her speech. You believed that her hearing was getting worse and sadly, you were correct. Her pure tone test results are significantly worse than her initial exam. The loss is evidently progressive. Her difficulty seems to be mostly with higher frequencies."
"What does this mean?" Molly asked, gripping Sherlock's hand tighter. "Is my daughter going to be deaf?"
The doctor looked troubled, almost crumpling under Sherlock's steely gaze. Sherlock, who had been eerily quiet up to this point. "Yes, doctor. Do tell us something of value, please. We're paying you a great deal of money to tell us not very much up to now. Is her hearing going to get worse and worse until one day my child wakes up in a panic because she's completely deaf?"
"I don't know," the doctor said, shaking his head. "These things are very unpredictable. Her hearing may stabilize in a few months or it may not. It's just too early to tell."
Too early to tell. Molly felt her eyes burning once more as she thought about those words. She'd never told anyone before, but when Molly began medical school, she'd had every intention of becoming a pediatrician. But after hearing about all the horrible things that could happen and did happen to children, she realized that she just couldn't take the heartbreak of telling a parent that their child was dying or facing a terrible disease. Of course, Scarlett wasn't dying or facing some dread disease. In fact, the child was as healthy as could be. Molly could hear her giggling at her brother in the next room, blissfully unaware of the possibility that she might never hear her father play or the sound of the waves hitting the sand at Ambergris. And suddenly that thought was too much. Molly drew her knees up and bowed her head against them, sobbing quietly. She didn't want any of them to hear her. She was supposed to be strong for her child's sake. "Stop it," she scolded herself. "Dry up and get on with it."
There was a light knock on the door, jerking Molly out of her thoughts. "All right in there, Mouse?" Sherlock.
"Yeah," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and stifling a sniffle.
"Can I come in?" Molly chewed on her lip, unsure of what to say. She didn't want Sherlock to know that she'd been in the bath wallowing in self-pity all this time. He seemed completely calm about the whole thing. If he saw her going to pieces, it might make him angry that she was being such a ninny. "Molly? You've been in there an awfully long time. Let me come in."
"Uhm… sure. Just… give me one second…" She sat up, grabbing the flannel at her side and wiping her eyes and nose. She shifted so vigorously that water splashed over the side of the tub. "No… thrashing around in the water doesn't sound suspicious at all," she mumbled.
Sherlock didn't wait for her to grant entry and walked inside, closing the door behind him. "You really should learn to lie better, Mouse."
"What are you talking about?" she asked, trying to sound oblivious.
"You're hiding in your big bathtub because you're upset. You always hide in the bath when you're upset. So out with it. Go ahead, get hysterical so we can move on." He sat down on the side of the tub and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting. She just sat there staring for a bit, but Sherlock was unmoved. He crossed his legs and pulled a cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it.
"Don't smoke in my bathroom!" she said.
"Then stop moping!"
Molly sighed. "Are you intentionally trying to annoy me, Sherlock?"
"Is it working?"
"Yes!"
Sherlock smiled and took a drag from the cigarette before passing it to Molly. "Take this."
"I don't smoke."
"Today you do," he said, exhaling slowly.
"Now how would that look? Drugging your wife."
"It's not as if I'm giving you morphine or something. It's not even weed. It's a cigarette. Shut up and smoke."
Molly rolled her eyes and took a draw, mimicking what she'd seen Sherlock do many times in bed. He made a point to only smoke in bed or away from Baker Street. They might burn the house down after sex, but at least the children wouldn't see. She tried to inhale, but the sensation of suffocation was too much and she coughed uncontrollably, dropping the cigarette in the bath water. "Jesus, Sherlock…" she gasped. "Next time just shoot me."
"Molly… that was my last one," he sighed, looking longingly at the cigarette floating in the soapy water.
"Oh well… that's a bummer," she grumbled, rising from the bath and wrapping herself in a towel. Sherlock grabbed the end of the towel, using it for leverage to pull her to where he sat on the side of the tub. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek to her warm, wet skin.
"I know why you're in here, Mouse."
"Really?" she asked, carding her fingers through his hair. "Go ahead. Deduce me. I know you've been dying to."
"You know I've made a point not to deduce you ever again, Molly," he replied.
"Because?"
"Because I always end up looking like an ass when I do," he admitted.
"To compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts," they said in unison. This was a conversation they'd had many times before. "Oh just go ahead," she sighed finally.
"We came in from Scarlett's doctor visit and you went straight to the bath and have been in here ever since. When I knocked on the door, you hesitated and I could hear water splashing as you scrambled to do something. As I sit here now, I can see a crumpled bit of tissue on the floor by the tub and the end of your nose is pink. Given all those clues and knowing what the doctor said, I'm pretty certain that you're upset about Scarlett and that you've been in here crying and moping with the door closed so no one could see you."
