This is the final instalment of this fuzzy fluff fest. I hope you find it satisfactory. :)

Chapter Eighteen

'All quiet on the Western Front?' Molly asked when Sherlock came into the bedroom, from the landing.

'Yes, all sleeping soundly,' he replied.

'Well, all except Joey, here,' Molly countered, placing a hand on her five months pregnant belly. 'He's bouncing around like a kangaroo on a trampoline.'

'Joey?' Sherlock queried.

'In deference to the kangaroo analogy but I think it suits him. He is a lively little chap.'

'Ah, probably anticipating Daddy's nightly massage,' Sherlock replied, with a smug grin, clearly in a mischievous mood tonight.

Molly frowned.

'I'm not sure I'm one hundred percent OK with my implied status in that equation,' she huffed. 'Doesn't 'Daddy's nightly massage' suggests I'm just the interface between Daddy and Joey in this enterprise?'

'The very idea!' Sherlock exclaimed, a picture of impugned innocence. Molly gave him the side eye and continued to lay towels on top of the bed, in preparation for her nightly bio oil massage, administered by her husband. If Joey enjoyed it too – which, no doubt, he did – well, that was a bonus.

'I can't help but notice you've taken to referring to the current little parasite in masculine terms,' Sherlock observed. 'Is there something you're not telling me, some scan result, perhaps?'

'No,' Molly exclaimed, indignantly, 'of course not. We agreed. We never want to know the sex of our children in advance. It would be like finding out in July what you're having for Christmas.' She shuddered at the very idea. 'And, anyway, you were there for the twelve-week scan so you know that's not true. I just have a feeling that this one's a boy.'

'Oh, 'women's intuition',' Sherlock snarked, tapping a finger on the side of his nose.

'Alright, Mr Smartarse. Just remember, I was right about Violet,' Molly sniffed, giving her annoying husband a well-aimed flick on his PJ-ed backside with one of the towels.

'One out of three? That's statistically...unremarkable,' he replied.

'Well, I never even tried to guess the sex of William or Freddie but Violet, she was just…different.'

'And is this one…different?' Sherlock taunted, still pushing the boundaries to see how annoying he could be before Molly snapped.

But she was wise to his tricks and refused to be drawn.

'He's different to Violet, for sure,' she replied, discarding her dressing gown and lying down on top of the towels, ready for her massage, 'but, anyway, remind me when you've brooded four brand new little humans in your belly, and we'll have this conversation again.'

Sherlock, in a short-sleeved sleep T-shirt, after removing his dressing gown, too, was already warming the oil between the palms of his hands. He put one knee on the bed in preparation to begin the nightly ritual.

'Did you lock the door?' Molly asked.

'Yes, I did,' he replied.

'Oh, good,' said Molly. 'We wouldn't want any of the children wandering in, would we.'

'Why not?' he asked. 'It's not as if we're doing anything…untoward.'

'No. But imagine trying to explain to Freddie why Mummy is lying naked on the bed and Daddy is kneeling over her with his hands covered in oil.'

She couldn't help but giggle at the image that scenario conjured in her head. Sherlock gave a deep, rumbling chuckle then switched to focus mode and, working from top to bottom, as usual, smoothed the oil from the base of her neck along the slope of her collar bones, over her shoulders and down her arms to her elbows and back up again to the base of her neck. Molly closed her eyes and tried to relax under the soothing smoothness of his touch. But her mind was too active.

'I'm surprised William managed to get to sleep at all, he's so excited about this trip to Scandinavia.'

As it turned out, William had been selected to participate in the cathedral choir's summer tour, which would be setting off from the school the next day. But the choristers had all been sent home for a couple of days at the end of term to see their families and, no doubt, to get their clothes laundered and repacked for the trip. Molly had had a while to get used to the idea that William would be away for two weeks of his summer break so she was quite sanguine about it now.

'I still can't get over how intuitive he was, working out what was upsetting Violet,' Molly remarked, belying where her thoughts had now wandered under her husband's practiced hands.

