A Wife for Sherlock Holmes
Chapter 32 – Seasons Go and Seasons Come
Marion sat in the great estate that Alex lived in Kent. Sherlock had been returned to hospital and would be there for some time. He had nearly died, a second time, from internal bleeding. When he again woke, three days later, still heavily drugged, Marion was at his beside with Mycroft.
Mycroft had told her to say her goodbyes. He was going to have her in the field for a while. Sherlock would be recovering and the children would stay with Sherlock's parents. It almost broke Marion's heart to leave her husband so, but she kissed him and told him to get well.
He would be recovering and then be in physical therapy for months. He was expected to be out in mid November at the earliest.
Marion walked out and wiped her eyes a little. She had been allowed to stay with him for three days, claiming she was ill. Alex was in the middle of vacationing with his children in Scotland and only texted if she were well.
Now she was sitting looking out at the rain, sipping tea the maid had brought her, thinking about her life so far. Mycroft had given her instructions. She needed to find the plans he had, those were in his office. She would need to have access to that and she had only been in that wing once. That was the time she had left before he had her there on the desk. That was the night the Watson's had their row.
John came to look in Sherlock, but he was quite when Marion had been there, as though he were angry with her as well. He only answered her when she spoke to him, always in a clipped tone. She wondered how he was doing with Mary, if he even spoke to her.
Marion and Mary were in contact. Mary was living in 221B, at Marion's insistence to keep her safe, with people they knew, but away from John. Sherlock would not be there for some time and Marion would not either. Marion was yet to confess to anyone other than Sherlock and Mycroft that the divorce was a fake, something a judge friend had managed to file with missing details to make sure it was not true and would bar her from marrying the Lord who was actively pursuing her. The judge, a friend of Sherlock's named Matthew Harris, was in on it and Sherlock trusted him enough so she did as well.
She sighed and sat down in the window seat thinking about her family. She missed her children and she missed Sherlock, but she could not let on about that. Parliament was on leave for now and she had spent the better part of a month trying to gather what information she could. It was easy enough to be the companion of a man, most of the tabloids had her as his mistress or wife. One article even mentioned she was pregnant, which was rubbish since they were yet to sleep together, but she knew she needed to find something fast before he did act on his feelings.
She looked down at her hand. Her hand bore the ring Alex had gotten her. A diamond. A large diamond. Their whole relationship was in this stone. She hated diamonds, hated their color, hated the principle behind them, and hated people dying over them. However, when he presented it to her, she had been happy.
Perhaps she had missed her calling going into what she did. She would have made an award winning actress, but it was becoming harder and harder to keep up the front. She needed out of the stifling home and away from Alex soon.
She needed her family. She liked Alex's children when they came to visit and they treated her with respect if nothing more, but it made her homesick for her own children. She missed Sherlock. His odd quirks that made their relationship. Alex was boring and predictable. She could not lift a finger here without a maid or someone helping her.
She hated it. Utterly.
A soft noise made her turn and she saw Alex come in. "Alex." She smiled.
"Oh there you are." He smiled.
"How are you?"
"All right." She said. "It rains here a lot doesn't it."
He smiled. "That is much of Britain my love." He came to her and leaned down to kiss her. She took the kiss and he looked at her. "You were crying."
"Just missing the children."
"I could send for them."
"No. I want them to be able to visit their father on weekends. He deserves that much."
"Your divorce was finalized." He said. "They are in your custody."
"I agreed to let them spend the rest of the summer with his parents. They adore the children and it would be more stable for them."
"But you are away."
"Only for a time here with you. Being apart makes your heart fonder."
He nodded. "I do love you." He looked out. "I think we should marry in Scotland."
"Greta Green?" She asked playfully.
"If you like." He chuckled.
She lifted a tabloid and smiled. "Apparently I am sporting a baby bump." She looked down at her nearly flat belly. "We need to marry soon, it says."
"For Hell's sake. You actually read those?" He grunted lifting the offending paper to look at it. The headline read: Baker Street no more: Mrs. Holmes already Lady Fielding in secret and pregnant to boot. Sherlock shamed and in hiding.
"Why not? They are amusing."
"That is feeding the beast, my love."
"Hummm." She chuckled and let the tea cup warm her hands. "Perhaps."
ZzZ
She was there another week before she was summoned. She had been out riding the mare that he had gifted to her. With her was the groom and he led the horse through the woods of the estate, but then Robert came up on his motorbike. He was one of the henchmen, Alex had at the house.
