London at twilight was a deep, cold blue; grasping onto the last few moments of sun before it disappeared below the skyline. February had a cold, dry wind that whistled and rushed against the window of Margaux's bedroom.

She sat at her dressing table examining her reflection. Her hair was freshly washed, still wet, and tied up in a knot on top of her head. She combed through her thick, dark eyebrows and set them in place, drew a flick of liner across her lids and coated her lashes in mascara. She enjoyed putting on makeup. There was something therapeutic about it, she thought.

Margaux had made and lost many friends throughout her life, only a few had stuck. She met Hugo and Steph at University when they were nothing more than a group of awkward, unsure teenagers. She watched them fall in love, stood side by side with them at graduation, waved them off after their wedding as they began their new life in America. Now they kept in touch through emails and photographs. She loved them, but an ocean was a long way to go for a hug or a cup of coffee. Her other friend Rose, she had known since high school. Margaux had been there, in the school bathroom, when Rose's pregnancy test came back positive. They cried together, worked badly-paid jobs together, and now Rose lived in a terraced house on the outskirts of London with her two children. They had almost nothing in common but that didn't matter. Rose was her best friend; they just clicked, like two puzzle pieces.

Margaux sent Rose a text, thanking her again for taking Vaughan for the night. Her phone buzzed almost immediately.

'Enjoy yourself xx'

She smiled and returned to her reflection. She finished her makeup with a sweep of lipstick and dried her hair in soft waves before slipping on her dress; mid-length, figure hugging, straps that draped off her shoulders. She smiled at her neighbour in the corridor as she locked her front door and rushed downstairs to the cab that was waiting outside.

III

"Welcome."

"Hi, thanks for coming."

John and Mary had stood near the door of the bar shaking hands and hugging people for what felt like hours.

"Welcome, so glad you could make it," said Mary as a guest entered. She turned to John and spoke quietly "My cheeks hurt from smiling."

John laughed and put his arm around her waist.

"Ah, here he is," said John as Sherlock walked into the bar.

He stood across from the couple in his well-fitted suit, hands behind his back, curls parted slightly on one side. He regarded the dimly lit bar decorated in flowers, banners, engagement celebrations.

"Hello," he said.

"Aren't you going to congratulate us?" said Mary teasingly.

"I congratulated you when you got engaged. Saying it again now would be futile."

"Of course, silly me."

Sherlock walked past them and took a glass of champagne from the bar. He sat down at a table with Mrs Hudson, Greg Lestrade, Molly and her Sherlock lookalike fiancé. He had been warned not to mention the eerie similarities.

"Did you lock up when you left?" Asked a tipsy Mrs Hudson.

"No, Mrs Hudson, I left every door and window wide open with a big 'burgle us' sign outside," he replied.

"Oh Sherlock," she shooed him with her hand and returned to talking to Lestrade.

III

Mycroft sat at his desk, sifting through a mound of files. He made a note on the final page of a brown folder and placed it to one side, immediately picking up the next one.

A man in a suit with an earpiece stepped into the room. "Mr Holmes, there's been some unusual activity surrounding Dr Cave's flat," he said.

Mycroft set down the file. "What sort of activity?"

III

Margaux patted John on the shoulder. He turned around and hugged her.

"I didn't see you come in," he said.

"So glad you made it," said Mary as she pulled her into a hug.

Margaux handed them a card and bottle of champagne. "Congratulations you two. I put Sherlock's name on the card as I highly doubt he thought to get you one."

The pair laughed.

"Nope, you're right, he didn't," said John.

Margaux weaved through the crowd to a table of familiar faces. She smiled and waved as she took a seat amongst them all.

"Just in time. My round everyone," said Lestrade as he took in everyone's order. "Drink, Margaux?"

"I'd love a gin, thank you," she smiled as he walked off to the bar.

"Where's Vaughan?" asked Molly politely.

"Oh, my friend is babysitting. She offered to have him overnight so I can have a drink."

"I didn't know you had friends," said Sherlock bluntly.

Everyone silenced as they turned to look at him with rolling eyes and shaking heads.

"What was that? 30 seconds before he insulted me? I think that's a new record," said Margaux.

Everyone giggled. Except for Sherlock who was trying to figure out what he did to insult her.

"Oh my, Margaux, you look gorgeous. I remember the days when I could dress like that," said Mrs Hudson.

"You still can! I'll lend you this dress next time you're going out," Margaux joked.

"Please god no," Sherlock muttered, unamused.

Margaux kicked him under the table. He turned his head to look at her, mouthing 'what?'. She shook her head and returned to the conversation.

