Hey guys! So this chapter doesn't have a ton of Sherlolly stuff packed in, but it's still important. And this chapter is Warstan's turn, so there will finally be truth revealed. I hope all of that ends up making sense! There's also a bit more Dr. Hooper and Sherlock meaningful conversation. That's something I enjoy writing in this story. I feel like Molly's father can give Sherlock a verbal run for his money in the same sort of way that Molly can. Those Hoopers know what's going on! Ok, that's enough from me. Ready, set, read! ;)
*11/26 EDIT- Thank you to MizJoely for voluntarily giving me some corrections on the grammar and spelling in this chapter. Quite helpful! And now I can hopefully make fewer mistakes going forward too. Good times!*
"When must we endure that?" Sherlock sighed.
"In a fortnight. You should not complain, Sherlock. The Hawkins are perfectly lovely people. In fact, I can't imagine why they continue to pursue a...connection," Lady Holmes said shaking her head as she took another bite of her dinner.
"And it's just a dinner party then?" John asked.
"Yes indeed. A small dinner party. Only closer acquaintances would be included I should think. It's lovely that all of us got an invitation."
"Oh yes, how lovely," Sherlock mumbled sarcastically as he reached under the table to pass a small piece of chicken to Redbeard.
John didn't miss Sherlock's attempted covert move, and he stifled a laugh at his friend. The progression of the new friendship between man and dog in the past few days had been rather endearing to watch. It was fascinating to see Sherlock become so attached to the puppy. He became a master and protector overnight. John quickly concluded that this was incredibly good for the man who was clearly emotionally stunted.
"How was your ride today, Miss Morstan?" John asked out of the blue, causing Mary's eyes to shoot over to him.
"It was fine, Dr. Watson. Thank you for asking. Fine weather today for a ride." Mary gave him a cautious smile before looking back to her plate.
"I heard you mentioning to Anthea that there was something you needed in town. Perhaps you'd like to accompany me into town tomorrow. I was going to be there anyway," John asked, remaining persistent and positive despite her frequent rebuffs.
"Perhaps, Dr. Watson. Thank you for the offer," she nodded and continued eating again.
Mycroft rolled his eyes as he watched the interchange of the entire table. "Since we all seem to be so intent on conversing during dinner, I will take this opportunity to tell you all that I shall need to be back in London be mid-August. They cannot spare me any longer."
"What? So soon?" Anthea asked, putting down her fork. "Why, that's only about another month. Can't we leave in the beginning of September? It's not that much longer."
"I am not insisting on pulling you away. If you recall, I told you that you are welcome to stay here as long as you wish...if that is what you want." There was a hint of resignation in Mycroft's voice as he spoke the words.
"What would you like me to do, Mycroft?" Anthea asked, praying he would ask her to come back with him, even though she didn't want to leave early.
"I- I would like you to...decide for yourself." He gave her a tight smile. "Far be it from me to give you orders."
Anthea said nothing. She picked up her fork again briefly, but soon laid it down again. "Forgive me, I think I shall retire early. I am not feeling entirely well." She got up from the table and gave everyone a quick smile before exiting the room.
"Oh, the poor dear!" Lady Holmes said with a sympathetic pout. Then her expression seemed to perk up. "Dr. Watson, perhaps you should examine her after dinner...just to be sure."
Mycroft sighed at his mother's transparency.
"I will offer if you'd like, Lady Holmes," John said kindly, in effort to appease her.
Lady Holmes smiled happily and continued eating. Suddenly she jumped and let out a yelp. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Sherlock, your new pet should not be allowed under the table or in the dining room at all!"
Sherlock chuckled low at the other end of the table as he reached under the table, calling for Redbeard to come back to where he was sitting. "If you don't drop your food, he won't come near your feet, mother."
"Oh, I see, it's my fault!" She shook her head and took a sip of wine.
Another bit of silence followed, and only the faint sound of Redbeard under the table at Sherlock's feet could be heard. Finally Lady Holmes spoke again.
"Oh, Dr. Watson, I had been meaning to ask you, How is poor Dr. Hooper?"
John cleared his throat. "He is very sick, Lady Holmes. He doesn't have much longer it seems."
"Oh dear," she sighed, placing a hand to her chest. "The poor thing. He's such a good man, and has taken such excellent care of the family. I do wish there was something we could do."
