A/N: So I'm just an updating fool today! We'll get back to Christmas tomorrow, but I had this chapter halfway written. So here... I finished it just for you! Maybe it will keep you warm now that it's nearly wintertime. *blows kisses*

Sherlock sat very still between Molly and John. Perhaps if he was very still, no one would remember he was there and he wouldn't be forced into any more polite conversation. The "neighbors," Randal and Julia, were very bubbly and talkative. They asked Sherlock a billion questions about his cases, which ordinarily wouldn't have been tedious. He liked nothing more than to talk about himself, but their questions were primarily focused on the sordid details. Then they moved on to more boring topics like the cottage itself: why was the cottage named Ambergris, who built it, how long had it been here—information that he'd deleted a long time ago. "The place is beautiful, Mrs. Holmes. Did you do your own decorating?" Sherlock sighed heavily and received a kick under the table from John and Molly simultaneously.

"We've updated some things but it's really just a mash up. Shabby chic, as it were."

Mary smiled. "Molly has great style. Very kitschy without being ridiculous. And of course Sherlock has no style."

"Ha ha," Sherlock grumbled.

"Well I love how you have Victorian pieces mixed with the modern. It's just beautiful."

Before Molly could reply, Will and Finn wandered out on to the patio. They'd had dinner an hour before and were supposed to be tucked into bed already. Of course Molly had given Isabel and Jada a fiver a piece to watch telly in her and Sherlock's room and keep an eye on the twins. Evidently they'd given the girls the slip. "Daddy!" they shouted in unison, immediately attempting to climb their father like a tree.

"Who are these little ones?" Julia squealed.

"These are our twins, William and Phineas," Molly explained. "Who are supposed to be in bed. We also have an older boy, Gabriel and a daughter Scarlett that's in bed with an ear infection."

"Oh the poor dear. And on vacation."

"Yes, but we're used to them. She has them all the time. The doctor says it's mainly due to her hearing aids that she wears in both ears."

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked as Finn threw his chubby arms around his neck.

"We're thirsty, Daddy," Finn said.

"And Izzy wouldn't get us any water," Will finished.

"That's because you're supposed to be sleeping."

"But I'm not tired," Finn sighed, already scrubbing his eyes against Sherlock's shoulder. "Can't we have a snack?"

"What adorable little boys!" Julia gushed, taking Will's hand and pulling him near. "Come let me see you." Molly and Sherlock glanced at one another with clenched jaws. While Scarlett never met a stranger, Will and Finn were funny with new people. Will might smile and climb in her lap or he might scream in her face, kick her in the shin and run away. There was just no way to predict. "Why I think he has the bluest eyes I've ever seen!"

"Who are you, lady?" Will questioned.

"My name is Julia."

"Oh. Okay," he said simply before turning to her husband. "Who are you?"

"I'm Randy," he chuckled and ruffled Will's hair. Big mistake. His ring caught on a lock of Will's hair and pulled lightly. Well one would have thought that he'd jerked the child baldheaded. Will let out a deafening screech that startled people down on the beach below. The poor man threw his hands up and looked helplessly at Sherlock. He stood up with Finn still clinging to his hip.

"Come on Will," he said, grabbing the child's hand. "This shouting really isn't necessary."

"Oh Sherlock, I'll get them," Molly started.

"No no," he replied over Will's wailing. "I'll get them tucked back into bed where they won't move again until morning," he said with a pointed stare at Will. As they went into the house, Molly could hear Finn still pleading for a cup of water.

"Why don't I go get another bottle of wine from the fridge," Molly said with a nervous chuckle. She started into the house, followed by Randy. "Oh, it's okay. I can manage," she said as they walked into the kitchen.

"Oh I don't mind helping." He leaned against the bar, watching as Molly peeled the foil away from the neck of the bottle.

"So how long have you and Julia owned the house?" Molly was desperately trying to make small talk. Something about Randy just didn't sit well with her. The way he looked at her was predatory, but not in that dangerously sexy way that Sherlock had. This was creepy. She tried not to let it show, but when he shook her hand or touched her shoulder tonight she almost cringed.

"We bought it several months ago, but we didn't come for a stay until the renovations were done." As he spoke, he walked up behind Molly slowly. As she struggled with the cork, he reached around her body to grasp the corkscrew. "There's a trick to it." He put his hands over hers and started to demonstrate how to work the cork out of the bottle. His breath was uncomfortably close to her neck and she felt his fingers in her hair.

"Uh… I'm sure I can get this," Molly stammered.

"You've a very beautiful woman, Molly."

"Uhm… thank you."

He had her trapped against the bar as he took the corkscrew and bottle from her. "Someone should be telling you that every day, you know," he said, brushing his fingertip along her cheek.

"My husband takes care of that," Molly said, flinching away from him. "But thank you for thinking of me."

