…
Weeks turned into months, and soon nearly ten months had passed since that first day. Rachel seemed to have taken on Sherlock's personality, in that she was a very vocal child, and delighted in the unknown. She was always very curious when it came to hidden things around the flat, or anything outside of the flat. She could crawl and was already pulling herself to a standing position, which made John uneasy, "She'll be walking out that front door soon enough!" He would say, to which Sherlock would reply, "Good, she'll be able to help out at crime scenes!" Her favorite toy was Sherlock's violin bow, and she loved to wave it around and hide it from her detective caretaker.
Hamish was a very quiet child, and curious, although not as much as his sister. He seemed to understand his father's and Sherlock's speech, especially when either of them said "No, Hamish!" Hamish could crawl, and gurgled happily whenever he saw John enter the room. Like his father, he loved books, and could often be seen with one in hand, after pulling it from the shelf. His favorite game was to pull on Sherlock's black curls, which would send him giggling madly when Sherlock retaliated, albeit gently.
Hamish and Rachel were regulars at crime scenes, although John and Sherlock hadn't had many they had to go to. Sally Donovan could often be heard saying how inappropriate it was to have the children along, but could be caught with a small smile if she heard Rachel screeching in delight, or Hamish gurgling at someone. Lestrade was happy to hold both babes, and allowed Hamish to hold his badge. Rachel liked to hear Lestrade talk to her. After crime scenes, Rachel and Hamish would alternate between going with Sherlock to the lab, where Molly had a small part of the room gated off, so that the twins could explore the many toys she kept there; or going with John to Mrs. Hudson's, for tea and milk and sweets. Both Mrs. Hudson and Molly adore Rachel and Hamish. But then, not many who meet the babes don't fall in love right away.
John and Sherlock's lives had changed, but into something quiet and natural. Yes, they still had crime scenes and the occasional adventure, but now instead of looking for the trouble, they looked after Rachel and Hamish. Instead of all nighters spent agonizing over clues, they spent late nights reading and playing with the babes. Things that used to make Sherlock roll his eyes, now made him laugh. Things that used to worry John, still worried him, but less so, because his life was now in his children. And Sherlock. Although that wasn't a big change.
It was the first week of December that things began to change. Again, it started with a text. Sherlock had just put Hamish and Rachel down for a nap, and had moved to return to his examination of minerals he had replicated from a cold case file. He had just lowered his eyes over the scope when his phone buzzed. He gave a sigh and lifted his head to look at the text.
Nearly a year… How long until mummy returns, and you're again out of the picture?
Sherlock's heart felt as if it lived in his stomach. How? He paused, before replying.
She took her passport, identity, and cash with her. She has all that is important. Why would she return? SH
A buzz. Oh Sherlock, don't tell me your domestic has made you like the others. As your brother would say, You're a very stupid little boy, aren't you?
Ah, but if I'm so stupid, how did I outsmart you, Moriarty? SH
Another buzz, so soon. Very good, Sherlock! Didn't forget our chat by the pool, did you? Last time will seem boring compared to our new game. Toodles.
Sherlock knew the conversation was over, and also knew that it wouldn't be the last text. Sweet of him, really. To warn me. He scrolled through his menu, looking for Mycroft's conversation.
Moriarty and I just had a conversation. SH
Really? Discussing plans for Saturday dinner? MH
Not quite, although plans seem to have been made for a game. SH
Understood. Anything else? MH
Mary's coming back. SH
A pause, then: Ah. I did warn you, Sherlock. MH
Sod off. SH With that, Sherlock flipped the phone closed harshly, then stood, going to the twin's room. Once there, he stood at the door, staring at their cribs. Breathe. It's alright. He moved forward and gazed upon the twins. Rachel was lying in peace, but Hamish was making his normal gurgling and cooing. Sherlock smiled fondly. He'll be the first to talk. And listen. Rachel is too strong willed to listen... I suppose she got that from her mother… Damn Mary. What do I tell John?