"Photo?" A woman stood next to the table with a professional camera in her hands. "I'm a friend of Mary's, offered to take some snaps for her." She took a step back and photographed the group before stepping forward again. "Just a few close ups." Molly and her fiancé leant into each other and smiled as the woman took their picture. She nodded and thanked them before stepped to the other side of the table and photographing Mrs Hudson and Lestrade. "And now this beautiful couple," she said as she pointed the camera at Sherlock and Margaux, gesturing for them to get closer.

"Oh, we're not a–" Margaux began.

"Let's just get this over with," Sherlock mumbled.

His face was stern and emotionless. His body was stiff and upright in his chair. Margaux turned to the camera and gave an uncomfortable smile.

"Come on, we're here celebrating love! You can do better than that," the woman joked before returning behind her camera.

Margaux looked at Sherlock, who had remained in the exact same pose, and sighed. She placed her hand on his arm which was sitting in his lap and rested her head on his shoulder. She smiled again.

"Gorgeous," said the woman before wandering to the next table.

"Well if that wasn't the most painful thing I've ever had to do…" Margaux joked.

The party was buzzing with music and laughter. Mrs Hudson was dancing with a very happy older man, his hand in hers, a glass of sherry in the other. Molly and her fiancé sat kissing and giggling like teenagers, her occasional glances over at Sherlock went unnoticed. Margaux sat at the table watching everyone dance as she swirled the ice around what was left of her gin. A barman walked up to the table placed a glass of water in front of her. He took a cocktail umbrella from his pocket and dropped it in the glass. Margaux looked up at him confused.

"They asked me to make it and bring it over," the barman shrugged before walking away.

Margaux stared at the drink for a moment before it clicked. She rolled her eyes and stood up, heading for the exit.

Sherlock was standing across the room when he noticed her leaving. He followed slowly, rudely walking away from a woman who was trying to talk to him.

III

Outside, the sky was pitch black; the stars drowned out by the lights of the city. Margaux's breath turned to fog in the winter air as she stepped outside the bar and walked around the side of the building. Next to a sleek black car stood Mycroft. Hands in the pockets of his suit as he waited.

"You're getting way too creative with your summoning," said Margaux.

"Well I'm not going inside; didn't get them a gift," he responded dryly.

Margaux stopped parallel to him and folded her arms.

"What's this about? Must be important for you to have come here," she said.

"I've come with an offer. For you and your son."

Sherlock walked around the building, stopping before the corner. He pressed his back against the wall and listened carefully.

"I have the ability to make people disappear," Mycroft continued. "Sometimes for their own good. There would be new identities, a new home, new location, money to live on of course."

"Bloody hell, you hate me that much?"

"On the contrary, I have reason to believe it is what's best for you and your son."

Sherlock's body tensed, his spine straightening against the wall.

"It is somewhat my fault," said Mycroft matter-of-factly.

"What could you have possibly done to endanger two people you actively ignore?" she said.

"I'm afraid it comes with the territory of involving yourself with a Holmes."

Margaux paused for a moment. "Which Holmes are you referring to?"

"Yes, which Holmes?" said Sherlock as he emerged from around the corner.

Mycroft rolled his eyes at the sight of his brother. "If I wanted to speak with you I'd have put a little umbrella in your brandy," he said.

The reference flew over Sherlock's head. Instead he stepped up to Mycroft, bringing them face to face.

"What have you done?" He almost growled.

Mycroft exhaled slowly. "I have been monitoring Dr Cave's flat."

"Why? Since when?"

"Since it was brought to my attention that she was expecting a child."

Sherlock's face twisted in confusion. "You knew?"

"Of course I did. Don't be so obtuse."

"How could you–"

"May I remind you that you let the world believe you were dead for two years…" Margaux interrupted. "Now can we save the soap opera family feud for another day?" She turned to Mycroft. "Who's been sniffing around my building?"

"The details are not important. What is imperative here is that I get you and your son as far away from here as possible."

"Mycroft, if you've endangered my family then you will have hell to pay," said Sherlock.

"Your 'family'? Oh, dear baby brother. I'm afraid you've gone soft."

"Family… in the biological sense," he said with a stammer.

Margaux averted her gaze to the pavement.

"I may have let the knowledge of your existence slip…" Mycroft said to Margaux.

"Oh no," said Sherlock in realisation.

"Yes. It was only a matter of time. But I had hoped that an evacuation plan would be in place by the time–"

"Our parents! Mycroft, you bloody idiot!"

Margaux raised her hands and stepped back from the two men. "Your parents? I thought this was a serious threat! Am I in danger or not?"