Randy chuckled and slid an arm around her waist. "You're so shy, Molly. But there's no need to be so bashful with me. I could see how you were watching me at dinner."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Molly snapped, jerking away from him. "I'm a married…! And so are you! And no offense but you aren't exactly my type."

"We shouldn't let that stop us," he said, grabbing her wrist to pull her close again. "Besides, I think my wife would be very pleased to entertain Sherlock." His alcoholic breath was in her face, overwhelming her.

"Sherlock's not very easily entertained," she said, pulling back as far as she could from him with the bar blocking her escape.

"She's pretty creative. As am I." He leaned in and tried to kiss her. Immediately Molly's instincts took over and before she could think too hard about it, she'd reared back and punched Randy square in the nose. Blood spewed forth in a magnificent plume and he cried out in pain. He grabbed his broken nose and Molly used the opportunity to shove him backwards. He stumbled over the stool behind them and sat down hard on the floor. "Jesus! You broke my nose, you bitch!"

"You're lucky I didn't break more than that!" Molly growled, grabbing the wine bottle and brandishing it in front of her. "Get out of my house! Quickly before I call my husband who is considerably more vicious and violent than I am!"

"Look… I think we just had a misunderstanding…" he stammered, crawling backwards and trying to get to his feet.

"You're right. You obviously misunderstood me when I asked you nicely to get out of my house." She lunged at him again and he scrambled to his feet. Molly followed him out to the porch. Sherlock and Julia were making awkward small talk when Randy burst through the door with Molly hot on his heels.

"Oh Molly! Randy! We were about to come looking for you…" Julia froze when she noticed that her husband was holding a bloody nose and being ushered to the stairs by Molly. "What's going on?"

"Your husband was just leaving," Molly said through clenched teeth. "You might want to go with him. He's injured."

"My God! What happened?"

"Feel free to ask him," Molly said, handing over Julia's jacket. She looked at Molly strangely and there must have been a fire in her eyes that let the woman know she needed to vacate the premises immediately. She stood at the top of the steps and watched them both stumble down the stairs. When they reached the beach below, Molly delighted in hearing Julia shriek as she realized that her husband's nose was still pouring blood.

"What the hell was that about?" Sherlock asked. For once he looked completely bewildered.

"Some people never learn to keep their hands to themselves."

OoOoOo

"He's an hour later than he was supposed to be," Molly observed. She'd been watching the clock religiously and giving Sherlock updates on Gabriel's tardiness every couple of minutes. While he shared her worried sentiment, the pacing and jabbering was slowly driving him mad. "What is going on with him lately, Sherlock? He never used to act this way."

Sherlock sighed and turned the page of the file in front of him. "He's a teenaged boy. Just calm down…" He glanced at her, his mouth turned up slightly at the corner. "…Jane Wayne." He was of course referring to her earlier incident of taking out the garbage. On the one hand he was irritated that he hadn't been allowed to flatten the man who dared to lay hands on his Mouse. On the other, he was amused to no end that Molly had taken matters into her own hands and bloodied the man's nose before he got the chance.

"Oh stop," she chuckled, snuggling closer to him on the sofa. "I shouldn't have done it. Resorting to violence is not something I aspire to."

"You probably saved him from a much worse fate," Sherlock replied, giving her a pointed stare and then winking playfully. "I'd most likely have bloodied a lot more than his nose."

"Rawrr," she teased, biting his earlobe playfully. "Maybe next time I'll just let you beat him up just so I can watch."

"Kinky."

Before Molly could reply, there was a great rumbling on the stairs out front and seconds later, Katie Adams, Jessica and Gabriel were stumbling through the door. The two girls were holding Gabriel upright as he tried to pull away from them. His hair was disheveled, his lip was bleeding, and his eye was visibly bruised. His knuckles were cut and bleeding. He finally shoved away from the two girls and stormed into the kitchen to spit blood in the sink.

"What in hell happened to you?" Sherlock asked, disentangling himself from Molly to corner Gabriel in the kitchen.

"It's nothing," Gabe said, trying to look nonchalant as he poured himself a glass of filtered water and swished it around in his mouth.

Molly went into full-fledged mummy-mode as she fluttered around him. "Nothing? Gabriel, you're bleeding!"

Katie chuckled, following into the kitchen. "You should have seen the other guy, Doctor Molly."

"Who are you fighting with?" Molly questioned as she brushed Gabriel's hair away from his eye to examine the wound. "And why are you late? It's after eleven. By a considerable margin."

Sherlock sighed and waved her away from the boy. "Obviously he was fighting with Katie's escort for the evening as he did not come back with them. And he's late because he was too busy fighting on the beach, am I wrong?"

"How'd you know it was on the beach?" Gabriel asked.

"You have sand in your hair."

"Don't be angry with him, Mr. Holmes," Katie said. "He was defending me."

"Oh?"