He could feel his face crumpling, and he was suddenly thankful that John wasn't here. Breathe. His cheek was wet, and he gave a great sigh. He looked down at the babes, and found Hamish staring at him. He was very much like his father in this moment, for his look was searching. He could almost hear John's voice. What is it, Sherlock? The next moment, Hamish's face crumpled, and he was crying too. Sherlock gave a soft sigh.
"Oh, Hamish." He reached in the crib and picked him up. "Don't worry, my boy. It's alright… Ol' Sherlock is just being silly." He murmured, and scowled, as the tears kept coming. Hamish mirrored him, and kept crying. This roused his sister, and Rachel used the bars of her crib to help her stand. She stared up at Sherlock and Hamish, watching for a moment. Then, her face too crumpled. "Oh, Rachel, not you too." Sherlock murmured.
He shifted Hamish to his right side, and reached for Rachel, her arms outstretched. Once she was in his arms, Sherlock walked slowly to his chair, starting to rock them. He hummed a Mozart concerto, effectively calming himself. He was happy to see that it calmed the infants as well, and they were left sniffling and holding onto his shirt. "How do you think Dad will react if he comes home to us all a sobbing mess?" Sherlock murmured to them, kissing each of their foreheads. "Should I tell you a story?" At this both Rachel and Hamish looked at him, Rachel shrieking in delight and Hamish gurgling. He smiled.
"Very well. There once was a very brave knight. He came home from a war with a far off land, injured and scared. He was sad and alone, but one day, he met a friend. A prince who loved music and adventures." He changed his voice, and the twins gurgled in unison. "The prince saved the knight from being alone. But the knight didn't know he also saved the prince. For the prince was a nasty and mean prince. Thanks to the knight, the prince learned something new. Hope." He paused, thinking of John. Oh John…
"The knight and prince had many adventures, but perhaps the best one included twins." Hamish had wide eyes, watching him, and Rachel giggled. Sherlock grinned, feeling his heart swell. "Yes, just like you. Except these twins were bear cubs. The prince and knight took these bears for their own, and loved them and taught them about their adventures. To this day, the bears and the prince and the knight are still together. Still having adventures." The twins giggled at him, and laid upon his chest. "I know… I interrupted you nap. Perhaps I'll tell you more of this story later." He kept rocking them, listening to their soft breathing. I hope our story continues.
…
John found himself able to come home early from surgery and was desperately grateful. One of his fellow doctors had been out sick, so he had been pulling doubles, and it had been a couple days since he had properly spoken to Sherlock, or seen his children. Before making it to the flat, he stopped for some biscuits for Sherlock, knowing the detective probably hadn't eaten much while he was at work. When he entered the flat, he placed his case by the door, and hung his coat, looking about the flat. Sherlock was nowhere to be found, but his phone was upon the table next to his microscope. He heard the twins crying, and he hurried up the stairs.
When he had made the landing, the twins were quiet, and Sherlock was humming softly to them, and murmuring something to them that John didn't hear. But then he heard, "Should I tell you a story?" John smiled, for Rachel and Hamish loved when Sherlock talked to them, and especially loved his stories. He listened at the door, not wanting to interrupt.
"Very well. There once was a very brave knight. He came home from a war with a far off land, injured and scared. He was sad and alone, but one day, he met a friend. A prince who loved music and adventures." He changed his voice, and the twins gurgled in unison. John felt his face light up.
"The prince saved the knight from being alone. But the knight didn't know he also saved the prince. For the prince was a nasty and mean prince. Thanks to the knight, the prince learned something new. Hope." He paused here, and John felt his breath leave his chest. Oh Sherlock… "The knight and prince had many adventures, but perhaps the best one included twins." John heard Rachel giggle, and John couldn't stop his heart from swelling. "Yes, just like you. Except these twins were bear cubs. The prince and knight took these bears for their own, and loved them and taught them about their adventures. To this day, the bears and the prince and the knight are still together. Still having adventures." The twins giggled at Sherlock, and John heard the rocking chair start moving again. "I know… I interrupted you nap. Perhaps I'll tell you more of this story later." Sherlock said quietly, continuing to rock them. John could hear their soft breathing, and he smiled. Great work, detective.
