Hi! I'm back! I want to thank my wonderful beta for agreeing to continue being my beta after being gone so long, heh. I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

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Until next time.

Chapter 5

Molly let out an annoyed huff as she swept the kitchen area—yet again. No matter how hard she tried, this place could seemingly never get clean. She could blink, and the place would be twice as dirty as it had been before.

"Molly are you okay?" she heard John say from the fireplace.

"Oh! I'm bloody fantastic," she said drily, "because I just love how messy this place gets."

"Alright," muttered John. "Just asking, geez."

Molly snorted, but still continued to clean. When she was finished, and she'd managed to get everything clean, she wiped sweat off her brow and stared at the clean kitchen.

"Finally," she sighed.

The door to Sherlock's room burst open. Out the great wizard came, his hair a mess of wild curls. Molly stared at him, blushing when she realized that he was only wearing a sheet.

"Are you wearing any pants?" said John.

"What for?" replied Sherlock in a bored tone.

Molly turned a darker shade of red as Sherlock walked over to the kitchen table where his potions were now organized in alphabetical order.

"John?" said Sherlock said suddenly.

"What is it now?" the fire sighed in reply.

"Why did you let Molly move around my potions?" he asked, as if she wasn't standing right there.

Molly frowned lightly and placed her hands on her hips.

"I can't stop her from cleaning!" John protested.

Sherlock nearly whined. "Why not?"

"Well first of all I'm stuck in this fireplace. And I've got other things on my mind than to supervise her."

"What's so important that you can't keep her away from my things?"

"Hm, let's see—MAYBE KEEPING THIS BLOODY CASTLE PROTECTED! WHO DO YOU THINK DOES ALL THAT! CERTAINLY NOT YOU!"

Sherlock let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. "You don't have to be so dramatic."

"DRAMATIC! I SWEAR IF I WEREN'T STUCK HERE I'D—"

"What's wrong with me organizing your potions?" said Molly suddenly, finding her voice above all the dramatics. "It's not my fault that I want to clean up around here! Not everyone it too keen in living in a pigsty!"

Sherlock paused, and glanced at her. It was as if he'd, at last, noticed she was there.

"You must admit I have a right to live in a pigsty if I want." He plopped down on the chair. "I'm in the mood for tea," he mused, reaching over for one of his potions.

"Make your own bloody tea," she muttered.

"John?" He said as if the demon would actually do something about Molly's defiance.

"I'm siding with her this time," John muttered.

"You're taking her side! This – this horribly bossy, appallingly clean old woman!" He glanced at her and frowned. "You have to control yourself! You're victimizing all of us."

"Control myself?! Me? You're telling me to control myself!?" Molly scoffed. "Maybe you should think before you speak."

Sherlock glared. "Dreadful old woman – all I wanted was some tea."

Molly opened her mouth to hiss out an insult but down came Wiggins from his room, his footsteps heavy against the wooden stairs, his face buried in a book as he wiggled the fingers of his free hand.

"Fruit drink… Marking ink, soft drink, eye blink – c'mon turn pink!" he chanted.

Molly watched as he made his way to the kitchen where Sherlock muttered rapidly to himself, their argument long forgotten.

She heard Wiggins continue to chant. "Fruit drink…marking ink…"

The tips of his fingers sparkled pink as he kept repeating the spell. Right until a blot of pink sparkles shot out of his hand and bolted to Sherlock, knocking him out of his chair.

Wiggins gasped.

"Master Sherlock!" He ran up to the man on the floor. "Master! Are you—?"

The words quickly died from his lips when Sherlock sat up with a groan. Molly stared, open-mouthed, at him. Sherlock's skin had completely turned pink! He met her stare, causing him to furrow his brows.

"What!?" he said. He turned to look at Wiggins. "How many times have I told you not to cast spells and walk at the same time? You're still learn—"

"Your skin!" Molly squeaked.

"Yes, I have skin! Brilliant observation, Molly! You should quit housekeeping and become a doctor," he muttered.

"What she's trying to say is your skin is pink!" said John.

Sherlock blinked back in surprise as he slowly looked down at his pink hands. Almost immediately, he shot a glare at Wiggins, who in return stared at him with wide, scared eyes.

"I-I-I" he began.

"Billy!" he roared before rounding on Molly.

"YOU! Learn to control him!" He pointed a finger at Wiggins.

"Me?" she retorted. "Why me? He won't listen to me!"

Sherlock looked down at his hands and arms. He let out a low, dangerous growl. In a matter of seconds, he was up on his feet and stomping towards Wiggins. The young boy's only response was to try and run away.

"Oh no you don't!" shouted Sherlock as he began to chase him around the kitchen. Wiggins, in his hurry and panic, bumped into the table and a few bottles of potions rapidly went flying.

"Hey! Knock it off you two!" shouted Molly as Sherlock continued to chase Billy. At her words, the boy sprinted up behind her and pulled at her dress, hiding himself behind her. Sherlock was a wizard on a rampage as he stomped his way over to them. Just as he got closer, and had Billy almost within his reach, he stepped on his sheet, causing him to tumble down flat on his face.

