A Wife for Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 5 – Business as Usual

It had taken the better part of a week for the swelling and bruising to go down on Mari Holmes' face. It had taken nearly that long to convince her husband that his brooding about it really was not necessary. He had an impulse to beat the holy hell out of the man who had done it, but she explained the fight and told him she would have rather taken that blow than the one that would have harmed her more. He was not comforted by that and he seemed protective now, asking where she was going when she went out different that her work schedule.

His caring was becoming stifling, but it was not fully his fault. He did not do things in half measure and he certainly had no idea what to do with her. He watched her face improve daily. John had helped by rubbing in an ointment she had gotten from her friend. When she refused to say what was in it, Sherlock had called the friend a Witch Doctor. However, it did help the bruising, even he had to admit.

She had moved into the flat fully with her husband and John. John had been very kind and helped her with her things. She did not have as much as the men did .Her household was mostly her business clothing, her artifacts, which she placed in storage at the museum, and her hijabs. John had carried in the heavy objects and she had sat finding places for her things. She set up her computer in her husband's small office needing a workspace as well.

Much of the other things were not needed so she boxed them up and stored them as well with the permission of her supervisor. She found herself in her new home and she felt like an outsider trying to make her way.

She cleaned on her days off and relaxed drinking tea and watching the weather. She was often in her own little world. Sherlock had come to terms or at least tolerated her clothing in his drawers, her coats in his racks, and his wife in his bed. Not that she was ever boring there, but it was an adjustment for him.

She walked into the room to find him playing his violin. His thin hips were encased in his slacks with his dress shirt of burgundy tucked into it as he played. He was also in the way. Gently, she reached out and put her hands on his hips and shifted him slightly. He didn't stop playing, but he turned to look at her, his green eyes showing annoyance, but it flashed concern as she passed, her shirt pulled back tight to her as she passed the chair and it caught revealing the small rounded area of her abdomen.

She moved to the kitchen and found a bagel to eat. She ate it and listened to the playing as she sat on the landing.

John found her there. "Are you alright?" He asked.

"Yes." She smiled up at him as she finished. He offered a hand and she took it. She wondered for a brief moment what it would be like to be married to John Watson. John was a calm and collected doctor who respected her on a level Sherlock was yet to achieve.

However, she was madly in love with her husband and she took his small quirks and big quirks in stride. He did care for her. It was clear. He tolerated her far more than any other female he had encountered and yet there were times he needed to be away from her.

She accepted that. She went to yoga and belly dancing to get away from him and clear her head. He had not made too much protest knowing she needed an outlet somewhere otherwise she would go back to Krav Maga and fencing. The thought of her getting injured in that was too much for him to bear.

John moved to the table and began to work on his blog. He was working on the entry about Sherlock's marriage. He had asked permission of Mari before he started and was busy typing about it.

Sherlock paused and looked down reading quickly. "Why are you writing about my marriage?"

"People want to know you are human."

"You already write about cases I could not fully help. How much more human do I need to be?" Sherlock asked.

"Relax, darling. He just wants the world to know that you are taken."

"Why should that matter?"

She coughed a little and then lifted a letter that John had opened. It was pink and smelled of a rather strong perfume. She took a breath from her mouth and then read, "Mr. Holmes. I have been reading the blog from Dr. Watson. You seem extraordinary and you are so very handsome on the telly. Tell me are you free any time? Would you consider coffee? Tea? Marriage?" She looked up. "Shall I go on? She actually sounds fairly pretty. She might distract you for five minutes until you talked so far over her she left."

"You actually read those?" He asked.

"Of course. We all need out entertainments."

"Jealous?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Of women throwing themselves at you? No. I know where you sleep." She smiled up at him.

He shook his head. "It is like you think I would never have an affair."

"Sherlock?!" John gasped.

Mari lifted her hand as her husband started to play again. "No, because you could not handle two women, the drama, and possibly two babies on the way."

He paused and looked back at her. "Point taken." He turned and looked back out the window.

She smiled and sat back to listen. John watched her a moment. Her hand went to her head as though it ached, but she said nothing. She took a deep breath letting the music calm her.

