Molly stood up from her haunches and gave Colin a smile, looking over the little boy's appearance. That morning, he and Molly had gone clothes shopping, and Molly had insisted on running the clothes through the washer before letting him put any of them on just in case.
When the clothes had finally dried, she had put him in a small green T-shirt, gray shorts , green socks and an eye-patch. He had seen it in a store display and had turned to her, saying "Can I be a piwate?" and she could not help herself.
"That's better!" She ruffled his hair and hauled him up to sit in one front of the kitchen table. "I hope you like spaghetti." Colin beamed at her words and nodded. "That's a relief; I wasn't sure what little boys liked to eat!" Her little brother had two girls whom she'd look after sometimes, and while she was sure children's preferences weren't all that complicated, she'd also met some very picky eaters. Molly wasn't exactly sure how she managed to have the authorities allow Colin to stay with her, but she would make sure he ate well while he did. She was just about to sit next to Colin to help him eat when a knock sounded from the front door.
"Wonder who that is?" Molly asked Colin, encouraging him to speculate.
Colin quirked an eyebrow, and then his eyes widened, "Piwates!"
Molly laughed, "I guess we'll find out! Stay put, okay? I'll check." She winked and left Colin's side, walking to the front door.
The knocking persisted, and Molly had a hunch as to who was behind the door. The face she saw as she looked through the peephole confirmed her suspicions.
"Sherlock!" she said, as she threw the door open. "Hello."
"And John." The former army doctor grinned at her from behind the consulting detective.
Molly chuckled and shook her head, ushering them in. "And John, of course. I didn't know you two were coming over. Have either of you had lunch? I've made spaghetti; I think there's enough for all of us." She motioned for John to take a seat and the doctor complied, having hung up his coat on one of the pegs behind the door.
Sherlock strode straight in, took off his coat and put it up next to John's, then walked towards her expectantly.
Molly looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"
Sherlock, who'd been hovering over her quietly, merely frowned and eyed his scarf.
Confused, Molly turned to look at John, and found the doctor shaking his head in amusement.
"He hasn't taken that scarf off since last night, and he wouldn't tell me why until this morning when I laughed at him for wearing it with his pyjamas." John snorted, unable to hold himself back. "I tried to take a picture but he threatened to chuck my laptop!" he added, wiping his face with his hand in his mirth.
"What?" Molly shook her head in disbelief. "Why?" she turned to Sherlock, a half-smile on her lips.
Sherlock merely scowled.
If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you were being sentimental. Molly stood on her tiptoes and took Sherlock's scarf off him.
"Mowy?" A plaintive voice sounded from the kitchen.
"It's just Sherlock and John, Colin, sorry!" When Sherlock frowned at her, she whispered, her smile widening to a grin, and looked to both her visitors. "He was expecting pirates." She made to walk to the kitchen, but a hand on her wrist stopped her in her tracks.
"John, why don't you go over there and mind Colin for a minute. I need to update Molly on our progress."
The doctor, a bewildered look on his face, nonetheless stood up and walked towards Molly's kitchen. "Maybe I'll get some of that spaghetti too, if you don't mind." He added, before disappearing.
"Help yourself!" Molly managed to call after him before Sherlock pulled her in.
She saw his eyes briefly before warm lips landed on hers. Partly due to surprise at the sudden movement, Molly clutched at Sherlock's collar, and pulled him closer. The kiss he gave her was nothing like the one they shared the night before. That had been chaste and sweet, but this, this kiss threatened to overwhelm her.
Sherlock gripped her hip and the other hand rose to hold the back of her head, gently tilting it so he could gain better access as he leaned even closer. She gasped at his actions and Sherlock took advantage, giving her bottom lip a gentle tug before drawing it in and licking it.
Molly, who had had her eyes closed, opened them in astonishment but lifted her hand to the side of his neck, caressing it. The hand that was on his collar slid down to his chest and travelled around to his back, her fingers spread open. I could get used to this. She thought, her eyes fluttering close.
Their kiss continued, and neither seemed willing to be the first to surface. It was tender, yet exploratory, and each realized they had been waiting for each other all day.
"Hmm." Sherlock reluctantly pulled himself off of Molly to catch his breath. "That's better."
Molly, immensely pleased, felt a blush flood her cheeks. She let go of her hold on him and took a step back. She'd stopped being such a shy school girl around him in the events following the Fall, but it didn't mean Sherlock was no longer able to reduce her to a silly besotted teenager.
Paying Molly's embarrassment no mind, Sherlock took her shoulders in his hands, turned her around, and started marching her towards the kitchen. "Wiggins has found out about a potential relative of Colin's, and John and I went to talk to him this morning…" he began, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.
Sherlock and John sat across the kitchen table from Molly and Colin. The detective had just finished telling her about Wiggins' report the previous night, and started eating the food she'd set down in front of him once he'd sat down, wanting to please her.
