Chapter 36

Waiting for the two to come up the flat, Mary gazed adoringly at the electronic image of Sherlock and Molly linked arm in arm laughing over something Sherlock had done to tease his companion. It was a sight she wanted to have happen for a long time already, it finally was starting to take form.

"Oh good! " Mary feigned with surprise opening the door knowing she had timed Sherlock and Molly's arrival to the flat perfectly, "just in time for dinner. Go wash up. John's laying out the table. Hurry."

Both complied without fuss and soon the whole dinner routine was in full swing. With happy hearts and full bellies, the foursome sat around the messy but empty-dished table chattering away about light-hearted news.

The conversation soon turned to preparations for the newest Watson family member. It wouldn't be too far away before the sound pattering footsteps would echo the rooms. Everyone was thrilled at the thought of a little one coming into the big wide world of everything.

Sherlock promised the expecting parents to teach "your offspring the very best of all the school subjects, especially Science, before he/she would attend primary school. After all, primary school would bore the child, my experiments will certainly engage the young mind to higher thinking levels."

It was an amiable notion, if not a bit worrisome. Who knows what knowledge Sherlock might impart on such a tender mind!? One can only imagine the dread of a little child running around screaming about death and dying with a happy smile. Bit too morbid for the new parents' liking.

Molly promised to spoil the child, and take long walks at the park- dutifully fulfilling her role of honorary auntie. An exorbitant amount of sweets may or may not have been included in the promise under the pretence of, "I don't remember what I just said, sorry."

"It's great to have such wonderful friends, isn't it?" Mary asked without having really expect an answer. She leant back in the seat and patted her little one.

Everyone fell into a comfortable silence dreaming about how the sound of little feet would change the rhythm of daily life.

-0-

The mother-to-be had been banned from doing laborious work, as if clearing the table was so, but she didn't mind and used the opportunity have a chat with her husband's best friend. As wife of best friend, she found herself in a very special position that was privy to much information otherwise unknown to most.

"Sherlock, how are you?" Mary gently pressured the musician strumming his violin in a guitar-hold fashion. He was softly playing a pastoral piece that he oft played when in happy spirits. Dining with good company put him the most pleasant of moods.

"Doing well, though I should be asking you that question?" He jokingly said with a pointed look that made Mary laugh and smack his wrist playfully.

"Here, you tell me. You're the consulting detective" She took the violin and laid it gently back in the case, then guided his hand to her abdomen. Mary would do her utmost to make sure both the child and Sherlock had the best relationship, there was no better time to start forming the bond than right then and there.

Feeling the child's subtle movements was a new experience for the supposedly emotionless man. Though children and child-rearing weren't in his foreseeable future plans, it did make him marvel at the complexities of biology from conception to parturition.

It was, and always is- biology at its finest point.

"I believe you and the child are doing well. John will be happy when he or she is born," Sherlock commented as he continued to follow the unborn child's squirms, "That is all he speaks about. I do believe there is a running tally at the clinic to see who will guess the gender correctly, or so that is what John told me. What do you think?"

"He isn't the only one! I'll be glad when I can resume my normal body shape and see my feet again. It wouldn't matter either way to me, but something tells me our child will act just like you. Smart, wild, and crazy."

She caught his hand and held it in a gentle but firm manner, "Sherlock, will you tell me something? Will you promise to say only the truth when I ask?"

Fearing for what may come from Mary's mouth, he tried to retract his hand, but to no success. He complied reluctant knowing there wouldn't be a way out when Mary had her mind set on a matter. Of the subject he couldn't say for sure- that was the most concerning part.

"I will do my best to be truthful, what do you wish to know?" Sherlock asked softly so John and Molly, who were cleaning the kitchen, wouldn't overhead what was to be said.

"How are you? You know I expect more than a standard non-definitive response of Okay or Fine," Mary slowly pressed him for accurate words describing how he felt.