"Not unless you're allergic to painfully dull conversation," said Sherlock.

"The word 'danger' can possess several meanings…" said Mycroft.

"Okay, you two are the most dramatic men I've ever met. I'm going inside. Bye Mycroft."

They watched as she walked away and disappeared around the corner. Sherlock looked at his brother and shook his head, following her inside.

III

The music lowered to a faint hum as glasses clinked and voices silenced. John and Mary walked to the middle of the room and raised their glasses. John cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm not really a speech sort of person, but… I just wanted to say thank you all so much for coming to celebrate with Mary and I tonight." He glanced at Mary and smiled. "When I met Mary, I didn't think there was any hope left for me. Ever. But she gave me a reason to smile again. To go outside again. To get out of bed again."

A small laugh rumbled amongst the guests.

"When I look at Mary, I see hope. She is hope. I can't wait to marry you."

They smiled at each other and shared a kiss. Everyone cheered and raised their glasses.

"Now let's get absolutely bladdered!" shouted Mary.

III

Margaux sat at the bar watching Sherlock from across the room as he avoided conversation with everyone who approached him. He was almost impossible to read. She imagined he liked it that way. But she had begun to learn signs; small indications of what was going on behind those eyes. She sighed and rested her cheek against her fist, her elbow propped on the bar.

"Hi."

She turned to see a man taking a seat next to her.

"Hi." she smiled politely.

He was attractive. Heavy brows and deep dimples. His hair was dark with flecks of grey glittering at the edges.

"Come to get away from all the dancing too?" he asked.

"Mhm, absolutely." She pointed to her throbbing feet inside her high heels. They shared a laugh. "John or Mary?" she asked.

"Well both actually, I used to work on reception at the doctor's surgery."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, what about you? John or Mary?"

"John."

"Cool, how do you know him?"

"Oh I'm sort of an… ex colleague… old friend… new friend… slash kind of non-biological in-law. I don't know what I am."

"Do you know your name?" He smiled.

"It's Margaux," she smiled back. "Yours?"

"Harry."

They shook hands gently.

"I have to admit, I've been looking at you all night. You're incredibly beautiful," said Harry nervously.

"Well thank you."

"What are you drinking? My round."

Sherlock glanced up to see Margaux and Harry talking and laughing. He zoomed in on the details, the open body language, the relaxed facial muscles. He scanned Harry quickly; he was an office administrator, early thirties, never married. He quit smoking four years ago, had a chocolate Labrador called Bonnie… or was it Minnie? No, it was definitely Bonnie. He noted the new shirt, new shoes, beard freshly trimmed, the way he would periodically place his hand on Margaux's thigh as they laughed, pull her in close by the arm to talk in her ear when the music got too loud. He had come to the party hoping to meet someone.

Sherlock straightened his tie and fixed his suit jacket in place. He put his arms behind his back and walked casually across the room.

"Hey love…" he said coolly, cupping Margaux's face in his hands and pulling her into a kiss.

Her eyes widened in surprise as their lips met. She kissed him back, too stunned to do anything else.

He pulled away, his hands remaining on her face for a moment as he smiled. "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"Wh…" He was doing his 'nice guy' act. Why was he doing that?

"I just came over to see if Vaughan's alright. How is he?" He turned to Harry. "Our son. Has she told you about him? He's staying out for the night so we can have a drink." He put his arm around Margaux.

She looked up at him; her utter shock disguising the anger bubbling up inside her. She couldn't find words. Instead she sat there like a spectator.

"Oh, no she never mentioned… That's er, that's nice," said Harry, his face beginning to flush. "Well it was nice talking to you, Margaux. See you at the wedding." He stood up and walked away hastily.

Sherlock slipped onto Harry's vacant barstool, looking at Margaux with a pleased expression.

"You never cease to amaze me. You haven't cracked a smile in my company all night and now you're jealous of another man talking to me?"

"I wasn't jealous," Sherlock countered.

"Yes you were."

"No I wasn't. I was merely–"

"Admit you were jealous or I'm leaving."

"I wasn't jea–"

"Okay," she said as she stood up, fixed her dress and began to step away.

"Alright, alright fine," said Sherlock quietly.

She turned back to him and sat back down.

"I may have been…" it was killing him to say the words. "Seeing you with him may have made me feel slightly territorial–"

"Not a possession."

"Slightly… protective," he corrected.

Margaux grinned and took a sip of her drink.

"Don't move away," he said.

"Hm?"

"I will… I will introduce you and Vaughan to my parents. Just please don't let Mycroft send you away."

"I won't."