We arrived back at Sherlock's very late. The rain and cold had come in with the dark, and the light from their living room shone out into the storm like a beacon.
Sherlock let us in and I let the warmth of the fire sunk back into me. Molly, an empty wine glass at her elbow, looked up from her book as we came in.
"I told you not to wait up," Sherlock said, flinging himself onto the sofa next to her.
"I don't wait up for Sherlock Holmes," Molly replied, a small smile creeping about her lips even as she shivered at the touch of his wet coat. Sherlock sighed theatrically, slung an arm around her shoulders and tugged her to him so he could kiss the top of her head. Like every time he does that sort of thing, it gave me a bit of a twinge.
Sherlock Holmes, of all people, managed to work love out, and I failed. Over and over again.
Molly asked, "Did you solve the case?"
Sherlock eyed Mary leerily, and slowly replied, "Sort of, though there's a bit more yet to discuss. But for tonight it's over."
"Good end to the day, then," Molly said, rising to her feet and stretching, "We've actually got a full house tonight, even putting Rosie in with Izzy."
"Isabelle. Did they get along then?" Sherlock asked, "I'd rather hoped that they might."
"Oh yes," Molly said dryly, "Like a house on fire. Or rather, like a potting shed. Which they lit on fire."
Mary blanched, and stammered, "Oh, God, Molly, I'm so sorry. Rosie's… she's been acting out a bit lately, but she's really a good girl, and I'll certainly pay for any damages."
Molly and Sherlock exchanged a very-married look, and then Molly said, "This is... not exactly an unprecedented experience for young Miss Jack Parsons upstairs. I'm 100% sure it was Izzy's fault. And really it was a very small fire, the girls put it out themselves, I didn't even make the fire service roll trucks."
"Ah," Mary said.
"I'll take the extinguishers into town and get them recharged tomorrow," Sherlock volunteered.
"I'll do that," Molly rejoined, "You, o Great Detective, can figure out exactly how she keeps getting hold of the bloody hydrazine. Anyway, Izzy and Rosie are in together-"
"Isabelle," Sherlock interrupted sternly.
"And Mary, I've put your things in the guest room, second on the right at the top of the stairs."
Mary hesitated, looking at the carpet, and then asked, "Would you mind… would you mind if I went up to check on her, before I go to bed? Rosie's… it's the first time she's spent more than a night apart from me."
Molly shrugged, and we crept up the narrow staircase and popped our heads 'round the door of Izzy's surprisingly pink-and-princessy bedroom. The girls were sprawled out all over the canopied bed, in that innocent relaxed slumph of childhood, only slightly scorched, snoring quiet little matched snores.
We closed the door.
Molly cleared her throat.
"Rosie's… obviously a very intelligent and self-sufficient young woman, with excellent manners. It's been quite nice, I think, for Izzy to have a Watson of her own-"
"It's Isabelle and Rosa del- oh, for God's sake, never mind," Sherlock interrupted.
"And it would be nice if that could keep on," Molly concluded, looking straight at Mary's face.
There was one of those women emotional things happening, I could tell.
"Yeah," Mary agreed.
Sherlock put his hand in Molly's, and then said, "And so to bed. Good night, adult Watsons."
"Night," I agreed. They went off, and Mary was making to do the same when I asked suddenly, "I might have a nightcap before I turn in, you want one?"
She shrugged, and we headed back down the stairs, where Mary curled up on the sofa while I let myself into Sherlock's massive liquor cabinet. This was, as of late, quite a process… Izzy was getting to the age where kids do tend to start experimenting, and Sherlock was paranoid that she might have inherited the "substance abuser" gene from him.
So as I stared into the retinal scanner, I used the excuse of no eye contact to say, "I was being kind of a cock today, about you and Ajay."
"You were a bit, yeah," Mary agreed, "But I get it. It's been a bit much, and it is… weird. Interacting with your exes after a long time."
The first lock clicked open, and I started in on the passcode.
"You weren't like that with him."
"Yeah, but Ajay and I split up with respect, affection, and a mutual understanding that we weren't right for one another."
I opened up the cabinet and pulled out the Talisker for myself and a bourbon for Mary.
"Sounds fake, but okay," I said, pouring out two generous belts.
Mary snorted, and said, "Yeah, I didn't think it was possible either but apparently it is. Basically…"
She tugged out the elastic holding her long dark hair back, and extended a hand to accept the drink I'd poured her.
"Ajay… would never harm a child. That's entirely true. But that doesn't exactly correlate to being good with children or interested in them… you'll notice he's never made any of his own even after marrying a supermodel twenty years younger than he is. And I was very much in mum mode back then. I sort of went into a maternal coma when Rosie was born and didn't really come out of it until she was ten."
She took a healthy sip of her drink, winced faintly, and kept on.
"He wanted to do… well, I guess what he apparently actually did, go and be a rich party person. And I wanted to own a yoga studio and a beach house in a lovely city in a nice peaceful country and not be hassled. And the whole poly thing actuallyis something that matters to him and it really never held any appeal for me, although seeing the sort of people he's able to pull-"
"Fwaaaa," I agreed.
"I possibly should reevaluate that," she chuckled, "We'd had a past together. Didn't mean we had a future."
Mary shrugged.
"I'm glad it all worked out for him. Chin chin."
We clinked glasses and I took a sip of my own. Mary stared into the dying fire. We sat quietly in the dark.
"Rosie said you have tons of boyfriends, anyway," I broke the silence with, "All kinds of guys after you all the time."
Mary frowned, and looked at me.
"Oh dear."
"Yeah."
"We should probably have a bit of a chat with her tomorrow morning if she's trying to matchmake. This isn't "The Parent Trap.""
"I know."
Mary ran a hand through her hair, tousling it, then looked down her nose at me.
"If you must know, I do date. Here and there. When it seems appropriate. I haven't met anyone worth bringing home to Rosie since Ajay, but I do. But "tons of guys after me all the time" is a bit of an exaggeration of the rampant sex appeal of the fiftysomething single mum."
I mulled that one over, sipping my scotch.
Then I thought, "Oh, what the hell, why not?"
"It may not be true," I said, dropping my voice a bit, "But it's not an exaggeration. Not at all."
Mary nearly choked on her drink, and then she stared at me, eyes dark in the flickering firelight.
Finally, blessedly, she took one last deep swallow.
"Oh, what the hell," she murmured, "Why not?"