Sherlock smiled faintly to himself, thinking that his mother had no idea how much they'd already done...
"Is he still able to get out at all?" she continued.
"A bit, yes. Some days are better than others. In fact, he accompanied me on some of his patient's visits the other day. I think that was a bit much for him to handle, but he wanted to do it. I felt cruel to deny him that. He could certainly take the final downward turn at any moment, but for now, he still enjoys a bit of normalcy."
"I see," Mrs. Holmes said, and she shook her head in sadness for a moment. Then she smiled, having come up with an idea. "If he's still able to get out a bit, perhaps we could invite him and Miss Hooper to tea this week. We could have a bit of tea and lunch outdoors. The weather has been awfully lovely."
"I think that would be a very nice idea," Mary smiled.
"I agree," John nodded.
"It's settled then," Lady Holmes smiled. "I shall have an invitation sent out tomorrow."
Sherlock smiled down at Redbeard as he fed him one final piece of chicken.
Two days later, the Hoopers came to tea at Seaborne. Lady Holmes arranged for a lovely spread out in the yard. It proved to be a perfect day for an outdoor tea, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Dr. Hooper was especially content, sitting in one of the wooden chairs and enjoying the sunshine.
"You were so kind to have us today, Lady Holmes. I feel the sunshine is doing wonders for me," Dr. Hooper said between labored breaths.
"It was nothing, of course! We were ever so sorry to miss you at the Hawkins' ball last week. Now we can make up for the loss."
"My Molly was able to go, that's all that mattered," he smiled over at his daughter who was sitting with Mary and chatting. He looked back at Lady Holmes. "Where is Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"
"Oh he went off to check his bees, silly man!" Lady Holmes laughed. "What sort of gentleman keeps bees, I will never know!"
Dr. Hooper smiled to himself. "A very different sort," he said quietly, and took a sip of tea.
A few minutes later, little Redbeard came bounding over to the party through the grass. He gave a couple of excited little yaps as he went directly over to Molly.
"Oh hello, you!" Molly cooed and lifted him onto her lap. She and Mary began petting and scratching him and he promptly rolled over to allow easier access to his belly. "And where is your master?"
"Lagging behind," answered the deep voice that approached. "I find he has boundless energy!"
Molly looked up and smiled at Sherlock. "Keeps you busy, doesn't he? You see, I knew it would work."
Redbeard began chewing on Molly's fingers, which really didn't hurt, but Sherlock promptly snapped his finger. "No," he firmly instructed, and the puppy immediately released Molly's hand and looked up at his master.
"My, he's really becoming well trained, isn't he?" Mary exclaimed.
"He's become quickly used to the sound of my voice it seems. He listens to me rather well." Sherlock extended a stick he was holding and Redbeard took it in his mouth and began roughly gnawing on that while holding it between his paws. "He's teething apparently. I have to keep a stick with me wherever I go or he's constantly chewing on something he shouldn't."
Molly began playfully tugging the stick. "Does he enjoy playing?" she asked, looking back up at Sherlock.
"He does. He's either running around like mad, or collapsing because he's dead tired!"
"He will certainly outgrow a bit of that. He's just acting like a puppy. Aren't you? Yes you are!" Molly gave him a snuggle.
She got up and placed Redbeard on the grass, where he began leaping around. Molly laughed at how silly he looked, clumsily jumping around in the grass that was almost taller than him. "I'll play with him for a bit and keep him busy."
"Only if you'd like to," Sherlock answered. "No obligation."
"I would like to," she smiled, and ran off along with Redbeard.
Sherlock watched as Molly ran back and forth in an open area a little distance from where the rest of the party sat. She tugged at the stick in Redbeard's mouth and then ran with it, making him chase her. She sat down in the grass and giggled as he jumped all over her. A slow smile began to spread on Sherlock's face.
"Darling?" Lady Holmes addressed her son, reminding him that he wasn't alone. "Perhaps you'd like some tea?"
"Thank you, Mother," he said, and took the cup from her. He then took a seat over by Dr. Hooper, whom he'd seen little of in the past week or two.
"And how are your bees, Mr. Holmes?" the man asked with a smile.
"Doing rather well. If all goes as planned, I'll have a lovely bunch of honey before I go back to London."