"Lord Alex asks for your presence, Mrs. Holmes."
"Very well." She said. "Thank you Thomas. I will follow the path back."
"Very well, Madam." The groom nodded as he let go of the reins.
Violet took a side step and Marion clicked controlling her. She then shot off down the path letting her mount gallop. She leaned down to her neck. "Take me home, Violet."
The mount went along the way, knowing it well as she rode and held on feeling free. She shifted and a branch cut her cheek. She hissed a little at the stinging pain, but then shook her head as her horse went down the hill and then to the stable where she circled into the corral. Marion smiled as the other groom. Josiah came out, wiping his hands as Violet pawed a little.
"Well well, she looks to be spoilin' fur a race, Missus."
"Perhaps. Take care of her for me?"
"Of course, lass."
She nodded and walked back to the house pulling off her helmet, gloves, and jacket as she went. She still had her riding pants and boots on as she stepped into the home. She walked along. He was not in the library or conservatory so she continued on.
The door to his office was slightly ajar. She walked in. He looked up. "Oh there you are." He smiled at her. "I need some help. I am working on these notes and I was wondering if you could stay here while I make a few phone calls. I have guests coming and I want to make sure these are filed properly. You have seen my system at my office."
"As if none what so ever?" She teased.
He pulled a face. "There is one."
"I know. According to case and year. I saw."
"Ahhh good. Thank you."
"Why do you need me for a secretary? Don't you have one somewhere?"
"Her pay isn't enough to deal with these."
"And mine is?"
He came to her and touched her hip and pressed a kiss to her mouth. He then traced the cut on her cheek. She winced as he did and he leaned close licking it gently. "I trust you more than any underling." He smiled and pressed his hand to the waist band of her tight riding pants.
She gasped as his long fingers crept downwards. She grabbed his hand. "Don't."
"What?"
"Maybe I mean do…" She looked at him. "I…"
The door opened to reveal a man in a suit. "Sir…"
It was Loren, Alex's orderly. The only other person Alex trusted.
Marion smiled and blushed.
"Yes all right, coming Loren." Alex pulled out his hand and sniffed his fingers. "I will have you soon enough, my love." He said his voice grated with lust.
"I know." She leaned up and kissed him before he walked away.
ZzZ
She waited until she could hear him retreat to another room. She leaned against the door. She listened. Alex was speaking. She could hear his voice.
She pressed her ear to the door. It was Chinese.
She did not understand it all, but she understood some of it. She then turned and looked at his desk. She looked at the paperwork. Nothing of interest.
Except…
She pressed the papers to the side and saw folder. It was labeled in Chinese. 'Water file'.
She blinked and opened it. She blinked in amazement. It was all here. All she needed. She lifted the burn smart phone Mycroft had given her and took pictures with it. She then read what she could as she waited for the pictures to beam to him.
Her Chinese wasn't good, but understood some of it. She sighed. It was all pretty damning.
Her phone vibrated and she looked down. What are your plans now? MH
She looked toward the office door as she put things back the way they were. The puppy needs out of the pound.
Good. We will find her a good home tonight. MH
Thank you.
Marion then went to the other side of the library and relaxed lifting a book she had found on the window seat. She relaxed, reading as she listened to the rain start to pelt the window. She as happy she got her ride in early.
Alex returned and found her sleeping in the window seat, lulled by the sound of the rain. He smiled a little and walked to her. A book was open on her chest as she breathed, her breast rising and falling rhythmically. He knelt beside her and put an arm under her knees and another around her back. He lifted her into the air and carried her upstairs. He had been talking for more than an hour.
She shifted against his chest and he smiled as he held her close.
He laid her down in his bed and let her sleep, for now.
ZzZ
Dinner was a nice affair.
He had her favorite, lamb made. It was their anniversary today and she ate her fill of the delightful lamb chops. She loved everything of the meal and the flowers he had found on the property. He had put them together with Jeannette, the maid, who knew Marion's tastes pretty well.
Marion had put them in a vase on the table and sniffed the wildflowers in appreciation. The one thing he had done for a month that was spontaneous and on edge, she thought ruefully.
They had tea and fresh berries and cream for dessert in the library. After they sat by the fire talking. Marion sipped her tea, her body tucked into the chair like a child, which amused Alex. It was after dark and he rose to his feet.
