A Sneak Peek into the Future
29-year-old Benedict Holmes was standing in the kitchen, slicing bread for sandwiches for the party later that day. The only thing he was capable of doing when it came to making something edible was luckily exactly what they needed right now: Bond had wanted to volunteer to come earlier to do his magic with his famous spaghetti for the hungrier children but then it had turned out it wouldn't be possible this time. They would be here soon but first he had needed to take his older son, Theo, to football training and that hadn't left enough time for cooking anymore. As it was, as soon as they'd finish there, the whole Bond-family (James, Madeleine, Theo and little Timmy) would come over to help with the other tasks of the preparation.
It was a big day in the Holmes family: it was the oldest Holmes child's ninth birthday. Isabell had been waiting for this day 'forever and ever and ever and ever'. Annabel had had enough of her asking 'When are the guests going to be here already?' and 'Will they come soon?' every two minutes so she had grabbed all three children to take them for some last-minute shopping. (Not a bad idea, seeing that Benedict had – as Annabel had pointed out more than once – unforgivably forgotten to buy paper plates and plastic cutlery.) So, she was out with Isabell, Caleb (7 years old) and Lucas (4 years old, going on 5 and he liked insisting he was closer to 5 now and would shout at everyone who dared call him four years old) to remedy that mistake.
Which gave Benedict time to sort out his thoughts about what else he might have forgotten without having realized yet… He had ordered pizza which the restaurant would deliver it in two hours; he had asked Moneypenny and Q (who had been R just a few years ago, when he himself had been Q) to take care of decoration and they were doing just that in the living room of the Holmes family's two-stories Hertfordshire house at that very moment.
They had sold his old apartment and moved here just before Isabell had been born, because Annabel had wanted to be near her parents and sister when the baby would arrive. He had agreed: he had been working crazy hours back then (not that to this day it had changed any), and knew that she would need all the help she could get towards the end of the pregnancy first then with a small baby later on. He had no problem with having to travel by car to Vauxhall every day in exchange to the knowledge that his family was safe. He had of course needed to buy an own car because stealing one from the garage of MI6 wouldn't have worked every day. Besides, as much as he liked extra fast and tuned sport cars; he had needed a family car to be able to drive three children and his wife in it as well. They had chosen Welwyn Garden City instead of Stevenage for their new home city because of the beautiful landscape and also because Annabel had said "I would like to live near my parents, not with them" in a very straightforward way that had left no place for argument and which Benedict had come to know very thoroughly during their years together.
He could understand her of course: her parents, while very lovely and honest people, could be a bit overbearing at times. Her mother smothered everyone with her caring and constant worry. Now that she had included Benedict on her list of 'favorite people' as well, it was an ongoing battle between them about food. In her opinion, he was too skinny and had to be fattened up. In his opinion, he had already done very good – luckily she hadn't seen him at sixteen –, having gained no less than six pounds since his teenage years and managed to keep them; well, most of the time. Her father had become very nice as soon as he had made a point of threatening Benedict to kill him with his bare hands if he ever hurt his 'little girl'. Not that he couldn't perfectly understand him… Now that he himself was a father he could imagine what he would be like when his Isy would bring her first boyfriend home… in around 20 years or so. Preferably 25.
It really didn't take so much imagination, since he had already had his first fit in a similar matter. He could still remember it as if it had been yesterday…
"Just who is that boy who thinks he is allowed to take MY innocent little angel with dubious intentions to a party?" – He inquired, eyes sparkling dangerously while he looked around searching, as if expecting the find said culprit hiding under the kitchen sink.
"He's just a little boy, Benedict, nothing to worry about. He's Isy's classmate. And it's their very first school party so for God's sake, try not to make a big deal out of it! Isy is very proud to have been invited by a boy. Only she and one other girl have that honor."
"Not to make a big deal!? Honor!? It's a school party: if you go to that school, you don't have to have extra invitation to be able to attend! And it's not an honor that a boy deigned it fit to talk to MY little girl; it's an honor for him if she even as much as looks at him let alone accepts!"
"Well, she did accept. And rightfully so I might add."
"I'm going to do a complete background check on this little menace!" – He promised, already taking his laptop out of the briefcase to set to work immediately.
"Oh, please!" – Rolled her eyes Annabel. – "Don't tell me you haven't already done that with all the kids' friends and classmates."
"Well…" – Of course he had done so. It was his job to keep his family safe! What was wrong with that? Besides, he just knew Mycroft and Sherlock had done their own investigations as well. – "I need to do a more thorough sweep on his extended family. His uncle might be a Corleone from Godfather for all we know."
"I knew I shouldn't have introduced you to movies like that! But I'll have you know I'll draw a line by 'Meet the Parents'. If you start behaving like Robert De Niro in that film, I'm going to get a divorce"
"You know what? It's not such a bad idea at all…"
"To get a divorce?"
"No, to warn that little-"
"He's six years old!"
"Your point?" – He really didn't understand. At six he was already working for Governments and huge organizations under the name 'Ghost' as a hacker and earning millions of pounds (and dollars and so on…) with highly illegal activities. His brothers, despite being Holmeses and the masters of deduction, had been thinking him to be 'just a six-year-old little boy' as well… - "I think I'm going to drive them to that party, chat a bit with him on the way-"
"You will do no such thing, Benedict Dominic Holmes! He was the one who invited her so his mother is going to drive them both. That's what we have agreed upon with Christine. His mother." – She clarified, seeing his confused expression.
"Did you ask to see her license? Are you sure she even has a valid one? I need to check it."
"Benedict!"
"Licenses can be forged!"
"You should know! You don't even have a real license, only the false one you made for yourself when you turned seventeen!"
"Exactly what I'm referring to. As long as the world is full of people like me, it's not a safe place. That's why none of our children are going to be allowed to drive ever."
"First of all: the world is not full of people like you: you're unique. Second: of course they'll be allowed to drive. You're going to be the one to teach them as soon as possible. Probably using one of the agents' tuned cars you like so much…"
Well, okay, he might have overreacted a bit back then.
So, anyway, they had moved to Welwyn Garden City and they couldn't have chosen a better place in his opinion: it was far enough from London for his family not to have to be confronted with his job daily but close enough to feel connected to the capital city and to maintain contact to their numerous friends and family there. The city had good schools and many possibilities for sports and kid-friendly hobbies. The neighbors were very nice as well, even though Benedict couldn't claim to know them very well. (He still spent most of his time in HQ.)
Annabel was very happy here, working part-time as a school counselor and child psychologist; a job that left her enough time to care for their own children but also gave her career and professional purpose. She had only laughed when Caleb had said once he thought she was a 'shrink'. It also connected her with Madeleine and gave them a base for a good friendship. It wasn't about money of course: they had more than enough of that for three lifetimes. It was simply something she liked to do.
