Faye bent over the glass case, looking at the jewlery inside while John eyed some more rings up the other side of the counter. She wasn't a fan of jewelry, really. When she was younger she hadn't wanted to draw attention to herself with anything that could catch someone's eye, and she'd never really picked up the habit again. A watch was about it, and only when she felt like it.
Still, it would have been nice to have a wedding ring. It wasn't like she could wear it, though. The fact that she didn't wear jewlry would quickly draw attention to it, and how would she explain that off? Her husband was dead according to the world, she'd just look like a mad woman and she didn't need help with that.
And it wasn't like she could see Sherlock wandering around a jewelry store, looking for the 'perfect' ring for her. Like John was for Mary. This was the third store they'd been to, honestly he had never seemed this picky before today.
"John, john, John!" Bella protested from her buggy and without looking up, Faye turned it around so she could see her favourite uncle. The little girl immediately went quiet, playing with her small meerkat teddy.
"What about this one?" Faye called over. John came to her side, peering in the glass case at what she was pointing at before shaking his head.
"No, that's not it either." He told her dispairingly, "I'm never going to find it."
"All these rings are incredibly beautiful." Faye protested, turning Bella back around as she began demanding to see John again, "And she's going to say yes, I don't see why this is such a hasstle."
"You don't know that she's going to say yes." John pointed out.
"Yes I do." Faye muttered.
He continued over her, shooting her a pointed look as he did, "And I want it to be special. I want it to be romantic, so sue me."
"Maybe you should have a shave first." Faye replied lightly.
"What was that?" He asked and she shrugged.
"Nothing, dear." She said teasingly.
~0~0~0~
"What did he say?" Mary asked Faye as she handed the other woman a glass of wine. They were having a girly night in while John looked after Bella back at their house. Molly sat on the sofa, curled in slightly on herself in that awkward way she always would, but Mary and Faye both ignored it, knowing she was comfortable that way,
"He said that as long as you liked it, he would keep it." Faye replied, taking a sip of wine before pointing the glass at Mary, "Told you lying to him would bite you on the arse."
"Oh, shut it you show off." Mary retorted and Faye laughed, turning to look at Molly.
"How are the dead people doing?" She asked, startling Molly slightly with the bluntness of the question, but Mary just snorted.
"I don't want to hear about bloody corpses." She told the pair, "I wanna hear about Tom." Faye shifted in Sherlock's chair, completely agreeing with the change in subject, "Come on, I've got a boyfriend with a mustashe and Faye's got a toddler, we need details!"
"Well, we're taking it slow..." Molly started with a bit of a stutter but Faye just shot her a look, eyebrow raised skeptically.
"Molly." She scolded, "Don't lie. You shagged him within 2 weeks of meeting him." Molly blushed a deep red and Mary laughed, already tipsy of the wine.
"Oh, I didn't know you had it in you." Mary praised, "Come, gritty details, Hooper!" Fortunately for Molly, they were interupted by Mrs Hudson, who knocked a couple of times but entered before there was an answer, knowing she was always welcome into Faye's flat.
"Mrs Hudson!" Faye greeted happily, "Come to join us for a glass of wine?"
"Oh, no. It'll interfere with my mediation, dear." The older woman dismissed and Faye shrugged, "DI Lestrade's here to see you. Did you unplug your doorbell again, dear?" Faye nodded. She'd tried, she'd really tried to be sociable for Bella's sake, but the moment the news of the trail against Moriarty became public knowledge, journalists had decided that bothering her at home was the best idea. She'd had to turn it off because they were constantly waking her daughter up, and there was only so much cold water you could chuck out of the window without getting arm-ache.
"Can we not tempt you with our charming company, Mrs Hudson?" She asked and the old woman smiled, obviously touched by the invite.
"No, I'm going to take my pills and get some rest. I'll send him up."
Faye nodded, she'll take her out for lunch at some point instead, "Okay, just send him up." Mrs Hudson left them to it, then Lestrade appeared carrying a bottle of wine. Faye and Mary cheered, Molly smiling fondly at her friend and Lestrade smirked.
"A man could get used to that." He joked, "Think you can get my wife to do that when I walk in the room?" At the mention of his wife, the two women booed and he trailed off into a chuckle, "Yeah, that's what I thought." He put the bottle in front of Faye, "For you, thought you could use it before tomorrow." Faye nodded.
"Thanks, Greg. I think I could use a bit more."
"What's tomorrow?" Mary asked, intreged as she picked up the bottle. Ooo, Merlot, her second favourite.
"Oh, I gotta go to court and talk about how Moriarty used my mental health against me." She dismissed, "That'll be followed by a couple of days of self-loathing, I'll be fine by the weekend."
"How come you've got to go tomorrow?" Mary asked, "Molly isn't until next Monday and John's date's not until the Friday."
"Oh, Mycroft did something." Faye explained vaguely, "He goes out of the country tomorrow evening, I think he wanted to be there for it."
"If anyone but you had said that, I'd have told them they were delusional." Lestrade told her and Faye shrugged.
"Call me what you like, just don't let Mycroft hear." She retorted, "So, Lestrade, you gonna join us woman for a bit of a booze-up?" He looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, flopping onto the sofa next to Molly.
"Go on, pour me a large one, Newbarns." Faye stood, grabbing the bottle he'd brought off Mary and tried more than anything to not react to the use of her old last name. It was Holmes, not Newbarns, and none of the knew.
~0~0~0~
Faye's legs were shaking so much that the moment she left the court room, she felt into one of the plastic, stanard issue chairs that were lining the hallway outside. She tried to take deep breaths, but her chest protested. That had been the worst thing she'd gone through since she'd buried what she'd thought had been Sherlock.
There was no better feeling than being told that you're too 'emotionally unstable' to be able to tell if a man used your own history against yourself. Quite frankly she'd done a terrible job, she'd probably ruined the defense, or whatever it was Mycroft and his people were building against Moriarty and his people. She'd never understood the law side of anything, Mycroft had tried to explain things to her in the past about his comings and goings, but she'd get bored and then someone would bring cake. God, she could use some cake right about now. And her husband, but cake would do.
Victoria sponge with fresh cream and strawberry jam.
She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and sat up straighter. She was fine. It was over, Mycroft swore that she didn't have to do that ever again. Anthea was waiting outside to take her to John's to pick up Bella, then they were going to spend the weekend at Uncle Mycroft's mansion where they would be waited on hand and foot and, if she needed a moment, there would be someone to look after Bella.
She opened her eyes and saw Anthea stood there, her ever present phone held in her eyeline.
"Ready?" She asked n her usual bored tone and Faye nodded, standing up.
"Is the car seat in the back?" She asked Anthea, who shrugged.
"There's something there." She replied. The black car was parked at the foot of the stairs hat lead to the courthouse, journalists lining either side. Another one of Mycroft's guards helped rush her down, trying to keep her from getting her photo taken as much as he could and she jumped into the back, shutting the door and blocking herself from the flashes.
Bloody vultures.
"Bloody vultures." She turned, arms up ready to protect herself. She'd not expected anyone to be in the car waiting, but the sight of Sherlock sat there had her heart racing, and not just out of surprise.
"You're here." She whispered and he nodded.
"I couldn't let you face it all alone." He replied, "I know what you're like, you'd never be able to handle the aftermath without me." She giggled, torn between telling him he was being ridiculous or being offended.
Instead, as the car pulled away, she chucked her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. He slowly wrapped an arm around her, hiding the wince he felt as the wounds he was hiding underneath his clothes pulled tight. He tilted her face, covering her lips with his and her hands clenched, pulling his shirt to get closer.
