"Bloody bastard!"
Sherlock smiled. He was used to being called 'bastard' and many other explicit words but hearing it from his brother's lips made him feel joy.
"Why don't you get with her already, Mycroft? I'm sure she has some lingerie hidden at the back of her wardrobe just for you." Sherlock replied, sipping on his champagne. "Oh, and happy birthday."
He walked away, leaving his brother glaring daggers at his head before blushing at Anthea's soft chuckles. He joined John who was speaking to Sherrinford about how Musgrave Hall had seemed to transform within a month after being burnt to the ground decades ago.
"... Honestly, Dr Watson, I wouldn't have stepped foot in here ever again if Mycroft didn't promise some sort of payment." Sherrinford sighed. "It holds... too many memories."
"It does." Sherlock cut in, nodding at John. "Although, I am lucky enough to barely remember most."
John shifted uncomfortably. "Doesn't it feel weird, though? That your best friend was killed not that far from here?"
Sherlock looked down, downing his glass before the horrible remnants of Victor's funeral came flooding back to him.
"Eurus sends her regards."
"Screw Eurus."
Sherlock glared at Mycroft before leaving his side to join the Trevors.
"Why are we doing this? Did Vicky die? How did he die, Ollie?" Mrs Trevor sobbed, gripping onto her husband tightly. "Does that mean he wouldn't do my garden anymore?"
Mr Trevor sighed, nodding. "Yes, love. He won't be doing your garden but we'll get someone else. Look, there's Wanda! You can go and talk to her."
Leona hesitantly left her husband's side before sobbing into Wanda's arms as the latter consoled her dear friend.
"She... She doesn't know?" Sherlock gulped.
"No. I had to fire the poor lad. I gave him a hefty consolation pay but he loved Leona dearly as if she were his own mother." Mr Trevor sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I got him another job for our neighbours but, it isn't the same. He was the only thing of Leona's that helped her remember him and now she truly is going to forget her own son."
Sherlock glanced at Mrs Trevor who seemed to worsen with Wanda's consolation.
"I'm so sorry." He whispered.
"I am too," Oliver mumbled, going off to see to other guests and mourners.
"Sherlock? Eurus wants to meet with you." Sherrinford whispered to him before walking off to their parents.
Jaw set, Sherlock got into the waiting car and shut the door, closing his eyes.
When he arrived at the asylum, he wasted no time in getting through the security measures and standing face to face with the murderer of his best friend.
"You called?"
"You come." Eurus smiled. "How are the Trevors? Such a difficult day, isn't it? Now they've actually got a body to bury. Or are they going to cremate his body?"
Sherlock glared at her before slamming the glass window with his hands. "You don't get to talk about him, about them. You keep quiet and be a good little girl."
"Good little girl, I will be."
Eurus stalked away from the window and collected her violin to play a different piece.
"It's not you. Or me. Or even Bach. It's... Victor."
Sherlock clenched his fists as she laughed, playing a hearty tune.
"Wasn't he such a happy child? I remember him begging for me to let him out. 'Please, let me out!' was what he screamed. It feels just like it was yesterday."
"These meetings... they should stop."
"Why?" Eurus halted playing, her eyes glaring at Sherlock.
Sherlock scoffed before giving her a bitter smile. "Emotional context, Eurus? Is someone feeling a little upset that her brother is ignoring her?"
"N-No. No, someone isn't. Sherlock, someone isn't feeling a little upset. Why would you say that? Why?"
"Someone's stumbling across their words, now. Aren't they, Eurus?" He taunted.
Eurus grinned. "No, they are not. You may leave, now. Off you go. Leave."
Sherlock shook his head, happily seating himself in front of the window. "I think I'll stay here for a little while and observe you as I crush you."
"Crush me, Sherlock?"
"You will regret the day you ever crossed me..." Sherlock whispered, his eyes darkening. "I'll make you regret, Eurus."
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock shook his head, taking another glass of champagne from a waiter passing by.
"I'm fine, John."
"Don't look it," Sherrinford said, clearing his throat as he got another glass for himself. "How about you take rest upstairs. I'll cover for you."
Sherlock gave his brother a smile of gratitude before collecting another glass and heading up the newly red carpeted stairs to what was his old bedroom.
It was completely transformed. Very different from what he remembered as a child. Pirate toy chests, and ship-shaped beds for himself and a friend if they came over for a sleepover. Sky blue walls and yellow rugs.
Very different from the king-sized mahogany bed with luxury damask cream sheets and pillows. The walls were panelled with mahogany borders and the floor was a comfortable cream carpeting. Everything was mahogany themed, something Sherlock would never have gone for, even in his teenage years.
