It took some time for Molly to get to sleep after she went into Sherlock's old room. The bed was still unmade and she made it carefully, then laid on top of it. Her head was actually aching considerably more than usual, most likely due to the excessive amount of tears she had shed earlier. At least Sherlock was feeling better, she thought.
She tossed and turned for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable and trying to ignore the pounding in her head. At last she decided it would be best to fetch a cold, wet flannel to place on her forehead. That usually helped to soothe her and make it easier for her to sleep.
Having done that, Molly lay down once more. She was just about asleep when she heard a slight noise coming from Mycroft's room next door. The house was well-built and definitely had more thickness between the walls than modern houses, but she fancied she heard a little noise here or there. She had a suspicion that Mycroft and his wife were in there and spending some quality time together. She was pleased that Mycroft was presumably still enjoying a happy marriage with his wife and that he was not the complete workaholic he always seemed to be. Everyone needed some time to relax and unwind, and today had been a difficult day for all of them.
With those rather pleasing reflections and the flannel soothing her head, Molly was finally able to sleep.
She didn't know how long it was she had been sleeping when she awoke to feel a finger caressing her cheek and lips touching her forehead before Sherlock's voice said softly, "Time to get up for dinner, love."
She opened her eyes to see the face of the man she loved so dearly and sat up with a smile. She still felt a slight pressure in her head but the headache was almost completely gone, fortunately.
"You look better," he observed. "Were you able to get some, uh, uninterrupted sleep?"
Molly gave him a look. "Are you referring to what I think you are referring? Because if you are, these walls are pretty thick and I didn't hear much, so yes I was able to sleep, and I do feel much better as well."
Sherlock smirked. "I must admit, it is nice to know that my brother and his wife still enjoy a healthy relationship at their advanced ages."
Molly laughed. "We will be there soon enough, Sherlock. In another few years who knows what kind of shape our bodies will be in to keep enjoying one another as frequently as we do now."
He sat beside her. "Despite having four children, I am still satisfied that we maintain an above average level of intimacy."
Molly gave him an impish look. "Do you think we've caught up with the rest of the population after being such late starters?"
He gave her a sultry look and leaned in a little closer. "I sincerely doubt it, seeing as I was more than twenty years behind the average curve of initiation into sexual activity and have only had ten years in which to try and catch up. Fair warning, however, I intend to exceed the average number of times a person makes love in a lifetime."
Molly giggled, then sobered. "So, um, you are feeling okay then?"
"If you are asking whether I will wish to have my way with you later tonight, despite having just laid my father to rest, the answer is yes. I feel we have reached closure and can now attempt a new normal. I know there will continue to be moments of sorrow and feelings of loss for a long time, but that shall not inhibit my desire to be with you." He bent even closer and this time, instead of her forehead, his lips met her own in a lingering kiss that held a promise in it for later. She couldn't help regretting a little that they couldn't stay there for a while and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.
When their lips parted, Molly said reluctantly, "Well, duty calls. I suppose Christina is already hungry as usual?"
Sherlock nodded. "You suppose correctly."
"So, did you end up playing that game of pool with Mark?" questioned Molly as she got off the bed and Sherlock stood as well.
"We did indeed, and there's something I wanted to ask you."
She gave him a curious look? "What?"
"Apparently, Mark likes to frequent a pool hall approximately once a month with some of his colleagues and I mentioned I would be interested in joining him."
Molly's brows lifted in surprise. "Oh." She knew Sherlock enjoyed the game but hadn't realised he enjoyed it that much.
Sherlock took her hand. "Would you mind if once in a while I went out in the evening to spend some time with my nephew?"
Molly rested her cheek against his upper arm. "Sweetheart, you are your own person. You don't need to ask my permission. Of course you can do that if you want."
He regarded her seriously. "Molly, I would never just do something without discussing it with you first. Marriage is a partnership, after all." Then he grinned. "Just don't tell Mark that I asked for your permission because he implied that I would do so, and I informed him that I am quite capable of making my own decisions without consulting you first."
Molly laughed at that. "My lips are sealed."
"You know," Sherlock said conversationally as they headed towards the stairs, "I should be cross with you."