"Shush, Katie…" Gabriel hissed.

"So we were walking on the beach and Gabe and Jess were a little ways away from me and Mark. Some other kids had built a bonfire up the beach and they invited us to hang out with them for a while. So we did and everything was cool. But then Mark wanted to walk out to the pier, so we did. We were sitting there just talking and all of a sudden Mark was trying to kiss me. I didn't mind at first, but…"

Gabriel's eyes narrowed and Sherlock could tell he was getting pissed off all over again just hearing the story. "Dad, he started pawing at Katie and she told him to stop but he wouldn't. She screamed, so I went down there and…made him stop."

"It was pretty heroic, Mr. Holmes," Jessica said. This was the first time she'd uttered a word since they walked in. "Even if Mark is my cousin, he was way over the line." She turned to Katie and draped an arm over her shoulder. "I'm really sorry, Kate. I didn't know he was such an arse with girls."

"It's okay," Katie said with a shrug. "It's over."

"Sherlock, do you think maybe we should say something to Jessica's parents? Isn't Mark staying with you?"

Jessica nodded.

"No, really," Katie said. "Don't make a big deal about it."

"Trust me, Mum. He's not going to bother her again." Sherlock couldn't be sure, but he thought Gabriel was smiling. He recognized his own arrogance and while it wasn't the most positive trait, at least Gabe's heart was in the right place.

Molly sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, obviously exasperated by the situation. "Come on, Gabe. I'll clean your face and hands up."

"I can do it."

"Please… let me be Mummy-bear for a bit. It will keep me from losing my mind." As she steered Gabriel up the stairs, Sherlock could still hear Gabriel protesting her fretting.

"Well… I'll just be leaving then," Jessica stammered, shrinking under the icy stare of Sherlock Holmes. "Again, Kate… I'm really sorry. I hope we can still be friends."

"Of course we can!" Katie said, embracing the other girl. "It wasn't your fault."

"Feels like it," Jess replied. "Anyway, just so you know… Gabe loves you a lot."

Jessica started to go toward the patio door that would lead out onto the beach. Sherlock rushed past Katie and followed her out to the patio. "Jessica! Come on. It isn't safe for you to walk down the beach alone at this hour. I'll take you home."

"It's really all right, Mr. Holmes. I walk this way all the time."

"Still, I'd feel better driving you. Come on. It's no trouble."

After a completely silent drive, Sherlock pulled up at Jessica's tiny cottage on the beach. This tiny little place could fit inside Ambergris at least four times. She turned to him, but he was already out the door and going toward the house.

"Mr. Holmes, really… you don't have to walk me up to the door," Jessica said, sprinting around the car. She moved to unlock the front door, but before she could slip the key into the lock, the door opened and her cousin Mark was standing there. Katie had been right. The kid did look worse than Gabriel. He had two black eyes, a split lip and his nose was still oozing blood.

"Hey, Jess! Thank God you're back. I need you to convince Katie…"

"Convince Katie of what?" Sherlock asked, stepping out of the shadows. The boy gasped when Sherlock reached out and grabbed him by his injured face. He steered him through the door and into the house, walking the kid backward until he was able to pin him to the wall. "What the fuck, man?"

"Mr. Holmes…" Jess whimpered. "Please don't hurt him!"

"I'm not going to hurt him," Sherlock said calmly. "I just wanted to have a conversation with him. That while Miss Adams is not my daughter, that I care for her as if she were my own child. That if he even speaks to Miss Adams again, I can't be responsible for his safety. And that should he attempt to touch her again I can arrange for his immediate incarceration from which he won't emerge until after his thirtieth birthday."

"Look… Mr. Holmes…" Mark started as Sherlock's grip on his face tightened, drawing a whimper from him.

"Do we understand one another?" He moved Mark's head back and forth in agreement. "Good." Sherlock let him go and stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

OoOoOo

The house was quiet save for the rushing of the waves against the beach. Gabriel sat on his bed, still awake and reading after everyone else had gone to sleep. He looked down at the novel glowing on his tablet and set it aside. He wasn't really concentrating on the story. He was too busy thinking about all that had happened.

While sitting around that bonfire earlier, when Katie and Mark had gone on their fateful walk, Jessica had been all over him. They had kissed in a way that he had never kissed anyone before. It was intense and suffocating. He'd liked it very much and his body had responded in kind. She'd whispered all sorts of things in his ear, promises and propositions. She'd touched him in a very intimate way and he'd liked it. He'd kissed her back and let her put his hands on her. Everywhere. Even those warm, swampy places that he'd only heard about. The fire, the wild ocean, and the storm out over the sea had echoed his own roiling emotions.

But when he'd heard Katie scream… Very clearly she'd screamed "Gabriel" and suddenly it didn't matter if Jessica was writhing on him completely naked. His Katie was in trouble and he couldn't let anything happen to her.