'Well, he obviously gets that from you,' Sherlock replied, his brow furrowed with the effort of concentration.

'Perhaps, but the deductive reasoning he applied to solve the puzzle was pure you,' Molly insisted.

'Best of both, then – Holmesian logic from my side of the gene pool, empathic perception from yours. Between us, we've managed to make a perfect human being. Or rather, three perfect human beings, each in their own way.'

'Three and a half,' Molly corrected then lapsed into a private reminiscence of that day, three months earlier, in the orchard with William.

'Actually, Mummy, I think I know why Violet keeps getting upset.'

Molly looked at her eldest child, wrong-footed by the sudden change of subject but intrigued by the conviction in his voice.

'Why do you think it is, darling?' she asked.

'Well, it's like the bees, isn't it,' he declared. 'You know, when young bees reach a certain stage of development, they move on to a different role within the colony. Nobody tells them to do it and no one helps them, either. They just do it. Because they can. I think Violet is ready to move on but she can't do it on her own and she can't explain what she needs to do, so she gets frustrated.'

This assertion came as a bit of a shock to Molly. She and Sherlock had always prided themselves on allowing their children to develop at their own individual pace, taking their cues from each child when deciding how and when to move them on to the next level. And she thought they'd done the same for Violet. But if William was correct, it must mean they hadn't. They had somehow failed to spot the signs or take the cues. She needed to hear more.

'What makes you think that?' she asked, trying not to give away her injured feelings through her voice or manner. But William picked up on it, anyway.

'I don't want you to feel bad, Mummy. I'm just telling you because I think you would want to know,' he entreated, adding 'guilt' to Molly's current jumble of emotions.

'Of course, darling,' she reassured him. 'I'm listening.'

William nodded, took a breath and continued.

'Well, take the Nursery, for instance. It was designed and decorated when Violet was a new-born. And it's really lovely, with all the stars on the ceiling, the toadstools and cobwebs painted on the walls; the woodland flowers and foliage; and the fireflies and fairies and everything. And I'm sure Violet loved it back then but it's not really her 'thing', now, is it?'

Molly was brought up short by William's wholly accurate description of the situation regarding to Nursery. The fairies and cobwebs were her choice, things that she loved…would have loved to have on her bedroom walls as a child, had she had any choice in the matter. But she was not Violet.

And William was so right about his sister. She had very specific tastes…in clothes, for example. She had been quite clear about what she did and did not want when choosing her outfit for Uncle Mycroft's wedding to Arthur, even though she was only eleven months old at the time. She and Sherlock had always let the children choose their clothes and their toys, providing they were age appropriate and not ridiculously expensive.

'Violet loves jelly fish and octopuses, squid and cuttlefish,' William continued. 'She's a marine biologist, at heart. I think she's about done with being a baby, in a cot, in a fairy grotto Nursery.'

William glanced at his mother to check how she was taking these revelations. She looked intrigued and thoughtful, not upset, so he carried on.

'I was on the top landing last night when Violet got upset. When she said 'Up, Daddy,' she was looking upstairs. I think she wants to move up into the attic with me and Freddie. And, seeing as how she's going to have to move out of the Nursery soon anyway, when the new baby comes, perhaps now would be the best time to do it. Violet could have a say in designing her new bedroom, like Freddie and I did with ours - choosing the furniture and the decorations and everything. I think she would really like that.'

'It was so obvious…' Molly mused. 'I still can't believe we didn't see it ourselves.'

Fortunately, Sherlock was tracking her thought processes so he knew exactly what she was referring to.

'The answer is always obvious once someone points it out,' he reminded her. 'The fact is we didn't see it because we weren't looking at it from the right perspective.' He paused – in both speaking and massaging - but a look from Molly urged him to continue both so, having replenished the oil on his hands, he did.