ZzZ

October 10 2010

She woke.

She looked about the room. She felt completely like a stranger, even now. This was her home now, and she could not feel more like an outsider. She sighed and looked at the ceiling, her body craving a few more moments in the covers where it was warm and comfortable. She did have to give that one to her husband. He had one of the best beds she had ever slept upon.

The swelling of her face had gone back to its original beauty with a small scar on her lip where the man's ring had caught. She was able to live with it and it was hardly noticeable. Well, hardly noticeable to anyone, but Sherlock who growled about it constantly.

She looked to her side. She was not surprised that her husband was no longer there. He more inhabited the same space she did rather than being a husband. Perhaps she was too romantic thinking as to what a husband should be. She shook her head. They were if anything like flatmates that shared a bed.

She was after all married to the brilliant Sherlock Holmes. A wonder, even she had to admit. She had not expected him to step-up, she had merely wished to inform him of her condition and then move on. However, he was determined to have her there, with him, safe, in his flat, where she felt like an alien. He even looked at her like one sometimes.

The night before had been as many since she had become acquainted with Sherlock Holmes. The man was as much a genius in bed as he was elsewhere and he was arrogant of the talent, and if she had to say so herself, rightfully so. She enjoyed her time with him. She wished he could be as warm and close elsewhere. He was often a cold personality, but when pleasing her between the sheets, she could not be happier. They had fallen asleep in a tangle of limbs that somehow he had climbed out of without waking her earlier.

She sat up and flinched as she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. Perhaps she could just calm, relax, and breathe it away. She touched her face a moment taking a deep breath and then shook her head and ran to the wash area at a full run startling both male occupants in the common room as she bolted in her night dress and slammed the door shut before promptly falling to her knees and retching into the toilet.

Sherlock looked at John and shrugged. John took a breath feeling sorry for his wife. Morning sickness was hardly new, but the poor woman suffered from it horribly. Thankfully, it seemed to disappear when she had some toast in her belly and relaxed for a time.

After a few moments of heaving with nothing coming out she panted, leaning against the bowl as she recovered her breath. A soft cough made her look up through her watery eyes up at Dr. Watson, her husband's flatmate who regarded her calmly. He was holding a water glass and smiling tolerantly at her.

"Dr. Watson." She said, her cheeks flushing scarlet as she looked away and leaned up to flush the meager fluid that had come from her stomach down.

He stepped forward and shook his head. "Mari, I have told you, my name is John." He said gently as he watched her rise shakily to her feet. "Easy…not too quickly." He said softly. "You can sit back if you need more time." He watched her pale features a moment.

She nodded leaning against the sink for support a moment. He gently offered the water. She sipped it and spat it into the sink to rid herself of the taste of acid and bile. She then sipped the water slowly and took a deep breath. He touched her arm, reminding her he was there. She looked at him and nodded. "Thank you, John." She said with her soft accent.

He smiled and smiled kindly as he cocked his head. "Can I make you some toast?"

"That would be lovely. Let me go dress." She said softly.

He nodded. "I will start it."

"What is Sherlock doing?"

"Reading." He mused.

She nodded and walked out, still a little unsteady on her feet. She smiled a little at Sherlock as he looked up at her as she walked toward their bedroom, slowly, with hesitant steps. She was pale and she wobbled a little. Her hand went to her head as the other went to the table. That once completely missed and she gasped.

A hand slid to her waist and the other grasped her arm. She was not sure how he had moved so quickly, but the comforting scent of Sherlock's cologne mixed with his own unique odor made her smile a little as he steadied her. "Are you alright?" He asked gently in a very uncharacteristically quiet voice and comforting voice.

"Yes, thank you." She said, but he did not let go as she expected him to, in fact he held onto her and nodded. She allowed him to walk with her to the bedroom and then stepped away from him as he shut the door.

She was suddenly shy as he stood back regarding her as she reached for her dressing gown. He smirked as if amused by this and she looked down from his gaze. He sighed. "It is not like I have not seen you, Mari." He said. "We have been intimate…clearly…" He nodded to her belly. Reflexively, she put a hand there and looked up at him.