He took her hand and led her up to his bedroom. She closed her eyes a moment at the door. She could not kill him. She prayed that Mycroft was on his way. The burn phone was in the fireplace, under the logs, burned and melted by now in the heat.
Once in the room, Alex took her hand and kissed her, his hands moving her hips. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"
"Tell me." She smiled looking at him.
"You are my moon and stars and everything." He said as he leaned to her and kissed her. She allowed it, fighting down the impulse to stab him. She felt his hands under her jumper, pulling it off. He broke the kiss to pull it from her and then pulled off her camisole in the same instant. Her full breasts had not diminished since she had stopped breast feeding and were full and firm. He lifted his hand to one as the other buried in her hair, pulling it out of the loose up-do she had it in, sending the hair clip flying behind her on the floor.
She ignored the sound of it hitting the rug nearby. Mycroft had given the comb to her. It looked like a museum piece and she loved the jadeite in it. She hated to admit it, but she liked the comb. It had been a present for her accepting the job.
He was snaking a hand up to unclip her bra when the door burst open revealing several men with automatic weapons, their faces covered, wearing helmets. Marion cried out in surprise and Alex stepped before her as she tried to cover herself.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Alex demanded as he was forced to his knees and ordered to put his hands on his head.
He was pushed to the floor and cuffed.
Marion did the same, but did not resist, she shivered, as if terrified.
"Well, well, how interesting. What are you doing here, Marion?" Came Mycroft's smooth voice as he walked into the room.
She was hauled up to her knees and she looked at him and then to the side as if ashamed.
Alex looked at her and then Mycroft. "Who the hell are you?"
"You sir are under arrest for treason. You delightful lady friend will join you."
"You bastard!" Marion hissed.
"Oh you are one to talk. You divorce my brother and in less than a month you are engaged and pregnant." He said clicking his tongue.
"Who is he, Marion?" Alex asked.
"Mycroft Holmes, the British government." Marion said looking up at the man as he stood leaning on his umbrella.
"Oh for God sakes I am not the British government." Mycroft rolled his eyes.
"He is MI6. Alex. Do something." Marion gasped. "I…"
"Hush, love. I will get my lawyer." Alex said as he was hauled to his feet.
Marion was jerked up as well. Two men gripped her arms and walked her toward Mycroft. "What the hell is going on, Mycroft?" She asked.
"I would recommend you talk less, my dear. You are being cautioned on suspect treason. We would not want to add to that would we?" Mycroft asked.
She looked at him and then spat. "Your whole family can go to hell."
"Careful, your children are in the care of my parents. I could revoke your custody and…"
"You wouldn't dare you…you…"
Alex struggled a little. "Not one more word Marion. I will get my lawyer. Walk away."
She was taken from the room as Mycroft wiped the spittle from his cheek with a handkerchief.
"She is quite spirited. I cannot see what my brother saw in her." Mycroft said looking at Alex. "If you thought you could tame her…"
"She isn't a filly." Alex said. "I like her nature." He looked at Mycroft. "She is innocent of this. Let her go."
"Hardly she attacked a member of the British Intelligence." Mycroft looked at him. "I might be able to drop that charge if I have other things I need."
Alex took a breath. "How can you be so to your sister-in-law?"
"Former sister-in-law." Mycroft corrected. He turned and let his men take Alex away to a car waiting nearby. Another stood nearby.
Marion was being held on the porch. She was in her bra and dress pants looking about. Alex looked at her. "Not a word Marion. We will get through this. This is all a mistake."
She nodded and then watched as he was put into the car and driven away. Once the car was out of sight she was taken to the other car loaded in, none to gently and taken to the building she had only once been in.
She was lead to an interrogation room. Alex watched her walk by and could not believe she was not allowed even a coat. Once in the room she made to sit in a chair. She was cuffed to the chair and she sat there, shivering a little as she looked about.
The door opened and Mycroft stepped into the room with a file. He sighed, dropped it on the table before her.
"Well, well, sister, it would seem you are of use after all." Mycroft said walking to the camera and pulling the power cord. He walked to her and pulled off his suit jacket and handed it to her. She nodded and put it on her body as he handed her the key.
She removed the cuff, which had left a mark on her wrist, and then pulled his jacket close about her shoulders.
He leaned against the table. "Sherlock is right, you play your part very well." He said.
"So do you." She said.