He took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open. Sherlock looked up in shock, and John raised his hand in greeting. "Hi, they let me out early." He whispered. Sherlock nodded, looking back down to Rachel and Hamish. Perhaps John was imagining it, but there seemed to be a longing there. What is it, Sherlock? Let me help. "Want help?" He found himself asking, and Sherlock looked up again, confused. John giggled softly, "I mean with the babes. Shall we put them back to bed?" Sherlock nodded again, watching as John came forward. John leaned forward, reaching for Rachel, who seemed determined to stay with Sherlock. Her fists were closed around his black shirt, almost in a death grip. John looked at Sherlock, confused. The detective gave a small shrug, and John tried again. John and Sherlock were very close to each other, and once John had Rachel secure in his arms, Sherlock touched John's arm.
"I'm glad you're home." He said, his voice soft. John felt his eyebrows contract. Sherlock… Something's wrong. Tell me. It must be something big. Better to talk downstairs.
"Did they run you ragged today?" John asked, standing and going to Rachel's crib. Sherlock stood, and put Hamish in his crib. As he lay Rachel down, he stared down at her. Many days, he could see Mary in her, but he was happy to see more of himself now, as she slept. He felt Sherlock come and stand next to him. He looked up, and Sherlock was staring at him, something strange upon his face. John didn't look away, for he was trying to place the feeling he was getting. What is it? Fear? Anxiety? Anger… no… What? He couldn't figure it out. He cleared his throat. "Tea?" He whispered. Sherlock nodded, sweeping from the room. John followed, feeling helpless.
…
As John made the tea, Sherlock returned to his seat in the kitchen. His phone had been returned to his pocket, and Sherlock was fiddling with the adjustments on his microscope. Sherlock said nothing and John knew better than to poke the dragon, as they say. Sherlock would speak when he was ready. John pulled a few biscuits out and placed them on a platter, along with sugar and milk, and their two cups. He poured out their tea, then set it upon the table, between them, reaching for his. He sipped quietly, checking his phone for the weather for tomorrow.
"Should we have a birthday party for Rachel and Hamish?" Sherlock asked, finally sipping his tea. John choked a little upon his own tea.
"I'm sorry, what?" He asked, looking at his friend in surprise.
"A party, for their first birthday. They only turn one once, you know." Sherlock replied, taking a biscuit. He smiled at John, and took a bite. Okay… Definitely something wrong.
"We can look into it…" John trailed off, watching Sherlock. The detective gave him another smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Okay, Sherlock. What is it?" His best friend feigned ignorance.
"What is what?" He asked, taking another bite.
"What's wrong? What has got you acting like-" John paused, trying to find the right word. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"Like what?" He asked, his voice becoming defensive. John glared at him.
"Oh come on! Like this," He gestured to his posture. It looked slumped and ragged, but Sherlock probably couldn't tell the difference.
"What does 'this' exactly entail, John?" Sherlock asked, his voice angry. Oh brilliant, I've insulted him. John sighed, and shook his head.
"You just look…" He locked eyes with Sherlock, and saw the emotion he had seen in the children's bedroom. Defeated. He thought suddenly.
"Defeated?" Sherlock repeated. Shit. John thought. Apparently, his brain had no filter to his mouth. Sherlock was opening his mouth to retort. Quick, say something, idiot.
"Okay, yes, defeated!" John said suddenly. Sherlock shut his mouth with a snap. "Ever since I've come home today, you look like a wounded little deer. Tell me what is on your mind." Sherlock turned away, folding his hands in front of him. John reached forward, laying his hand over Sherlock's. "Please."
Sherlock looked up at him, his gaze back to its calculating look he usually wore. There was a beat or two of silence, then Sherlock quietly asked, "If Mary were to return… Would you and Rachel and Hamish move into a flat with her? Would you…" He paused as if it was painful to say, "Would you take her back?" He whispered. John felt his heart plummet. Even at the very thought of her back in his life, it was enough to make him sick. But a little voice in his head reasoned, the twins deserve to know their mother. Even if she is a lying and deceitful…
"No, Sherlock." John said, and the detective looked up at him in surprise. He continued in what he hoped was a softer voice. "Of course not, you idiot. Maybe, if she were to return, and even wanted anything to do with Rachel and Hamish, I would consider giving her a chance. They deserve a chance to know their mother." Sherlock nodded once, and looked away again. "That would not mean that I want to know her again. It would take a lot for me to even consider letting her back into their lives. I mean in the league of an act of God, before I could trust her." John said, and when Sherlock didn't look up, he squeezed the detective's hand. "Hey, remember? The two of us against the world." Sherlock finally looked at him, smiling a true smile.