Molly stopped walking, forcing him to do the same. "Whatever for?"
"Mark was having a little fun at my expense about the very correct manner in which I speak, and he alluded to the fact that I must be reading your Barbara Cartland novels. Since when does he know about such things?"
Molly sucked on her lower lip and gave him a penitent look. "It was just a comment in passing quite some time ago. I may have mentioned something about how I love the way you talk and that sometimes you seem to have picked up some of the more old-fashioned terms from my Barbara Cartland novels." She stood on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you, honey."
His lips quirked in amusement. "Fortunately for you, my nephew also mentioned that you had told him you love the way I speak, so I suppose I cannot be too cross. Just don't disclose to Mycroft my propensity towards reading your novels on occasion or I might have to put you over my knee and punish you." He waggled his eyebrows and Molly laughed again as they resumed walking.
"'Mmm," she responded flirtatiously, giving him a sly look from beneath her eyelashes, "I wouldn't mind you punishing me with that feather, blindfold and velvet handcuffs we keep at the bottom of my lingerie drawer for special occasions."
They were almost at the end of the passage and Molly was taken by surprise when Sherlock stopped and turned her so her back was against the wall, then pressed his body against hers suggestively. "Remind me to do that once we are back home, my little temptress." Molly couldn't help herself, her arms went around his neck as he kissed her again, quite forcefully this time, and she felt rather breathless and flushed at the end of it. There was something extremely erotic about being against a wall and having her husband's body pressing against hers that way. "You know," she said, trying to get her breath under control again; it really was remarkable, the magnetic pull Sherlock held over her even after all these years, "we had better hurry up and go downstairs or people might start to think we were enjoying ourselves the way your brother was earlier."
Sherlock's thumb stroked along her lower lip. "You have only yourself to blame for flirting with me that way."
She cocked her head to the side. "Well, we wouldn't want our marriage to get boring now, would we?"
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I don't think we have anything to worry about, my love, and if you need to be convinced of it, wait until tonight."
She loved it when he kissed her hand in that gentlemanly fashion. He really had been born into the wrong era, she thought a little dreamily, then reminded herself it was just as well he hadn't, or he would not be here now with her.
When they arrived downstairs it was to find that Mycroft and Mark were sitting at the large dining table with the younger three Holmes children, apparently waiting for dinner preparations to be complete.
"You might as well go and sit down as well, honey," Molly instructed Sherlock. "I'm going to go into the kitchen and see if there's anything I can do to help."
Sherlock nodded and headed for the dining table while Molly walked into the kitchen. Violet Holmes was in there with Elizabeth and Victoria. There had been a good number of sausage rolls left after the wake which apparently had been put into the oven to re-heat. Containers of pasta salad, potato salad and coleslaw had been unsealed and the sandwich platters were uncovered.
Elizabeth was setting down plastic plates and cutlery so that everyone could just take what they wanted and then sit in the dining room with it.
Victoria, who it appeared had been helping by placing large spoons into the salads, looked up. "Are you feeling better, Mummy? Daddy said you had a headache."
Molly crossed to her daughter and kissed the top of her head. "I'm feeling much better, and thank you for being such a good helper."
Molly prepared a jug of apple and blackcurrant cordial to take to the dining room table. Her mother-in-law always had the cordial on hand, knowing it was her grandchildren's favourite.
The kettle had been put on to boil as well for coffee or tea.
Within ten minutes the sausage rolls had been sufficiently heated through and everything placed on the dining room table for people to make their selections.
Molly helped the boys get their food but everyone else helped themselves, including Christina who had to take a little bit of everything as usual and had an enormous plateful by the end of it as a result. Not surprisingly, she was able to eat all of it. Molly didn't know where she put it all.
During dinner, Victoria told Molly that Grandma had been teaching her to crochet and that she wanted to crochet lots of squares in many colours to make a blanket. Molly promised to take her daughter shopping to buy wool and crochet hooks when they got home. Christina informed Molly that she had finished her current Wishing Chair book and the boys chattered on about Daddy teaching them how to play pool properly.