He smiled at her. "The documents are damning. What did you hear?"
"My Chinese is rusty." She sighed. "He was asking about goods being sent. There were numbers. Like Lot numbers. Then he asked if they were good stock."
"He is involved with human trafficking." Mycroft said folding his arms.
"The papers are in code." She said.
"Yes. We are working to break it. However, we can hold him with what you have given us." He smiled a little. "It will be good to work with you." He stood up. "So back to Baker Street then, sister dear?"
She looked up at him. "Just like that?"
"Well we will have to prove your innocence. Won't be hard with Alexander proclaiming it. He will serve a long time for drug smuggling, human trafficking, and treason." He leaned close to her. "And you made it possible."
"It was Sherlock's idea." She said.
"Indeed. He knows that a woman is more than a match for a man."
"Yes." She said. She looked up. "Now Magnussen is a problem."
"No. Leave him."
"He has information…"
"On nearly everyone of import, yes I know. Don't be important and he will lose interest." He said.
"I have a question. How did you know where I was?"
He lifted the comb he had been holding. "Microchip GPS." He said. "I knew were you were within three feet."
She sighed and rubbed her wrist.
"Sorry." He said in a manner that spoke otherwise.
She looked up at him. "Go to hell."
"I love you too sister. Go on, we will talk later. I have a car waiting to take you to mum and dad's."
She looked down at herself. "Ummmm."
"Oh!" He moved to the door and his assistant was there holding a bag. "We had these packed for you." He said nodding to the bag.
Marion rose and went to the woman. She took her bag and turned to Mycroft. "Thank you brother mine."
She walked to the toilets and changed quickly. She then walked out the door she had been indicated by the assistant who had come to see her in the washroom. There was a car there and she got in and sighed.
Then she laughed.
It was over.
ZzZ
It was Christmas.
Sherlock had been home from hospital, completely recovered and ruled in a good bill of health, for a week. He had gone to 221B Baker Street and seen his wife and a very heavily pregnant Mary. Marion was playing with Kerrin when he had walked in the door wearing his scarf and coat with his collar turned up. Snow was in his hair as he smiled in delight seeing his family there before him. Mary was in John's chair. She smiled up at him. He had returned the smile and then looked at his wife, the woman he loved and had missed utterly. She had come to see him often, but it was not the same as it had been with her in the family home, there, his, with their children.
Marion looked up and smiled at him. Lizzy ran to him. Marion had set Kerrin down and risen to her feet, dusting herself off as he lifted Lizzy, kissing her cheek and holding her close. He then looked at Marion who had come to him slowly. He had smiled and set Lizzy down. She then hugged his legs. He then pulled his wife to him, hugging her and kissing her mouth, deeply fully, until they both were breathless. He had felt a tugging on his leg. Looking down he saw his son pulling himself up to stand beside his father, holding his leg and wobbling. Marion smiled as Sherlock had scooped up their son and held him close. Family.
They were together again. Once again Sherlock's judge friend had come in handy and he had made sure their marriage still legally stood as Marion faded from the light of the tabloids as Lord Alex became their main focus with allegations galore.
That had been just a week ago.
It was Christmas at the cottage home of the Holmes family.
A church choir can be heard singing the Christmas carol, 'Hark, the Herald Angels Sing' on the radio. Outside a red-walled cottage, George Holmes came out of the door wearing grey trousers, a white checked shirt, a bright red bowtie, and a grey cardigan. He went over to a nearby pile of small wooden logs and picked up two of them before going back inside.
"Oh, dear God, it's only two o'clock. It's been Christmas Day for at least a week now." Mycroft said rather despairingly.
Most of the family was in the kitchen. Mycroft was wearing a shirt and tie and a sleeveless waistcoat, was sitting at the side of a large table in the middle of the kitchen rubbing one hand wearily over his brow.
Christmas lights were wrapped around green foliage were strung along the bottom of the window and another set of lights was wrapped over the curtain rail above a window on the opposite side of the kitchen. The latter lights then progress to where they draped over the top of a picture on the wall beside the window and then dangle down haphazardly toward the floor. On the kitchen table was some crockery, including a large plate with red paper serviettes and some cutlery on it, another plate with mince pies on it, and various other items.