As for Benedict himself: he had become M, leader of MI6, five years ago when Mallory had decided he'd had enough and retired from military service for good. He had appointed the then-Q as his follower which had surprised the young man a great deal. Benedict would never forget the day he had been told about his new position. (Especially since the following conversation was, as Tanner had informed him, recorded in the unofficial 'Chronicles of MI6' to be eternalized for the upcoming generations to show them how impossible it was to refuse a promotion like that once things had been decided over your head.)
"But M, I'm the Quartermaster! I build gadgets and manage operations. I don't lead MI6!" – Protested the 24-year-old man loudly, trying to ignore Tanner and Moneypenny's laughing and teasing at his expense. There was nothing new about this behavior anyway so he was quite used to it by now.
"My boy, who else could it be? The whole system is the work of the both of us. You know this organization better than anyone else, including myself I suppose. And you're actually good with politicians when you don't want to mess with them purposely. You have connections with secret organizations all over the world, half (or more) of which I don't even know about. Everyone loves you. I honestly can't imagine anyone but you in that position."
"But I'm too young to be M, nobody would take me seriously."
"You're kidding, right? My boy, when has your age ever stopped you before in anything you wanted to do? And they're already taking you seriously. Anything you say is like divine revelation for everyone here. They listen to you far more than they do to me. You know, for a long time I actually thought you were bribing them to do your bidding."
"I only bribe Eve and the Accountants. Others, I threaten…"
"Oh, come on, Q, don't you want to change your letter to move a bit ahead in the Alphabet?" – Joked Moneypenny, completely ignoring his half-hearted attempt at changing the subject.
"No, I honestly don't. The constant switching of names gives me headaches: Benedict Dominic Holmes, Q, Danny Coulter… and now M? When Annabel finally learnt my real name just days before the wedding she made me swear that this was it. No more skeleton in the closet. And even my children won't know what to call me anymore! I'll totally confuse them with that."
"I don't think 'daddy' is going to be too difficult to remember, son." – Shook his head Tanner. – "Look, Gareth is right: you are the right man for the job. We have voted and everyone chose you. You can't say no to the will of the majority!"
"Well, can't I? This is not a democracy! Just watch me!" – He said angrily before stomping out of the office like a raging teenager (just with a bit more dignity – he hoped), annoyed about having his life dictated and his beloved job taken from him.
As it turned out, he had been indeed unable to say no in the end, given the eventual intervention of the PM personally. So, for lack of any other option, he had made – with a sense of loss and not an insignificant amount of grumping – the then-R his successor in the position of Quartermaster and had reluctantly taken on the role of leader of MI6. At first he had thought he was going to hate it: he was a genius who liked computers, gadgets, cars and working with agents for God's sake, not a politician! But he had soon realized something: as M he was the boss. And the boss did what he wanted, right? Who was to say the boss couldn't be interested in Q-Branch and work closely with them? Nobody! So he had done just that, and had been doing it ever since. He had also utilized his newfound power to improve MI6 even more, updating regulations and building contacts to other organizations. (However much he hated these meetings with politicians, he had to admit they had their own benefits in the long run.) Moneypenny was now his assistant and she was priceless. Even at 47 years old she was as stunningly beautiful as ever and also as energetic. She didn't even have a single gray hair! Luckily, their friendship hadn't suffered the change either: outside of HQ they were still best pals and not behaving like boss/employee at all. No awkward situations. It was just an added plus that Gareth – not M anymore, as he constantly needed to remind himself – had been finally free to court her and had won her over. They had been together as a happy couple ever since.
Benedict had finished all the sandwiches and proceeded with feeding his two loyal cats: Confetti and Pixel.
"Hey, old girls, are you both all right?" – He asked them fondly, petting them lovingly as they happily munched on their food. They were nearly 13 years old by now and Benedict knew that counted as a ripe age for cats. Not too old, fortunately – he wasn't ready to let go of either of them just yet –, but old enough for them to have lost their playful, bouncing personalities and to have started preferring sleep on a warm and comfortable surface (mostly on one of the beds or the couch instead of their own cat beds naturally) over running around and chasing toys or invisible enemies.
The bell rang and Benedict could hear people entering; it seemed that Moneypenny was taking her role of personal assistant seriously: she even let his guests into his house now… Funnily, this fact didn't bother him at all. He saw his two brothers, Alicia, John, Mary and their daughter, Rosie enter.
"Uncle Ben!" – Squealed the delighted 11-year-old as she sprang into his outstretched arms. While he wasn't technically her uncle, she had christened him with the title from a very early age. He felt very honored by that especially since it had become painfully obvious very soon that he wouldn't have real nieces and nephews.
"Hi, little princess, is everything all right? I hope Uncle Sherlock didn't annoy you too much during the drive here?"
"Nah, he told me all about how the bees communicate with each other to give directions. Did you know they perform a dance when they return to the hive to explain to the others where to find food? They have lots of patterns for that and the others all understand it!" – She explained excitedly, nearly bouncing in his arms. She clearly adored her 'Uncle Sherly'. – "I'm going to dress as a bee for next Halloween's trick-or-treating! Because bees can be very scary, too. Uncle Sherly said they can even attack people if they want to!"
"Really? Your Uncle Sherlock surely knows the most incredible things." – But this was not bad, compared to other things he was sometimes filling the children's heads with.
Sherlock had 'retired' from being a consulting detective when his health had started deteriorating around three years ago (probably due to cigarettes and drugs he had been doing like… forever), and moved out of 221B Baker Street to live by the sea. He claimed it helped him with his occasional breathing difficulties but Benedict knew it was more about the bee-farm he had built there than anything else. He also didn't want anyone to see just how bad he really was…
It didn't mean he didn't keep contact with the little ones of course. As a matter of fact, when Rosie had been born (the first child after Benedict himself to be allowed anywhere near him) he had claimed she was far more agreeable than he had first expected a baby to be. He had never once called her an 'idiot' even though she was a perfectly average child and not a hint of being a genius at all. He didn't seem to mind; he had even agreed to become godfather to her. (Though admittedly he hadn't been paying attention very much to what he had said yes to when John had asked him. Still, it had been slightly less catastrophic than when he had been best man on John and Mary's wedding and had to speak in front of all the guests. That had been epic.)
After Rosie, the other babies (Benedict's) had come as well, and Sherlock was more enthusiastic than ever about passing on his knowledge ('brilliance' – as he had called it) to the next generation. It had gone on to a point where Benedict had had to step in and put a stop to some of the lectures after Isabell's first word (at the age of six months old) had been an accusing exclamation of 'murderer', with her small chubby finger pointing at their nice, unsuspecting neighbor.