"You really are a…" She choked up again as his words sunk in. "A miraculous wonder…" Molly burst into tears once more, this time truly sobbing as she realized there was no reason to hold back anymore. "Oh, Sherlock," she sobbed as he led her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed. "What if she's deaf?"
Both of them winced as there was a loud thud followed by the maniacal laughter of Gabriel and Scarlett. "That might serve her well here," Sherlock replied. Molly giggled in spite of herself. "Seriously, Molly. If she is then we will deal with it. It won't be the end of the world."
"How can you be so calm about this?" she sniffled. "Aren't you even the slightest bit concerned?"
"Of course I am. I'm terrified. But is my going to pieces and sobbing uncontrollably going to make her any less deaf?"
"Well… no."
"Of course it's not. We're going to have to do exactly what the doctor told us, which is wait. Monitor her hearing every three months until it stabilizes and in the meantime go on doing exactly what we're doing."
"I know. I just… I just can't bear the thought that she'll never hear you play. Or that she won't be able to talk. Or learn like all the other children." Before she could stop herself she was crying again. But Sherlock, never one to baby other people, made no move to embrace his wife. He simply knelt in front of her and waited for this newest wave of tears to subside.
"Look, Mouse. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. Even if she's deaf, she's smart and healthy and those are the most important things. If she has to have hearing aids, we'll get them. If she has to learn to sign, all of us will learn. If she has to have an implant—"
"No!"
"What?"
"No, I will now allow them to drill into my baby's skull."
Sherlock sighed. "Molly, it's a very minor procedure."
"That will put a hole in her head that she'll have the rest of her life!"
"It's a little early to be arguing about this, don't you think?" Molly nodded and Sherlock laughed, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing the back of each one. "The point is, whatever happens, we'll deal with it and she'll be fine." Stretching up, he kissed her lips gently and wound his arms around her.
"Door, Daddy," Scarlett said, announcing her presence as she toddled through the open bedroom door. Immediately, she insinuated herself between her parents and gave them both sloppy kisses.
"Somebody's at the door, you mean?" Sherlock asked, nudging her that she should repeat.
"'s what I say, Daddy. Some atta door."
"Close enough," he said, squeezing his girls before rising and going down to answer. He peered around the corner of the foyer, once more annoyed that with the remodel, he had to answer his own damn door. He stared up at the videocom and saw Irene's face staring up at his. He heaved a sigh, not sure he wanted to deal with her today. For a fleeting moment, he considered telling her to come back when she had a better disguise, but he thought better of it when he heard Gabriel laughing upstairs. He opened the door halfway. "None today, thanks."
"Hello, Sherlock," she said, keeping her voice cool and even. These days she was always so precise when speaking to him. "I've come to take Gabriel to dinner."
He raised an eyebrow. "I certainly hope not."
She smirked. "No, actual dinner. Supper. We're going to eat. Can I come in?"
"I suppose there's no stopping you," he said, stepping aside and letting her in. "Mind the mess. We're kind of under construction."
"Indeed," Irene commented, following Sherlock up the stairs. "It's a bit of a warzone. What are you doing?"
"We bought the house next door and are converting to one large house with two flats instead of two small houses with five flats." He stopped, going over the calculation in his head once more. "Yes, that's right."
"John moving in with his family downstairs, then?"
"Ha ha. No. Mrs. Hudson will occupy the one small flat and we'll be in the rest of the house."
"That's a shame. I'm looking for a place in London. You know, with Gabriel here and I'm so tired of traveling." Sherlock glared at her, cataloguing her words and filing them away in his mind palace for later perusal. She smiled and started into the flat, but he stopped her with a tighter grip than he meant for on her arm. He pulled her into the entryway and closed the door quietly. "Ohh… trying to get me alone, were you?"
"I've decided to let you take Gabriel to dinner on your own, but I've chosen the venue and lest you think I've decided to trust you, I will be monitoring."
Irene laughed. "Mycroft starting to rub off on you, then?"
"No, I just don't trust you with my child as far as I could throw you. The only reason I'm allowing this at all is because Gabriel wishes to see you. Don't entertain any notions about alternative family holidays or vacations. You and I will get on because of Gabriel, but you are not my friend."
Irene frowned and cast her eyes downward. "Sherlock, I really don't want anything from you. None of this is a trick. And I would like to be friends. With you and with Molly." Before he could respond, the door opened and Scarlett was standing in front of them, staring up with enormous and accusing hazel eyes. "And who is this pretty little bird?" Irene asked, kneeling down to the three year old's level.
"Hello, lady," Scarlett said, waving. "My name Scarlett." She looked up at Sherlock, pleased with herself that she'd done her own introduction.
"Well, Scarlett! It is so nice to meet you, finally. Gabriel has told me so much about you."
"You and Bre friends?" She looked sideways at Irene suspiciously.
"We are. And I hope you and me can be friends too."