'We were worried that Violet might feel pushed out by the new baby – why, I don't know, because we never gave it a thought with William and Freddie…actually, I do know. It was gender bias, plain and simple. We were treating Violet differently because she's a girl, even though we swore we would never apply gender stereotypes to the children! We were trying to keep things the same, to reassure her that nothing was going to change. But that was ridiculous anyway because everything will change when... Joey?' - Molly nodded - 'Joey comes along.'

She had to agree.

'God, we're rubbish parents, aren't we?' she sighed.

'Not rubbish,' he replied, 'just not perfect. And we are still learning. But that's why one has children, isn't it? To learn from them? Now, could you please relax and stop talking…or thinking…so loudly, so I can concentrate? Joey's getting impatient!'

Molly mock-scowled at him but reached out to switch off the lamp on her bedside table, reducing the light level in the room considerably, then closed her eyes and let Sherlock's hands work their magic.

ooOoo

Upstairs, Violet was spending her first night sleeping in her new bedroom, the third of the attic rooms, which had always been destined to be hers, eventually. After William's astute deductions about his sister, Molly and Sherlock had wasted no time clearing out the 'spare' room of all the things that had been dumped there for want of anywhere else to put them. They took most of it to a charity shop and the rest to the recycling centre. Then they got back in touch with the interior design company they had consulted on the Nursery and bedroom décor, when they refurbished the new house. They sent one of their designers along to Firs Lodge, to view the room and consult with the 'client' - Violet.

Having been advised over the phone that Violet was interested in underwater things, he brought along a 'mood board' of various ideas he'd already put together.

Seated in the arm chair, in the sitting room, with Molly and Violet opposite, on the sofa, the designer opened up his mood board and presented it proudly...but was rather disappointed by the less than enthusiastic response from mother and daughter.

'Oh…I'm so sorry…' Molly stammered. 'I'm afraid I didn't make myself very clear…' though she thought she had. 'When I said Violet likes underwater things, I meant real-life underwater, like octopuses and cuttlefish, not The Little Mermaid.'

Because that was, in fact, what the designer had brought along – a collection of cartoon images of mermaids, crabs, lobsters and fish but all anthropomorphised, with googly eyes and human faces.

Molly turned to Violet and said, 'Show Wib to Mr Akin, darling.'

Violet eyed the strange visitor suspiciously and then, quite grudgingly, held up her favourite toy for him to see.

Give the man his due, he recovered quickly from his faux pas and, whipping out a tablet, typed a few words and then turned the screen around for Violet to see. He was rewarded by a huge smile.

'Dellypish!' Violet exclaimed, pointing at the video image on the screen of a swarm of moon jelly fish, floating around in a deep blue watery world, pulsing their bells to rise up, and then sinking slowly down again.

'Ah, now we're on the same page,' Mr Akin exclaimed, with a broad smile. 'Can I suggest that we all take a trip to the London Aquarium so that Miss Holmes and I can confer on the topic of her themed bedroom?'

A visit was promptly arranged, during which the designer took copious photographs of the things that Violet found most attractive.

The next time he came to the house, Sherlock was home too, so they all got to see the design plans and drawings that Mr Akin had prepared. Approval was given for the work to begin as soon as possible, which turned out to be a month later.

When work began on the new bedroom, the door was sealed with 'Do Not Enter' tape so that no one saw the work in progress – apart from Molly who insisted on an inspection every evening, just to make sure the decorators were sticking to the brief. And the work had actually completed a couple of days before the end of William's school term, but in recognition of his role as the catalyst for this whole enterprise, Sherlock and Molly decided to wait until he came home so he would be there for the big reveal.

That morning, the family had gathered on the landing outside Violet's new bedroom, with Mr Akin in attendance. Even Redbeard, who wasn't normally allowed upstairs, was permitted to participate in this big milestone occasion. To an imaginary drum roll, Mr Akin removed the yellow and black striped 'Do Not Enter' tape and pushed open the door, revealing the transformation inside.

As was befitting, Violet and William were the first to cross the threshold, hand in hand. The effect was like stepping into a giant aquarium. The walls were all painted aquamarine but the tint had been graduated from lighter at the top to darker at the bottom, creating the sensation of depth.