Of course, it had later turned out that the neighbor had had to put their old dog to sleep just a few days prior given to an illness the poor animal hadn't been able to heal from. That had been what Isabell had been referring to and when her parents had asked her how she had known about it, she had blabbered a word suspiciously close to 'shoes'. Benedict had known right away it had been an absolutely accurate deduction and had screamed at Sherlock for five minutes over the phone for having taught his untainted little miracle to recognize crimes. Sherlock hadn't paid his ranting any attention; and – like the proud uncle he was – had chosen to dote over the baby instead and boast about her first success that, in his opinion, pointed into the direction of a bright detective career in the not so distant future. Benedict had just disconnected the call with the feeling of having been defeated, even though he really hadn't had any idea when and how exactly it had happened.
He put down the squirming Rosie to let her roam the house, looking for her 'cousins' toys. Even though she was a bit older than his children, they still mostly had the same interests.
While Rosie was a perfectly normal eleven-year-old little girl who liked anything pink and wanted to wear her mother's high-heel shoes and make up, his children were all geniuses. Not to the degree that he himself was, thank God for small miracles, but still smart enough to be able to count to hundred and read at the age of three, write at four and be put ahead one year in the school. Only one and that should remain like that as well. Benedict knew what it was like to be absolutely lonely and an outcast: he didn't wish that on his children and wouldn't allow it to be encouraged by putting them with much older students who would ignore them in the best and taunt them in the worst case scenario.
Isabell loved Math and would most probably hate Chemistry just like her mother. She loved to dance and took classes two times a week. She drew artistically and loved music. She even played the piano a bit. She adored books. Any kind of books. If the papers had script on them, it was fine with her. She only read in English though just like all his other children. He didn't have any idea how he was able to read any language he got his hands on but his children hadn't inherited that ability from him. Just as well; they didn't need to be 'the freaks' in everyone's eyes.
Caleb had declared at a very young age he'd be a pirate when he grew up (Sherlock's eyes had taken on a particularly frightening gleam at that), and learnt to read at three just so that he could get hold on all the available books about pirates and their lives on the sea. Benedict had to eventually put down his foot and forbid him to read the story about the infamous French pirate Francois l'Olonnais who was known for beheading all his Spanish hostages but one man, whom he had sent back with a message designed to frighten everyone who would have dared to attempt to sail that way. He didn't think this story was suitable for a little boy who still had romantic notions about his chosen career.
Lucas was perhaps the smartest of them all: he had started writing his own (admittedly simple) computer programs at two and was a Math whiz. He was also the most interested of the lot about how to 'play' others and manipulate people, which put him closer to Mycroft than any of the others. (Not that his older brother openly played favorites or anything like that of course.) Benedict had become suspicious of Mycroft teaching the boy politics when his littlest child had started insisting on signing a contract with the kindergarten he was going to that would ensure him his rights to move freely on the premises and assure him that his teachers couldn't forbid him to play with girls. Or one girl in particular. Upon being questioned about this idea he had only shrugged and said: "Uncle Mikey thinks it's very important to always know your rights and the correct way to exercise them."
"Myc, did you really tell my son to sign a contract with the kindergarten?"
"Well, yes, of course. What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, aside from the fact that the teacher asked Annabel and me to go in for a 'talk', because she was worried about Lucas' 'crazy ideas'!"
"Then she is the crazy one and my nephew is a genius. Look, Benedict: as a child you're completely helpless against adults in many ways. It's never too early for them to learn to stand up for themselves."
"But this is not a war and not even the Parliament! He's three years old, for God's sake and he now wants to sue his kindergarten teacher!"
"He has to have control over his own life."
"Are you really saying that or am I only hallucinating? Myc, when I was a child you kept me locked away from the world! I wasn't even allowed to leave the house; you were so worried about me!"
"Well, for one: none of your children are as sickly thin and small as you were. Thank God for that. None of them was said to be dying more often than others have the flu. Not even once. Again: thank God. Besides: what was your answer to my method of keeping you safe? You faked your death to get away from us! Would you like that to happen to you with your children?"
"I… Shit, Myc. How many times do I have to tell you how sorry I am? Listen, just because nobody guarantees him in writing his fundamental right to kiss his classmate and new love-interest, Nicky Abbot, it doesn't mean he'll have to run away and pretend to be dead…"
"You can never know. I wouldn't have thought you'd do something like that either. And yet you did."
That had NOT been a happy conversation, to say the least. In the end, he had relented and had even helped Lucas prepare the draft of a contract for his teacher to sign just so that he wouldn't have to listen to Mycroft's reproach anymore. (Lucas had had such success among his peers that he had promptly decided he would become a lawyer and fight for people's rights. He had learned the whole American Bill of Rights in just one day by heart after that as a preparation for his new calling, and had been bitterly disappointed when Benedict had informed him that this particular act wasn't valid in the United Kingdom but in the United States.)
"Benedict." – Mycroft's greeting roused the young man from his musings. – "I hope everyone's all right?"
"Of course, Myc." – They shook hands. Yes, like real grown-ups. Funny how things change… - "Annabel will be back with the children shortly."
"What did you forget?" – Asked Sherlock simply.
"Why is your first thought that I forgot something? I might not have forgotten anything!"
"Because, little brother, why else would she be gone with the children just half an hour before the guests begin to arrive? So, what was it?"
Benedict rolled his eyes.
"Paper plates and plastic cutlery."
"And she was not impressed with you." – Deduced his middle brother.
"But I bought paper cups, that ought to count for something!" – Defended himself Benedict.
"Ouch. I don't think it's enough." – Said John in sympathy and patted him on the back in a sign of companionship. – "This is what it's like when you're married, mate."
"What were you saying, Dear?" – Shouted Mary from the kitchen where she was depositing her self-made cookies.
John actually paled.
"Ahm… nothing, Darling, nothing!" – And he sighed in relief when she disappeared back into the kitchen again. – "See: this is married life, pal." – He whispered.
"Alicia doesn't do that with me. I'm as free as ever." – Stated Mycroft proudly but for some reason excused himself and hurried away to help his partner with arranging the presents on the table into a neat pile as soon as she had given him a death glare from across the room.
"Pathetic. You're all servants to your women. You should be way tougher! Men!" – Shook his head Sherlock then gave a rather worrying cough.
"Hey, you all right?" – Asked Benedict concerned.
"Of course I am, don't be stupid."
"When we're already by 'tough', Sherlock: did you teach my daughter to dissect a frog and then name everything it had eaten in the last 24 hours?"
"Yes, I did. So? I didn't think there was anything wrong with it. I mean she has a doctor for a father and an ex-assassin for a mother. Who else would be more suited to do this kind of experiment than someone with a background like that?"
