Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

AN: Thanks to anyone who reviewed…getting to the end of the story. Might do the Sign of Three next, but need to finish it, unfortunately…sigh…anyway, review!

Chapter 4:

'...which wasn't the way I put it at all, the silly woman.' Mrs. Holmes droned on, looking at Sherlock with affection, smiling proudly as he looked at his son closely, who was now playing with Irene's hair. Irene sat across him, too relieved to care.

Mrs. Holmes and Mr. Holmes had instantly taken a liking to Irene, seeing how she was a sort of equal to Sherlock, and Irene liked them as well.

'He's always losing things down the sofa, aren't you, dear?' She turned to Mr. Holmes, who nodded. 'Keys, change, sweeties, even his glasses.'

'Glasses.' Mr. Holmes nodded, echoing a second after her.

'Blooming things. I said why don't you get a change, wear them around your neck, and he told me, what, like Larry Grayson!'

Again, Mr. Holmes echoed after her.

Irene smiled at the comment as Sherlock walked past them, onto the table, and onto the sofa, with both parents moving out of the way in time. Irene tutted in disapproval, but Sherlock either didn't hear it, or he ignored it.

'So, did you find your lottery ticket?'

Mrs. Holmes nodded. 'Yes. We caught the carriage in time, after all.' She smiled. 'We saw St. Paul, Big Ben, the Tower of London, but they weren't letting anyone into Parliament.'

Sherlock looked down. 'Parliament?'

She nodded. 'Some sort of big debate going on in there.'

Irene noted the way that Sherlock looked right now, and turned as John came in, before hastily backing out. 'Sorry. You're busy.'

'No, they were just leaving.'

'We were?' Mrs. Holmes frowned as Sherlock gathered them up and shooed them out of the door. 'Oh yes, remember to visit. We're here till Saturday.' Irene stifled a giggle as Sherlock spoke at the same time.

'Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out!'

'Yeah, well, give us a ring.' As Sherlock made to close the door on them, a boot interfered. He sighed as Mrs. Holmes leaned in. 'You don't know how relieved we were, those people thinking the worse.'

He nodded, and tried to close the door, only to find another boot stopping it. 'Take care.' Mr. Holmes said this time. 'She worries.'

'Yes, yes, I'll call.'

'Promise?' Mrs. Holmes looked at him sternly. Sherlock took a quick glance back, then sighed in resignation.

'Promise.' Mrs. Holmes smiled and placed a hand on Sherlock's cheek before Sherlock turned and slammed the door on them. Irene tutted.

'Sherlock, that is not how you treat guests.'

'Yes. That is how you treat parents.'

'Well.' John looked up from where he had previously been staring at Nero. 'Wait. Those...those were your parents?'

'Why?'

Sherlock nodded. John walked over to the window to get a second look. 'They look so...normal.'

Irene laughed. 'They may look normal, but I can assure you, Dr. Watson, that Sherlock's mother is a renowned mathematician, before she gave it all up.'

John nodded slowly, and then frowned. 'Did they know about-'

Irene smiled as Sherlock raised his hands. 'Sorry! Sorry! Sorry again.'

'No wonder I didn't see them at the funeral.' John then faced Sherlock. 'You've been busy.' Sherlock frowned, tilting his head.

John looked at Nero, who was looking back with the same eyes as his father. 'How old?'

Irene answered. '11 months.'

'Um, congratulations.' John clearly looked uncomfortable with Irene. Though she kept her confidence, her haughty look, there was something about her that seemed to have softened, something he also saw in Sherlock, who was smiling at the child almost..tenderly. 'He's...' He strained to recall the name. 'Nero?'

Irene nodded, but Sherlock was the one who spoke. 'You look well.' John nodded at the stitches in his head. They hurt slightly, but it meant that he got special absence from work.

'Oh, and how's Nero?'

'Fine.' Irene smiled. John studied the baby. Even though young, he had already gotten some of Sherlock's dark curls. His eyes, lips and cheekbones were also remarkably similar to Sherlock's, but his jaw, nose and forehead were, without a doubt, Irene's.

'He's...cute.' John studied Nero, and found the nearly scrutinising gaze he was returned with extremely intimidating, something he got from Sherlock, no doubt. 'Well, what is it?'

Sherlock gestured to his laptop, and showed him what happened. Irene was still carrying Nero as she also bent over to watch. 'There has to be something, something-What's today's date?'

Irene's eyes widened as she answered, also reaching the same conclusion as him. 'November 5th.'

John froze. 'Remember, remember.'

'The fifth of November.' Irene continued, her posture not slipping.

'Gunpowder, treason and plot.' Sherlock finished, voice low. He replayed the video as he paced around the room. 'It has to be something. Something obvious.' Irene stared at the video as she continued his line of thought.

'Something staring at us straight in the face.'

Nero gurgled happily, and they turned to him, where he was playing with his fingers, showing his hand, and then either raising or folding fingers down, like a sort of game. Sherlock's frown disappeared, and he grinned, walking over to Nero and kissing him on the forehead.

'Nero, you're a genius!' Nero giggled in obvious delight.

John snorted. 'Of course he is. He's your child, isn't he?' Sherlock and Irene smirked, but then played the video again.

'Six carriages leave Westminster. And only five reaches St. James' Park station. Lord Moran didn't just disappear-'

'Lord Moran?' John asked, slightly lost.

Sherlock frowned. 'Yes. Peer of the Realm.' His eyes lit up. 'The debate on the anti-terrorism bill is tonight, and everyone will be there...except for Lord Moran.'

He grinned, and then turned, pecked Irene on the lips, threw on his coat, and left, calling out to John as he thundered down the stairs.

John hesitated, looking at Irene, but the ex-Dominatrix smiled. 'Don't worry about me, John, I'll manage. Just make sure he doesn't blow himself up.'

The army doctor nodded, and left quickly, wondering how on earth he was absorbing this information so quickly, but then realised that his friend was the reason of it. Getting used to Sherlock's sudden explosive lifestyle had John easily adapting.