Dr. Hooper was quite for a moment. "And...will you be coming back here any time soon?"
"Hard to say. I much prefer the city and its constant activity and work." Sherlock's gaze traveled back over to the open field where Molly ran with Redbeard jumping at her heels till she stopped and flipped him over in the grass to rub his belly. Sherlock looked back at Dr. Hooper. "But, surely I'll return at some point."
Dr. Hooper smiled back at him. "I hope you do. And I must add that perhaps your return would not simply be due to your family's presence here. Or rather... I hope it would not simply be that." He looked at Sherlock carefully.
Sherlock had a sudden wave of anxiety rise in his stomach as he looked back at Molly's father. Sherlock could see it in the man's eyes. He knew what was being implied, and it terrified him. And it didn't matter how he felt suddenly warmed when around Molly Hooper, or how she tended to pop into his thoughts at rather regular intervals recently, or the fact that he knew she was simply unlike any other woman he'd known before. It didn't matter, because ultimately Sherlock's emotions were like a timid animal. If you got too close, they would quickly bolt.
"I- I fear, Dr. Hooper, that you are hoping for something that will never be. I have a...sincere regard for your daughter. Certainly I would not have bothered to assist you if I did not. But what you are implying...I am not searching for that sort of life. I never have been, and I- I do not know if I can-"
Dr. Hooper placed a hand briefly on Sherlock's arm. "It's alright, there's no need to explain further, Mr. Holmes. I don't mean to be so forward and make you uncomfortable. And I wouldn't want you to think me ungrateful. You have indeed done much for me. I would not want you to think I am asking more from you than you can give...But you cannot blame me for hoping," he said with a half-smile.
Sherlock didn't say anything. He looked at the man though, and began to relax. Dr. Hooper seemed to understand him. Maybe better than many people. And he thought that perhaps this was where Molly got her especially agreeable personality.
"You have indeed eased my mind considerably," Dr. Hooper went on after recovering from a bit of coughing. "I do not lose so much sleep lately, worrying about Molly's security after my death. No, my concerns do not lie there anymore. But she is still me little girl, so naturally I have other hopes for her, beyond her basic needs...I want her to be happy. I hope that someone can make her happy."
Sherlock looked away for a moment and caught another glimpse of Molly tugging the stick in Redbeard's mouth. The first thing that came to his mind was, she is happy. But he knew that Dr. Hooper was referring to the happiness that a husband and family could bring, and he couldn't help but sigh inwardly, wondering why it always must come to that. Couldn't other people find complete contentment the way that he was sure he had? Perhaps he wished that Molly could. Perhaps he wished it because it would...simplify things. But he answered Dr. Hooper in a controlled voice, without including those thoughts.
"Surely there is a man that could be the making of your daughter's happiness. I don't believe there is any reason for you to doubt it."
Dr. Hooper nodded solemnly for a moment. Then he spoke with pointed words. "But you, Mr. Holmes, you do not believe you could do that...do you?"
Sherlock stared at the man, a little shocked. He had put into words, something that Sherlock wasn't even sure he consciously understood till that moment. But he realized that it was true. He did not believe that he could make, and keep, Molly Hooper happy. In fact, every piece of evidence in his mind made him believe the very opposite.
Sherlock drew a breath before slowly pushing out his response. He looked directly at Molly's father and spoke solemnly. "Dr. Hooper, I do not believe that I am built to be a husband...I am barely fit to be anybody's friend."
A slow smile spread across Dr. Hooper's face and he began to chuckle a bit, making Sherlock frown at him in question. "Ah, Mr. Holmes, shame on you. I believe that as a detective, you should perhaps practice your skills of observation a bit more." Dr. Hooper gave him a sly smile, then stood with some effort, saying he wanted to have a bit of a walk. He left Sherlock there to continue frowning a little in confusion.
Sherlock stayed lost in thought for a while, trying to sort through what Dr. Hooper had said and meant. He doesn't really know me, Sherlock kept thinking. He's never seen me when I'm working a case in London, or when I'm without a case and going absolutely mad! He's never seen me at my worst. He doesn't know what I'm capable of. And surely he'd never wish that on his daughter, if he really knew...
Sherlock was brought back to reality by Redbeard leaping onto his lap and licking his face. He began scratching the puppy's head and back and he immediately snuggled closer to Sherlock's chest as his panting slowed.
