Greg and Molly were the first guests to arrive at the Watson flat. When Mary opened the door, they greeted her with a bottle of wine, a stuffed bear and an urgent question.
"Where is Willa?" demanded Molly.
Mary rolled her eyes at Greg. "Guess John and I aren't important anymore." Greg chuckled as Mary gave Molly a quick kiss on her cheek and said, "She's in the nursery with John. We'll go and peek in at them."
Mary accepted the wine bottle and used it to gesture at the coat rack.
As Greg hung up their coats, he surveyed the flat. It hadn't changed much in the time since John and Mary's wedding. This dinner party marked the first time he'd been invited to the Watson's home since their nuptials. And, of course, during the awkward time of Sherlock's recovery, John hadn't been living there. Greg still did not know what to make of that, and Sherlock refused to speak of anything related to his shooting.
Mary tugged on Molly's sleeve and said, "I'm going to save the wine for another night. Harry will be here."
"No problem. We hope you and John will enjoy it whenever you open it."
Greg added, "I'm looking forward to meeting Harry. I was surprised she wasn't at the wedding."
As Mary stowed the bottle in a cupboard, she replied, "I was surprised, too. John didn't seem too broken up about it, though."
Molly said, "He doesn't mention her much."
"No, he doesn't," Mary responded tersely. "Kind of a sore subject around here."
"Message received." Greg said and glanced at Molly, whose mouth was pressed into a thin line. It was an unusual facial expression for her. When they had decided to attend the party together, Greg had sensed that Molly was hesitant to attend. Then he'd mentioned Sherlock would be in attendance, and she had changed her mind. Should I be jealous? he had asked, a twinge nagging him this early in their new relationship. No, Molly had replied, but he might need us as backup.
The three walked into the nursery. John and his daughter sat in the rocking chair. He was bouncing the baby on his knees as she fussed softly. "Oh, hello, everyone."
"Hand her over to Aunt Molly this instant." Molly gathered the blonde, blue-eyed baby in her arms, exchanging her for the stuffed bear. "Hello, there, little Willa."
Greg peered at the baby over Molly's shoulder. "Oi, she's beautiful."
"Yeah, she is." Mary's pride was clearly heard in her voice.
"She's quieted down for you. Seems like everyone is better at this than me." John got up from the rocking chair so Molly could take his place.
Greg stood next to John and slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm sure you're doing fine." He was startled by how thin John had become, feeling the bones so obviously beneath his hand.
"He just can't handle being less than perfect." Mary squeezed John's arm and said, "I have to go back to the kitchen. The bread is almost ready to come out of the oven."
"We'll join you once she's down for her nap." Molly rubbed Willa's back, and the baby happily gnawed on her long hair.
After Mary left the room, Greg said, "It's good to see you, John. It's been too long."
"Yeah, I know." John placed the bear on top of a dresser already overflowing with other stuffed animals. Then he began to fold a few rompers that were draped over the rails of Willa's cot. John was looking anywhere but directly at Greg, who decided to read the man by reading the room. It was a far cry from the chaos of Baker Street. The nursery was decorated in pastels, pinks and greens and yellows. The classic antique rocker where Molly was cooing at Willa. Handmade curtains with appliqués of cats and dogs. Not a toy out of place and filled with the warm talc scent of a newborn, everything about the room embodied domestic bliss.
Everything but the man who should have been the happiest person in the room.
Greg finally asked, "Is everything okay?"
"Good, I'm good." John grabbed a small towel from a cabinet decorated with bunnies. With a grim attempt at a smile, he handed it to Molly, who placed it over her shoulder. She guided Willa's head there, and the little girl drifted off to sleep as Molly rocked them both.
"How is fatherhood treating you so far?" whispered Molly.
"Good. Willa's good."
Greg and Molly looked at each other, worry growing in their eyes.
Greg said, "You know, we miss you at the Yard."
"And at the morgue, too."
John grimaced. "Thanks."
Greg gestured at Willa. "When will you start working with Sherlock again?"
"You'll have to ask him." John's response was brusque.
Reticence about Sherlock, another bad sign. The two men had recovered their friendship so wonderfully after Sherlock's return, but the shooting seemed to break John more than ever. Greg told himself he shouldn't be surprised, that it only made sense that John would be damaged by the nearness of losing Sherlock again. However, he couldn't quite shake the thought that there was more going on here than met the eye, even the eye of an experienced Scotland Yard detective inspector.
Molly spoke over the top of Willa's downy head. "Sherlock was just telling me the other day how strange it is to not have you around."
"Well, tonight will be the first time I've heard from him in over a month, so you'll know more than me." The bitterness John would claim not to feel infected his words. "Sorry."
Molly and Greg regarded John silently as he worked himself up to ask, "How is Sherlock doing these days?"
"He's been busy. We've had a few murder cases at the Yard and, of course, he and Mycroft are working on the Moriarty case."
"And how is that going? Is Moriarty actually back from the dead, too?"
Greg and Molly each stared at John in confusion. Molly asked, "You really haven't heard from Sherlock?"
John nodded his head once. "He met Willa, the night she was born. He's gone quiet ever since."
The last time the two men had gone longer than a month without contact, John had found Sherlock in a drug den one morning and shot in the chest that same evening. Greg knew Sherlock was likely trying to respect his best friend's new fatherhood status, but he did not know for sure what was holding John back.
"Have you tried contacting him?" Greg spoke gently, but with an exasperated smile.
John had the grace to look uncomfortable. "I figured he'd let me know if he wanted me around."
"Oh, John, Sherlock always wants you around," said Molly, handing the sleeping baby to her father.
John carried Willa to her cot, concentrating on successfully laying her down without waking her. "He's done without me before. Done just fine."
Molly simply shook her head in response, and Greg thought No, you fool, he hasn't. And neither have you.