Consensus
Genre:Family, Romance, Humour
Pairings:Sherlock and Sally
Main characters:Sherlock, Sally, Michael, Grace
"Mama, please?" Michael Holmes pleaded.
Sally looked at her son in dismay. He had her complexion and her dark brown eyes, but somehow had managed his dad's face otherwise, with those full pouty lips and the cat eyes, and worst of all the cheekbones that would cut glass. Sally glanced at her daughter, looking like her for all the world with the notable exception of those changeable eyes of her father's – Grace had even inherited that ocular freckle. Grace Holmes was going to break a few hearts, and her dad was going to back her up with her decisions.
"Mummy, please, Daddy said so!" Grace pleaded.
Sherlock averted his eyes, pretending to study a random item next to his chair, before sinking down and feigning a retreat into his mind palace. He was a sucker for any, either, and both of his children, at any given time. When they ganged up, he knew he was done for.
"Daddy said so, did he then?" Sally wasn't fooled for an instant. Years working with Greg Lestrade as her boss had taught her a few things, and even watching him with his own children held a lesson or two.
She advanced towards Sherlock, her hand outstretched. Casually, she reached over, allowing her fingers to play through his mop of curls. It was an innocent enough gesture, devoid of any blatant marital convincings in front of her pre-school aged twins, but yet enough to let Sherlock know that his wife wasn't fooled, nor would she be put off.
Sherlock winced, his eyes closing tightly as if in contemplation of a quick decision.
"Well… daddy MAY have said yes… pending mummy's approval," he said quietly.
"What does Mrs. Hudson say about all of this?" Sally wasn't, strictly speaking, opposed to the idea – just what this idea may bring on a practical level.
"Mrs. Hudson has stated that the decision is ours, provided someone will be available to take him or her out at regular intervals. I can't be sure of course, but she seemed to indicate that she herself may be available at times. John and Rosie are also in favour, as are Greg and Molly. In essence, we have consensus."
"So you're saying this puppy would essentially be… the responsibility of everyone in 221?" Sally asked.
"Well… yes," Sherlock admitted. "But I DID tell the children that if mummy said no, that MEANT no, and not to get their hopes up just yet."
He was met with a sweet smile, warm enough to melt his heart, and a comfortable, familiar silence.
"They understand that, and really they love Toby and Morrie so a puppy can be forgotten soon enough…" Sherlock trailed off.
Sally brought her hand up and smiled softly, brushing the backs of her fingers against his cheek. "How can I say no to them, answer me that, Git?"
Sherlock looked up, meeting his wife's gaze. "I don't imagine you can. I certainly can't. That's why I stalled and sent the matter over to you. Forgive me Old Plod… I have trouble saying no to our children as well. I DO try but I think you're better at these things."
Sally thought about this a few moments. "I know you try," she finally said. "And you sometimes succeed. Well if everyone here is on board, I can't see the harm, really, if Mrs. Hudson has approved it already."
She had an inkling of her husband's reaction, but she wasn't prepared for the look of sheer delight on his face when he finally smiled in relief.
"Well then, we need to decide what sort of dog would be suited to this place, and what sort of dog would be a good family pet, not prone to aggression, or territorial tendencies, after all there are two cats downstairs to consider as well…" Sherlock said rapid fire. "So, I've been doing some research," he continued, as he took three long strides to reach his laptop. He flipped it open and with a swift motion woke it up to the web pages he had left open.
Sally sighed, grinning. Always thinking, he was. It was his most endearing quality, and his most frustrating, all at the same time.
"Michael! Grace!" Sally finally called out. "Mummy has some good news for you!"