Molly was glad that the earlier sadness of the day was not creating an atmosphere of continued sorrow. She knew William Holmes would not have wanted that. In fact, Molly thought to herself, he's probably watching from heaven right now along with my dad and still just as proud of his children and grandchildren as when he was on earth. That thought comforted her immensely.
Following dinner, Molly helped throw away the plastic plates and put what was still left in the fridge. It would undoubtedly be enough to supply her mother-in-law with meals for the next several days. Molly saw Mycroft and Sherlock speaking quietly together about arrangements for the following day and returning to London. She hoped that Mycroft would be able to organise things quickly for her mother-in-law to make the move to London as well. Now that she was alone, Molly new it would be much better to have her close by.
The family spent the evening doing various activities. Molly spent some time first in the sitting room watching Victoria display her new prowess with a crochet hook. Molly knew how to crochet too but had not done so for many years, and she decided that when she took Victoria out to buy some coloured wool, that she too would take up crocheting again and they could make the squares together to create a blanket. Molly was surprised when Christina asked how to crochet, and Violet Holmes, to Victoria's disappointment, showed Christina as well how to do so. Molly understood Victoria's pique.
She rested a hand of her daughter's shoulder as they watched Violet Holmes explain to her younger granddaughter how to hold a crochet hook correctly.. "Don't be upset, Tori, you know Christy only wants to learn because she likes to copy you. I suspect she will find crocheting a little dull because she much prefers more stimulating pursuits for her mind and body." Molly couldn't help smiling a little at her own words - stimulating pursuits? Sherlock's speech had influenced her more than she knew, she suddenly realised. Active stuff would have probably been a more generic way to say it, or even to just say Christina preferred to do more challenging things, although that might have seemed Molly was implying she considered crocheting boring as well, which was not true.
"But it isn't fair, Mummy," protested Victoria. "Grandma only told me today that I was old enough to learn and now she's showing Christy."
Ah, sibling rivalry, thought Molly. She wondered if she would have been like that if she had had any siblings of her own. She bent down and whispered in Victoria's ear. "You watch, your sister will get bored with it very quickly."
And indeed, that is what happened. Christina watched her grandmother demonstrate how to make a chain stitch and then create a loop. Then she explained how to twist the wool around the crochet hook, put the hook through the loop and catch up the wool on the other side before hooking yet more wool to pull through the stitches. Christina was able t pick up the concept easily enough but the repetitive nature of the task had her bored within ten minutes. Crocheting was definitely a skill that did not require a great deal of brain activity, it was really more a form of relaxation which was not something Christina was wont to do. Molly had found it something in the past that was fun to do just to occupy her time if she was watching a television programme or something and her fingers were otherwise idle.
Finally, Christina tossed down the small square she had been crocheting. "This is boring," she announced rather rudely.
"Christina," said Molly in a scolding tone, "just because it's not an activity you find interesting, does not make it boring for others."
"But it's just doing the same thing over and over," countered her daughter.
Molly indicated a lovely, colourful blanket of many crochet squares that had been sewn together which was resting over the back of the sofa in the room. "Look how beautiful it can become when you put all those squares together," she pointed out.
Victoria held up her own partially finished square. "And each square can be different." She seemed less annoyed now that she knew her sister was not really interested in the activity.
Christina shrugged. "I like to do things that simulate my brain activity," she retorted.
Molly laughed. There went Christina, not quite getting a word right again. "You mean stimulate, sweetie."
Her daughter pursed her lips, "That's what I said, Mummy, stimulate my brain activity." This time she emphasised the correct syllable. "Will you play a game of chess with me instead, Mummy?"
"Of course," responded Molly readily. Victoria seemed to be quite happy with her crocheting and Molly felt at loose ends.
She went with Christina into the games room where she found Sherlock and Mark engaged in a team game of pool with the twins. Molly observed that her sons were actually doing quite well, considering they were barely tall enough to lift the pool cues high enough, but Sherlock and Mark were "helping" to steady their arms so they could use the cues correctly.
After Molly finished her chess game with Christina, which she only just managed to win by a narrow margin, that child of hers was quite the prodigy for one so young, Molly took the boys up to get their pyjamas and have their bath. Once this was accomplished she sent the boys downstairs to spend a little time with their grandmother, and it was Christina's turn.