"She's only eleven, Sherlock and Mary wasn't an assassin." – Well, at least not that he had been told. It hadn't been a good time between him and Mary when he had finally found out about her being an ex-agent. If he had learnt about everything she had done… Better no to think about it at all.
"I did this when I was 6." – Argued the middle Holmes brother his case.
"You have to admit though, Sher, we didn't exactly have a normal childhood… Not sure I'd like our children to live like that."
"Pff." – Was all Sherlock could say. He was saved from having to explain himself further by the noisy arrival of the Bond-family.
Theo and Timmy instantly ran away in search for Rosie and only remembered to shout a greeting at the amused adults when they were already halfway up the stairs. Benedict knew for a fact that Theo had a secret crush on the girl and wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. A pity though that Rosie didn't seem interested in him at all. She was still at a stage where she found all boys "disgusting". Poor Theo hadn't realized it yet of course. It would happen sooner or later and then it wouldn't be pretty.
Just as Annabel came back with the three excited children carrying a large bag ("I had to buy the paper plates because someone had forgotten them." – She explained to everyone who would listen.), Tanner also arrived accompanied by Mallory, Anthea and Alec Trevelyan. Mallory went to kiss Moneypenny instantly, as if they had been separated for weeks instead of just a few hours. It was… cute.
"Where are the small kittens, Q?" – Asked Alec smiling.
"I'm not Q anymore, 006, and the kittens are old cats, currently fast asleep under the sink in the kitchen."
Alec's eyes sparkled with mirth.
"And I'm not 006 anymore, boffin." – That was true. He had retired two years ago as a Double-O agent and now helped train the newbies by MI5 instead with the ex-002 and ex-004. As a matter of fact, none of the Double-Os from his 'Q-time' had remained. But he was very proud to be able to say that neither of them had died or had had to retire because of a serious injury. They had just simply become too old for this kind of job and had gone on to do something less demanding. – "And I didn't mean your cats. I meant your kids."
Oh, yes. Alec used to call him 'kitten' too sometimes when he'd been younger… He had forgotten. For someone who had photographic memory and claimed never to forget anything, he seemed to fail to remember things quite often lately. Must be the age catching up with him…
"They're upstairs, preparing for the party. Go and greet them, they'll be very happy to see you. Ah, and Alec: no fireworks in the house!"
"You're no fun at all, Q!" – And with that he ran up the stairs with the energy of someone much younger.
Benedict called after him in a half-hearted reproach:
"Not Q anymore!"
He also gave an apologetic smile to the current Q who just shook her head fondly at him, not bothered in the least.
He always became nostalgic and even a bit sad when he thought back about his time as a teenage Q. The agents as his 'brothers', M and Tanner as his 'surrogate fathers', Eve as his best friend and partner in crime… The love between them hadn't changed but their status and lives had. He nearly couldn't recognize them – or himself for that matter – anymore.
001 had started a fighting club for children where he taught them self-defense and discipline. Bond's ever active sons were – not surprisingly – among his very best pupils.
002, 004 and 006 were, as mentioned before, working for MI5, training future agents. Alec had a great time teasing his wife, Anthea, that he had followed her even into her workplace to be able to bother her the whole day. (Not that Anthea spent much time in their Headquarters – she was still Mycroft's personal assistant.)
003 had moved back to Scotland where he had been born and was working in a local bookstore that sold antique volumes. His work had absolutely nothing to do with anything he had been doing as an agent. He had said he'd had enough of violence and fighting for a whole lifetime already and had wanted no more of it. Benedict could understand his reasons.
005 had become a pilot for the army and spent even more time away from England than before.
007 had become a father quite unexpectedly eleven years ago and had then finally decided to merry Doctor Madeleine Swann, the mother of his – by now two – children. They lived in London and he worked as a driver for the Government. Madeleine had given up her job to be able to stay at home with their children and was in close contact with Annabel to help her with her career.
008 now lived on Hawaii, working occasionally as a private detective but mostly just enjoying a quiet life and peace. He had said, similar to 003, that he had needed a complete change in his circumstances after so many years in the service for Queen and Country.
009 had continued his career as an agent; but not a Double-O anymore. He was working for MI5 now. It was a bit calmer, according to him. Not so much shooting and running for your life and little to no traveling to foreign countries with unpronounceable names.
The new agents were young and inexperienced, though they made up for these shortcomings with plenty of motivation and an incredible amount of bravery. The once '0012' had been called back after 007 had retired (as Bond had been the first to leave of the lot), since he had been the most successful candidate in the brief period when there used to be plans to expand the program. He was still working for them under the designation '007', and he was currently their very best with the most field experience. Funny, how he had nearly become 007 not long before that which Benedict had successfully prevented back then by arguing in favor of Bond, just to get the position a little over a year afterwards anyway. Luckily, he held no hard feelings against his current boss for his earlier intervention. A lot had changed in said year though and by that time the then-Q had been happy for Bond and even proud of him for stepping down and leaving the life of espionage behind to be there for his family to a 100%.
'Incredible how things can change.' – Thought Benedict as he was helping Mallory put up the big pink 'happy birthday' sign for his now nine years old daughter. He was inevitably reminded of his own very first birthday party. It had been his 17th birthday and for some reason that had been the year that, by thinking back with his current mind, had marked his becoming an adult not only on paper but also in behavior and mindset. But why he felt that way, he couldn't tell for the life of his.
"How are things going as M, my boy?" – Inquired Mallory curiously. – "Not having any regrets about accepting the position in the end, I hope?"
"It's… completely different to being Q. It's more mature. I think it corresponds with the turn I had in my life. I might have needed it so: no, no regrets."
Tanner, who was working on decorating near them, gave a hearty laugh.
"I don't know what old Boothroyd would say about you calling the 'Q' position less mature and more for younglings than being M. He was the oldest ever working in MI6."
They all thought at the old man with warm fondness. He and Mansfield had finally revealed themselves to the others a few years ago, and thanked the then-already-M with honest gratefulness for having preserved their secret for all those years, still calling him 'boy' of course. Benedict had, in return, called Olivia his 'grandmother-M' and Major his 'father-Q', referring to the generations of positions they held in MI6. Major Boothroyd had died three and a half years ago in a sudden heart-attack and Olivia Mansfield had followed him not half a year later. She just died in her sleep, and nobody knew exactly why. 'Old age', the doctors had said, but Benedict suspected it might have had more to do with her missing the love of her life. He was only thankful they had both met all three of his children before they had died. They had been the ones whom he had to thank for Annabel after all. The children had adored them and referred to them as 'Granny Olivia and Papa Major'. The same was true for the Bond children just the same.