Few shared Sherlock's eye for spotting details at a crime scene, but that didn't mean they didn't have an eye for other matters. Molly and Mary excelled at nailing Sherlock for his pretences of goodness when he, in reality, was anything but "fine".

"I am," the confused one fumbled for words, "I think I am fine. I should be fine, why shouldn't I be? Yes.I am perfectly fine Mary," he waved his free hand as if it was a silly question to ask. "See? I came, ate and participated in conversation, even brought along Molly for companionship tonight. Yes, thing are going splendidly. We even made headway on the case, John will tell you details on that as you're required to help out. It's rather interesting, we're needed under the guise of guests at a masquerade."

Mary hmmed with understanding, knowing the more she stayed silent the more he would talk. It was a strange way of human behaviours, when one did not respond to conversation, the other would simply keep on talking. More often than not, it would eventually reveal a deeper meaning of the person's thought. This precisely described Sherlock, so Mary spoke little throughout their long heartfelt discussion.

In the end, Mary came to understand Sherlock's feelings on how he now navigates around different places, the countless interactions with strangers in awkward situations, and most of all- his lavish praise for John's sharp eye and specific wording that allowed him to "see" an entire room, thus solve cases. ***

-0-

"Sherlock," Mary spoke once the grown child uncurled himself from a ball and returned to a lounging position stretched across two of the three seat cushions, "I understand this is a difficult transition, but it's going so well. Don't worry about what others think, so what if the Yard finds it strange and stares? That's not important, you're there to solve the case, not parade around the place. I know John has had lengthy discussions with you about the cane, but you know it's for the best. Honestly so. Do you believe it?"

He stared above her with a blank expression trying to comprehend what she didn't say, not because he couldn't pinpoint where she was...it might have been a bit of both, but Sherlock wouldn't say it and Mary wouldn't have done anything either. There were so many lines in this relationship that could be crossed, but both knew which ones were acceptable and which were not. They trusted each other.

"Yes, I know. I know he means well," he returned with self-berating manner then spoke in a stronger voice, "But it's hard! Of course it's hard and I know that. I know I'm above average, well above average.

He chuckled, "In fact, if I were average Mycroft would tease me relentlessly, after all we are Holmes. We have a reputation to uphold. Expect nothing less than the extraordinary, that was our running line during our childhood years of schooling." The cheerful reminiscence quickly faded into a depressed sullen expression.

"Anyway, all this work of learning to carry on in a new way is not easy. If I didn't have to do something, I wouldn't. Simply completing any task takes twice the amount of effort that it once needed. For instance, eating whilst sitting at the table with all of you, is hard work! If John hadn't insisted I join in, I would have been quite content sipping on tea and eating from take-away containers. It's all too easy for something to terribly wrong with fragile dishes and sharp cutlery, like with me spilling the drink tonight because I over reached. Stabbing food on a plate without looking at it is not at all as easy as it may seems. With take away, the food doesn't run away."

"Yes. Sherlock. I understand how trying it can be, but you have no idea how happy your presence at dinner makes Molly and John feel. Myself included," she patted his shoulder sweetly, "It wouldn't be right be if we ate without you. It was just a spill no harm done. Don't beat yourself up over it, it was trivial matter. Don't you dare say anything about last week's dinner accidentally ending up on the floor either," she continued forcing his mouth to not let those words come out, " I won't have it.

Reaching out and gently directing his gaze precisely on hers, she leant forward and whispered, "Shall I tell you a secret? You must promise never to say it to anyone but me. If you did things might not go well between you and John. Understand?"

Sherlock nodded solemnly, found her soft gaze after a moment of searching, and moved closer to her.

A-N: My apologies for the small cliff hanger, this chapter was becoming really long and I couldn't find a proper place to break it without losing the momentum.

Thank you for reading!

*** Regarding John's sharp eye and understanding how Sherlock can "see" a room is found in story "You Have Always Counted" chapter 9 entitled 'Les Trois Mousquetaires'.