"And we've arranged to meet with Phil at the Yard." John added, having already finished his share of the pasta. "We thought we'd go with you there tonight."
Molly turned to Colin. "You heard that? They found your uncle."
Colin simply nodded before turning to Sherlock. "Ahw you a piwate?" He asked; he had lifted his eye patch and was staring at him with wide eyes.
"What?" Sherlock asked, and put his fork down. "You think I'm a pirate?" When Colin nodded, his lips quirked to a small smile and he shook his head. "Sorry, no. I'm a consulting detective."
John chortled , and the boy turned to look at him instead. "Ahw YOU a piwate?"
Molly reached out a hand to wipe off sauce from Colin's cheek. "He's a doctor, remember?"
"But he can be a piwate too!" Colin insisted, reaching over the table to take a hold of a glass of orange juice Molly had set near him.
She smiled and guided the boy's hands as he brought the glass to his lips. "Yes, if he wanted." She answered, a hand playing with the boy's curls. When Colin had finished his food, she set him down from his place at the table and let him wander off to the sitting room to play with the pirate ship she'd bought him along with his clothes.
"You're really good with him." John observed, taking a sip of some juice of his own. "I bet you'd make a great mum."
Molly blushed, "I've had practice with my brother's kids. But instead of living a life of piracy, one wants to be a princess and the other wants to be a dinosaur." She rose to clear the table, brushing off John's attempts to help. Sherlock, to Molly's delight, had finished his meal, and was avoiding his best friend's hints at him to offer her help by slowly sipping his drink.
"Lazy bastard." John muttered under his breath to Sherlock, who pretended not to hear.
Another knock sounded and John stood up and went to open the door. A minute later he returned to the kitchen followed by Lestrade, who had his hands in his coat pockets and a grave expression on his face.
"Hey Greg." Molly put the dishes she'd been moving to the sink and reached out to pull Lestrade in a friendly hug borne of habit. "What are you doing here?"
Sherlock's face grew stormy. "Yes, do explain, Detective Inspector." He said, spitting the last two words out acidly. John, who was used to his friend's mood swings, merely chuckled, and sat down, waiting for whatever was about to happen next.
Lestrade, confused, frowned at Sherlock before looking down once more at Molly. "Aberforth said you'd been looking after a kid named Colin since yesterday?" When Molly nodded, he continued, moving to stand in the middle of the kitchen. "And you," he turned to face the two men, "you've found the kid's uncle? Aberforth said you'd arranged for them to meet later today."
It was John who answered. "Yes. It was strange, actually. The man, Phil-Phil Barker, he was really worried about the boy, but insisted on meeting him at the Yard later on instead of us bringing Colin to him immediately."
"He wanted to make sure of the boy's safety." Sherlock chimed in.
This startled Molly. "What? Why would he need to do that?"
"And how did you know?" John added, askance.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and started pacing. "When he saw us approach him this morning his hand strayed toward a lead pipe he had hidden in his trousers. It was not until we were standing quite near and had introduced ourselves that he had let go of it, he probably recognized us from the papers. So, clearly, he was guarding himself against a possible attack. When he learned that Colin had been found and was assured that he was in the best possible hands, " he motioned to indicate Molly, "he visibly relaxed, and then insisted on a meeting at the Yard instead of us bringing him his nephew."
"Are you sure he's the boy's uncle then?" Lestrade asked, hands on the kitchen table.
Sherlock nodded. He did not bother explaining how he knew
Molly walked back towards the sink, trying to keep her hands occupied. She wasn't sure why, but she had grown worried. "Why do you want to know? And why isn't Aberforth with you? This isn't your division, is it?"
"Yes, I was wondering that." John, getting a dreadful sense of foreboding, leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on his knees.
Lestrade nodded. "They've found Phil Barker dead on the banks of the Thames about a half hour ago."
Molly gasped. John scrambled to stand from his seat. Sherlock stopped pacing abruptly. "What?" the two men said, speaking one after the other.
Lestrade held up his hands. "There's more."
Molly's knees grew weak, and she reached behind her, feeling for a chair. Sherlock was next to her in an instant, guiding her towards a chair with a hand on her back, and standing near. Lestrade noticed, but said nothing; the only indication of his astonishment at Sherlock's behaviour is a slight wrinkling of the forehead.
"What is it?" John asked, urging the detective inspector to continue.
"Whoever killed him left a message." Lestrade fished out his mobile, pulled up a picture on-screen and handed turned it so that it was visible to the other three.
It showed the picture of a man on his back on the ground, apparently dry except for where the feet met the water. His shirt was open, and there on his chest was carved a message that brought a chill down Molly's spine.
Give me back my Colin.
Author's Note: Here it is! After a bit of messing around with lists and jotting my thoughts down I finally got the plot bunnies in order. The next chapter will be up soon, I promise! ^_^
Ta,
~Liberi Ad Somnia