Natasha had been an influence on Sherlock in many ways. And one of those had increased his already proficient breaking and entering skills. They were in and out of Mycroft's personal garage with a shiny black four door Jaguar in less than five minutes.

An hour's drive later, Sherlock pulled up outside the modest home well outside the hustle and bustle of the city. He hadn't told his parents they were coming, but knew they'd be home. They followed a very predictable schedule outside of their traveling and he'd glanced at Mycroft's planner to be sure.

Once out of the car, he took Natasha's hand again and headed to the door. No knock or ring of the bell, he just let them in with his key. "Dad? Mummy?"

Natasha fiddled nervously with her scarf as Sherlock's mother swept into the room. They'd met several times previously, and spent Christmas dinner together the year previous, but the circumstances and unique news pulled out new nerves in both of them.

"Sherlock! Natasha, dear! I didn't know you were coming over," Mrs Holmes greeted warmly. "You should've told me!"

"Day of surprises, apparently." Sherlock said, letting go of Natasha's hand to hug and kiss his mother on the forehead. "Don't worry about dinner, but I think we could all use a cup of tea. Dad here?"

"He's in the back den with a puzzle, I'll fetch him." Mrs. Holmes said, turning her attention to Natasha next and pulling her into an embrace as well. "Natasha, dear, you look well. So good to see you again. Mikey says you've been helping after Sherlock's accident."

Natasha squeezed her tightly. "He didn't need much help," she assured her. "He mostly just needed company and I was more than happy to give him that." She pulled away with a soft smile she'd developed only after meeting Mrs. Holmes, and now reserved exclusively for her. "I'll go get the tea started while you find Mr. Holmes?"

"Perfect." Mrs. Holmes smiled back and then slipped away to find her husband.

After pulling off his coat and scarf (much easier now that his shoulder was close to full range of motion again) Sherlock led the way to the kitchen and helped Natasha set up the tea set. He'd smiled once at her, but otherwise remained a thoughtful silent.

"Hurry up, you." Mrs Holmes patted her husband's bum as she moved around him once they'd walked into the room. She eyed them both with blue eyes identical to Sherlock's, and then went to find the biscuits as Mr Holmes spoke. "So is there are reason you both drove all the way out here? Quite unusual, but we know you're busy with work."

"We have news," Natasha explained, arranging tea cups round the table. "Good news," she felt the need to add.

"Good news as in you're pregnant?" Mrs. Holmes asked once she'd set the biscuits down on the table to take up a seat.

"I'm..." Natasha exhaled a laugh, briefly glancing at Sherlock for a bit of help. "No, I'm not pregnant."

Mrs. Holmes looked a bit disappointed, but reached for her husband's hand. Sherlock huffed a bit out his nose, and spoke. "No, it's…different news." He paused briefly, eyes flitting from Natasha to his parents. "We're getting married."

"What?" Mrs. Holmes said first, but then burst into a big smile. "Oh! This is so wonderful! Honestly, we never expected this, but I'm ever so happy he did. I've completely given up hope on his brother. How'd he propose?"

"Mikey's just not the marrying kind," Mr. Holmes added with a quiet chuckle.

"Well we didn't think Sherlock was either, lost causes. Never showed interest, my silly boys." Mrs. Holmes quipped back.

"Well, I suppose I could always set him up with this woman I know back in the States... but I doubt he'd be receptive to my kind of help," Natasha said thoughtfully. "It was after Sherlock came home from the hospital," she continued. "That first night while we were in bed, and it was very sweet. Very private and very low key." She looked at Sherlock, who smiled back at her. "It was perfect."

"We're very happy for you both, aren't we dear?" Mrs. Holmes said, making sure her husband nodded his agreement. "When is it? Do you need any help?"

"It's less than a month away," she answered. "We're sending out the invitations tomorrow... but I think we're handling it okay," she peeked at Sherlock again, "right?"

"Right. We've got-" Sherlock confirmed, only to be interrupted by his mother.

"Less than a month away? But there's so much to do. Do you need a dress yet?"

"I have the dress," Natasha assured her. "I actually have the final fitting this week-"

"Then I'm coming with you," Mrs. Holmes insisted. "No bride should have to do it all on her own-"

"You really don't have to," Natasha said quickly.

"Nonsense." Mrs. Holmes evidently wasn't having it. "It's usually the mother that goes to fittings with the bride, and I'm more than happy to fill in if you'll have me."

Natasha swallowed against the sudden lump of emotion clogging her throat, blinking to keep tears at bay. "Of course I'll have you," she said earnestly. "Fitting's this Friday at one."

Sherlock glanced from his mother to his fiancée, attempting to understand what that exchange was. Deciding it was best to simply continue as opposed to dwell, he moved on. "It's the first weekend of April, Saturday, Mycroft has assured me your schedule was clear."

"It is." Mr. Holmes confirmed, smiling softly at them. "And I'm very proud of you both."

"Not that we wouldn't be otherwise, Natasha, you're already a part of the family." Mrs. Holmes added. "But it's a big commitment, and I'm looking forward to watching the life you two live together. Maybe you'll come by to visit a bit more?"

"As much as our work schedules allow," Natasha promised once she'd recovered.

"Good, then it's settled," Mrs. Holmes confirmed happily, finally taking a sip of her tea. "Are you sure you don't want children? Granted, we had more than we could handle with these two," she added with a fond smile for her son, "but we love them to bits."

Sherlock paused and took Natasha's hand. "Natasha can't have children, Mum." He said. "Even if we decided we wanted to pursue that life-altering venture, we could not."

"Oh... dear, I'm so sorry." Mrs. Holmes face fell with sober embarrassment. "I had no idea."

Natasha gripped Sherlock's hand tight, offering his mother a warm smile. "I know, and there's really no harm done," she assured her. "I should've said something before today."