"I understand what you mean." – Assured him Mallory just after they had finally managed to fasten the sign on the fourth try so that it actually remained on its place for the time-being. (For the first three times, it had fallen onto their heads right after they had let it go.) – "Being M comes with obligations not even you had as Q. As Q you felt responsible for your 'minions' and for the agents. As M, you feel responsible for literally everyone."
That was true and Benedict felt inexplicably grateful for having someone who understood him that well. Oh, and how he missed his 'minions'! Though they were all still working in Q-Branch under 'his' R as Q now, they didn't belong to him anymore. He wasn't their 'Overlord' – the current Q was. Sometimes he still forgot to answer when someone said 'M' but found himself turning around instinctively when they called for 'Q'. Naturally, he was honestly happy for 'his' R to have risen to the task; she had become a great Q and MI6 was lucky to have her, but… he missed it. While he was of course absolutely content with his life and adored his family infinitely, he sometimes missed being just the teenage-genius Q. Only a kid. Did that make sense? When he had been a kid, there had been nothing he had wished for more than to grow up. It was all so messed up.
"What are you thinking about?" – Asked Tanner, having observed his melancholic mood. He was good in deciphering Benedict, since he had been doing it since the youngest Holmes brother was 12. And he had been a moody child and an even more brooding teenager! Thinking back, Benedict honestly didn't even know how he had survived that time with all the thoughts about self-harm and the suicidal tendencies he used to have. He suspected that if he hadn't had that TALK about his nightmares of the accident and his parents when he had had it with his brothers, he would have probably starved himself to death in just a few weeks afterwards. It had been quite extreme back then.
He was still incredibly skinny of course – that would probably never change and he had accepted it a long time ago that by starving so much as a growing teen he had formed himself to be like that – he at least wasn't anorexic anymore. He now paid special attention to his children because he knew how it just happened without the victim even knowing (or caring) about it. Luckily all three seemed to have inherited Annabel's liking for good meals and – surprise, surprise – Isabell was even an excellent cook! For being only 9, she could already do a lot more in the kitchen than either of her parents and she hadn't once set anything on fire. Yet. He knew she had asked her Aunt Mary to teach her together with Rosie. She had wanted to keep it secret for fear her parents would feel hurt about her going to someone else but he wasn't a Holmes for nothing: the day was yet to come when he wouldn't realize things like that. They hadn't been hurt of course. Quite the contrary: Annabel had proudly declared that they now finally had someone in the family to cook their Sunday lunches so she wouldn't have to order all the time from various restaurants.
It finally occurred to him he should most probably answer Bill's previous question, lest they should start worrying about him again. He had worried them enough for a lifetime already.
"I'm just thinking about how quickly time flies." – He admitted. – "The children are growing so fast I can't even believe it. And I'm getting old…"
"You're not even 30 yet." – Pointed out Mallory incredulously.
"I have to shave." – The young man reasoned as if it made perfect sense. At their confused stares he added. – "I only started getting a stubble every once in a while around the time I reached 20. I had thought I wouldn't have to bother with it ever. Funny, huh?"
"Your hair is still as messy as a bird's nest. Your insanely handsome look is as perfect as ever. And you still don't look a day over 15." – Teased Tanner good-naturedly. – "I don't think you have anything to worry about, son."
"I found a gray hair just a few days ago."
"I found a still dark hair two months ago." – Said Mallory proudly, gesturing towards his mostly fully gray (and very sparse) hair. – "I'm afraid soon I'll be glad to just find hair at all."
Benedict started to laugh.
"All right, all right; point taken."
Actually, they were all aging and time was flying, no use trying to deny it. Mrs. Hudson had turned 81 a few months ago. And however incredible it sounded, she was still the most energetic person out of all of them. Aside from her 'bad hip' she had absolutely no problems with her health and she still ran up and down the stairs in her Baker Street home as if it were nothing. He should know: the current tenants of 221B being Alec Trevelyan and Anthea (actually Anna Trevelyan now but nobody called her anything but Anthea) as a happily married couple, and that way he got regular updates about her. Mrs. Hudson was doting over them and happily telling everyone who would listen that there hadn't been any shootings or severed heads and gory experiments in the flat ever since they had moved in instead of Sherlock. No smiley faces painted on her perfectly clear and newly painted wall, no knives in the repaired mantelpiece… (She still loved Sherlock like her own of course and regularly visited him in his new home be the sea.)
Benedict found it difficult to remember back when exactly he had stopped trying to keep his identity a secret and his two lives separate from each other. Now all his friends were irrevocably linked and he was totally happy with that development. It was a big-big family now.
Just then Lestrade and Molly arrived. They were a couple now – had been for a few years, actually, ever since Molly had healed from the shock of her ex-boyfriend, Tom, leaving her unexpectedly and without explanation one day. (The reason behind it was the Holmes Brothers' intervention of course. More precisely their threat about exposing him as Moriarty's sniper if he wouldn't disappear to a faraway land immediately and stay there for good. But Molly didn't know about it and it should stay that way.) Benedict had been worried at first about Sherlock's reaction but then found that the middle Holmes brother really and honestly couldn't care less. He still lived alone and was quite happy about it. Mycroft and Benedict's hopes of ever finding a suitable partner for him – be it female or male, whatever – had been dispelled by that recognition once and for all. Sherlock wouldn't even be able to keep a dog or a plant alive. He only wanted and needed his bees – and his friends and family to reach out to whenever he needed them.
Sherlock was the first to greet the newcomers.
"Molly, Grady."
"GREG!" – Shouted at least three people at once to which Sherlock only shrugged and stated:
"That's exactly what I said." – And promptly started coughing again.
Lestrade turned to Benedict and asked worriedly, purposely too low for anyone else to hear.
"Is he all right?"
The young man just sighed sadly and shook his head at the same time as Sherlock scowled:
"Do not talk about me behind my back, Geoffrey!"
Everyone ignored him.
"He won't let himself be examined. John says he thinks his lungs are very weak after all the abuse he had put them through during his younger years." – Benedict took a deep breath to compose himself. This was supposed to be a time for happiness. – "Where are Kerry and Alina?" – He asked, referring to Greg and Molly's two-year-old, adorable twin girls.
"They're with a babysitter. We would like to be able to relax a bit and they're still too young to enjoy a party anyway. They would get tired and fussy very quickly and then we'd have to leave early."
"Sounds reasonable enough. They can come next year; they'll be old enough then."
Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q
The party was a success of course. All the children felt in Heaven with all the sandwiches, pizza and enormous chocolate cake there for them to eat. They played with balloons, board games and danced to music. The adults talked and generally had a good, relaxed time as well.
Isabell got a lot of presents and her eyes sparkled with happiness at each. From her parents she got a trip to Disney World, Florida, that had been her dream ever since they had visited Disneyland Paris the year before.