She winced and sighed going to collect some clothing. "I was going to take a shower." She said softly.

"I do not think that is a good idea. At least not while you are faint." He said.

She nodded. He had a point. "Perhaps after breakfast."

"Are you able to eat or are you still ill?"

"It comes and goes, but John has shown me toast helps ease the sickness."

He nodded and stood, arms folded watching her as she dressed. She was fully aware he was watching, but he appeared to be deep in thought. He was more than a foot taller than her elf like stature. His oddly attractive features made her long to have kind word or a gentle touch from him other than the bedroom. He was a very private person and it would take time to break into his hard shell.

He was a good man and had stepped up when she had come to him that rainy night to inform him that after only three dates and being in her bed all three times, she was pregnant by him. Instead of announcing it was her problem, as she had expected and so had John, he had offered his support and insisted on marriage so he did not appear to be an ogre.

It was not the most loving of relationships. In fact, there was not much love in it at all. It anything it was like two friends having sex and preparing for a baby to come. Oddly, she really could not even go that far since other than being protective she really had no idea what he was thinking about her.

It was hard to believe they had been married more than a month and she was three months along. She looked down. She was starting to show, but only undressed. It would be a few more weeks before she could no longer hide her condition. She sighed pausing to touch the small swell of her belly before continuing to pull on loose pants, a nice blouse, and a vest. It was cool in the flat and she was often cold, which when against everything she had read.

Once dressed, she pulled stockings onto her feet while sitting on the bed, which she had made while moving about the room, and then rose to her feet, too quickly. Her vision faded and her knees buckled as she gasped. She reached out for anything to catch herself. The bed was right behind her and she whimpered trying to step backwards to it.

She did not fall, however. Sherlock caught her to him, holding her gently, looking at her face as her vision swam a few more moments. She closed her eyes and then blinked, looking up at him. One of his massive hands cradled her head in his palm as the other held her to him. His concern for her was touching, but then his cold nature came out as he straightened and swung her into his arms, an arm around her back and the other under her knees. His large hands held her side and her thigh as he stood to his full height with her nestled like a child in his embrace. She always felt so small next to him and she looked up at his thin features.

"We need to stop meeting like this." He said. She sighed. True enough. The first time they had met she had locked her knees and fallen into his arms. The second time was when she had come exhausted, cold, hungry, and soaking wet after soul searching on whether to come to him. Now this. She hated feeling like a hapless female. Surely he was starting to regard her as such too, but then again he knew she was worth something. He had spent hours speaking to her over wine about nothing and everything. She had been surprised how open he could be, but perhaps that was only because of the drink.

"Sherlock, I can walk…" She protested. She laid a hand on his chest, feeling his warmth, reveling in it. She snuggled closer to him. She closed her eyes a moment relaxing knowing there was little she could do at this moment.

"Clearly, you are mistaken." He said. He carried her to the common room with ease and set her in a chair. She sighed and then looked up as Sherlock reclaimed his chair as John poured her some herbal tea he had made and placed some buttered toast before her.

She thanked him softly and then ate slowly. She felt useless, but John's upbeat attitude helped her soldier on. After all he had known Holmes for nearly six years longer than she had. Sherlock could be downright cold and rude to her, but she tolerated it, wanting to make the marriage work for them and the unborn in her belly they had made together.

She looked up and sighed. "I have to be to the museum soon." She muttered seeing the clock.

"You are in no condition to drive." Sherlock said looking at her, his eyes spearing her. He leaned forward. "Do you have your phone? I need to text someone." She sighed and lifted it. His was likely somewhere in the bedroom. He busily started to type a message, knowing her password. She had given up trying to keep him from her phone and she had nothing to hide.

"I must. I have work to do and the new exhibit to finish this week." She sighed. "I feel better now."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he looked up after finishing his message. "You would do well taking a day to relax."

"And be bored. No thank you, Mr. Holmes. I am well enough." She said. "I am pregnant, not made of glass."