Elizabeth dropped some more Christmas crackers onto a pile of them in a wooden basket on the table. Marion came to her side wearing a thigh length cranberry colored jumper and black leggings. The long sleeves of the jumper went to her wrists and over her hands. There was a place for her thumb to poke out and allowed her to use her hands freely. Around her neck was a necklace her husband had given her to make up for missing their anniversary.
Sherlock, wearing his usual dark suit and a very dark grey shirt, was sitting in an armchair near the table. Marion walked over to him and cocked her head at him as she then perched on the arm chair next to him. His free hand came up and rested lightly on her thigh.
"How can it only be two o'clock? I'm in agony." Mycroft protested again.
Sherlock was looking at the front page of The Guardian which bore the headline 'Lord Smallwood suicide' and the strap-lines 'Shamed peer takes own life' and '63-year-old dies following letters scandal'.
"Mikey, is this your laptop?" Elizabeth asked.
Standing at the end of the table, she pointed down to a silver-grey laptop on the table, half-obscured by a chopping board on top of it which had several whole peeled potatoes and the peelings on it.
"On which depends the security of the free world, yes ..." He smiled rather sarcastically up at her. "... and you've got potatoes on it."
Sherlock glanced over towards them. Marion's eyes flitted to them and then back to her husband who caught her eye a moment before looking back with a shrug.
"Well, you shouldn't leave it lying around if it's so important." Elizabeth told her elder son.
She reached to pick up the basket of crackers, but put it down again as Mycroft spoke while gesturing around the kitchen.
"Why are we doing this? We never do this."
Looking a little exasperated, his mother leaned on the table. "We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are all very happy." She then smiled more. "And he and Marion have reconciled which is even more of a blessing. So are all happy for that."
Mycroft looked up at her with an extremely insincere smile. "Am I happy too? I haven't checked."
"Behave, Mike." Elizabeth said picking up the basket once more.
"'Mycroft' is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the end."
Bill Wiggins walked over and held out a glass of punch with pieces of fruit floating in it. "Mrs. 'olmes?" He said holding it for her.
She looked round and took the glass from him. "Oh! Thank you, dear." She looked up at him. "Not absolutely sure why you're here." She drank from the glass.
"I invited him." Sherlock said.
"I'm his protégé, Mrs. 'olmes. When 'e dies, I get all his stuff, an' 'is job."
She looked at him, a little startled.
Sherlock was still reading, his hand idly caressing his wife's leg. "No."
"Oh. Well, I help out a bit." Bill said.
"Closer."
Mycroft and Mrs. Holmes looked up at Bill.
"If 'e does get murdered or something ..."
Mycroft and his mother looked appalled. Marion looked up and glared at the young man.
Sherlock still did not look up as he spoke. "Probably stop talking now."
"Okay."
"Lovely when you bring your friends round!" Mycroft said.
Elizabeth put her glass down and looked at him. "Stop it, you. Somebody's put a bullet in my boy..." She walked towards Sherlock with the basket of crackers, but then turned back to look at Mycroft. "... and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous." She saw something on a nearby work surface. "Ah. This was for Mary." She walked away with the mug of tea. "I'll be back in a minute."
Sherlock, who had folded his hands in front of his mouth, now lowered his left hand and looked at his watch. A mental image of a stopwatch appeared above his hand, starting a countdown from 7 minutes and 37 seconds. He refolded his hands.
Marion looked down at him, her hair in its thick braid fell forward over her shoulder. He reached up and affectionately kissed her as she leaned down to him. Mycroft let out an exasperated sigh.
In the sitting room of the cottage, which also had random Christmas decorations around it, Mr. Holmes went across to the open door of the wood-burning fireplace and put the two pieces of wood into the lit fire.
Mrs. Holmes came in. "Ah, Mary." Carrying a mug, she took it across to where Mary was sitting in an armchair facing the fire. She had a blanket over her stomach and legs and was flicking through the pages of a book. "There you are." She handed the mug to Mary, who smiled as she took it and drank from it. "Cuppa of tea. Now, if Father starts making little humming noises, just give him a little poke. That usually does it."
Mary giggled and Mrs. Holmes chuckled. Mr. Holmes had straightened up from the fire, dusting off his hands, and had turned to face them while putting his hands in his pockets. He had a pair of glasses on a chain around his neck. It seemed that he has taken up his wife's suggestion of wearing them on a chain 'like Larry Grayson.' He smiled at Mary as Mrs. Holmes turned to look at him. Mary held up the book to show the front cover. The book was called 'The Dynamics of Combustion' and its author was E. L. Holmes.