"Yes. The two of us." He looked down to John's hand, and John laughed, removing his hand. Sherlock laughed too. "People may start to talk." John shook his head, still smiling.
"I don't give a damn." He replied, standing to clear their cold tea. He missed Sherlock's wide smile.
…
The next day, they set out to a bit of shopping. Molly had invited them and the babes to a Christmas to-do at her flat, and they were instructed to dress up. John didn't own a nice tux, and both Rachel and Hamish had grown out of their first dressy clothes. Sherlock would be the judge of what was acceptable. And besides, they were going to Angelo's for lunch, and it had been awhile since Angelo had seen the twins. They made their first stop and found Rachel's dress almost immediately. A small red long-sleeved dress with some white tights was what they decided upon. Hamish got a white button shirt with a clip on red bowtie and a black pair of trousers. The sales lady threw in a pair of black suspenders for Hamish and glittery red bows for Rachel. "They're so darling!" She had squealed, which Sherlock politely nodded to, and left the store, carrying Rachel. John gave a small chuckle and took the bag with his free hand, talking to Hamish as they left the store.
"Sherlock doesn't appreciate it when girls are simple like that." He murmured, smiling as Hamish giggled.
"I don't appreciate it when anyone is simple like that." Sherlock stated, leading John up the street to their next stop. John was dreading this, he didn't much like shopping anyway.
"Sherlock, can't I just borrow a shirt of yours? It's only for a couple of hours." John whined, hoisting a slipping Hamish up as they entered the shop.
"No, you're not my size. Besides, the colors I have will make you look very pale." Sherlock said, looking back at him. John shook his head.
"They make you look pale." He retorted. Sherlock grinned.
"Ah, but I'm alabaster anyway, no help for that." He stated, plucking a slated gray shirt off the rack, "Now come on, no whining. You'll set a bad example for the children." John glared at him.
"Yes, because you're such a shining example for them." He argued, taking the shirt, and sitting Hamish down on a seat before making his way to a dressing room. Sherlock followed with a black pair of dress trousers. Sherlock didn't reply, but placed Rachel on a seat next to Hamish, telling them to sit, and handed the trousers to John.
"No, I'm not, but I'm not their dad." Sherlock said, winking at him. John shook his head at him, disbelieving.
"Da Da Da." Rachel said. John and Sherlock whipped their heads to her, eyes wide.
"Dada." Hamish repeated. Sherlock started laughing. He looked to John, who looked at him bemused.
"I thought Hamish would be first." He went to the twins, smiling and praising them. "Clever Rachel, clever Hamish. Job well done!" He said, planting kisses on them. Soon Rachel and Hamish were giggling. John smiled at the sight. Sherlock turned to him, still crouched down. "John, are you trying those on?" He asked, arching an eyebrow. John nodded, and turned into the changing room. He came out moments later, finding Sherlock sitting with Hamish in his lap and Rachel sitting at his feet. He had been talking to the children, but looked up when John cleared his throat. Sherlock looked up, and his mouth opened, but shut almost immediately with a soft snap. John felt immediately self conscious.
"I don't know if I like this." John said, turning to look in the mirror. Sherlock stood up, coming to stand by him.
"No, no, John. It looks great! I was just surprised is all…" Sherlock trailed off, looking at John wince in the mirror. "I only meant… You look good." Sherlock stated, quieter. John looked at him in surprise. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Come now, John. I'm capable of compliments." John smiled.
"I know, I just wanted you to admit it was one." John said, turning away from the mirror to smile up at his friend. Sherlock gave a fake annoyed huff.
