Author's note: Spent a majority of yesterday in the ER with my middle teen daughter who had been having chest pain for over a day. Tests came back normal, and acid reflux was the probable diagnosis, but still, not a fun way to spend my day. Anyway, I wanted to get another chapter up before the new year, so the final one can be published on the 2nd of January, followed by my Mew Year's Eve story (which I finished while at the ER). So here it is, and I hope you like seeing Sherlock a bit off-balance. Even though he has changed so much for the better, this gave me the opportunity to show he still has issues with things and life isn't all perfect with a pretty red bow.
My son.
Sherlock heard the words as if they came through a fog. Mycroft had not even needed to say them before he realised the truth. Mark was very much like Mycroft at around the same age.
He didn't know why, but bile rose in his throat, and he felt as if he was suffocating and needed to leave. He had to get out of there.
As soon as Sherlock went out of the front door he had an intense desire for a cigarette. It was the first time he had had craved one in a very long time. He itched for the deep inhalation, the way a cigarette seemed to calm him when he was agitated.
Actually, the last cigarette he had had was right here outside, two years earlier, on that fateful Christmas Day when he had made that vast miscalculation about Magnussen. But now was not the time to think about those events from the past.
Sherlock wasn't even aware of the cold, as he stood for a moment, deciding where he should walk to. He had to think. He could see his own breath in the chill air, mimicking the smoke from the cigarette he craved. A few snowflakes were falling, beginning to stick to the ground, and Sherlock decided he needed to go somewhere under cover. There was a stable that had not been used for many years, but he still remembered the horses his family had owned when he was young, and the way he had gone there at times when he had wanted to be alone. The quiet nickering of the horses head always given him a sense of peace, and the smell of animals and hay had also been curiously calming. Of course, there were also times when he had ventured in there in order to have a secret smoke away from the house. His mother obviously knew and disapproved, but she never said anything.
The door to the stable was unlocked and Sherlock walked inside, closing it behind himself. It was marginally warmer in there than it had been outside, and he suddenly realised he wasn't wearing his coat and there were tiny snowflakes on his suit jacket, which he brushed off before he slid to the ground against the front wall of the old building. He could dimly see the dust, and the musty smell of hay still pervaded the stable. If you listened intently, you could almost hear the whickering sounds of long gone horses.
Sherlock sighed and leaned his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands. He had to process these feelings.
He felt anger, resentment, jealousy. But why?
He tried to enter his mind palace, but was distracted by the soft sound of the stable door opening, bringing with it the outside chill, before it was once again closed. A moment later he felt the touch of a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was his wife's, of course.
"Honey, you left without your coat, and I didn't want you to be cold."
He opened his eyes to see that she was holding it up for him. "How did you know I was in here?" he asked, standing and taking the coat, then slipping it on. He had to admit, it felt much better having his coat on, than sitting in the cold stable just wearing his suit.
Molly's lips quirked. "It doesn't take a master detective to see the indentation of footprints displacing the snowflakes on the ground." Then her expression became serious and she said, "I know you're trying to process something, so I will leave you in peace for now, if that's what you need." She turned as if to leave, but Sherlock reached for her hand and took it.
He expelled a breath, and saw the mist form in front of his face once again. "Stay, but only if you want to. It's pretty cold out here."
"I asked Kayla to keep an eye on the baby monitor in case Victoria wakes up, so I can stay with you, if you feel like talking this out with me. I'm here to listen." She stepped closer and reached her free hand beneath his still unbuttoned coat to slide her arm around his waist and press herself against him.
He felt the warmth of her body and was suddenly glad he was not alone. He needed her, to speak with her, not his mind palace version of her. Molly understood him so well and she always knew the right things to say, to help him process things. Even his mind palace had recognised that fact when her image was the one which spoke to him first after he had been almost fatally shot by Mary. What had been an intangible presence then was a tangible one now that he counted on to be the voice of reason, his guide. He put his own arms around her and kissed the top of her head, then moved to sit down again on the floor, pulling her with him so she was cradled on his lap sideways.
"Help me, Molly," he entreated, linking the fingers of his left hand with her right. "I don't know why I'm feeling this way about hearing that Mycroft has a child of his own. I know I should be happy for him, that he will have the opportunity to be a father, but I'm not. I'm bloody jealous, Molly, and I don't understand why." He sighed heavily.
Molly's thumb stroked over the back of his hand as she responded. "I think I understand. You've always been in your brother's shadow, and from some of the things you have said to me, I've sensed that it has made you feel good to know that you have been able to outshine your brother in some way." She paused, obviously trying to think things through for herself. "I think you've been proud you have been able to give your parents something Mycroft never did, a grandchild." She turned her head to look up at him. "Perhaps you feel it has given you validation, a sense of worth, when you always felt Mycroft to be superior. Now you find out he has a son, and that has been stripped away from you."
