Sorry that this chapter has been an unusually long time coming and is also rather short. The next bit has been a tad uncooperative so I've put this chapter out on its own. Now I will wrangle the recalcitrant bit into submission!
No triggers, though.
Chapter Fifty One
When the car drew to a smooth halt in front of Colbert House, Mycroft and Sara freed the children from their car seats and they jumped out of the limo, full of high spirits. Andrew, waiting at the door to greet them, could not help but smile. It looked as though the visit had gone well.
'Mrs Holmes and the children are having tea on the lawn, sir,' the butler advised the master of the house.
Mycroft turned to the chauffeur, to tell him that he wouldn't need the car again until the following morning, when he noticed that Sherlock was still in his seat, staring blankly out of the front windscreen, lost in thought.
'Perhaps you'd like to go and see your wife, in the kitchen, Mr Orgreave. I'm sure she'll have some tea and scones to spare.'
Mr Orgreave nodded and went in through the front door, to make his way through to the kitchen at the back of the house. Mycroft glanced at Sherlock again, toying with the idea of rousing him from his reverie but decided against and followed the family along the front of the house, through the side gate which led to the private family garden, where the Hooper-Holmes were enjoying their alfresco afternoon tea.
Freddie came running to meet them, shouting with glee,
'Charlie! You back! Tum 'n' hab a scone! Der's lops for ebewybody!'
Mycroft lifted the children onto chairs round the picnic table and leaned down to peck Molly on the cheek.
'How was he?' she asked.
'Improving by the day, Molly my dear,' Mycroft replied. 'Now that the drugs cocktail is out of his system, he's seeing things a lot more clearly. And I don't know what Sherlock told him but, whatever it was, it had quite an impact.'
Molly smiled with relief.
'And Sherlock? Where is he?' she enquired, looking around for her husband.
'He's sitting in the car with that vacant expression that usually means he's inside that ridiculous memory palace of his. He's been in there all the way to St Hugh's and all the way back again. Poor Orgreave! If he was hoping for a chat, he'll have been greatly disappointed.'
Molly frowned. If Sherlock had entered his Mind Palace in the chauffeur's company, it was a sign of how much he trusted the man not to disturb his thoughts with idle chatter. Mr Orgreave should be flattered, she thought, not disappointed. She was feeling rather guilty, wondering if she had been a bit harsh in her behaviour towards Sherlock since he arrived back the night before, especially after everything he'd been through. She was largely in the dark as to exactly what his ordeal had entailed. No doubt, once he was able to talk again, he would bring her up to speed but in the meantime she felt she should cut him some slack. Perhaps it was time to call a temporary truce.
'Why don't you go and talk to him? The children will be fine here with me,' Mycroft suggested, with a kindly smile. He had surmised that a deep and meaningful conversation was pending between his brother and sister-in-law, delayed only by Sherlock's current indisposition. The tension between them, at breakfast, had been palpable. 'Go on,' he chivvied.
Molly glanced at her children – William and Freddie sharing scones and chatter with their cousins and Violet snoozing on a rug, under a parasol. Yes, they could spare her for a while, she decided. She got up from the table and told her boys she would be back in a few minutes, before making her way across the lawn, through the side gate and along the front of the house to the car.
ooOoo
Sherlock was not generally given to the pursuit of introspection. Deducing others, in order to determine the who, the where, the why, the what and the when, was his raison d'etre but the concept of turning the magnifying glass in upon himself was anathema. The very idea of peeling back all those carefully constructed protective layers to reveal the vulnerability beneath was something that he had deliberately avoided for most of his life.
But Molly had issued a challenge and she had even given him a time span within which to complete the task so he really owed it to her to give the matter his full attention. To that end, he was still staring into space as she came up to the side of the car, opened the driver's door and slid into the seat next to him. He blinked and his vision focused as he turned his head towards her, though still not fully back in the real world.
'You've been busy,' she murmured, reaching over to take his hand in hers. 'Did you find what you were looking for in there?' she asked, meeting his eyes.
He nodded, distractedly, and went to speak, then remembered he shouldn't and reached resignedly into his pocket for the pad and pen. Molly held up a finger to stop him, fished out her own mobile phone and gave it to him.
'Use this,' she prompted.
He took it with a nod of gratitude and tapped out the message he had wanted to send earlier, before handing it back for her to read.
'You're right. What was I thinking? I don't need to do that any more. Old habits die hard. Must remember to think in future.'
Studying the message, Molly pursed her lips and then typed.
'But why did you ever need to do it in the first place?'
He took the phone back and read what she had written before replying,
'That's a much longer answer. I might need more time to work on that.'
She nodded and wrote,
'Well, at least you are giving it some thought. That's got to be a good thing.'
Sherlock wasn't so sure. Delving into his past had significantly lowered his mood. He felt quite desolate right now. Some things, he believed, were better left undisturbed.
'Come and have some tea,' she said out loud, with an encouraging smile.
He nodded, unclipped his seatbelt and climbed out of the car. They met, head on, in front of the bonnet and she slipped her arms round his waist, pressing her cheek to his chest. Closing his eyes, with a sigh, he enfolded her in his arms and rested his cheek on top of her head. He couldn't bear it when she was cold towards him, no matter how much he might agree he deserved it. He'd had more than enough coldness in his life already. She was the thing that had warmed him, this woman and the children they had made together. And he sure as hell needed warming, just now.
ooOoo