"Did you write this?" Mary asked.
"Oh, that silly old thing. You mustn't read that. Mathematics must seem terribly fatuous now!" She turned to her husband, who was now gazing into space and humming quietly to himself. "Now, no humming, you!" She patted his backside affectionately.
Mary, taking another drink of her tea, smiled fondly at her as Elizabeth left the room and closed the door.
Mr. Holmes smiled at Mary. "Complete flake, my wife, but happens to be a genius."
"She was a mathematician?" Mary asked.
"Gave it all up for children."
Mary smiled and sipped from her mug again.
"I could never bear to argue with her. I'm something of a moron myself. But she's ..." He glanced away briefly and then looked back to Mary and leaned closer to her, smiling. "... unbelievably hot!"
Mary giggled. "Oh my God. You're the sane one, aren't you?!"
George raised his eyebrows at her. "Aren't you?!"
Smiling, she lowered her eyes and then drank again.
From the stairway came Lizzy. She was wiping her eyes tiredly having just woken from a nap. Her brother was sleeping in a cradle near Mary so she could watch him. Mary looked up. "Oh there you are. Did you sleep well?"
"Aunt Mary?" She asked sleepily.
"Yeah?" She asked reaching a hand to the child, but George stepped forward.
"How is my little princess?" He asked scoping the small girl up into his arms.
Lizzy giggled and yawned. "Papa." She said.
"Come let's get you some nice peppermint tea." George said holding her on his hip.
Lizzy nodded as Mary smiled up at them. She reached and affectionately played with Lizzy's foot so the girl giggled.
The door to the sitting room opened and John came in, glancing briefly at Mary and then looking across to Mr. Holmes, who turned to look back at him.
"Oh." John said.
Looking nervous, Mary looked down at her book and flipped it open to a random page.
"Sorry. I-I just, er ..." John started.
Mary kept her head down, flicking through the book's pages.
John glanced toward her again.
"Oh. Er-er, do you two need a moment?" George asked.
He started to walk toward the door, looking at John.
"If you don't mind." John said.
Mr. Holmes stopped and looked toward Mary, who briefly raised her head and gave it a tiny shake before looking down again.
George continued to the door. "No, of course not. Come on little miss." He opened the door and stepped through. "I'll-I'll go and see if I can help with ... something or another." He went out, closing the door behind him.
John watched him go and then ran his hand under his nose and turned towards Mary. She looked down at her book for a few more moments and then raised her head. She briefly watched as he slowly walked across the room to stand in front of the fire, facing her. Again she glanced briefly toward him before turning her attention back to the book on her lap.
Outside the closed door, Sherlock had walked over and had taken his coat from the pegs on the wall nearby. Standing at the door, his father looked at him and pointed back toward the sitting room.
"Those two. They all right?" George asked his younger son as he bounced Lizzy in his arms.
Sherlock pulled on his coat. "Well, you know…they've had their ups and downs." He smiled then at Lizzy and leaned to kiss her cheek. "Go with your Papa." He smiled as she reached for him and he ducked away. He glanced toward the door. Lizzy nodded and smiled at him. George walked with her into another room talking quietly to her. Sherlock watched them a moment and then went through another nearby door.
In the sitting room of the Holmes' cottage, Mary looked up from her book as John spoke.
"So, are you okay?"
"Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas!" Mary said rather sarcastically.
John sighed and pulled the pen drive from his trouser pocket.
Mary closed the book and let out a brief exasperated sound.
"Now?"
John nodded and tilted the drive round to look at the letters on it.
"Seriously? Months of silence and we're gonna do this ..." She nodded toward the drive. "... now?"
John lowered the drive to his side, slowly rolling it round in his fingers.
"So, have you read it?" She asked.
John looked down at the pen drive, repeatedly turning it around in his fingers, the key ring attachment rattling noisily and then he clasped his fist around it and looked at her while gesturing to the floor in front of him. "W-would you come here a moment?"
"No. Tell me. Have you?" She shook her head.
"Just ..." John started in an exasperated tone. He paused and seemed to rein in his temper. "... come here." He said more calmly.
She grimaced unhappily and then unwrapped the blanket from around her stomach and legs and started to stand up, holding one hand to her abdomen. She was now very visibly pregnant. She was nearly due to give birth. John stepped toward her to help her up. "No, I'm fine."