Molly was surprised when Christina joined her in the bathroom and said, "I'm a big girl now, can't I have a shower like Victoria does?"
Molly's brows drew together. Victoria had only transitioned from a bath to a shower when she had requested it after she turned eight. Molly wondered why she was even surprised at her daughter's request. Christina always did everything earlier than Victoria had. She didn't know if it was second child syndrome or just Christina's natural competitiveness. She had even learned how to propel herself on the swing at the age of five while Victoria had been six. Interestingly enough, the boys were both able to propel themselves on the backyard swing at the age of five as well.
Molly put her hand into the water and pulled on the plug to drain the tub. "Alright, Christina. You may take a shower but I am going to stay in the bathroom in case you need me. You don't need your hair washed tonight but when you do, I will still help you wash it. How does that sound?"
Christina beamed. "That would be acceptable," she intoned in a voice that reminded Molly very much of Sherlock. Apparently he was rubbing off on his children as well, or had that always been the case and she just hadn't noticed?
As soon as the tub water had drained, Molly turned on the taps again and adjusted them so they wouldn't be too hot for Christina as her daughter undressed. Then Molly wet a flannel with some soap and pulled back the shower curtain for Christina to step inside. She handed her daughter the flannel, replaced the shower curtain and waited patiently for her daughter to wash herself.
"Don't forget to wash your whole body, not just under your arms," she instructed through the curtain.
"Mummy, I'm not a baby!" exclaimed her daughter indignantly, peeking her head around the side of the shower curtain.
Molly lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm sorry, sweetie. If I can't see what you are doing, I need to at least remind you to make sure you clean yourself properly."
Christina disappeared once again. A few minutes later Molly thought she heard a little sob coming from the other side of the curtain.
"Christy, are you okay?" she asked in concern.
"It's nothing." Another little sob sounded and Molly heard the taps being turned off. Molly picked up a towel in preparation for Christina to climb out of the tub. The curtain was pulled aside and her daughter stepped out as Molly knelt to wrap the towel around her. There was more than water on Christina's cheeks.
Molly hugged her towel-clad daughter. "What's wrong darling, did you hurt yourself?"
She began rubbing Christina down with the towel as her daughter responded, and Molly was able to see a steady stream of tears spilling down her daughter's cheeks. "It's...it's Grandpa," her daughter sobbed.
Molly felt confused. "What about Grandpa?"
"I was thinking while I was washing myself how proud Grandma and Grandpa would be when I told them I had a shower all by myself and then I remembered that Grandpa isn't here any...anymore." Her voice faded into a series of noisy sobs and Molly stopped rubbing her body to hold her daughter instead, running her hand soothingly up and down the little girl's back. The tears were causing Molly to feel the sting of them herself, tears seemed to be rather contagious.
She blinked them away and said comfortingly, "I know it's hard, darling. You have to try and think about how Grandpa is now in heaven and he can see you from there. I'm sure he is very proud of you, just as Reverend Brown said today."
Christina pulled her head back. "It hurts my heart so much, Mummy. I don't want him to be gone."
Molly kissed her daughter's forehead. "We'd all like to still have him here. There's always going to be a little piece of our hearts that is missing because he isn't here anymore. But we also have to remember that one day we will see him again in heaven." Feeling the need to comfort Christina properly, Molly slid down to the floor and cradled her daughter in her lap, holding her towel-wrapped body and rocking her gently as her daughter's sobs finally subsided into short, hiccuping gasps. "It's okay, baby," she crooned, thinking it had been quite some time since Christina had allowed her to hold her this way. Her little girl was usually so independent and definitely not one for cuddles like the other three children.
At last Christina struggled out of Molly's grasp. "I want to get into my pyjamas."
"Of course, lovey," Molly said as a knock sounded at the door.
"Everything alright in there?" came Sherlock's voice. "You've been in there for a while so I told Victoria to just go upstairs to the second floor for her shower."
"Don't tell Daddy I was crying," begged Christina quietly as she started putting on her pyjamas.
"Everything's fine, honey," Molly called back. "We'll be out in a minute." She knew Christina felt embarrassed about her meltdown. She'd just tell Sherlock quietly later what had happened.
