John rolled his shoulders and kneaded his fingers into his neck. He had put his aching body down to sleeping on the couch. But in the back of his mind he knew that in the months he had called the living room his bedroom, his sadness had seeped into his muscles, wrapped itself around his joints and invaded his sleep.
Mary stepped into view, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her expanding stomach and clutching the pile of post that had just fallen through the letter box.
"Oh, sorry, I thought you'd have left by now," she said, feeling as though she had disturbed a private moment.
"Don't worry, I'm going soon," he replied as he stood up from the couch.
"Oh, come on, John, you know I didn't mean it like that."
He walked to the doorway where she stood, avoiding eye contact as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.
He began making himself a coffee.
"Tea?" he asked without turning around.
John always knew when Mary was in the room with him. She had discovered he was the only person she couldn't sneak up on.
"Please," she replied as she sat down at the counter to sift through the post.
John placed a mug of tea in front of her as she came to a cornflower blue envelope sealed with stickers. Opening it carefully, she quickly realised what it was.
"They're having a party for Vaughan's birthday," she said.
"When?"
"At the weekend. Saturday."
"Right, well I'll nip into town and pick up a present later."
Mary sipped her tea. "We could do that together…"
"Be easier if I just did it."
John gulped down his coffee, picked up his jacket and left. Mary sighed and looked down at her stomach, patting it gently.
III
Upbeat pop music played faintly through the toyshop. The place was deserted besides a single employee sitting behind the counter. Margaux walked down the aisle, pulling an empty wheeled basket behind her. Trailing behind was Sherlock.
"Tell me, what does one buy for a toddler? What could a toddler possibly need?" he asked as he walked along the shelf, pressing the 'try me' button on every toy as he went.
Margaux stopped walking, turning around slowly to the cluster of noise and lights erupting from every box around them. She looked up at Sherlock, glancing between his eyes and his extended finger as it hovered over the next toy.
"I don't know about toddlers, but maybe I should buy you one of these. You seem to be having fun," she said.
"Don't place a button level with my eyes and expect me to refrain from pushing it."
"Oh."
"What?"
"Nothing, I just didn't realise it was your second birthday too."
Sherlock gave a half-hearted, sarcastic laugh before pushing his hands inside his coat pockets.
"If you're not interested, you can go, you know. I don't mind."
Sherlock shook his head. "I've missed enough of his life already. If the role of a father includes an afternoon of torturous shopping once a year, then I suppose I shall endure it."
"Twice a year."
"Hm?"
"Our role also requires us to be Father Christmas."
Sherlock groaned.
They walked further around the shop, filling their basket with different playsets and plush toys. Sherlock noticed an aisle stocked with musical instruments; everything from full-sized guitars to tiny electric drum kits. He picked up a plastic violin, reading the description on the packaging closely. Margaux smiled as she watched him carefully choosing a colour, eventually settling on blue, and placing it in the basket. He noticed it had become heavy, and without words, he pushed her hand aside and took the handle himself, ignoring the twinge in his torso as he heaved it along. Margaux folded her arms. She had learned to pick her battles with Sherlock; fighting with him over who got to pull the basket wasn't worth it. She walked ahead, picking up a plastic gun and turning to him. She pointed it at him, closing one eye as if she were taking aim.
"Too soon?" She teased.
"It's a shame you weren't the one to shoot me," he said plainly. "Judging by the way you're holding that gun, I'd have come out unscathed."
Margaux rolled her eyes, stifling a smile, and put the gun back on the shelf. "I'm better with my hands."
"Mhm."
To Sherlock's delight, they finally reached the till. Margaux lifted everything onto the counter as the cashier began to scan them. Sherlock stood close by, his dark curls falling into his face, buried into the screen of his phone. Margaux noticed the cashier repeatedly glancing at the distracted detective, as if he were waiting for him to look up and catch his eye. She placed the last thing on the counter.
"Sherlock, can you put this back please?" She asked, pushing the empty basket towards him.
He gave a grumble and took the basket from her like a moody teenager, his eyes barely peeling from his phone as he walked it back to the stack near the door.
"Is that actually Sherlock Holmes?" asked the cashier.