"Now that you've laughed at my expense, can we go to lunch? Or did you want to try another shirt?" Sherlock asked, arching an eyebrow. John hurriedly shook his head.
"No, let's get lunch." He turned to go into the changing room, and thought he heard Sherlock say to the babes,
"Dad looked good, didn't he?" Rachel and Hamish laughed in return. John felt his cheeks warm and smiled.
…
The Christmas party was upon them faster than expected, and Sherlock found himself at a loss at what to get John. He had already gotten the twin's hands imprinted in a ceramic, through one of their previous clients. But Sherlock wanted something just for John. Something that said, I know you, and I understand you. Luckily, he found just the thing.
He was pushing the twins in a buggy when they walked by a book shop. In the window was a brown leather bound journal. A small sign stated "Engraving available!" He smiled, and went in the shop, twins in tow. After his purchase, he walked out of the shop, gift wrapped box under his arm, and the buggy in front of him. He was walking back to the flat when his phone buzzed. He sighed, having an idea of who it was.
In need of some writing tools? I thought you used your website. MH
It's a gift. SH
Indeed, for the doctor? MH
Is it really your business? SH
I suppose not. Be careful, Sherlock. MH
Of what? SH
I don't need to say it, you know. MH
Again, Sherlock knew the conversation was over, but he felt as if he could strangle Mycroft. Now he was unsure of his gift, and the possible message it might portray. And what message is that? That I love him, of course. He isn't that brilliant. But I haven't been exactly subtle... Ah, but he may already know… On some level. Sod it. Sherlock shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He made it back to 221b, pulling the twins up the few steps to the landing inside. Mrs. Hudson heard him come in, and peeked her head out.
"Yoo-hoo, Sherlock! How are you and the wee ones today?" She asked, bending over to take Rachel out of her seat. Rachel shrieked at Mrs. Hudson, and the old lady cooed at her. Sherlock smiled.
"Fine, fine, Mrs. Hudson. Just finished a small bit of Christmas shopping. Thanks for picking her up. Would you mind holding this?" He asked, holding out John's present. She did take it, and examined the packaging, as Sherlock picked up Hamish and started to collapse the buggy. Really, it was easier when John was here to help.
"Ooh, Sherlock. This book shop is rather expensive, isn't it? I hope you didn't spend too much, dear." Mrs. Hudson murmured the last sentence. Sherlock looked up at her, a little annoyed.
"No, Mrs. Hudson, and kindly shut up about it. It's a present for John." He murmured, finally succeeding in collapsing the buggy. Mrs. Hudson let out a small squeal.
"Oh, Sherlock, he'll love it! Sorry, don't mind me!" Sherlock had glared at the noise, " I'll follow you up with this poppet, shall I?" She asked, and Sherlock nodded.
"Yes, thank you." With that, they ascended the stairs, Mrs. Hudson chatting about a woman from her bridge club.
…
The night of the Christmas to-do had Sherlock rushing about the apartment. They were running slightly late,and in addition to trying to reign in Rachel and Hamish, who had taken to pulling themselves up on furniture to walk or climb to their target, John wasn't home yet.
Sherlock had finally gotten the twins dressed, and was pulling Rachel's growing hair into a short pony tail for her matching bow to perched on. John came in, rushing to pull off his coat and put his case down. Sherlock looked up from his perch on the couch. "You're very late. What kept you?" He asked, finishing Rachel's hair. Once she was free, she crawled to John, screaming "Da!" John sighed and lifted her up.
"I know, I'm sorry. I was trying to escape, but one of the nurses wouldn't stop pestering me for a date. I nearly had to scream at her." He paused and looked at Rachel. "My, don't you look lovely, my Rachel." She smiled and screamed "Da!" Again. Hamish was sitting on the floor, busy with some toys, but said "Da Da" too. Sherlock laughed at the twins, but couldn't fight the unease at John's mention of this nurse.
"And… Are you attracted to her?" Sherlock asked, walking to his room to gather his things to change. He heard John scoop up Hamish and follow him with both twins into their shared room.