Mycroft put a hand on Benedict's shoulder and whispered into his ear so that only he could hear:
"Are you sure you're going to be all right traveling there? It's a bit too close to what happened and while I know you're not afraid of flying in general anymore, a trip to Florida as a birthday present might still be too much…"
Benedict sighed and whispered back a bit shaken. Sherlock looked worried as well. They were still the only two people in the world who knew the whole story behind the fear that had tormented him for many-many years.
"Yes, I know. But what can I do? That has been her wish. I think I'll just have to put up with it. I can't rob my children of experiences just because I had an accident a long time ago."
"Well, if you think so…" – Sherlock still seemed a bit uncertain.
"Yes, it's fine, really."
Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q
There was one memorable happening on the party that maybe not everyone found funny…
The grown-ups were sitting around in the living room, talking, having just finished dinner, while the kids were all playing neatly upstairs… Or trying to re-enact a hurricane; it was up to the adults to decide which one.
That was when Caleb arrived to them, holding a towel in his arms like cradling a newborn, and in it something that seemed to move…
"Uncle James, see what I have!" – He exclaimed excitedly and opened the bundle to reveal… - "A baby tarantula! Isn't it cute?"
"Aaaaaaaaaaa, what the hell, take it away from me!" – Screamed Bond and everyone stared surprised at him. Never had anyone (save for John Watson) seen the Great James Bond freak out like that.
"But, Uncle James, come on! It's just a baby, only recently hatched. You're scaring it!"
"I'm scaring it!?"
"Yes, because it's small and used to people liking it. It doesn't know it's ugly. Please, don't tell it that. Besides, I find it pretty."
"Pretty!? PRETTY!? That monster?"
"I call it Fluffy, because of all the hair on its body-"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
By now everyone else watched the scene with highly amused confusion. There was definitely something wrong with Bond.
Annabel leaned over to Benedict and whispered into his ear.
"Don't you want to tell Caleb to take the spider upstairs and not scare people with it?"
"Ahm… Why? I mean, he's not doing anything bad, is he? He's just proud of his pet. I don't hide Confetti and Pixel either, so I don't see why he should-"
"Benedict Dominic Holmes, I don't know what's going on here, but you take that spider and your son, and move them both upstairs, right now! It's not good to tease others with a fear like the one James seems to have!"
"Well, he might not think it that way. I think he-"
"If you're about to say 'deserves it', then save the trouble and just do as I said! It's a birthday party for your daughter, not a horror movie!"
"All right, all right…" – He relented, and reluctantly walked over to Bond and Caleb. – "Buddy, I think your Uncle James doesn't appreciate the beauty of the many lanky and kicking legs and the squirming-"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"BENEDICT!"
"-khm… So, come on, let's take your adorable, blue furry friend-"
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
"- upstairs." – And with that he put his arm around his son's shoulder and steered him towards the stairs.
As father and son disappeared from view, the people in the living room could still hear the little boy saying in a not exactly quiet whisper:
"But, daddy, you said that Uncle James would like to see Fluffy and I should by all means show it to him!"
Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q – Q
Later, when everyone had left and the children were all already fast asleep, Annabel and Benedict were trying to tidy up a bit after the party.
"Do you have to work tomorrow?" – She asked him but her voice indicated she already suspected the answer. Not to mention she still seemed to hold a small (or not so small…) grudge against him because of the spider-fiasco.
"Yes, unfortunately, there's an important meeting early in the morning with the PM and the American ambassador then I'll have a lot of boring paperwork…"
"Oh, that's a pity. Mom and Dad haven't seen you for ages."
Benedict knew Annabel would be taking the children to her parents' so that they can celebrate Isabell's birthday too. Her sister's family will be there as well… Only he wouldn't be able to go. Again.
"I'm sorry." – What else was there to say?
"I know you are. You always are."
"Yes. Well, tell them I said hi, would you?"
"Of course."
He tried to think of something more to say; something that would ease the tension and awkwardness of the situation but by the time Annabel announced she was going upstairs to bed he still hadn't been able to come up with anything suitable. So, he just kissed her good night instead and continued to clean alone.
He had been afraid of that happening, ever since Annabel had visited him in his apartment so many years ago and they had gotten together again. He had told her even then with absolute honesty that his work schedule would never change – at least not into the direction she would wish it to – and that he would always have a lot of secrets. She had accepted it back then and assured him it would be all right with her. She hadn't wanted normal. At least that had been what she had insisted upon.
Now, he wasn't so sure anymore. Oh, she never complained of course. Questioning him, like today, had been the most she had ever done and she had never commented any more than that either. She had never made a face or cried or thrown a fit… Yet he knew she was a bit more disappointed each time he missed one of Isabell's dance performances, Caleb's swimming competitions or Lucas' kindergarten costume party.
But he was trying so damn hard! He had to perform to a 100% in MI6 and with his family, and he actually thought he was doing a pretty good job despite everything. He spent all his time thinking about how to keep his wife and children safe from any potential enemies, since keeping his identity hidden hadn't worked out for many reasons. Now the world knew he was Benedict Holmes, the youngest ever head of MI6 and also that he had a family. That meant that any lunatics like the late Moriarty could revel in the fact that he had many pressure points and make good use of them – if he let them. He didn't, of course, but that took a lot of cunning and certainly a lot of energy on his part.
Annabel naturally didn't have any idea but, with the help of Mycroft and Alicia, their own and Annabel's parents' houses were under constant surveillance as well as every member of his family, wherever they were going. Invisible bodyguards, as he liked to call them. He just couldn't take any chances. His old flat had been blown up just because Sherlock had made a nasty enemy, so there was no use pretending there wasn't danger lurking at all times, ready to jump at them any minute, should they find his attention flagging.
That was why he had to do a complete background check on all the neighbors, teachers, friends and… Well, literally everyone his family came into contact with. If someone moved in to their vicinity, he had to know about it. If someone behaved funnily, he had to check it out to make sure they were not corrupted. That was how he had unwittingly learnt that his neighbors from five houses down (to whom he had never spoken to personally but knew that Annabel kept regular contact with) were in the middle of getting a divorce and it obviously wasn't going smoothly. To his defense, his people had seen the woman cry a few times and it had made him suspicious at first. And it didn't count as creepy if he wasn't going to use the information for his own benefit, did it?
Anyway, lately he felt Annabel's growing frustration with his regular absence from important family events and wondered how long it would be until she would start complaining – most probably at her own family's urging. He was dreading the day it would happen because what could he say to make things better? Nothing whatsoever. He couldn't very well promise her he would do something about it because they both knew it wouldn't happen. And while he was a lot of things, a liar he was not. So, would that mean they'd be the next in the neighborhood to get a nasty divorce?
