Hey! Okay it took a really long time to figure this out, but this will be the last chapter of this fic! I know right so sad. It also took me a long time to write this because I started writing a book. Yeah I know I need to sort out my priorities xD But that won't be posted on here or anywhere else just keeping it to myself. And now for shoutouts!
Frostybutt- Thank you! So sorry for being late with this! Hope you enjoy it :D
Renaissancebooklover108- Haha yeah I liked writing Lestrade drunk hehe. Thanks!
Rocking the Redhead- Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! I know daddy issues are sad EEP.
JazzSambora- Omg thank you! Aww thank you so much! I am doing better. That would be so kind thank you! :D
Zarius- Hehe you mean Hooper but actually you really mean HOLMES. Haha! married Molly=uwu so cute.
Empress of Verace- Aww thank you! I missed ya'll too! Especially you since you've been with this fic from the very start 3 I do feel better thank you for your concern! Sorry to be so late with this one. Hope you like it :D
Aviatress- Thanks! The "as always" made me smile. Whoops! Sorry :D
Ash-dash1- Haha I love how adorably shy that review was thank you so much you made me blush. :D
A fellow ranger- Are you talking about being trapped in a trunk part? Yeah that's from Psych! Ugh love that show! Stayed up all night for the sleepover lol. Thanks for the review :D
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FIVE YEARS LATER
Sherlock made his way up to 221B Baker Street. His jaw sported a purple-green bruise and he wasn't entirely sure if his rib was broken or not. John left his side to go to his own apartment in 221C, holding a hand to his blood matted hair.
"Are you coming up to join us for dinner?" Sherlock asked John.
"Yeah. We'll be up in a few."
Sherlock came upon a state of chaos. Toys were strewn across the living room, crayons were broken in two on the floor, and there was a brown sticky substance on the walls.
"It's just chocolate," Molly reassures him as she grabs a wooden train off the ground and puts it in the bin that's balanced between her hand and hip.
"Hey, daddy," Hamish says at Sherlock's waist. At the age of three, Hamish Holmes is always the tallest boy at the playground. His brown hair hangs into his eyebrows as he looks up at his father. When Molly and Sherlock had been trying to figure out a name for the boy, they joked about calling him Hamish. But an hour later, it was the only named that they deemed fit for their newborn son.
"Hello, Hamish," Sherlock squats down to receive a hug from the boy which soon turns into Sherlock carrying him over his shoulder. Hamish giggles as Sherlock picks him off his shoulder and holds him over his head, spinning him around and ducking him up and down like an airplane.
A minute later the boy says, "Enough, daddy!"
Sherlock plops his son on the sofa, "Help your mother pick up your toys."
"I don't wanna!" Hamish pouts.
"If you do, I'll tell you how I got this bruise," Sherlock points and the boys green eyes gleam with interest.
"Okie!" the boy bounces off the sofa and picks up a green army man at his feet.
Sherlock turns to Molly, "Where's Astor?" he asks, referring to their four-year-old daughter.
"Her bedroom. She's in a mood again and she'll only talk to you."
Sherlock holds Molly's face in his hands and kisses her sweetly on the lips before going upstairs. Sherlock knocks on the powder blue door before entering. Sitting on her bed, Astor Holmes brushes her doll's hair.
"What's wrong, darling?" Sherlock inquires as he crosses the threshold.
Astor peers up at her father with big blue-green eyes. She pushes her dark brown curly-straight hair behind her ear, "I got in a fight with Esme."
Esme, John and Mary's daughter, was slightly older than Astor.
"What did you fight about?"
"She accidentally ripped a piece of my doll's hair out and I yelled at her. I feel really bad."
"Esme, John, and Mary are coming up for dinner. You can apologize to her then."
Astor's face beamed with relief, "Great! Thanks, Sherlock."
"You know you can call me…dad or daddy."
"That would just make me sound like a child," Astor explains and waves it off as if Sherlock, an adult, couldn't possibly understand the ridiculousness of a girl her age to act like a child.
"You are a child."
"False. I'm much more mature than any other person in my grade. I can read The Giving Tree all by myself," she declares which obviously means that the capability to do so grants her the status of mature.
"It sometimes scares me how alike you and I are."
"Spooky," Astor says and eyes her father.
After rolling his eyes, Sherlock picks his daughter up by the waist and carries her downstairs. John and Mary are already in the kitchen, helping Molly prepare dinner. Hamish and Sam chase Esme around the room with chocolate on their hands, the girl screaming whenever they got too close.
Sherlock puts Astor down, "Hamish."
John says after him, "Sam, stop chasing your sister. Go wash up."
The boys stop reluctantly, take one look at their fathers, and bow their heads, almost simultaneously, in shame as they walks past Sherlock and into the bathroom. John gives Sherlock a friendly glance as he notices how strange and fantastic it is that he isn't the only one with children. Sherlock smiles back knowing full well what the other man is thinking.
Sherlock leaves Astor and Esme to talk, and out of the corner of his eye, he can already see the girls hugging.
"Hello, Mary."
"Oh, Sherlock," Mary walks around the table to give Sherlock a warm hug and he reciprocates easily. Over the years, Sherlock has grown accustomed to Mary and her hugging habits. Actually, he doesn't mind embracing her once in a while for he had grown to like and care for his best friend's wife.
"Ooh. Nasty bruise there," she comments.
John pokes it with his finger, earning an irritated look from Sherlock and a slap to the arm from Mary. He readjusts his grip on the one-year-old Maia swaddled in his arms.
"I still can't believe that I was the only one who got punched today."
"You do have that effect on people," John points out making them both think of the times that John had punched him; before meeting the Woman and when Sherlock came back from the dead.