He snorted. "And hence you are in my living space." He said rising to his feet making it clear that was the only reason he tolerated a female there in his sanctuary.

She shook her head and lifted her hand as John looked ready to speak. He clamped his mouth shut and sighed. He nodded to her and spoke then, calmer. "I can drive her. I need to get groceries anyway."

"Oh, good. I need some more cream and some of that delightful tea." Sherlock said without looking up.

"Very well." John smiled. "Are you nearly ready dear?"

"I need to shower first."

"Go ahead. I am not in a hurry." He said gently.

She smiled and rose to her feet. Her earlier syncope seemed to have disappeared. She showered allowing the warm water to fall down her shoulders. She shampooed her long red auburn hair and then after washing it out she stood a moment, looking down at her once flat belly that now had a small, but distinctive bulge. She caressed it and shook her head. She turned her head a little hearing the door open. She turned off the water and reached for the toweling pulling it behind the curtain wondering which of the men who lived with her had come in. Not that Dr. Watson had not seen her naked before. He had examined her when she first fainted and did a pregnancy test, suspecting it was the reason for her faintness.

"Sorry I am not done yet, I just…" She wrapped the towel about herself and froze.

"I was checking on your welfare…wife." Sherlock's rich voice interrupted her from the other side of the curtain.

She sighed stepped out looking up at his immaculately dressed form. His curly dark hair was in ripples on his head, but it fit him as he looked at her. She sighed and dressed wondering if he was going to leave, but he did not. He stepped forward catching her off guard as she finished pulling on a skirt and was pulling a bra up, his large cool hand engulfed her belly. She looked down at his hand and then up at him. She smiled a little enjoying the tender touch.

He shook his head and stepped back. "You are showing more than before. I was curious if I could feel it move." He offered for the explanation for invading her personal space. Not that she minded. Sherlock and John Watson were the only two she did not take exception to doing that and John did it as a friend and as a doctor. Sherlock at times could have the gentleness of a lover. This was one of those times, but then as fleetingly as it had started, it was over.

"I cannot so I doubt you could." She said finishing strapping her bra into place.

"Did you know your breasts are larger and darker?" He asked. "And you hand a line from your belly button down." He traced it causing her to shiver.

"Yes. They are actually quite tender." She said. She pulled on her blouse and then reached for her hair brush. She did her hair in a thick braid before wrapping it into a thick bun. Over this she pulled her hijab that matched the business suit she wore perfectly.

He nodded and stepped out as she brushed her teeth. Once she was ready she claimed her bag. Sherlock was looking out over the street as John gathered his things.

She went to her husband and touched his arm gently. "Have a good day, husband." She offered trying to be warm to him, even if he was not.

"You as well." He answered looking down at her.

She turned her face up to him expectantly. He looked at her a moment in non-comprehension and then she sighed and leaned up to him, wrapping a hand about his neck, she pulled him down to her, startling him. He stiffened at this, hands spreading wide, and she shook her head and planted a kissed to his lips and then his cheek. She smiled and he seemed to realize what she wanted and pressed a soft peck to her cheek.

She smiled and then walked to the door with John Watson behind her. She got into his car and relaxed.

"How are you feeling? Truly?" John asked as he started the car.

"Tired, but alright. I wish Sherlock would be more welcoming."

"Give him time. This was rather jumped on him." John said. "We are all three making adjustments."

She nodded. "I do not offend being in your home do I?"

"Hardly." He smiled. "If anything you are a nice breath of fresh air for us, Mari."

She smiled as they came to a light and leaned over and kissed his cheek. "Thank you John."

"For what?"

"For making me feel better."

He nodded.

She was dropped off exactly on time. She bid farewell to her flatmate and then turned, walking up the stairs into the museum. She sighed. Today was another day.

ZzZ

Marion returned home by tube. The stop for her was a block away from the Baker Street home and she lifted the box she had and stepped out. A man let her pass and she offered a smile at him as she continued.