On the wall to the right of the door, a swarm of moon jellyfish, all in different orientations, floated together as though out in the open sea; on the front external wall, directly opposite the door, the side panels of the dormer window were decorated to resemble kelp beds, with the vertical fronds of sea weed stretching up from the floor and intertwining above the sash window, while tiny seahorses clung on, their tails hooked around the fronds. Across the whole wall surrounding the dormer, schools of fish of many species, reflected in their colours, shapes and sizes, appeared to swim this way and that.

Along the wall to the left was a bank of floor to ceiling wardrobes, concealed behind doors on which a coral reef had been painted, with different types of coral sprouting here and there, including staghorn, boulder, finger, brain and fan. Interspersed amongst the coral were a number of sea urchins - all of different species - star fish and crabs, and a single green turtle, apparently swimming over the coral reef, perhaps in search of the moon jelly fish on the opposite wall, since they were her favourite food.

But the fourth wall, alongside the bed, was probably the most spectacular. The decorators had skilfully depicted a rocky outcrop covered in seaweed that was home to collection of cuttlefish, squid and octopuses, all painted in iridescent paint so that their colours changed according the viewing angle. And amongst the rocks, shrimps and other shell fish were scattered around or could be seen peeping out from the crevices. The bed itself was boat-shaped, like a sunken wreck, and spread with bed linen of a William Morris seaweed design. The bedside lamp was a conch shell.

The bare floorboards had been stripped and stained to a sandy colour, with a large seagrass rug in the middle, and the ceiling was painted light aquamarine to blend in with the walls but textured so it gave the impression one was looking up at the sky from underwater.

The overall effect was absolutely stunning and Violet was clearly thrilled with the end product. She stood in the middle of the room looking around in amazement for almost a minute before starting to point at all the different sea creatures and squeal with delight. Then she jumped on the bed and lay down, hugging Wib, a picture of contentment. Sherlock wondered if they would ever get her out of the room again.

ooOoo

'So, what are you planning for the Nursery?' Sherlock asked. Nightly massage complete, he and Molly were side by side under the duvet.

'I thought I'd leave it as it is, actually,' Molly replied. She still really loved the Fairy Grotto design. 'When Junior is old enough, he can decide for himself how he would like it to be.'

'And I'm sure William will let us know when that time comes,' Sherlock quipped.

'Yes, William and his bees. Who would have thought that beekeeping could have such fortuitous side-effects?' Molly giggled.

'Yes,' Sherlock agreed, 'Homo sapiens may be the most intelligent of all species but we're certainly not the wisest. There's much to be learned from other social animals, like bees. We should all endeavour to become a little more hive-minded.'

ooOoo

Epilogue

'When the time comes for Joey to graduate from the Nursery, perhaps we should have a reshuffle,' Sherlock mused. 'Maybe let William move down to the first landing and leave the three youngest up in the attic.'

'Mmmm, that's a thought,' Molly replied. 'Poor William will probably be glad of some peace and quiet by then. But what about bathrooms?'

'Could we squeeze an en suite shower room into the Nursery space?' Sherlock wondered. 'Or perhaps we should give William the guest room. After all, we hardly ever use it. The Nursery could then become the new guest room…'

'What if we decide to have more children?' Molly interjected.

'What, five children?'

'Or six.'

'Well, we'd have to move house…or extend,' Sherlock replied. 'There's room for a two-storey extension out the back, I'm sure...'

'Let's cross that bridge when we come to it,' said Molly, quietly amused at the Great Detective speculating about squeezing in an en suite shower room and building a two-storey extension. How things had moved on!

'Yes, let's get this bun baked and out of the oven before we start thinking about opening a bakery,' Sherlock agreed, rolling over to wrap his arms around Molly and kiss her good night.

ooOoo

I hope you liked the little bonus bit on the end there. It was too short to be a chapter but I didn't want to leave it out. ;)

But this is not the end of my Sherlolly Saga. The Saga is never over ... :)