It had been one of the reasons he had immediately agreed to her idea of the Florida trip. He hoped to make up for his mistakes by not even mentioning his numerous problems with that particular destination. He would just have to medicate himself heavily enough not to be aware during the plane journey of where they were traveling to… Once there, he would most probably not think about the accident anymore; just seeing the happy faces of his children would be worth the trouble anyway. They were so excited already!
So, he would put up with it and he would try to keep his family together. He had had a talk with Bill once about why the poor man's marriage hadn't worked out and he absolutely wanted to avoid the same fate! Poor Tanner had been unable to trust anyone ever since and had chosen to remain alone rather than risk his heart being broken again.
He could still remember Bill's surprise when he had finally told him about him being together with Annabel again. Well, maybe he shouldn't have waited with the news until he had to actually announce his upcoming wedding. As Bill had said: it would have been nice if they had known about him having a girlfriend at all before learning he was going to get married soon. Well, but it had been not his fault he hadn't been able to believe his own luck and hadn't wanted to tell anyone about something he'd been not sure was going to last!
And then, later, when he had told him about her being pregnant… They should have recorded the conversation, really. On video, to capture Bill's priceless expression…
"Bill, can we talk?" – Asked 20-year-old Q, poking his head into his surrogate father's office, looking a bit flustered and nervous.
Tanner felt instantly suspicious – the last time the boy had looked at him like that, he had told him about having had a girlfriend for over a year and them planning a marriage in no later than two months. If he had come to tell him about their upcoming divorce, he would shake the boy to his senses, damn it! You couldn't just rush through life like that! Marriage at 18 then divorce at barely 20… It was just crazy; couldn't this boy ever stop for a moment?
"Of course. You know you can tell me anything. You don't have to wait until the very last minute with giving me news."
Q knew exactly what this reference was about but didn't take the bait. Instead he sat down and gathered his thoughts. He took a deep breath.
"We're going to have a baby."
Stunned silence.
"Annabel's pregnant."
More stunned silence.
"It's a girl. She's going to be born in July."
Silence.
"Bill, would you just please say something and not make that face?"
Silence.
"Damn, you're the first one I told it and you're already freaking me out. How am I supposed to talk to everyone else after a reaction like that!?"
Silence.
"Well, all right then, never mind!" – With that, he angrily jumped up and headed for the door.
This seemed to finally wake Bill from his stupor.
"A baby?" – He asked.
Q stopped and turned back to him.
"Yes."
"A girl?"
"Yes."
"And I'm the first one you told?"
"Yes. Well, technically, Mycroft and Sherlock already know but I didn't have to tell them. They deduced. You know what they're like: Annabel just said she craved an apple and that was enough for them. Actually, that's how we learnt about it…"
"And what did they say about the matter?"
Q slowly sat back down.
"They gave me a lecture about us being too young to become parents and about how we should at least have been more careful if we really had to do that thing at our age."
"They're right."
Q felt anger rising again. Were they all deliberately trying to make things even more difficult for him? It wasn't like they had planned it or anything but it had happened and that was a fact now. Couldn't they at least pretend to be happy about it? Just for his sake? Was it really too much to ask for?
"You really think so?"
"Well, not that I would have said it that way… But Q, you two are very young. Still children, really. And to marry and have a baby…?"
"Bill, we're not a pair of horny teenagers who got drunk in a disco and forgot to use a condom! We love each other and we're married. Not even just because of that, as you know very well that we married way before the pregnancy. She has finished university and I have a stable, highly respected job. Not to mention enough money not to have trouble ever with that. She has a supportive family and I have that – I had hoped – as well. Security is a subject but I'll deal with it. So, what's so wrong with starting a family? We might not have planned it exactly for now but we didn't fight against it either. She's not an unwanted accident! She is going to be loved dearly and taken care of properly." – But he knew of course why Bill felt the way he did: he and his ex-wife had tried to have a baby and it hadn't worked out. He could imagine what it was like for Tanner to hear that someone else got what he had wanted so very much. He didn't want to hurt him but it couldn't stop him from living his own life. He hoped he would come to terms with it and even be able to be happy for him some day…
"I have no doubt about that! But a baby…"
"I have a question and I hope you'll at least seriously consider it before saying no… Please."
"Okay, what is it?"
"Do you promise not to reject the idea right away?"
"I promise."
"All right, here it is then: I – that is to say: Annabel and I – would like to ask you to become the baby's godfather."
Silence.
"Bill?"
Silence.
"Oh, are we back to the silent treatment again? Fine… But don't forget: you promised to at least think about it. I would like you to know that it is very important to me because even if I never had godparents – at least not that I know of – or even parents for very long, I think if I had any I would have wished them to be like you are. I've always been able count on you and you've been like a father to me ever since I've known you. You were the first who took me around MI6 and you've been there for me ever since. You were my first friend. I would like my daughter to have people like that around her. And it wouldn't mean any obligations for you, don't worry! I don't want to burden you, I just thought… well… just give it a thought and I will accept your decision without questions, I promise. No hard feelings if you really don't want to do it, just… All right, I'll leave you to your work now…"
"What is it like?" – Asked Bill before he could have moved an inch.
"What?"
"Saying 'daughter'?
"Oh…" – Q had to smile. – "I can't even begin to tell you how very frightening it is. I have never even held a baby let alone changed a diaper or anything like that. I've never had the courage to try babysitting Rosie or Theo either."
"And you think you're ready for an own child then?"
"Oh, no. I don't think you're ever ready. Things just happen, Bill, it's not scheduled in a calendar. I'm not ready but I'll do my best."
"And what if I'm not ready to be a godfather? I've never had to deal with a baby either, I wouldn't even know what to do."
"You'd do your best as well, I have no such worries."
"What about your brothers? Wouldn't they feel hurt about it?"
"Not at all. They're going to be uncles anyway and Sherlock is already the godfather to Rosie. I'll have you know he didn't have an inkling about babies either. He tried to reason with her in a long lecture using logic when she was six months old why she shouldn't throw her rattle."
"That must have been something."
"Yes. Luckily the baby cam recorded it all. It's still the topic of merciless teasing between John and him. But the point is: Rosie is still alive and doesn't seem to have a grudge against her godfather for not being a professional babysitter right away. As a matter of fact, she still laughs at him every time he tries to change her diaper. It a sight: Rosie running around naked with Sherlock trying to catch her. If he is a suitable godfather then so are you."
"Then I'd be honored."
Q couldn't believe he had heard it right. Maybe he hadn't…
"Really? I mean, you really thought about it and agree and all?"
"Yes. If you still want me, that is."
"Of course! Thank you!" – He couldn't stop himself from hugging the man that had done so much for him already.