She was carrying a file box and walked up the flights of stairs. She unlocked the door, holding the file container on her hip. John had graciously given her a key to the house and the flat when her husband kept forgetting. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson was almost always there to let her in before. Today, she was grateful for the key. There had been a cold snap. No snow, but it was chilled outside.

She walked in and there was silence. For a moment she thought she was alone.

She was wrong.

She reached the landing and sighed looking about. Something smelled, different there. It wasn't a bad smell. In fact it was making her hungry, but she had learned the last time she had smelled something good there she should not trust it. Sherlock liked to experiment.

"Mari. What in heaven's name are you doing? You should not be lifting." Sherlock was at her side, taking the box. He dipped his head, looking into her face as if checking her over for signs of stress. He looked at the box. "This has to be at least twenty pounds. Why did you not call?"

"Would you have answered?"

"I…well…"

She shook her head and then tried to take it from him. "I am fine."

He refused and she shook her head and dropped onto the couch and removed her shoes, her poor feet aching from being on them much of the day. She rubbed the tops as she shut her eyes. "What were you doing all day?" She asked.

"Working on a case." Came John's voice. "Hello, dear, how are you feeling?" He asked gently as he came into view.

"I have been worse." She said pressing a hand to her brow to wipe it. "What is there in the fridge?"

"To eat? Loads. I went shopping." John said cheerfully.

Sherlock hissed as he looked at a computer screen.

She nodded and lifted herself to her feet, walking passed Sherlock who was watching her as she went to the fridge and pulled out some milk. She poured a glass and then found some crackers and cheese. She walked out with her plate and sat down regarding the pair.

Sherlock looked up at her. "Could you shut-up? People are trying to think here." He growled.

She paused eating a cracker. Her eyes flicked to John who lifted a hand and she shook her head. After her long day she could not take that. She shook her head and rose to her feet.

"Mari…Mari!" John protested rising to his feet. Sherlock was rubbing his temples and growled something incoherent.

Mari shook her head and walked down the stairs to see Mrs. Hudson. She knew at least the older lady would be more fit company and she was fighting back tears. She felt silly for weeping over this, but then her nerves were not her own at this moment. She refused to let Sherlock see them, however.

John followed her. She heard him. She made it to the bottom of the stairs and took a shaky breath before she inhaled and the tears came. She bit back the sob, but John still heard it and looked down. She went to Mrs. Hudson's flat and knocked.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door and saw the weeping lady before her and gasped. "Oh come here, love." She whispered pulling Mari into a hug and into her home. John looked upwards as he heard the sobbing start fully and sighed.

The poor thing just wanted to have a sense of belonging here, not be an outsider. He could hear Mari's sobbing grow softer as Mrs. Hudson took her in hand.

John turned back. "You need to go apologize."

"For what, exactly?" Sherlock asked looking up.

"She is really hurt you know."

"For telling her to shut-up? I tell everyone that when I am thinking."

"She is pregnant."

"Yes, thank you for reminding me. It is tedious enough having you both around." He paused. "And occasionally it is rather unnerving."

"Are you seriously going to be this unfeeling toward her?"

"What?" Sherlock looked up.

"She is down there, weeping her eyes out because you shouted at her." John looked at him. "Women are sensitive anyway and you add hormones…"

"I don't want to be near her while she is crying." Sherlock said watching John. "How on earth is she so offended and more how are you offended?"

John shook his head. "You aren't even going to try."

"Try what?"

"To make your marriage a happy one?"

"She is here, in my protection, what more would she need?"

John shook his head and reached for his coat. "Even you can't be that dense."

"Pardon?" Sherlock looked at him startled. "Where are you going?"

"Out." John snapped over his shoulder as he went down the stairs and opened the front door. He slammed it shut behind him.

Sherlock looked after him. What on earth had just happened? He needed John to bounce ideas off him. Why did he just leave? And where was Mari?

He lifted his phone. He sighed and started to text. Mari? Where are you? You were just here. SH

There was a long silence before his phone chirped. He looked down and blinked at the message. Piss off, Mr. Holmes.

He sat back. What the hell?

Pardon? SH

There was no reply.