"Yep." She smiled.
"Wow… Hey, I've got a good mystery for him."
"Hm? What's that?" said Sherlock as he approached the counter.
"This guy has a case for you."
"Y-yeah… I um. Well, it's more of a myth really…" said the cashier, racing to catch Sherlock's attention as he began raising his phone slowly to his face. "When I started working here, they told me about this…secret room. Somewhere here, inside the shop. Apparently the original owner had it built and he stored loads of money and valuables inside. Then he died before ever revealing where it was."
Sherlock looked around and shrugged. "Where exactly in this toyshop, that is the size of a toy shop, do you think someone could hide an entire room?"
Margaux glanced around as he spoke, assessing each wall and ceiling panel.
Sherlock looked down at her. "You're not seriously entertaining this?"
"Shush," she said, leaning against the counter. "How many rooms are back there?"
"Lord."
"Two. Well, three," the cashier began. "A stock room, staff room and a toilet."
"And you've searched? For this secret room? The walls, ceilings, floors?"
"Yeah, we search all the time. It's like a competition for us to see who can find it. The owner says he doesn't have a clue what we're talking about so we've gathered it's just a myth."
"Hm," she replied, continuing to look around.
Sherlock locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. The idea of Margaux accepting a case that was proposed to him ignited his competitiveness. He walked to the entrance, flipping the sign on the door to 'closed', before heading behind the counter and disappearing into the back room. Margaux and the young man followed.
"I- I thought you weren't interested," said the cashier, still star struck by the sight of Sherlock Holmes mooching around his staff room.
"The idea is entirely ridiculous. Therefore, I should solve it in a few minutes."
Margaux walked slowly around the room, running her hand across the wall as she checked for seams in the wallpaper, hidden door hinges and uneven panels.
"So, what are you? Like a female Sherlock Holmes?"
"No." she laughed. "He's the male me."
The cashier laughed.
"We're nothing alike," Sherlock interrupted. "I suppose that's why I'm able to tolerate her." He knelt down and pressed his ear to floor, knocking his knuckles against the floorboards.
"That's true, we are very different."
"I didn't realise you were married–"
"Not married," Sherlock said quickly.
"Oh, sorry. I just thought because of the stuff in the media about a woman and child…"
"Woman and child, yes. Wife, no."
"I'm not marriage material," Margaux joked.
Sherlock stood up and glared at her before heading into the kitchenette. They followed him in, watching as he lazily glanced around.
"Sorry to break it to you…" he leant in to read the cashier's name tag. "Josh." He drew out the 'sh', as if it were the first time he'd heard the name. "The secret room doesn't exist."
"Oh… Okay."
"How are you so sure?" Margaux pressed.
"This street was originally composed of residential buildings. This shop would have been two houses, a wall dividing them just here." He pointed to the uneven gap between the two small windows above the sink. "Buildings like this were small. Practical. No more than two bedrooms, no inside lavatory, and therefore, no underground space."
Margaux looked around the kitchenette as Sherlock continued his lengthy, articulate history lesson. She counted the rings of coffee that had stained the counter, the carton of long-life milk sitting on the side. Then she noticed something strange. She cocked her head, bringing her brows together in confusion.
"Sherlock…"
"The pipes have been updated over time. Slowly filtering out the use of copper and…"
"Sherlock."
"Well you see, it's just impossible that a property such as this–"
"Sherlock!"
"What!"
She pushed past him gently, leaning over and pushing her finger into the line of rubbery sealant that bordered the counters. It lifted with ease, as if it were never actually attached, revealing a small gap between the back of the counter and the tiled wall. She turned to Sherlock.
"Impossible," he said quietly before crouching down and opening the cupboard underneath.
Margaux followed his lead, kneeling next to him and gazing inside. They looked at each other for a moment; Margaux's mouth creeping into a smug smile, while Sherlock's eyes battled with the urge to roll around inside his head. He shifted his weight back onto one leg, using the other to kick hard at the board at the back of the cupboard. It caved in, his foot almost penetrating through it. Margaux crawled inside and pulled at the board until it broke off, revealing the entrance to a tunnel.