"Okay then, I'm heading back downstairs. When you are ready, Grandma's making hot chocolate for everyone, so come down to the kitchen," came Sherlock's voice again.
"Thanks, honey," responded Molly.
She helped Christina finish getting into her pyjamas and gave her a tissue to blow her nose. Her daughter's face was a little red and blotchy and she insisted on waiting another few minutes until her nose stopped looking so red.
When they arrived in the kitchen a short time later, Molly saw that her mother-in-law had been heating up milk on the stove for the hot chocolate. Usually they just drank it using hot water and a bit of milk to cool it a little, so having it with milk was a special treat.
The hot chocolate was offered to everyone although Mycroft and Elizabeth declined it in favor of cups of tea. Victoria appeared, fresh from her shower, just as her drink had been put into a mug. The children, Mark and Mrs. Holmes sat at the table. Sherlock and Molly leaned against the counter, sipping their mugs of hot chocolate while Mycroft and Elizabeth retired to the sitting room with their tea.
"What took so long in the bathroom?" asked Sherlock in a low voice to Molly.
She looked up at him. "I'll tell you when we go up to bed."
He nodded and they sipped their drinks, watching as the children argued over the appropriate number of mini marshmallows to put in their hot chocolate. Mini marshmallows were also a rare treat. Finally they settled on three pink and three white ones each.
Later that evening, after the children had been put to bed, Molly and Sherlock headed upstairs to their room. As soon as they entered, Sherlock asked, "What was going on with our daughter tonight? I saw her eyes were a bit red when she came down after her bath. I presume something made her think of her grandpa and it caused her tears?" He sat on the bed and motioned for Molly to join him, which she did.
"You're right about her crying over her grandpa but actually she didn't have a bath, she had a shower and that's what led to her getting upset."
Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Our seven-year-old took a shower by herself? She must have been so proud of herself." He looked thoughtful. "I suppose that is what got her thinking. She would undoubtedly have wanted to share it with her grandparents."
Molly placed her hand on Sherlock's knee. "You've still got it, babe. That's exactly what happened."
He placed his hand over hers. "May I remind you, Mrs. Holmes, I am still the world's only consulting detective."
Molly turned her hand around to link their fingers. "Of course you are, honey, and you don't ever let me forget it," she teased. "So, tell me, what's happening tomorrow? I saw you talking with Mycroft earlier. When are we leaving to go back home? Should we get our things packed already?"
"Only ten o'clock. We can worry about that in the morning, For now, I have other, more important things on my mind."
She gave him a coquettish look. "Like what?"
"As if you didn't know," he murmured, reaching his free hand to the top button of her blouse.
"Wait," she protested, "Let me just take my hair out of the braid."
"I'll do it," he responded, his fingers pulling out the hair band and and deftly separating the strands so her hair fell in loose waves.
"Now can I finish what I started?" Sherlock asked and she answered him by pulling his head down to hers and kissing him.
He proceeded to make good on his promise from earlier in the day, and Molly was quite satisfied that their marriage was definitely not in danger of getting boring.
They enjoyed a last, lingering kiss and then Molly rested her head on Sherlock's shoulder as he lay on his back, holding her to him. Her hand splayed across his slightly damp chest and her leg hooked over his. She sighed in utter contentment and slept.
Author's note: Well, this journey is almost over, just one chapter to go.
I hope you have continued to enjoy the family interaction and the little scene with Christina in the chapter as well. I just love imagining all the family stuff for Sherlock and Molly and how they are bringing up their children.
Who is your favourite of my Holmes children? Do you identify with any of their personalities? Do you think I'm showing them realistically? Am I asking questions into a vacuum?
Always love to hear from my readers and time is running out for you to review while the story is still current; (if anyone ends up coming to this story later, I hope they don't think that just because a story is complete an author doesn't appreciate still getting feedback on it). As I always say, there's no time limit to when a review will lift my spirits, whether it be one of my older stories or a current one. I just like to know that my writing is still being enjoyed and will continue to be enjoyed once I say goodbye to the fandom.
How would you like to see the story conclude?