"I believe I've tired him out," Molly said as she approached and took the seat her father had left unoccupied. She was breathing heavily as well, and she leaned her head back against the chair, closing her eyes for a moment. "Or perhaps he's tired me out!" she laughed.
Sherlock smiled at her, though she couldn't see, then he looked back at Redbeard who had lain down in his lap. "He'll wake in another hour, and be ready to run circles around me again," Sherlock chuckled.
"I'm sure you're right. And I think you'll be on your own this time!" Molly let out a sigh. She opened her eyes again and saw John approaching them.
"Have either of you seen where Miss Morstan is?" he asked.
"I saw her walking over toward the pond while I was playing with Redbeard. Perhaps you'll find her there," Molly smiled up at him.
"Thank you, Miss Hooper," John nodded, and he smiled at Sherlock as he walked away from them.
There was a bit of silence after John walked off, then Molly spoke again.
"Forgive me, but...are they-"
"Watson wishes they were," Sherlock answered quickly.
"Oh, I see. How sad...But, perhaps she'll come around," she added hopefully.
Sherlock shrugged. "My cousin does not believe it would be for the best, and she is stubborn."
"Do you think she, well, cares for him?" she asked.
Sherlock took a moment to answer. "There are other things that discourage her. So I'm not sure her feelings for him matter."
Molly smiled. "If they both really care for each other, then what else could possibly matter?"
Sherlock turned and watched John walk off to find Mary, and he couldn't help but wonder if the crazy words that Molly Hooper spoke held any bit of truth.
"Miss Morstan?" John announced his presence and Mary turned from where she stood looking at the water.
"Hello, Dr. Watson," she said with a sad smile. "I was just enjoying the quiet."
"Normally I would apologize for disrupting your solitude, but I am becoming a bit sadly desperate. It seems I'm being very carefully avoided once again." He smiled, lightening the statement a bit.
Mary shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't see the point in speaking any further on this subject. You see, there's really nothing left to say."
John swept to her side like lightening and gently grasped her hand as he spoke firmly. "Forgive me, Miss Morstan, but there is a lifetime of things to say, but I fear that I am not being allowed to say them."
Mary's eyes were lit and engulfed by the spark that leapt from John's, and for a moment, they could only stare at one another as he kept a firm grip on her hand. Finally, John went on.
"The least you can do is speak freely to me. You are asking me to walk away from you, but I don't even understand why. Please, please, do me the courtesy of telling me the whole truth. What do you have to lose? You already believe that we shouldn't be together. If that is true, what are you afraid of? Just tell me everything, and be done with it!"
Mary drew a deep breath as she slowly turned away from him to look back at the water. John released her hand, not wanting to push her, and he waited for a response. Finally she opened her mouth.
"You're right. Perhaps this will be a kindness to you. I will be honest. I will tell you everything. And then perhaps you will be free of the belief that you could somehow be happy with me," she said, turning back to him as she spoke the last words. She was already becoming emotional, and had to take a few steps away before going on.
"I'll start at the beginning I suppose. I met my late husband almost two years ago. I was at a party, and he was introduced to me. His name was Robert Adams. He was very forward, and he made no secret of the fact that he enjoyed my company. In fact, he convinced me to meet him later that very night, which I did. I met him once more among friends later that same week, and that's when he took me aside and said he wanted me to run away with him."
John listened silently, not wanting to scare her off, or discourage her from being completely honest.
"He said he was in love with me." Mary shook her head. "I've never believed myself to be a stupid gullible woman, but apparently all of us have our moments. I was completely drawn in. He was handsome and gallant, and I thought I was incredibly fortunate. So, he explained that we needed to be married quickly, because he had a lot of business to care for. I listened to him, and I trusted him. So I left with him, that very night. We were married, and it was done, just like that... And it was almost immediately afterward that he began to show his true self. He began asking me to inform my family of the marriage so that my dowry could be paid. I was terrified! I wanted to enjoy the fact that I'd just married a man I thought was in love with me, but I was not looking forward to informing my family. But he forced me to tell them." Mary paused and pressed a hand to her brow.
"It's alright, Miss Morstan. Go on," John said gently.
