A-N: This story contains a collection of one-shot to three-part chapters on various occasion. Some are not Sherlock/Molly, but some are.
But it IS a Fairytale!
SETTING : First-born Holmes son at five years old.
The child, dressed in his sleepwear, bounced up and down on his bed eagerly waiting for his Papa to come. Every single night, without fail, Papa would come to his room talk with him.
Sometimes Papa told him about cases he finished.
Sometimes Papa told him about his extended family, The Watsons, and all the adventures the four of them had long before he married Mummy. (He called his courtship with her as "a very interesting and determined lady that I should like to know better outside of St. Barts morgue.")
Only on the rarest of occasions, when he was in the best of spirits would the child hear stories about his Papa's childhood.
Tonight felt like one of those 'rarest occasion' nights because a huge and complicated case that had dragged on for weeks finally closed this afternoon putting Papa and Mummy in the best of moods. They celebrated with Angelo's signature chef's special dish, and brought home the rest in a take away box for their son and Mrs. Hudson to enjoy.
"Papa," Edward took his father's hands and place them over his own, "Will you tell me a story? Please!"
"Very well, what would you like?" Papa smiled at his son, he enjoyed the time he had with him. His Work could always wait. At one point in time Work was the only thing Papa cared about, but now it was second rate to his family. "Tell me again about how you met Mummy," came the reply.
"Edward. That's not a story, stories are fantasy, like fairy-tales. It is The Good versus The Evil and 'they lived happily ever after' endings. How I met your mother is reality, besides you already know the story. What if I told you one of Edgar Poe's mystery stories instead, you enjoy them, don't you?"** Edward's hands went limp in his father's for a moment as he thought.
"You're wrong Papa," his son began to sign, "It is a story! You met Mummy a very long time ago, long before Uncle John came to solve cases with you. You said many things happened before I was born, some bad things and some good things. There was someone really bad, but now he's gone. So the evil is gone and the good has won. Now you have Mummy and me, the good part, right? Aren't we living in the 'happily ever after' part?" Edward buried his smiling face in Papa's gentle hand whilst the elder one absent-mindedly ran his fingers de-tangling a mass of unruly dark curls. You look so much like me, it is unbelievable.
You are my son, in every way possible, only you would think in such an unorthodox way. Never one to go with the usual, do you? Fairy-tales!?
Does Moriarty relentlessly taunt me, even from the grave, at every chance he gets? "Every fairytale needs a good old fashion villain..."
"I suppose you're right Edward, but I want you to never forget that this world is not a fairytale. This is the real world, and many many bad things happen. If you ever start to forget then just think about what Mummy and I do for work. There is no such thing as true 'happily ever after'", Sherlock replied with hopes of instilling those words of wisdom into the young mind.
It is wrong to deceive a child, tell what must be said, but never ever lie. It will have disastrous consequences.
"Oh, I understand Papa," he snuggled close to his father basking in the protection of those strong arms, "Still, please tell me again how you and Mummy met. I like it a lot."
Allowing himself to be drawn into his son's innocent thinking, placed his hand in his son's tiny palms and began with the famous words, "Once upon a time there lived..."
About the time Sherlock reached the point when Edward would be born, his child was fast asleep against his chest. Kissing Edward's head softly, Papa laid him on the pillow and straighten his duvet.
He heard a soft breath come from the threshold of the room and whispered, "Molly? How long have you been standing there?"
"Yes, it is me. For no more than a minuet Sherlock, my handsome knight in shinning armour," she pecked his cheek before leading him to the sitting room already prepared with a fresh pot of Earl Grey.
"Not you also into this of fairytale rubbish," he commented with gentle sarcasm as soon his wife nestled herself in his arms, "it really isn't good for Edward to think about it. Doesn't help him at all, it will only disappoint him when he is older."
"He should think about it Sherlock, then he will understand the differences between reality and fantasy. Teach them whilst young. Besides he is right on one account, our story is a fairytale. Everything that happened when and before we were courting was the Evil, but now I have you, Edward, and our wonderful friends. Who would have thought any of this to be like this for us?" She placed a hot cup in his hand then took a sip from her own. His brow knit in deep thought considering what his family told him about fairytale.
Perhaps they are right after all in this instance...It is true the evil Moriarty is reduced to merely a pile of bones under a mound of dirt...didn't even get a rock...didn't deserve a fancy rock anyway...but surely all this rubbish about damsels in distress and knights in shinning armour certainly doesn't fit either Molly or me. She dated a consulting criminal, certainly does not qualify as a 'damsel in distress' by my account.
"No, I would have never imagined myself in this position. Never. A husband and a father?! That certainly wasn't on my agenda at all, but now I don't know what position I'd rather be in than this," he handed the cup back to her, so he would have a free arm to wrap around his wife.
"I'm glad you think this way Sherlock, almost every little girl as dreamed her wedding and married life, but for the dream to become this?" she caressed his visage tenderly, "It is much, much better than what I thought as a child. Especially with Edward."
"I concur. Speaking of which, I think it is appropriate time for Edward to come to work with us now. Mrs. Hudson looks after him quite a lot. He is of a suitable age, ordinary things that would frighten a child don't frighten him. You work tomorrow, why don't we take him in? I can show him my latest experiment and you can show him what you do." Sherlock turned to his wife with a look of hopefulness.
She poked his cheek playfully, "Stop looking at me like that! You're scaring me." "Like what?" He countered in feigned ignorance then made his eyes smaller and smile wider, "Like this?"
"Yes! You know exactly what I mean. If he wants to, he can come tomorrow, " she poked his cheeks forcing the smile to be less 'creepy-looking'. "The director doesn't mind a child...well...because after meeting you he said, and I quote: 'If I can handle your husband's strange ways, then I can handle anyone else that come to the lab.'"
"Perfect! Where's Estella, could you bring me her, please?" ^^ Molly got up and retrieved the delicate violin from its stand by the window and placed her in those nimble musician fingers. "Thank you, now I think you should go to bed. It is late and I predict there will be a lot of reports to work on."
Molly kissed him goodnight then fell asleep to the sounds of Estella sing the melody Sherlock composed the day Edward was born.
Yes, it IS a fairytale. The life I now live truly called "happily ever after".
A-N: Reading chapter 10 'Surprises in Signs' in "Watching Over Each Other" might help you understand how the father and son converse. Tactile signing is used between those who are blind but know sign language.
I hope you enjoyed the addition of little Edward, he'll be a reoccurring character.
Poll is available if interested on my bio page.
^^ More information about Estella is found in the three-part A HEART ONE WOULD NEVER EXPECT.
**Edgar Poe is the founder of mystery novels featuring detectives and solving crimes, and who is credited with the start of the Science Fiction genre. Many believe Doyle as the start of such novel, but in fact he himself made mention of Poe.
Tip of the hat to this wonderful Gothic author for all his works and paving the way for others.
«Poe's early detective fiction tales featuring C. Auguste Dupin laid the groundwork for future detectives in literature. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle said, "Each [of Poe's detective stories] is a root from which a whole literature has developed...Where was the detective story until Poe breathed the breath of life into it?" ~ Courtesy of: The Poe Encyclopaedia: Frank, Frederick S.; Magistrale, Anthony (1997)»