A/N: Here's the next chapter. I'm just goin' to town on this story this week... weird. Anyway, I hope you like it. I just couldn't stand to keep you in too much suspense over Molly's answer. Thanks for responding so enthusiastically! I love to hear from you, both in reviews and just saying hi. So thanks again!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabe and Scarlett.
Molly gave him a look that most definitely said, 'Stop him before he kills again.' She looked down at the velvet box as if at any moment a poisonous snake might leap out of it. "Uhm… well I…" Suddenly she was the stammering mouse from the morgue once more. "Wait. Do you need to break into someone's office? Because I can just throw a rock through a window—"
"Don't be ridiculous," he sighed.
"Well you can hardly blame me for being suspicious."
"I'm being absolutely serious, Molly," he whispered, wincing at Scarlett made a whimpering noise between them. "See… you're upsetting Scarlett."
She giggled. "Sherlock… look, I have always known how you are. I know that you aren't exactly the marrying kind and I'm okay with that. If you're asking me to marry you because you think that's what will make me happy or what you're supposed to do… you don't have to do that. As long as we're together, it's good enough for me."
"But it isn't good enough for me," he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. There was a desperation in his voice and in his eyes. "Not anymore. I was… such a coward. I wasted all that time trying to avoid the pain of loss and loneliness and in the end… I couldn't outrun it anyway." He took Molly's hand in his and kissed the knuckles lightly. "You remember that time I told you I hated you?"
Molly smiled and nodded. "I do."
"I meant it, but hating you… loving you… it saved my life. You've given me so much more than I deserve, Molly. And I do want to marry you because I want you to be happy, but I want me to be happy too. And I'm happiest when I'm with you. Now that I know what that means, I'm… I'm greedy for it. It started with John and now it ends with you and Gabe and Scarlett. So come on, Molly." He whispered softly, kissing each of her fingertips, the palm of her hand, her wrist. "Save my life."
Molly stared at him, still dumbfounded by his sudden proposal. "Are you sure you aren't just reacting to the excitement of the day?"
"Please, Molly. Please? I want you and our children to have the same name." He paused and mumbled, "Dear Lord, we have children."
Molly burst into laughter, tears streaming down her face. "Indeed we do."
"By the way, if you tell anyone I've gone this squishy, I'll be forced to kill you and make it look like an accident."
Molly smirked. "Fine way to talk to your fiancée and the mother of your child. Not sure I should marry you now."
"You're the one unnaturally attracted to sociopaths." Whether it was Sherlock's voice or 'sociopaths,' Scarlett stirred, opening her big, unfocused eyes to stare up at her parents in the darkness. It was a careful, calculated movement he used to pick up the tiny girl as she began to fuss. "Shh… you're going to wake up your brother."
"You're getting good at that, you know," Molly observed.
"It's easier when she's not squirming." Scarlett grasped his fingertips and brought them to her mouth with a jerky movement. Immediately she began sucking on them, much to the surprise and confusion of her father. "What is she doing? Why is she doing that?"
Molly giggled. "She's hungry, silly. Give her to me." Sherlock passed her over and watched in utter amazement as Molly pulled her cozy pajama shirt aside and offered her breast to the whimpering Scarlett. "Oww… take it easy, kid," she groaned as the baby latched on eagerly. "She does take after you, apparently."
"Funny," Sherlock replied, still completely mesmerized watching his daughter take nourishment from Molly. As a scientist, he was full of facts and had a complete understanding of how things worked, but actually seeing it was beyond anything he could learn by reading a book. "That's so incredible, Molly."
"What is?"
"Look at all you can do with your body. It's incredible. I really am in awe of you."
"Wow… that's a first," Molly giggled.
"What's that?"
"You being in awe of anyone."