Wincing, she got to her feet as John stepped back again. She walked across the room and John turned to one side so that he was side-on to the fireplace. Mary stopped in front of him and lowered her eyes.
When John spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper and his throat was tight. "I've thought long and hard about what I want to say to you." He drew in a long breath through his nose as she raised her eyes to him. "These are prepared words, Mary." He lowered his head for a moment, grimacing slightly and pulling in another slightly shaky breath before glancing up at her. "I've chosen these words with care."
"Okay."
John cleared his throat and he could be heard rolling the pen drive round in his fingers again. Finally he looked up to met her eyes. "The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future ... are my privilege."
Mary's face started to crumple a little and tears began to form in her eyes.
"It's all I have to say. It's all I need to know." John continued. He looked down at the pen drive while Mary gazed at him tearfully. After a few moments he glanced up at her again and then turned to the fireplace and dropped the pen drive onto the burning logs.
Mary quietly started to cry as she looked at the drive on top of the fire.
John cleared his throat again as he turned back to her. "No, I didn't read it."
She looked at him, the first tears starting to roll down her face. "You don't even know my name." She said tearfully
"Is 'Mary Watson' good enough for you?"
"Yes!" she sobbed the word. She wiped her fingers under her nose. "Oh my God, yes."
"Then it's good enough for me, too." He gave her a small smile.
"Oh!"
They stepped together and hugged each other tightly. She cried.
He spoke softly in her ear, his throat still tight. "All this does not mean that I'm not still basically pissed off with you." He paused. "And Marion."
"I know, I know." She said tearfully.
"I am very pissed off, and it will come out now and then."
"I know, I know, I know." She sniffed.
They pulled back far enough to be able to look into each other's eyes.
"You can mow the sodding lawn from now on." He said.
"I do mow the lawn."
"No, I do it loads."
"You really don't."
"I choose the baby's name."
"Not a chance." Mary said.
"Okay."
They tightly hugged again.
ZzZ
Outside the cottage, Mycroft and Sherlock were idly wandering along the path in the front garden toward the gate. Each of them was holding a lit cigarette.
"I'm glad you've given up on the Magnussen business."
"Are you?"
"I'm still curious, though. He's hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do you ... hate him?"
Sherlock turned to face him. "Because he attacks people who are different and preys on their secrets. Why don't you?"
"He never causes too much damage to anyone important. He's far too intelligent for that. He's a business-man, that's all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil… not a dragon for you to slay." He took a drag on his cigarette while Sherlock smiled and walked back to his side.
"A dragon slayer. Is that what you think of me?" He turned as he pulls on his own cigarette. They stood side by side with their backs to the cottage.
"No." He looked at his brother. "It's what you think of yourself."
Sherlock chuckled. "My wife has told me that she was able to bring down Alexander for you."
"She had a great deal more information than we even knew. Amazing how a beautiful woman can be the end of many men."
"So you will let her go back to her job?"
"Certainly not. She has far too much use for me to let her outside the Security Service now."
"And if she declines?"
"I jail her for aiding and having knowledge of treason, human trafficking, and drug smuggling. That is on top of perjury."
Sherlock took another deep drag. "So you are blackmailing her."
"In a way, yes, but more knowing how to pressure her. She has a very useful skill set if you hadn't noticed and who can you trust more than family."
"Indeed."
The cottage door opened behind them and Mrs. Holmes came out onto the step.
"Are you two smoking?" She asked crossly.
The boys rapidly spun round to face her, frantically holding their cigarettes behind their backs as they looked guiltily at her.
"No!" Mycroft said.
"It was Mycroft." Sherlock said almost simultaneously.
She gave them a suspicious look and then went back inside and shut the door.
Sherlock, looking every inch the naughty schoolboy who thinks he has got away with being bad and is feeling very smug about it, blew out a long plume of smoke in the direction of the door.
Mycroft wandered a few paces toward the door and then slowly turned back again as he spoke. "I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline."
"I decline your kind offer." Sherlock said looking at him quizzically.
"I shall pass on your regrets."
"What was it?"
"MI6…they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months."
Sherlock, who had started to raise his cigarette to his lips, lowered it again and looked a little surprised. "Then why don't you want me to take it?"
Mycroft turned to him. "It's tempting ... but on balance you have more utility closer to home."
"Utility! How do I have utility?" He took a drag on his cigarette.