"Well played," Sherlock praises.
"Besides," John says, "I was thrown into a wall."
Sherlock feels a tug on his pants and he looks down, "Mr. Sherlock. Up."
He picks up Esme and the girl stares at him quizzically, "Yes, Esme?"
"Nothin'. Just looking into your soul."
Sherlock looks at the girl, "That's impossible. You can't look at someone's soul."
"Well I'm doing it so it must be possible," after a short moment Esme says, "Just kidding I was staring at your weird eyes. You have a strange face did you know that?"
Alright that's enough, Esme," Mary plucks the girl out of Sherlock's arms and shakes her head at Esme, "Say you're sorry."
"Nope. Down."
Mary sets the girl's feet back on the ground and she runs off into the living room again.
"The stubbornness must come from you, John," Sherlock says, "And the...peculiarity…from you," he looks at Mary.
"I really can't disagree with that," Mary shrugs and John laughs.
They all finally manage to sit down at the dining room table. Astor and Esme receive their own chairs, leaving Maia to sit in a high-chair, Hamish in Sherlock's lap, and Sam in John's.
"What's for dinner, Mommy?" Hamish asks, bouncing uncontrollably in Sherlock's grasp.
"Chicken pot pie," Molly answers as she brings the pan over and dishes out portions on each plate.
"YUM," the boy says and his eyes roll back in pleasure before he even gets in the first bite.
Meanwhile, John choo-choo-trains food into Maia's mouth and he laughs when applesauce dribbles onto her chin.
"Wow," Sherlock says.
"What?" John inquires, defensive.
"Former military man and current crime fighter feeds his daughter via choo choo train. Lestrade should tape this on his phone."
John just laughs. They eat in a great deal of silence with the exception of Esme and Astor's whispers and giggles. Just like their father's, they always make up after an argument. Sherlock can't help, but look around at these people that had become his family. The small kitchen of 221B is crowded, but its crowded in all the right ways. He takes in every comment and whisper and laugh and he can't help but smile.
He looks down at Hamish
"Eat your peas," Sherlock instructs.
"But peas are gross!" Hamish shouts, a look of exhaustion already registering across his face.
"Don't you know that peas give you powers? That's why John is still alive. He would have died if he didn't eat his peas; he magnetizes any Consulting Detective in a 100-mile radius."
"Funny," John says and eyes his friend, annoyed.
"Your mother balances two powers; indescribable beauty and infinite knowledge."
Molly shakes her head and blushes.
"Mary has the ability to hug. Yes everyone can hug, but no one can hug like Mary. She can warm you up and make you happier just by wrapping her arms around you. Isn't that nice? Don't you want a power?"
"I want powers!" Astor chimes in and Hamish is already pummeling his peas in his mouth, Sam in tow.
Molly laughs and leans over to whisper in Sherlock's ear, "You do realize that he will eat peas religiously now, don't you?"
"I have never heard of a pea related death or incident, so I think he'll be fine."
Molly laughs again and kisses him before returning to her seat.
Just as they finish their dinner, Maia begins to cry and fuss.
"Looks like that's our cue," Mary sighs.
Everyone cleans the table of their dishes and the small kitchen is comfortably filled with the two families that are, in hindsight, one.
"See you tomorrow, dear," Mary says and kisses Molly on the cheek and hugs Sherlock tighter than ever on purpose, "May the power of hug compel you."
"You are so peculiar," Sherlock reinstates.
"Tell me about it," John shakes his head and shakes his friend's hand and hugs Molly before following his daughter, son, and wife downstairs to 221C.
I can definitely get used to this, Sherlock tells himself, the routine of seeing good friends, having a good meal, saying good night. It's all good; great even.
The clock tells Molly that it's time for Astor and Hamish to go to bed, "Alright, kiddies. Bed time."
The children groan, but make their way upstairs anyways, knowing full well that there is no way to extend the time before bedtime. The bedroom door closes partway leaving a wedge of light from the hallway to peak in. Sherlock watches as the lights turn off and then he sits down next to Molly on the couch. She snuggles into his side instantly, pulling the blanket up over both of them. Sherlock ignores the pain in his side from his possibly broken rib. He wraps his arm around her, bringing her closer, and he kisses the top of her hair.
"Astor and Hamish are asleep," Molly says, "We're alone. And it's quiet. I love those kids, but I also love this. The peace."
"I know what you mean," Sherlock agrees and eyes the pirate hat that he gave to Hamish, sitting on the coffee table in front of them. What Sherlock hadn't known then, was that the best thing to be was a father. He kisses Molly again.
"Do you…wanna…" Molly asks uneasily.
"Truthfully? I'm…tuckered."
"Thank god," Molly sighs and maneuvers her way in a lying position, her head in his lap, "I am exhausted."
Sherlock takes one look at his wife and wonders which is better; being a father or a husband. For now, however, the jury was still out and it would be for a long time. He kisses her one last time before falling asleep, her head in his lap and his hand clasped in hers.
BOOM! *cries because that's the last BOOM of this fic* Anyways lol, I really wish that I could have continued this further (this fic was so close to being a year old at 7/11/13 uwu) but I really felt that this is where it needed to end. I'm not sure if I'll spinoff with parent!lock or anything like that, but I'm still writing the Missing Piece. Besides that, I would like to thank all of you for your lovely reviews and constant support. Whether you were here from the beginning or just got here, you matter a lot to me. Seriously, I love you guys. Thank you so much!
Love,
Melanie.
(EDIT: I forgot about Sam the first time I posted this! I completely blanked sorry! *hearts* )