"I like friends," Scarlett replied, taking her father's hand and pulling him into the lounge. "Come, lady. My mummy here too."
As they entered the lounge, Irene could hardly believe she was in the same place. 221B was much changed from the last time she'd paid Sherlock a visit at home. For one thing, the addition of children's toys strewn from one end of the lounge to the other was an almost laughable difference. There were also numerous drawings pinned to the wall over the couch in addition to various maps and evidence. Crime scene photos were noticeably absent. However, the skull was still there with a deep crack in its face and the Cluedo board had been replaced with a neat family photograph in a frame. Of course, the photo was not posed. It showed a laughing Sherlock and Molly throwing what looked suspiciously like cake batter at one another while Gabriel stood between them with his baby sister perched on his shoulders. There were also numerous boxes that had been labelled "kitchen," "Gabe's room," and "Study."
"Wow," was all she could say as she stared at the surroundings.
"What do you mean, wow?" Sherlock asked, looking affronted.
"Everything is so… different. Domestic." Irene turned back to Sherlock. "Not like you at all."
Sherlock didn't get a chance to respond, as Scarlett was already taking Irene's hand and pulling her over to the couch to look at the picture she was drawing. Scarlett never met a stranger. "See," Scarlett said, pointing at the drawing. "Mummy and Daddy. They hold hands."
"I see that." Irene looked closer and giggled. "What's going on here?" She pointed at the picture of Molly's misshapen body.
"Mummy's tummy. When she has baby."
"Oh?"
"Yep. Mummy have baby. One, two. Two babies for Scarlett to play wiv."
Irene looked up at Sherlock, eyebrow raised. He shrugged and turned away, leaving Scarlett to chatter away at her new friend. The more she spoke, the faster she spoke and he figured that in another minute or two, Irene would have no idea what the child was saying. He found Gabriel standing in front of Molly who picked at a tangle in his hair. "Gabriel, Irene is here for you."
"Okay," he said, noticeably not as sure of himself as he normally was.
Molly smiled and finished picking at the tangle, brushing his hair back from his face. "There, you'll do."
"I've never been anywhere with her by myself," Gabriel sighed. "I always have you and Dad with me. What will we even talk about?"
"Tell her about school. And about Katie or Archie," Molly offered.
"Dad says she's trouble. What if she gets me in trouble too?"
Molly giggled. "She won't. You'll have a nice time."
"Besides," Sherlock interrupted. "Your Uncle Mycroft has the entire block covered with CCTV. Not to mention that she's taking you to Angelo's. You aren't exactly alone."
He sighed. "Okay. If you're sure."
"We're sure," Molly said, hugging the little boy tightly. "When did my sweet little boy become this big boy," she said, kissing his cheeks. It was true. Gabriel was already five feet tall and though he was lanky, his shoulders were quickly starting to broaden. He had large feet and hands like his father. His features were beginning to lose that rounded, childish quality and take on a more angular shape. Simply put, he was no longer the skittish little boy that had come to Baker Street.
"Last week," Gabriel replied wryly.
"Don't baby him, Molly," Sherlock grumbled, grabbing the child by the arm and hoisting him to his feet. Gabriel smirked and shook his father's hand before shaking him down for cash. Sherlock passed over the notes and hugged Gabriel, pulling him off of his feet and wandering into the lounge with him dangling around his neck. "Is this what you wanted?" Sherlock asked Irene, dropping Gabriel as Molly appeared behind them.
"I'll be glad to take it off your hands for a while," Irene said with a wink. She looked awkward until Gabriel hugged her warmly. "Hello Molly."
"Hi," Molly said, pecking the other woman on the cheek. "Do bring it back in one piece, though, will you?"
Irene nodded, walking toward the stairs. "I'll bring him home by nine if that's all right?"
Suddenly Scarlett realized that Gabriel was leaving and she ran to him, throwing her tiny arms around his legs. "I go wiv Bre!" she whined.
"No, Scarlett. You can't go," Gabriel said, prying her arms from around him. He knelt down and embraced his little sister. "But I'll be home later."
She sniffled. "I not want you go, Bre. Stay here."
"Don't be silly," Gabriel scolded as Irene chuckled at the little girl's apprehension. "You don't get upset when I go to school. For once you'll have Mum and Dad all to yourself for a while."
"No, Bre…" she sobbed, clutching the hem of his jumper tightly in her fist. "Pease stay?"
Irene patted the little girl's head sadly. "I promise I'll bring your brother back safe and sound."
Molly took Scarlett's hand and pulled her away from Gabriel and into her arms. She buried her face in her mother's shoulder and sniffled. "She's just tired. Go and have a good time, you two. We'll be fine."
"Yes, Scarlett. Tell your mummy all about your two baby brothers," Irene giggled leading Gabriel down the stairs.
"Did I miss something?" Molly asked, the alarm evident on her face.