"She's pretty, but not much my type. Besides, I have children to think about. I don't want to date someone just randomly." John said, placing the twins on his bed. They wiggled and tried to get down, but John sat with them, holding them still as he started to pull of his shoes. He looked at Sherlock. "Why are you interested?" He asked. Sherlock cursed inwardly.
"I was just wondering what you said to her, but since she's not your type, I can guess you told her it wouldn't happen." He stated, gathering his things and going into the bathroom. Thankfully, John didn't press the issue, and instead stayed quiet until Sherlock was finished. When Sherlock came out in his usual black trousers and a dark blue shirt, John looked up, about to speak, but it died on his lips, and instead he gaped. Sherlock had his back turned for a moment, and it gave John time to recover. Get it together, Watson. Sherlock looked at him. "You better hurry, it'll be a miracle for us to make it in time." John nodded, and stood, gathering his clothes and shoes. "I've already gathered the gifts, and the twin's bag is packed, so meet me in the sitting room." Sherlock said at his back. John nodded again, and closed the bathroom door.
As he changed, he caught his reflection, and saw that his face was flushed. Oh great, as if I could be anymore obvious. Breathe. He hurried to button his shirt, and when he changed trousers, he saw that he was a little aroused. Jesus. What is wrong with me? He's my best friend! Yes, your very attractive best friend. Sod off. He tucked his dress shirt into his trousers, and splashed a bit of cold water on his face. After his shoes were on, he ran some product through his hair and sprayed a bit of cologne on. Trying to impress him, are you? Sod off!
He met Sherlock in the sitting room as told, and found the twins with coats on, standing next to Sherlock, who had his belstaffon. The box of gifts sat at his feet, but the twin's bag was on his shoulder. Sherlock looked at him, holding out John's coat to him. A flush had crept onto the detective's cheeks, but John realized it could just be the fact he had a coat on inside. He took his coat from Sherlock, murmuring thanks and put it on.
They exited the apartment, meeting Mrs. Hudson on the landing. "Oh, Sherlock! We're very late. The cabbie's already been waiting ten minutes." She scolded, twisting her hands. She met them up the stairs, and took Hamish, while John took the box of presents, and Sherlock held Rachel and the diaper bag.
"You can blame me for that, Mrs. Hudson. I got held up at work." John piped, leading them out into the cold. Sherlock followed silently, thinking about John in his wonderful gray shirt. Rachel pounded on his shoulder, speaking gibberish, taking him out of his thoughts rather successfully.
…
Molly's house was decorated grandly. From her ceiling tinsel hung, there was holly on almost every surface, and her windows were frosted. In the corner of her sitting room, her Christmas tree stood tall, with reds, golds, and whites among the evergreen branches. Christmas music twinkled merrily from inside her apartment, and she welcomed them in, along with her fiance Tom. Mrs. Hudson twittered happily about Molly's decor, and wandered off with Hamish, leaving Sherlock, Rachel, and John grouped awkwardly by the door with Tom. Tom offered to take the presents, and left them to hang their coats. John looked up at Sherlock as they hung their coats, and they both dissolved into giggles. Rachel looked between them and giggled too.
"Did Christmas throw up in here, or have we been transported to Christmas Town?" Sherlock murmured. John hushed him, still chortling. They walked into the sitting room, being met by Lestrade, Sally, Anderson and his wife. Sherlock hid his smirk by fussing over Rachel and putting her in the playpen Molly had spare. John thought he knew what to expect, and blew out a puff of air. Sherlock, play nice. When Sherlock stood, and locked eyes with him, John tried to give his best stern look. Sherlock responded by giving him a smirk and a wink. John felt his face redden. Can't resist showing off, can you?
Thankfully, Molly came back into the sitting room, followed by Mrs. Hudson, Hamish and Tom. John came forward to take Hamish and put him in the playpen with Rachel. Molly started offering drinks, and Tom set out several plates with crackers, cheeses, meats, and sweets. Lestrade moved over to the twins, talking to them in his deep voice. John thought Sally looked a little green, but he wondered if she was just upset with Anderson and his wife, who were now sharing sickly sweet kisses. Sherlock was talking to Tom, and being very polite, which made him smile. Mrs. Hudson and Molly approached him, and he nodded in greeting.