He still had to smile whenever he thought back to that conversation. Of course, everyone else had been surprised as well, and a lot of them tried to hint they had thought they were too young to have a baby… But then everyone had gotten used to the idea pretty quickly and became very excited about the new addition to their extended family. After that, he'd had to deal with advices and presents all the time. Bond and John, already fathers, had been the most 'helpful', asking him to babysit their children all the time to 'get the feel of it'. Luckily for them, Benedict had become very good with babies very quickly (Moneypenny had said she hadn't been surprised, given the fact that he could learn literally everything in just a few hours at most), so he hadn't harmed the little ones. And sure enough: by the time Isabell had been born, he had already become a professional in taking care of the newborn.
By the second and third child nobody said anything bad anymore. They had already gotten used to Benedict's speed of living. Sherlock had even said he approved, seeing that 'all generations needed at least three Holmeses to bring balance to the universe'.
Having finished with the washing up, he headed upstairs. Like always, he first checked on the children, to see if they were sleeping peacefully. He entered the boys' room first, careful to be very silent so as not to disturb them. They could have two separate rooms – the house was certainly big enough for it – but Lucas was still sometimes afraid in the dark if he was left alone (and Caleb too, though he would never ever admit it, since he was already 'too old for such silliness') so the two boys had opted to only use Lucas' room as a playroom and have both of their beds in Caleb's. Annabel and Benedict didn't think there was anything wrong with that logic, so they just let the boys make their own decision. When he saw now that both were all right, he headed to Isabell's room.
The newly turned nine-year-old girl was spread out on the top of her bed, blanket halfway fallen to the floor. Benedict righted this, tucked her in properly, and gave her a kiss on the forehead.
As he was leaving, he heard the little girl whispering.
"Are we really going to Florida, daddy?"
"Yes, Isy, we are. Are you excited?"
"YES! I can't wait! Two more weeks though."
"You'll see how soon they will pass. But now you need to sleep. You're going to visit your grandparents tomorrow and I'm sure you don't want to be too tired to celebrate with them and your cousins, do you?"
"No… But won't you come with us, daddy? Please… pretty please!"
"I… I'll see what I can do."
"Yupeeeee!" – Exclaimed the little girl happily.
Benedict sighed, feeling a bit trapped.
"Well, good night, and happy birthday, princess."
"Night, daddy!"
Outside (he had miraculously managed not to step on her half-done puzzle that was on the floor), he leaned against the wall tiredly. Had he really just promised something he was not sure he would be able to keep? Shit. The PM and the American ambassador didn't care about Sundays and little girls' birthdays…
Annabel appeared in the door of their bedroom, looking expectantly at him; no hint of her previous frustration towards him anymore.
"Are you coming to bed soon, or do you want to spend the night sleeping in the corridor, leaning against a wall?" – She asked with amusement sparkling in her eyes.
Benedict looked at her. She was still as beautiful after giving birth to three children as she had been as a teenager. She was just incredible. What had he done to deserve her? Nothing. That was exactly the problem.
"You know, Annabel, I was thinking that I could maybe rearrange a little and meet you at your parents' house at… say… 3 PM tomorrow?"
She looked so happy about this little thing, he felt like crying!
"You could? Really? That would be fantastic! The kids would be delighted about it as well and you haven't seen my sister's children for months."
That was true. He had missed the last two family events because he had been working. He loved his two 'nieces' who were 6 and 3 years old now and wanted to see them grow up.
"Of course I can, I wouldn't miss it."
"I love you!" – She said and kissed him passionately.
Just then the boys' door opened and Caleb stepped out still half-asleep, rubbing his eyes and looking surprised to find his parents standing on the corridor.
"Are you two kissing? It's gross!"
Another comment came from inside the room as the youngest boy seemed to have awoken as well.
"Uncle Sherly said that kissing was just a way of exchanging disgusting germs to make each other sick." – Lucas said with all the wisdom of his nearly five years.
No surprise Sherlock would teach them something like that; he had nearly gotten a heart-attack when he had learnt that Benedict wasn't exactly asexual like him. It had happened when Benedict had told him about his upcoming marriage…
"But if you marry, she will expect you to… you know… do that."
"No, I don't know. What will she expect from me?" – Benedict was honestly confused. He had never heard of any special expectations that came with marriage. They already lived together and it was perfectly evident for him that he took care of her, loved her and made sure she had everything she needed. What else could there be he hadn't thought about?
"Well, you know. That."
"No, for God's sake, Sherlock! Will you speak clear language for once?"
"Sex! She will expect you to sleep with her if you marry!" – He said it very quickly and in a low voice as if fearing that even the words could harm him.
Sex? He was talking about sex? Oh, just why had he even thought for a minute that Sherlock of all people could teach him anything about relationships!?
"So?"
"So? Is that all you can say to that revelation? She will want to sleep with you when you marry, Benedict. This is serious and you should consider-"
"Stop it right here. Why would it be a problem? I don't see any difference…"
"Diff- What do you mean?"
"I mean that we've been living together for months, Sherlock. Do you understand what that means…? Certainly even you can't be that dumb."
"No… I… don't understand."
"Yes, you do. I'm sure you don't want me to spell it out for you, especially since you seem to have an almost comical anxiety about these terms."
"Oh my God. That's… Oh my GOD. I'm going to have to talk with Mycroft."
"What for?"
"He has to know."
"Don't you give him credit to have enough of a common sense to figure it out for himself?"
"He wouldn't think about anything like that! No Holmes has ever…"
"No, you're right. I'm sure we were all delivered by a stork or found in the middle of a field, Sher."
"Okay, then no one in our generation…"
"What do you think Myc and Alicia do in their bedroom? Play chess? Not to mention his office, I've always had a feeling his enormous desk has multiply purposes…"
"Oh my God!"
Poor Sherlock had had a few scares that day. No wonder he had developed the plan for early prevention and tried to frighten the children like that.
Annabel was laughing so hard she couldn't get out a word so Benedict felt it was up to him to save the situation somehow.
"While I'm aware of your uncle Sherlock's unquestionable knowledge about the topic, boys, I'm sure your mother and I shall be fine. I'm also sure you're both going to be too tired to participate in the party tomorrow if you don't go back to sleep right now."
"Don't worry, dad, I certainly don't want to watch you be all romantic… I's be scarred for life! It should be against the law. I'll just go to the bathroom." – Assured him Caleb and promptly disappeared to said place.
Lucas wasn't done though.
"Don't worry, I don't think it's gross. It was nice giving a kiss to Nicky on her cheek but I won't do it anymore because I don't want us to be sick."
Benedict mentally promised himself to call Sherlock to have a chat with him soon as the two parents bid good night to the little boy to retreat into their own room.
Before lecturing Sherlock about it, maybe they should check to see if he had been right…