"That was how it began. And once he'd gotten the dowry, he alienated me from my family. Though partly, I was the one that did that. They were horrified at the fact that I'd eloped. I'm sure I would have been found out sooner, had Sherlock not been on a case in another city at the time. As it was, he didn't find out till the whole thing was completely done. He was immediately suspicious. And so was I, but I was still hoping that Robert was better than he seemed. I wanted to believe that we were still going to be happy! So I tried to push my family off, and convince them that everything was fine. But soon, very soon, I began to realize that Robert was not the man I thought he was, in many ways. It became clear to me that he was involved in some less than legitimate business pursuits."
John frowned. "What do you mean?"
"There were meetings at odd hours, and suspicious men coming by our flat looking for him, and strange deliveries that he had to take to other places. He was always on edge, and almost angry. When I started to understand that he was involved in some strange things, and I questioned it...that's when the violence started."
John's eyes widened in horror.
"After that, it just continued. It didn't get better, it got worse. My life became a nightmare, and I hated every minute of it. I hated him, I hated whatever he was constantly doing behind my back, and I hated myself probably most of all. I didn't know what to do. I thought about running away to my family. I was almost ruined anyway, and I wondered if it would really be much worse to escape from my horrible marriage and at least be able to live in peace with my family. But I was afraid that if I did, I'd be putting them in danger. So I just stayed, and I did nothing but dream that it would be over somehow...I just never dreamed how it would finally end."
Mary walked over to a rock nearby and took a seat. She took a deep breath and went on. "One night, he came home and told me that we had to leave in the morning. I asked him where, and he wouldn't tell me. He seemed afraid, and he just wouldn't listen to anything I had to say. I couldn't make any sense of it, so finally I went to bed. I woke up a little while later, because I heard something. Just as I was about to get out of bed, I heard him scream," she said with a visible shudder. "I heard voices a moment later, but then I heard our door shut. There was silence, so I got up and came down the stairs to see if Robert was still there. When I went into our sitting room, there he was on the floor...There was...blood everywhere."
John reached out and squeezed her hand.
"There was a knife on the floor next to him, and it was from our kitchen. I didn't know what to do, so I just ran outside and began knocking on doors, trying to get help. Help came finally, but it was far too late. He was dead by the time I'd come downstairs. I remember being in complete shock. I just sat there as police officers spoke to me, but I can't even remember what I said, if I said anything. I'm sure you can guess who was quick to arrive on the scene," she added with a half-smile.
"Holmes," John murmured.
Mary nodded. "He put me up at Baker Street for a couple of days. And I began to feel like I'd gotten a second change, no matter how horrible it had been. I started to feel like myself again. But then things got a bit more difficult. I suppose the police investigators spoke to neighbors, and they were told that our marriage was a less than happy one. Unfortunately, they also reported that they hadn't seen anyone coming or going from our flat that night."
"My God," John sighed and shook his head.
"Naturally, they suspected me. There was no evidence of anyone having broken in, he was killed with our knife, and I was treated dreadfully in our marriage. When they questioned me, I explained that I thought him to be involved in some sort of improper business. I told them that he seemed so uneasy and wanted to move so quickly that I thought it possible he'd done something to anger the person or people he worked for. But then I was told that they'd found nothing to suggest he was involved in anything illegal."
"What did Holmes believe?" John asked, knowing that his was a most important piece of the puzzle.
"He believed me," Mary said with a small smile. "I had him on my side, and that made all the difference. He made sure I wasn't treated unfairly. Even though there wasn't any evidence to suggest someone came into our home and killed my husband, Sherlock didn't let them forget that there also wasn't any direct evidence against me. That was what saved me. But you can imagine that it didn't save me from the damaged reputation."
"That's why you came here, to Seaborne."
"Yes, and it was helpful that my aunt and cousins accepted me and took me in. The influence of a family like this one can make quite a difference. But that doesn't mean that my past won't still follow me," she said sadly. "In fact, I was very recently reminded that it can come back to haunt me at unexpected times."
"You mean James Moriarty?"
"That's right. I told Sherlock that he might not be a man to be trusted, if he did indeed know Robert. But there's more to consider, Dr. Watson," Mary said with a sigh. "You have your reputation to think about, and your business. Do you believe that your work as a doctor would be in no way tarnished if it became known that you'd married a woman who might be a murderer? You could be ruined."