"Hello, Molly. Everything looks just great. Wonderful party!" John said, and Molly giggled nervously.
"You really think so? Thanks. I was just asking Mrs. Hudson why you lot turned up late, she said it had something to do with work. Did you get held up in Surgery?" Molly asked, very interested. John smiled and shook his head. She's always asking about my work, it must get exhausting to work on cadavers exclusively.
"No, actually, it was a nurse pestering me for a date. I almost had to scream at her to get my point across, although I still don't know if I made my point." John said, flicking his eyes to Sherlock. He saw that Sherlock was looking at him, but shook it off, and returned his gaze to Molly and Mrs. Hudson.
"And did you let her know the situation, dear?" Mrs. Hudson asked, taking a sip of wine.
"Ah… What situation, Mrs. Hudson?" John asked, and Molly flicked her eyes to Mrs. Hudson, before answering for her.
"The twins, of course." Molly said, smiling. John nodded, shrugging.
"I think everyone at the clinic knows it. Honestly, I probably have the least amount of hours of anyone there, because of Rachel and Hamish. I'm not complaining of course!" John said, and Molly and Mrs. Hudson smiled.
"Of course not, dear. Children do take our time." Mrs. Hudson said. Molly sighed happily.
"And you do such a wonderful job with them! I think we can all agree on that." She took a sip of wine and John looked to Sherlock again.
"I wouldn't be able to do it without Sherlock. Not only does he help around the house and care for them when I'm gone, but he is very doting. I think he loves them as much as I do." John murmured. Mrs. Hudson nodded, saying,
"I noticed it, too. He has changed a little, and I think he truly enjoys Rachel and Hamish." The older woman looked to Sherlock too, before turning to John again. "The babes are turning one soon, aren't they? Are you holding a party for them?" This caught Molly's attention again, and she squealed.
"Oh, please! I'd love to decorate for it, if you'll have me!" Molly looked as if she couldn't hold in the excitement. John laughed.
"Of course. January 4th is their birthday-" He was interrupted by Sally rushing past them, and accidently brushing John on her way to the bathroom. They heard retching, and Molly excused herself to go check on her. Mrs. Hudson went off to talk to Lestrade, and John went to help himself to a few crackers and cheese slices.
"I think she may be pregnant." Came a murmur in his ear, causing John to jump. He turned and looked at Sherlock. He was looking in the direction Sally had disappeared. John looked too, then looked at Sherlock again.
"And your proof?" John murmured, taking a sip of wine. Sherlock held up three fingers, and ticked them off.
"Being sick, after trying some of the meat; her drink of choice tonight is sparkling water; and her abdomen is slightly enlarged." Sherlock whispered in quick succession. John choked on his wine at the last part.
"You were examining her abdomen?!" He coughed out, trying to stay quiet. Luckily, Lestrade had just told a joke that had everyone laughing. Sherlock nodded seriously.
"Just for the sake of science." He said. John shook his head.
"Listen, Sherlock. This isn't your deduction to share." Sherlock opened his mouth, and John continued, "Yes, I know you made the deduction, thus it is yours. Really, job well done. But don't tell anyone. Sally probably doesn't want you to share it." Sherlock closed his mouth with a snap, but smiled a small smile.
"You really think I did a job well done?" He asked. John rolled his eyes, smiling at him.
"You always do. Now come on, people will start to talk if we stay over here by ourselves too long." He walked over to the group and chanced a look at the twins, and found them content with bottles and their toys. He smiled and looked to Sherlock, murmuring, "Thank you for taking care of them." Sherlock smiled and said nothing.
When they joined the group, they found that Sally had returned, and was looking much better. Molly suggested a game of ball transfer, and looked at Sherlock in particular when she said, "And everyone will play."
There was a lot of giggling once the game started. Even Rachel and Hamish couldn't take their eyes off the adults making a spectacle of themselves. Mrs. Hudson started, with the small red ball tucked under her chin and walked slowly to Lestrade, the detective inspector bending down to retrieve the ball. The game went on, and soon it was a challenge to see who could do it faster. Sally passed to Sherlock who used one hand to gesture to John, who hastened to get in position. They quickly passed, but not without John smelling Sherlock's after shave and noting the detective's flush. He himself felt warm, but passed the ball to Molly as quick as possible.