OoOoOo
Gabriel lay on the couch with two pillows crushed against his ears and still he could hear the shrill cries of his sister finding their way under the fluff to pierce his eardrums. For something so small she could certainly make a big noise. He knew that babies cried. Katie had told him that her brand new sister cried all night every night. He'd had a plan for that. He nicked his dad's earbuds from his desk drawer and kept them in his room. That way, when she cried, he could just shove them in his ears and listen to music until he fell asleep. But Scarlett didn't just cry at night. She cried in the morning. She cried in the afternoon. She cried at tea time. She'd cried pretty much constantly for the last two weeks that she'd was at home. It was so bad that he'd begged to be allowed to sleep at Mrs. Hudson's flat a couple of nights. Scarlett was really only happy when one of them was holding her, tight against their chest and rubbing her back. Mary said she had colic and that Isabel had been the same. She suggested the little drops that you could get at the chemist, but they did little to soothe Scarlett. Then Mrs. Hudson had said to try a little bit of brandy in her bottle, but John had shouted at them for even entertaining the notion.
"You can't give a baby alcohol!" he exclaimed.
Mrs. Hudson scoffed. "I didn't suggest she drink the whole bottle, dear. Just a drop or two in her milk. Not even half a shot's worth."
John finally conceded that if Molly had a glass of wine before feeding her, it might help. So she tried it. The first time it did nothing except apparently make her breastmilk taste bitter so that Scarlett turned up her nose. The second time, Sherlock (graduate chemist that he is) suggested that she try a little more and that she drink something a bit sweeter than red wine. After three glasses of Riesling, she fell asleep on the couch and Scarlett had formula.
"Uggh… can't you make her stop crying, Mum?" Gabriel whined as Molly paced back and forth across the living room, bouncing the baby gently on her shoulder.
"If I could make her stop crying, don't you think I'd have done it by now?" Molly snapped. "She's been this way for two weeks and it's driving me mad. Do you think you might be a little more patient, Gabriel?"
"I'm trying," he said with a hopeless sigh. "But all this noise is giving me a headache."
"Here, you want to hold her a while?" Molly asked, her eyebrow arched in that way that indicated she was about to lose her temper. "Because I promise that your head doesn't hurt more than mine." She'd been very weird since they brought Scarlett from the hospital. Her temper was quick to flare and she snapped at Gabriel and Sherlock in a way she didn't use to. Then there were the times she locked herself in the bathroom or the bedroom. Gabriel didn't mean to spy, but he could hear her crying at those times. She tried not to cry in front of him or his dad, but it was happening more and more frequently. And she always seemed tired. Her face, always so pretty and sunny, was marked now with dark circles under her eyes. And her bright colored, cheerful clothes had been replaced with oversized, ratty jeans and one of Sherlock's old teeshirts in dark, dreary hues. Before he'd always been able to count on Molly to watch telly with him or play a game, but now when she got a break from Scarlett, she only wanted to lie on the couch or in her bed.
Gabriel looked up at her, his hurt feelings very visible on his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.
She sighed and bowed her head sadly. "No… Gabe. Don't be sorry. I'm the one that should be sorry. I've been just monstrous the last couple of weeks." She put the shrieking Scarlett down in her carrier and sat down on the couch beside Gabriel, motioning for him to come closer. She gathered him into her arms and hugged him tightly.
"Why are you sad, Mum?" Gabriel asked after a few moments. "Don't you like Scarlett?"
"Oh of course I do, darling. I'm just very, very tired and I can't seem to make her stop crying. And I know it's been hard for you too… I'm just…" Her voice trailed off into shuddery sobs and she hugged Gabe tighter. "I'm just not very good at being someone's mum!"
"Sure you are!" Gabe replied. "You're brilliant, Mum! She's just grumpy right now, but she'll get better."
"You think so?" she sniffled.
"Of course! Besides, you're the best mum I ever had."
Molly smiled. "It's not like you have a lot to choose from."
"Just trust me."
"Okay," she giggled. "I'll take your word for it."