Sherlock looked into her dark eyes in amazement. How was it that she always had a knack in understanding things before he did? She truly understood him better than he understood himself. Her words summed it up exactly. He had always felt inferior to his brother. All those "I'm the smart one" comments had left an indelible mark on him. Despite his outward success as a detective, he had felt a failure for many years as a son, especially during those dark days when he had been using drugs to escape the real world and to suppress his emotions. He had felt as if he was a disappointment to his parents, who had allowed Mycroft to take charge of him and had kept a hands-off approach themselves.
Mycroft was always the golden boy, the one who did things in a way that was above reproach. When Sherlock and Molly had become engaged, he finally had felt a sense of worth, of value to his parents. Victoria's birth had sealed that. Sherlock was now the golden boy who had provided the long-awaited grandchild, even if now she seemed to be the focus of his parents' attention, especially his mother's, which was another sore point.
All of these thoughts ran through his mind in a matter of seconds. He kissed Molly's forehead. "You've hit the nail on the head, but what do I do about it? How do I get past these feelings?" He pressed his lips together, waiting for her response.
She gave him a little smile. "First of all, you pray about it. It's human nature to seek validation about things, to need to feel you are worthy. We all go through times where we feel we don't measure up to others." She disengaged their fingers end raised her hand to his cheek. That brings to mind a song I know by Sandy Patty, called Fields of Mercy. Some of the lyrics say, 'Lord, in you I am worthy, I am deserving, because you loved me and took me as I am.' God doesn't feel that you are inferior in any way, so you shouldn't either, sweetheart. People, even family, will sometimes let you down, but God never will."
Sherlock pondered her words for a moment, and he furrowed his brow. "I suppose you're telling me I shouldn't compare myself to others, right?"
"Right," his wife affirmed. "Try to be happy for your brother. He may now have a son, but he will never have the opportunity to hold his newborn in his arms." Her lips twitched as she added, "not that he would want to anyway, but I think you know what I mean."
Sherlock bent his head and pressed his lips against hers tenderly. "Thank you, sweetheart. I have been so blessed, and I shouldn't begrudge my brother receiving some blessings of his own." And his lips curved upwards as he thought of something. "I have a nephew, Molly, and our daughter has a cousin. How about that?"
Molly flashed him a grin, then stood, reaching her hands towards him in invitation. "This is turning out to be a most unexpected Christmas. Are you ready to go back in now? I think we have some presents to exchange."
Sherlock reached his own hands up and allowed her to help him stand. He encircled her with his arms briefly and kissed her, then they walked arm-in-arm back towards the house. The urge to smoke had left him and he felt decidedly better. He would make the effort to get to know his nephew, and to be happy for his brother. Silently he prayed, Forgive me Lord for my selfishness. Give me an open heart to accept this new family member without resentment. Peace settled over him, and he felt cleansed somehow.
He looked at Molly and said, with a twist to his lips, "Now that this Mycroft business is sorted out, how do I deal with my feelings of neglect over my mother loving my child more than me?" He wasn't really being serious, he just wanted a little more reassurance.
She shook her head fondly at him. "I guess you have to be a mother to understand. Babies are always going to be the focus of a grandmother's attentions. My mum and Mrs. Hudson are acting exactly the same way, in case you haven't noticed." Then she raised an eyebrow at him as they reached the front door. "You don't feel neglected by me, do you?"
Sherlock's eyes crinkled at the corners and he smiled, as he recalled being very well taken care of just a short time earlier by his wife. Molly always made time for him, except on the rare occasion when Victoria's demands became too much. He had no complaints on that score. "Not at all, my love."
Sherlock held the door open for Molly, then entered himself. The first thing he noticed was that the dining chairs had been moved so that everyone would be able to sit together around the cozy warmth of the fireplace. His nephew, Mark, was sitting on one of the dining chairs, looking a little uncomfortable. All conversation had ceased upon their entrance, and Sherlock could tell that various eyes were turned upon himself and Molly.
Sherlock hung up his coat, took Molly's jacket, hanging it up for her as well, then walked to stand in front of the young man. He cleared his throat and extended his hand. "Welcome to the family."
The young man looked surprised, but held out his own hand, shaking Sherlock's with a firm grasp. "Thank you."
At that moment, a wail sounded from the baby monitor, and Sherlock looked around. The video monitor was on a side table next to an armchair, within easy viewing distance of everyone in the room. Sherlock could see Victoria stirring, and suddenly he knew what to do. He turned back to Mark and asked, "How would you like to meet your cousin?"
The youth's face lit up. "I've never had a cousin," he said in a tone of wonder, before adding, "I'd really like that."
The assembled family members gazed at Sherlock with varying expressions of astonishment on their faces, but he only noticed Molly's wide smile, as he led Mark to the stairs which would take them to the spare room and the now awake baby.