The room grew quiet and they all stared at Sherlock who laid flat on his face. A giggle escaped Molly's lips. She clamped them shut; only causing more giggles to come out. Soon she was laughing hard. She clutched her stomach as her laughter echoed through the room. She was quickly joined by Wiggins.

"Shut. Up," protested Sherlock, which only caused them to laugh louder.

The wizard picked himself up and glared at them. When he heard John's laugh, he looked at him with wide eyes as if hurt by the fire demon's betrayal. Sherlock pouted.

"I'm going to my room," he said sulkily. "Where I might die."

He slammed the door to his room and Molly waited for their laughter to die down before looking down at Wiggins.

"You need to be more careful with how you practice your magic," she told him, her tone more serious.

"I'm sorry," said the boy.

Molly let out a huff of air and glanced over to Sherlock's bedroom.

"Though, I must admit…" she said, glancing down at the green eyed boy. "Pink is a good color on him."

The three once more burst into fits of laughter.

Molly walked alongside a disguised Wiggins, down the cobblestone streets, towards the market to buy some food.

"Billy," asked Molly curiously, "how did you end up as Sherlock's apprentice?"

She had often wondered how the two had met, considering how they were so frequently at odds with one another.

"My parents were farmers," he told her. "We had a very dry spring one year – I was seven. My parents were desperate to make their crops grow, if not we'd starve. They'd have me digging in the fields until the sun went down – hoping something would happen. "

Molly stared down at the young boy with sad eyes. She wasn't rich, but she'd been well off not to worry about her next meal.

"My father went to seek out the help of our town's wizard," Billy continued. "A wizard by the name Magnussen. Everyone believed him to be this kind man who wanted nothing but to help the town folks. But really, all he wanted was to manipulate and exploit them when they were desperate."

"That's awful," she said softly.

"Mm. Anyway, my father went to him – pleading to give him a spell to save his crops and he was happy to oblige only if they gave up something that was precious to them. Us being poor, I was the only thing that was truly precious to them, so they gave me up."

Molly stared at him. Billy idly glanced at the market's sign as they passed it, and she wanted simply to pull him into a hug and tell him nothing bad would ever happen to him again.

"Wizard Magnussen was terrible. He'd have me clean until my hands ached." Wiggins picked out a selection of plums. "One day he met up with Master Sherlock. Master Sherlock tricked him into giving me to him."

"How did he do that?"

"He told him he had dirt on the witch of the waste, but he would only exchange it for my freedom. Magnussen was happy to comply. Though he weren't too happy when he realized Sherlock was lying about the information. But, well, I was free by then."

Molly nodded.

"I didn't want to go home so I asked Master Sherlock if I could tag along. Surprised he said yes. I had learned a few spells during my stay at Wizard Magnussen's and he agreed to let me be his apprentice. I've been with him for three years now," he said with a bright smile.

Molly smiled softly. Despite what Sherlock so often said about Wiggins, he did truly have a soft spot for the boy.

xXx

The two chatted as they made their way back to the castle. Molly found she really enjoyed spending time with Billy. In the past, she always wondered if she'd have children, but as she got older—younger than she was now—the idea of children soon disappeared and she focused more on her studies. It wasn't like she saw Billy as her child of course. More like the little brother she never had. Though if she ever had one (a child), she wouldn't mind if they ended up like him. As they walked, she spotted movement in the corner of her eye. She stopped, causing Wiggins to glance over to her and follow her gaze. His breath caught in his throat. Molly pushed Wiggins back slightly. The demon, much like the ones that had chased her and Sherlock when they first met, only stood. Yet no-one seemed to notice it. People walked past it as if it wasn't there.

"Why are they just walking passed it like that?" she whispered.

"It must be using a spell. Must be here to look for something," he told her

"Or someone," she replied.

"Come on," Wiggins said quietly. "Let's go tell Sherlock."

He took a hold of her hand, and the two hurried home.

"Master Sherlock!" shouted Wiggins as they entered through the door.

Sherlock, in deep conversation with John, looked up at the sound of Wiggins' voice.

"We saw—" he said breathlessly, "saw a demon!"

"What did it look like?" Sherlock asked.

"It was tall and dark! It had no face!" replied Wiggins rapidly.

Sherlock locked eyes with Molly. She nodded once. His face shifted into a smile as he looked down at Wiggins.

"I see," he said. He stood, straightening his suit.

"How about we go out for lunch today?" he said casually.

"What?" said Molly, while Billy responded with an excited, "Really?!" The thoughts about demons were clearly long forgotten in his young mind.

"Didn't you hear? There's a demon out there!" shouted Molly. Sherlock walked past her and grabbed his coat, before slipping it on and grabbing his scarf. Molly tried again. "We think it's looking for something – or someone!"

Sherlock paused, eyeing her. "I think I'm in the mood for fish and chips, what do you think?"

"Yes! That sounds amazing!" replied Wiggins in excitement as he bounded beside Sherlock like an excited puppy.

"I'll just stay here then!" grumbled John from the fireplace, but again, everyone proceeded to ignore him.

Sherlock glanced over at Molly and shot her a dazzling smile.

"Well – are you coming?"

He didn't wait for her response. Watching him slip out of the door, Molly let out a sigh.

"Why doesn't anyone ever listen?" she muttered. Picking up her skirts, she made her way towards the door.