Mycroft shrugged slightly. "'Here be dragons.'" He smiled a little. "Your wife has proved very useful. Perhaps you will as well." He took a pull on his own cigarette and then held it up to look at, frowning. He coughed. "This isn't agreeing with me. I'm going in." He dropped the cigarette on the path and treaded it out, and then turned and walked up the path.
"You need low tar. You still smoke like a beginner." Sherlock chided.
Mycroft slowed down and stopped before he reached the door. He paused for a moment before speaking. "Also, your loss would break my heart."
Sherlock had just started to take a drag on his cigarette and now he choked and coughed before turning to look at his brother, who still had not turned around.
"What the hell am I supposed to say to that?!"
"'Merry Christmas'?"
"You hate Christmas."
"Yes." Mycroft smiled a little. "Perhaps there was something in the punch."
"Clearly. Go and have some more."
Mycroft turned and went up the steps, opening the door.
Sherlock turned away shaking his head.
Marion walked out and sat down on the step looking at her husband as he drew in his last drag and then dropped and stepped on the butt to extinguish it.
She smiled at him. "Hello." She said. She looked a little pale.
"Hi." He said coming to her.
She looked up at him standing there. "How are you?"
"A little sore." He said. "But I am well." He looked down. "How are you?"
"A little sleepy." She stifled a yawn and smiled. "It is good to have you home for Christmas."
"It is good to have you as well." He smiled.
She rose to her feet. On the step she was almost his height and she leaned forward to kiss him. He kissed her smiling happily. She then pulled back a little as he gazed at her. "Sherlock I don't feel so…"
He tipped her chin and kissed her again, wrapping his arms about her as she first kissed back and then slumped into him. He smiled a little and shifted her weight against him so he could pick her petite form up into his arms.
In the sitting room, John and Mary were still locked in a tight hug, swaying a little from side to side.
"So you realize that, er, Sherlock got us out here to see his mum and dad for a reason?"
John smiled. "His lovely mum and dad. A fine example of married life. I get that." Over his shoulder, Mary held the fingers of one hand to her forehead, frowning and looking a little unwell. "That is the thing with Sherlock…it's always the unexpected." Mary started to slump in his grasp. "Oi." He frowned and looked at her as he looked at her face. "Oi." She slumped more, moaning softly as her arms drop from around him. He took her weight and moved her back so he can see her face. Her eyes were closed. "Mary? Jesus Christ. Mary?" He hauled her back toward a nearby armchair. "Sit down." He lowered her into the armchair. She was now unconscious. He took hold of her face. "Mary, can you hear me?"
The door opened and Sherlock briskly walked in a couple of paces holding the limp form of his own wife in his arms. He set her on the couch beside Mary, touching her face softly. "Don't drink Mary's tea." He advised. He turned and left again, grabbing his scarf from the peg as he went.
John stared toward the door and then looked toward his wife again. He could feel Mary's pulse. He then felt Marion's before moving to follow Sherlock.
"Oh, or the punch." Sherlock said loudly. In another sitting room next door, a glass was lying overturned on a table and Mr. Holmes was lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed. Sherlock held his hand over his father's nose to check that he's breathing normally and then continued onward. He knelt by Lizzy who was lying on the floor, her cup of peppermint tea was spilled next to her and on her coloring. He put his hand in front of her as well and gently turned her onto her side before the fire before rising to his feet and continuing again.
John followed him into the room as Sherlock headed into the kitchen, where Mrs. Holmes was asleep in the armchair where Sherlock had previously sat, and Mycroft was slumped on a dining chair with his head on the kitchen table and his eyes closed. The kitchen clock above the door showed that about seven minutes had passed since the earlier scene in the kitchen, so clearly Sherlock's countdown was absolutely accurate.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock held the back of his hand to his mother's nose to check her breathing and then walked past Bill, who is standing nearby, and went over to the kitchen table.
"Did you just drug my pregnant wife?" John demanded. "And your own wife and child?!"
Sherlock checked Mycroft's breathing. "Don't worry. Wiggins is an excellent chemist."
"I calculated your wife's dose meself. Won't affect the little one. I'll keep an eye on 'er." Bill said.
Sherlock pulled his scarf on. "He'll monitor their recovery. It's more or less his day job."
"What the hell have you done?" John demanded.
Sherlock looked down reflectively and took a moment to reply. "... A deal with the devil."