In the bedroom, Sherlock lifted Victoria out of the cot and rubbed her back. She wasn't grizzling too much as of yet, but he assumed it would not be long before she was ready to eat, and he looked at Mark, who was staring at the infant in fascination. "This is my daughter, Victoria. Would you like to hold her?"
Mark opened his mouth and closed it again, then swallowed. How odd, thought Sherlock, he looked remarkably like Mycroft when he was flustered about something but trying not to show it. He asked nervously, "Are you sure? I...I've never held a baby before." Despite his words, he reached out instinctively for her.
Sherlock had to suppress a smile. Mark was definitely not like his brother in that regard. "Then this can be your first time." He turned Victoria around so that she was facing Mark, and the young men took her gently from Sherlock.
"Hi," he said softly to the baby. "My name is Mark, and I'm your cousin."
Victoria gazed at the stranger for a few moments and then, obviously knowing she was in no danger because her father was nearby, she smiled, and the young man's face split into a grin as well.
At that moment, Sherlock realised the resentment and jealousy he had been feeling earlier had completely dissipated, including his own insecurities, and he was actually looking forward to getting to know this new member of the Holmes family.
Mark continued to hold Victoria as they headed back downstairs a couple minutes later, and she seemed content to sit on his lap as the exchange of presents began.
Sherlock went to sit beside Molly, who whispered to him, "What a lucky coincidence that the monogrammed hankies I bought for Mycroft's stepson will work for Mark as well, seeing as they have the same initial."
Sherlock turned his head to kiss her cheek. "Coincidence? I think not. Definitely a God thing."
Sherlock looked around at his family. Rosie was dozing on John's lap as Kayla sat beside him, hands resting gently on her swelling abdomen. His parents were beside the fireplace, sorting out the presents and handing them out, and Mycroft and Elizabeth were seated side-by-side on two of the dining chairs, close to where Mark sat with Victoria.
As people opened the presents and exclaimed over them, Sherlock reached to squeeze Molly's hand. He could smell the turkey and the other various cooking aromas of Christmas dinner, and his stomach began to growl with anticipation.
It was turning out to be a different Christmas than he had expected - first he had been delighted by John's news that they would have more time to work together on cases, and now he had a new family member to get to know.
After the present exchange was complete, Molly retrieved Victoria, who was just beginning to fuss, in order to feed her, while the other women stood and went to the kitchen in order to help with the dinner preparations.
Having missed the explanation about Mark, Sherlock listened with interest as his brother explained how things had come to pass. Mark explained about his mother and what he was studying in university, and Sherlock could see that the apple didn't fall far from the tree. The young man was certainly clever. With Mycroft's own prestigious (although highly classified) government position, the young man would undoubtedly have no trouble finding a job afterwards either.
As they talked, dinner preparations were completed, as utensils and crockery were placed on the dining table. The usual Christmas crackers were also put beside each place setting.
William Holmes went into the kitchen to carve the turkey as he had done the previous year, and soon dinner was ready and set on the table, and the family (and friends) sat together. Molly had returned with Victoria, who was in her high chair between Sherlock and Molly, while Rosie sat in a feeding seat John had brought along, between her father and Kayla.
The Holmes patriarch pronounced a short blessing upon the meal and the extended family was about to tuck in, when Violet Holmes said, "I think we should pull the Christmas crackers first."
Sherlock recalled the previous year when Molly had made special ones which had pink coloured ribbons in them to show the family, and himself, that they were having a baby girl. Those crackers had been in addition to the usual ones. This year there was only one set of Christmas crackers.
Everyone dutifully pulled the Christmas crackers and put on the silly crowns, just as they had done the previous year. Sherlock couldn't help smirking a little at Mycroft's expression, which was as sour as it had been last time when he had been forced to wear the crown. This time he not only had a pink one, he was also relegated to sitting on a folding chair, because the dining table only had eight chairs.
Mark, on the other hand, seemed delighted with everything. It was very obvious he had never had the opportunity before to share in a family gathering.
And finally, it was time to pass around the turkey and potatoes and all the other delicious Christmas goodies.
Author's note 2: I hope you liked the way Sherlock, with Molly's wise advice, was able to work his way through his issues. I hope too that you found the reason for his issues to be believable. I do think the new, improved Sherlock is quicker to get over his anger than he would have been in the old days. He is a mature family man now, after all! Did you like the way he made an effort with his new nephew?
If you are curious about the song Molly mentioned called Fields of Mercy, you can listen to it on YouTube. It is a wonderfully uplifting song which II have sung as a solo many times.
Sherlock's recollection of the previous year with the Christmas crackers is taken from my story Christmas in Sussex. If you want to know the full story and haven't read that yet, I recommend you do so.
One chapter left to wrap things up, from Molly's POV. As I have done in a couple previous stories, I will be doing an acknowledgements list at the end, of those readers who have been so kind as to review my chapters faithfully. Each one is like a little gift that I get to unwrap, so much appreciated!
Oh, Happy Mew Year everyone! May all your resolutions and wishes be fulfilled!