Sherlock downed the first glass and placed it on the dresser before steadily sipping the other, fingering everything in the room from the traditional armchairs to the recently dusted silk curtains.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock closed his eyes. He was seriously beginning to get annoyed at the amount of time someone had said his damn name.
Timothy entered the room, noticing the empty glass placed on the dresser.
"You have people asking for you."
"Please, they'd rather hear stories of my most enthralling cases. Go and tell them to read Dr John Watson's blog instead, it's very informative although lacking in originality." Sherlock replied, sipping his champagne.
Timothy shook his head with a sad smile. "Go easy on those, boy. It's the fifth one that I have seen you come into contact with."
"I've been a drug addict and a smoker, yet I can hold myself better than you did when you thought Eurus was dead. Yes, I remember that time." Sherlock snapped. "Like father, like son. What's one more addiction indulged?"
Mr Holmes sat down on the armchair and retrieved a packet of cigars before lighting one up and putting it between his lips. "What's one more addiction?" He smirked. "Your mother won't approve but it will be our little secret."
Sherlock gave a pleased smile and accepted a puff of the cigar before handing it back. "I'll be... admiring the view from the balcony."
"You go and do that. The peace would do me just fine, boy." Timothy replied, watching his son leave.
...
"Name?"
"Dr Molly Hooper."
The host glanced, his eyes widening. "Dr Hooper! Mr Holmes has been expecting you. You're his VIP guest."
Molly blushed at her colleagues' smirks. "I would hope so," she replied, trying not to touch her perfectly fixed hair.
"I will need the names of your plus ones. Health and security reasons."
"Of course. Dr Emilia Alexander, Rhys Hodgson, Dr Thomas Wilson and Dr Liz Fontaine." Molly replied.
The host glanced knowingly at her stomach and she blushed furiously.
Of course, he'll spill the beans.
"Enjoy the party," the host smiled, letting them in.
Molly led the way in, making sure not to trip on her bright red ensemble with diamantes attached to the left hip. It was a one sleeve dress, leaving one shoulder bare with a crystal flower attached to the sleeve shoulder. Molly had spent ages on the shoes, deciding whether or not to go with flats or heels. Eventually, she settled for short, strappy silver heels.
"Now, where's your lover?" Rhys whispered into her ear, making her glare at him lightly. He returned with a cheeky smile before getting a glass of champagne for himself and Emilia.
Emilia took her other side, now sipping from her glass. "Red was a bold choice."
"Indeed..." Molly whispered back, looking anxiously around.
She spotted Rosie with a side help and she beamed, making her way over to the child with her new friends as Liz and Thomas went to talk to Dr Mike Stamford.
"Rosie!" She gasped happily at the child before bringing her into her arms and hugging her tightly. "Auntie Molly missed you so much!"
"Did she now?"
Molly turned to face John who had a smile on his face. She brought him for a hug too and introduced him to her colleagues.
"How have you been?" John asked, trying his hardest not to glance at her stomach.
She gave him a small smile. "I've been well, thank you. You?"
"As good as I can be. Rosie's learnt how to walk, now." He replied proudly.
Molly faced the child with a proud smile of her own. "That is wonderful, baby girl! You really are growing up, now. Your mama would have been so proud!"
"She would have," John smiled sadly. "Have you seen Sherlock, yet?"
"We've just arrived," Emilia answered for her. "Now, don't you think her outfit's a bit out there?"
John smirked. "I do think that. Who are you trying to please?"
Molly clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes. "Can't a girl look good once in a while?"
"She can but now it just looks like she's trying too hard for a man she does not want to see." Rhys chuckled.
Molly playfully glared at her friends before handing the child over to her father. "Where's Mycroft? It is his birthday, after all."
John subtly pointed over to where Mycroft seemed to be laughing with Anthea, the female's hand now and then slipping her hair behind her ear with a bright smile.
"They're so hooking up after this," Rhys mumbled, making Molly smile.
"I will be right back. I wouldn't leave you two in John's company if I did not know him well," Molly told them before heading towards Mycroft.
Anthea gently touched his arm and signalled that a certain brunette was heading their way.
"Dr Molly Hooper."
"Mycroft Holmes."
They gave each other a short embrace before Mycroft took his time at observing her glowing figure.
"You look stunning. You are showing and most certainly glowing." He told her, placing a light kiss on her cheek.
Molly chuckled lightly, offering Anthea a brief hug as well before stepping back and using her clutch as a shield for her abdomen.
"I honestly wished that I was not showing yet. Your parents are here, I presume?"
Mycroft gave an affirmative nod. "What is your excuse? I can help."
"They have not met me yet. I doubt that I'll be needing an excuse so quickly." Molly gulped, again, trying her hardest not to touch her done up hair.