"I'm still incredibly happy and incredibly proud of the decision you two've made," she told them both.

Sherlock turned towards Natasha to meet her eyes, offering an encouraging and fond smile. "Thank you." He said honestly, turning his attention back to his parents. "We do appreciate it, immensely. We don't need help, physically or financially, all you need to do is show up. It's going to be a fairly small event."

"Sounds like the sort of thing you'd both favor," Mr. Holmes commented with a fond smile after exchanging a quick look with his wife. "But if you do need help, let us know."

"And I'm still coming with you to the final fitting, dear," Mrs. Holmes told Natasha. "I insist."

Natasha exhaled a laugh. "That's fine."

"Now about your gifts," Mrs. Holmes continued. "What do you need?"

Sherlock didn't answer right away, glancing over at Natasha again for ideas. "Um, I don't know. Nothing traditional, I suppose. My kitchen is fully functioning."

"As a lab, darling." Mrs. Holmes said. "I really need to talk to Martha about that."

"Not just as a lab." Sherlock replied childishly. "I don't know what we need. What do married couples need that we do not have?"

"I don't know." Natasha took a moment to think it over. "Mycroft keeps insisting you don't own a decent set of teacups for when there's company. Maybe something along those lines?"

"Perfect!" Mrs. Holmes said before Sherlock had the chance to reply. "I think I have just the idea. Now forget all about it. I'm sure you have quite a lot on your minds anyways."

"Something like that." Sherlock replied, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Natasha reached out to steal a biscuit. "Today we finished squaring off the guest list," she informed them. "Next is the seating chart but we've still got time." She popped a bit of biscuit into her mouth and tipped her head towards Sherlock. "I just wanted to get a jump start on placement. I'm determined to have a few people seated at the same tables... I've been annoying Sherlock with my planning rambles."

"Something to focus on while I'm not working, it hasn't been horrid." Sherlock reiterated, he paused. "Well, I can think of several things that are better than planning rambles."

"You're working now though, yes? Your brother didn't go into details about your accident, Sherly." Mr Holmes said.

"Yes, I'm working now. Easing back into it." Sherlock replied vaguely, dodging the unasked question. "Anyways, planning rambles aside, we will get everything done in time."

Natasha gave Sherlock's hand an affectionate squeeze. "We're doing fine on time," she agreed. "We're both good planners."

"Sherlock gets that from him mother, I'm afraid." Mr. Holmes said with a chuckle. "You should go through the photo albums with Natasha, dear."

"Or not." Sherlock interrupted.

"Why not?" Natasha protested quickly.

"It's an excellent idea!" Mrs. Holmes clapped her hands once. "He was an adorable child," she informed Natasha as she turned for the door. "In love with that dog! Poor Mycroft couldn't stand it when Sherly climbed into bed with him. Redbeard followed him everywhere."

"And here we go…" Sherlock mumbled in exasperation as his father chuckled again.

"We took the sweetest picture not long after we got him, with the three of them curled up asleep in Mikey's bed. Sherly must have been five or six at the time. So darling."

"See you really shouldn't haven't gotten them started on this…" Sherlock interrupted again, only to be talked over.

"Then there was that little ravine incident a couple years later, poor boys, always getting into trouble." Mrs. Holmes laughed. "Nothing's really changed, has it?"

"I suppose it hasn't," Natasha agreed after giving Sherlock a look meant to say it really wasn't her fault (even though she was thoroughly enjoying this), but she'd make it right. "Maybe we can look at the albums next time? We should really head back soon."

"I'll bring one of them Friday." Mrs. Holmes promised with a wink, delicately setting her tea cup on its saucer. "Thank you for coming to see us though. I'm almost surprised we didn't just get a phone call."

"Tradition, or something along those lines." Sherlock provided, squeezing Natasha's hand before he let go to stand up.

"Something along those lines..." Natasha rose from her chair, smiling to herself. "I'll see you Friday, then."

"We'll walk you to the door," Mrs. Holmes said quickly while nudging her husband. "Just remember to call us if you need anything," she added once they reached the entryway. "Anything at all. Don't hesitate."

"Yes ma'am." Sherlock said, dropping a kiss to his mother's cheek, and shaking his father's hand. The Holmeses exchanged similar goodbyes with Natasha, and soon the couple was back on their way to the car. Sherlock released a breath, and tilted his head up to look at the stars that dotted the clear sky of the countryside.

Natasha studied his features in silence and felt a familiar warmth spread through her chest. "That went well," she said finally.

"Very well, I'm nearly surprised." Sherlock agree, tearing his gaze away from the stars to the car. He let go of her hand to walk to the driver's side. He continued once he climbed in and started it. "But perhaps I shouldn't be." He glanced at her. "Sorry about the comment my mother made. I didn't feel the need to tell them."

"No, it's fine," Natasha assured him quickly. "I probably should've addressed it sooner." She snuck a peek at him and cleared her throat. "I know we've talked about it before and you've already told me children aren't something you want or need," she continued, "but I need to hear it again now... if it's still true and if you don't mind."

"I don't want children, I would not make a good father." Sherlock affirmed, offering her his hand in the dark of the car. "I just want you, scars and all."

Natasha took his hand and moved across the small space between them to catch his lips in a grateful kiss. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I love you." Sherlock replied in Russian. He reached with his free hand to smooth down her red hair. "I need you, and I never want to let you go."

Natasha released his hand and took hold of his coat collar to draw him into another kiss, this one considerably more passionate than the first. "I love you and I need you too," she whispered against his lips. "And I never want to let you go."

"Hmm." Sherlock hummed his approval and agreement, tilting his head to catch her a third time. A promise of more when they got home.

"Tease," she accused, breathlessly, once she'd let him go. "Take us home."