After a few rounds, it was between John, Sherlock, and Lestrade, all men red in the face, but guffawing at each other. They had switched direction and John was passing to Sherlock, which was a feat in itself, and it caused John to blow air out of his mouth in frustration. He had thought Sherlock had it, but it quickly slipped and fell to the floor. The ladies let out peels of laughter, and Sherlock looked at John with a quick calculated look, that John was sure he only noticed.
Christmas dinner was served then, Rachel and Hamish joining them at the table for small servings of soft foods. They were halfway through pudding and many conversations when Sherlock's phone began to buzz. He looked at the screen, curious, and them to John before rising quickly to answer it. "Oh, Sherlock! It's Christmas dinner!" Mrs. Hudson scolded after him.
He wasn't gone long, and when he returned, his eyes were wide. John rose from his chair, staring at him. "Sherlock?" The detective turned his gaze to him, then turned to Molly. All eyes were upon the detective now, and conversations quieted.
"I'm sorry, Molly for the interruption, but I need to turn on the news." He stated, and turned back into the sitting room. John looked to Lestrade, who stood and followed him into the sitting room. Soon the party was gathered around the television with varied degrees of horror on their faces. A newscaster woman was speaking over pictures of St. Mary's in flames and an orphanage also in flames.
"Both the hospital and orphanage were struck earlier this evening by bombs. Officials are speculating random acts of violence…" The footage cut back to the woman, and she continued to speak of safety warnings and the tally of injured or dead. 122.
At that number, John looked to Sherlock, who was staring at his feet. His mouth seemed to be snarling and he seemed to be talking to himself. John looked back to the set and heard the information he was afraid to hear. Many injured were being routed to his clinic. He sighed and looked to Sherlock again, who had looked up.
"I have to go help them." John said, knowing Sherlock would hate it. Sherlock looked away, nodding.
John said hasty goodbyes to everyone before grabbing his coat. He kissed the children and was almost out the door when Sherlock's soft voice stopped him. "Be careful, John."
He turned back and met Sherlock's eyes, giving a nod. "I will."
…
It was many hours later that John made his way back into the apartment. He saw Sherlock's coat hanging, but there was no sign of him in the sitting room or kitchen. He quietly opened their bedroom door, and didn't find him there either. He quickly changed out of his now smokey and bloodied clothes, into his bed clothes, along with his robe. He wandered up the stairs, hoping Sherlock was in the twin's room. He was starting to worry.
When he opened the door, he did find Sherlock, staring at the cribs, but no twins. John felt his stomach plummet. "Sherlock, where are Rachel and Hamish?" He asked. Sherlock turned slowly to him.
"I had to send them away." He murmured. John was shocked to see tears upon the detective's face. Fear… panic… defeat. John felt anger swell inside him, but was horrified to find that it was tears spilling from him, instead of screaming.
"What? Why? Where, Sherlock? We have to go!" He found himself saying, and moving to the door. Sherlock looked as if it pained him, but he quickly moved between John and the door.
"We can't. They're in danger if they stay here." Sherlock said in a pleading voice. John lost his patience and grabbed handfuls of Sherlock's shirt, coming too close to his face.
"Stop it. Stop it now, and tell me what's going on." He growled out, and more tears fell down Sherlock's face.
"Moriarty." Was all he said, and John felt the breath leave his chest. The bombing…
"A message?" John rasped out, tightening his hold on Sherlock's shirt. The black haired man nodded, looking down.
"I'm sorry, John. It's all my fault." He mumbled out, bringing his hands to John's. He looked up, and their eyes locked. John shook his head.
"No. No, Sherlock, it is not your fault." He pushed away from Sherlock, and began to pace. "Fucking Moriarty!" He burst out suddenly, kicking his rocking chair. Sherlock came forward then and gathered John in his arms.
"I'm sorry, John. I'm so sorry." Sherlock said again and again. They sank to the floor and stayed in each other's embrace into the early hours of the morning.