"Have you had something to drink?" Mycroft suddenly asked. "I'm afraid that I've allowed my hospitality to slacken. You must be parched."
Molly brushed it off, giving him a kind smile. "You do worry. I am fine. A glass of water would do me."
"No, I have something better. Do not worry, it is not cranberry juice or the sort. It's sparkling cider."
The pathologist smiled. "Just perfect, Mycroft."
...
Sherlock slowly savoured the taste of the bubbling beverage in his mouth and glanced downwards at the infinity pool below.
A bit too much, don't you think brother mine?
He wondered what would happen if he were to just... fall in.
Accidently drown. His father could vouch for his drunkenness. Although, Timothy Holmes would not bother to vouch for such cruel activity.
The water looked quite inviting. Pure chlorinated blue with the night moon shimmering on the surface. Water did have its mysterious ways after all.
He finished his glass and placed the empty flute on a conveniently placed outdoor coffee table, complete with its matching set of couches and armchairs.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Sherlock continued to glance down at the water. What would it be like to die? Not die per se, maybe fake his death again and start anew.
"You're wearing that purple shirt."
Sherlock slowly turned, his breath hitching at the sight of bright red and sparkling.
"I did not want to succumb to the traditional black and white ensemble," he replied.
Stepping closer, "I agree. I believe red is quite fitting, don't you think? Makes everything more... prominent."
Glancing downwards quickly, he nodded. "I agree. Different from the typical emerald, cream and sapphire."
"My friend wore cream."
"Tell her that she hasn't chosen well. The idea of parties like these is to stand out."
A slight head tilt, "Would I stand out?"
"Yes." A gulp. "You always will, from a mile away."
Molly finally blushed, placing a hand on the fence and sipping her cider. "Non-alcoholic beverage for the woman who is pregnant."
Sherlock gave an approving nod. "Mycroft's choice?"
"Yes..." Molly replied, finishing it off before placing the empty flute beside Sherlock's abandoned one. "How have you been?"
"Indifferent." A short reply. "You?"
Molly shrugged. "I've been fine. Morning sickness is really taking its toll but Emilia helped me remedy that."
"Emilia?"
"My colleague. She's the friend who has a poor choice of clothing." Molly chuckled. "She's here with my new boss, Thomas and my other colleagues, Liz and Rhys."
Sherlock nodded. "I knew an Emilia once."
"From where?"
"Anthea's sister. I did a bit of digging on Mycroft's aid. Turns out 'Smith' is a generic name that one shouldn't go to when disguising their true identity."
Molly was intrigued. "Oh?"
"Anthea was married once. Anthea Waincroft. She met Mycroft and dropped her surname completely - I believe she holds a candle for him."
"She does make him smile," Molly said gently. "I do see them together. What's her maiden name, then?"
"Alexander. She's from South Africa."
Molly gave a small gasp. "Emilia's surname is Alexander - her maiden name, that is and she's from South Africa too! It doesn't take one to put two and two together and realise that they are siblings. Maybe Mycroft set this new job up for me, knowing someone already there to keep an eye out on me..." She almost felt betrayed. "But how could he have known unless he contacted Mike before I did?"
Sherlock gave her a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Anthea and Emilia are very much estranged from each other. I doubt Mycroft even knows of Emilia. If he does, maybe he felt comfortable with the fact that you wouldn't be with a stranger, although one nonetheless."
"Do you think she reports back to him?"
"You are being paranoid." He gave a gentle smile. "But that's one of the many things I love about you. I also love that you are predictable."
Molly frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I knew that you would attend. Mycroft has done so much for you that our situation wouldn't prevent you from showing up on a long flight suffering from morning sickness."
The pathologist smiled, shaking her head lightly. "I also wanted to see my goddaughter. I have one remember? She's yours too."
"Rosie as an excuse, hmm? Next, you'll say that you came to visit Lestrade!"
Molly gave him a teasingly guilty look.
"You did also come to visit Greg." He muttered.
She giggled, nodding. "Also, Rhys wanted to visit some family up North in Scotland so he and Emilia will go tomorrow. We all have our sneaky reasons from returning to the country that provides good tea and not the horrible kind."
"We need to talk, Molly. About-"
"Why I lied to you? You already know that." Molly cut in gently. "Let's forget the talking and focus on this moment."
Sherlock frowned. "What moment? You seem to want to talk about other people than you and-"
He was silenced with a kiss. A long and bittersweet kiss.
When she finally released from his soft grip, she gave him a smile.
"After my year-long contract is up, I'll be returning back to St. Bart's after my maternity leave."
With that, she left him all confused and dazed.
Slowly, a smile appeared and a soft chuckle came from his lips.
"You're quite the woman, Molly Hooper."