"Brilliant. Take Sherlock Holmes shopping – make an archaeological discovery," she said.
III
John crossed the road as the green man beeped. He looked inside his shopping bag again, assessing his choice in gift, wondering if Mary would have agreed with it. He shook his head and closed the bag, allowing it to swing in his hand as he walked down the street towards a bustling crowd. He slowed down, confused by the commotion, looking around to see police urging people to step back and reporters talking into cameras. He looked up at the sign – 'Weller's Toys' – then looked back down to see Sherlock and Margaux standing near the entrance talking to a man in a suit. The hairs on the back of his neck pricked with worry. What were they doing here? Something bad had happened.
"Ah, John. What took you so long?" said Sherlock casually as he gestured for them to let his friend through.
"What took me… You know you didn't ask me to come, don't you?"
"Didn't I? Oh, I'm just so used to you turning up." He returned to talking with the suited man.
John looked to Margaux who could sense his confusion.
"This stuff really does follow him," she began. "We only came shopping for Vaughan's birthday. Ended up uncovering a hidden room full of guns and diamonds."
"Bloody unbelievable."
"For anyone else, yes. For Sherlock? Tuesday afternoon."
III
Dust danced in the light around 221B as Mrs Hudson placed a tray of tea on the table next to Sherlock's armchair, lifting a cup of juice from it and handing it to Vaughan who was playing quietly on the carpet. Margaux paced back and forth angrily, reading aloud from the newspaper in her outstretched arms.
"Another case cracked and mystery solved by the remarkable Sherlock Holmes," she read sarcastically. "Yesterday afternoon, a room of jewels and weaponry was uncovered underneath Weller's Toy shop, which is thought to have sat untouched for over a century. Weller's employee Josh Keenan stated that it took Mr Holmes just minutes to find the stash while shopping with a female friend. Could this be the infamous lover of the controversial detective? Is this the mystery woman with whom he is thought to have a secret child?" She looked at Sherlock as he sat in his chair. "I have a name!" She crumpled the large, thick newspaper and threw it into the cold, dead fireplace, knocking a half-burnt log onto the hearth and scattering ash across the floor.
Mrs Hudson rushed over to clean it up.
"Ugh, sorry Mrs Hudson. Just leave it, I'll see to it," Margaux sighed.
Sherlock looked up at Margaux with raised eyebrows.
"What? I'm annoyed! Also, I'm the one that actually found the cave of bloody wonders."
"I'll call the papers and have them issue a correction."
"No, it's… Ugh, it's fine, I just… Is this my life now? We're not even together and I've basically been reduced to the hat detective's arm candy." She threw herself into the armchair opposite him, letting out a heavy huff. "Is this what Vaughan's going to grow up reading about us? That we're your dirty secret?"
"I've never made any attempts to keep either of you secret."
"No, just from your parents…"
The corner of Sherlock's mouth curled upwards.
"If you want my opinion–"
"No, Mrs Hudson, we don't," Sherlock interrupted.
She perched on the arm of his chair, ignoring his quip, and continued. "I think you should get married."
Margaux let out a small giggle before realising she was serious.
"Marriage, yes, excellent. Because yours turned out so well," he replied.
Mrs Hudson hit him with a tea towel. "Oh, Sherlock will you shut up," she looked over to Margaux. "I just think if you're worried about all this newspaper stuff, about how it's going to affect Vaughan and all the rest of it, why not? Avoids all confusion."
"How?" said Margaux, almost scared to ask.
"Well because it's easier. You'd be Mr and Mrs Holmes. Or Mr and Mrs Cave, I know they're doing that these days too. You'd all share the same name, he could introduce you as his wife and son and that'd be that. No questions of morals or secret love affairs."
"Excellent. You've outdone yourself Mrs H," he said, standing up and showing her out of the room.
"And let's face it," she continued as she approached the doorway. "He's in lov–"
Sherlock closed the door before she could finish, turning around to face Margaux and running his fingers through his hair.
"Anyway…" he said, returning to his chair.
"What? You're not going to get down on one knee?"
They looked at each other for a moment and began to laugh.