John sighed and clasped his hands in his lap. "Miss Morstan, I appreciate the concern, but my reputation and business are not the only things that concern me. I also care about my happiness...and I care about yours. Do you doubt that I could make you happy?"
Mary laughed a little and shook her head. "I wish I did! No, of course I do not doubt it. How could I? What I question is whether I would truly be the making of your happiness. I fear I could easily become a greater burden than a joy, and I don't know how I could live with myself if you came to resent me."
"Resent you? Miss Morstan, how can you think-"
"No, you don't understand!" she cut him off. "I know what it's like to live in an unhappy union. I've lived it, and I've even seen it. So do not pretend that this isn't something serious to consider! I will not allow you to take this so lightly!"
John listened carefully, and saw how her eyes glistened with the pain from her past and fears for the future. He came up with a compromise.
"If you feel I am being too hasty, I will agree to think about what you've told me. I will think about it and consider my feelings on the matter. And I swear to you that whatever conclusion I reach will be based on careful examination of the facts. Can you accept that? And will you agree to allow me to speak to you again?"
Mary swallowed hard as she watched his eyes searching her features. She still felt as though she didn't deserve this man, but she couldn't deny the fact that he was still sitting here with her. She'd told him everything, and he was still here.
"Yes," she answered in a whisper. "You may speak to me again. And I will listen."
"Good." John smiled. "Why don't you go back to the house, and I'll return separately in a few minutes."
Mary got up, feeling a little lighter suddenly, and knew it was the weight of secrets that had been finally lifted. "I will see you back at the house, Dr. Watson."
John nodded and watched her walk away. He didn't mind waiting there for a while so that they didn't return together. He was happy to stay right where he was, seeing as he had quite a lot to think about.
Redbeard jumped at Molly's heels as she walked to the carriage with her father.
"Somebody doesn't want to let you leave," Dr. Hooper laughed.
"Redbeard," Sherlock's firm voice made the puppy immediately run to his side. "Stay."
The puppy seemed to muster all his restraint to stay put as his master had commanded, while Sherlock walked forward to the carriage. Dr. Hooper had just taken a seat, and he then watched carefully as Sherlock took firm hold of Molly's hand while she stepped up to climb into the carriage.
"Thank you, Mr. Holmes," Molly said softly, giving him a shy smile.
Sherlock's release of her fingers was very slightly delayed as she finally took a seat and he uttered the words, "Thank you for coming, Miss Hooper." Finally their hands did separate, and Sherlock's gaze slid away from Molly and fell to her father.
"Dr. Hooper," he said simply, with a nod.
"Mr. Holmes," the man said, with his own small nod and smile. Then he looked out to the rest of the Holmes household as well. "Thank you to your family for the invitation today. It was a lovely afternoon, and we are very grateful...for everything." He finished his words with another glance at Sherlock.
Everyone said their goodbyes, and the carriage began to move. It was hardly surprising to John Watson that as the rest of the family began to walk away and Sherlock stayed standing there watching, Molly Hooper turned around, giving his friend one more glance. John stepped forward to stand next to Sherlock and he cleared his throat.
"I do hope you realize that that woman is in love with you," John said, raising his eyebrows at Sherlock.
Sherlock barely flinched, but he gave John a brief sideways glance before answering. "Surely she's not," he answered in a quiet and unconvincing voice.
John chuckled beside him. He turned and began heading up the front steps, but he called over his shoulder to Sherlock, "Perhaps you should make better use of your observation skills, detective Holmes!"
Sherlock said nothing in reply. He stayed put and watched as the carriage disappeared around some trees, then he finally turned to go back inside as well. He grumbled to himself a bit as he walked with Redbeard bouncing along at his feet.
How had he managed to have his ability to observe insulted twice in one afternoon?
Ok, so we are moving right along! Hope you liked this one. And there will be some big things happening in the next chapter, so buckle up. Well, I hate to say that actually. I'll probably end up building expectations too high... But anyway, it's something big in the plot, in my mind at least. Thanks for all the continued support with follows, favorites, and reviews and stuff. I love it! And I'll most likely have the next chapter up in the next week.
Now I think it's time for me to put away the Nutella (which I've just been eating a spoonful of while updating) and go to bed. It's almost midnight, and I'm a sleepy writingwife! Night night, readers, and I hope to see your thoughts in the morning! *snore* ;D