OoOoOo
Scarlett was six weeks old when Sherlock decided that enough was enough and insisted on taking Molly out for the night. Scarlett had finally stopped crying continuously, but Molly wasn't quite there yet. While she was no longer locking herself in the bathroom, she would become either a blubbering mess at random intervals for no apparent reason, or irrationally angry. Or, the most fun, both simultaneously. When she turned around and screamed at Sherlock, "I'm a disgusting Mummy Blob!" he'd decided that it was time to intervene. But to pull it off, he'd need a little help.
John. I need help. –SH
Are you being murdered? – JW
No. – SH
Then piss off. We're on holiday.—JW
What if I was being murdered?—SH
Goodbye, Sherlock.—JW
Well John was obviously going to be no help at all. Ahh… Mrs. Hudson. She was always good in a pinch. And she loved keeping Scarlett and Gabe. It would be perfect. "Mrs. Hudson!" he bellowed down the stairs. No response. "Mrs. Hudson!" he shouted again, but again nothing.
"What are you shouting about?" Molly asked, emerging from the bathroom with a freshly bathed baby.
"Mrs. Hudson. She's gone."
"Yeah, don't you remember? Her sister is ill and she's gone down for a few days to help out."
"Oh…" he sighed. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. All of their so-called friends who had promised they'd be there to help them out had the nerve to go on with their own lives.
Lestrade—Are you busy? –SH
Yes. – GL
How could you possibly be busy? If you were busy you'd have called me. –SH
I'm off-duty. What do you want? –GL
Off-duty? Doing what?—SH
None of your business.—GL
Oh. She's married and she has an overactive body hair problem.—SH
Piss off. –GL
Uggh… why was everyone so busy? Didn't they know he need their help? He ran through his mind palace, trying to come up with someone he could call to sit with Scarlett and Gabriel tonight. He could try Mycroft, but he knew that his brother was out of the country and besides, he wasn't sure he trusted his brother not to drop the baby out of a window. Or get her involved in some kind of shady espionage scheme. He opened his contact file on his mobile, flipping through the numbers. There was only one that he hadn't tried. He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he caught sight of Molly in the bedroom, pulling a sleeper on to a very wiggly Scarlett. He had to make this happen. She needed the night away from the flat. With a sigh, he punched in the number: Anderson, Philip.
OoOoOo
"Let me start by saying that if you misplace one hair on either of my children's heads, I will turn you into fertilizer for Molly's herb garden." Sherlock stared at Anderson with a look so ferocious that there could be no mistake that he was joking.
"They'll be fine," Anderson replied. "I have been around children before."
Sherlock gazed down at Anderson. "Somehow I doubt that." Gabriel chuckled. "First up," he began, leading him into the kitchen. "Scarlett has three bottles already prepared in the refrigerator. She gets one in about an hour and another right before you put her down to sleep. There's an extra in case she's really hungry or if you mess up." He arched his eyebrow and stared seriously at Anderson. "Don't mess up."
"I won't."
"Of course you won't. It's idiot proof. But if there's some kind of weird emergency, there's a whole pouch of expressed milk in the freezer."
"Expressed?"
Gabriel giggled. "Milk from Mum, silly."
"Oh."
"As for Gabriel, he's pretty much self-sufficient. He's already eaten, but he is allowed a snack if he gets hungry, just don't let him drink tea with a whole container of honey before he sleeps. And he'll tell you that he can drink coke, but he's lying."
"Dad!"
"If he drinks it at night he'll be climbing the walls. Milk, juice or tea with a little honey is what he's allowed."
"Rudeness," Gabe grumbled.
"Oh, and he'll tell you that he wants to watch some horrible movie that's coming on later…something about zombie insects—don't let him watch it. He'll be up all night long and I intend to have better things to do when I get home than to coax him back to sleep."
"Got it."
Gabriel threw himself dramatically onto the couch. "I never get to have any fun."
"Shame isn't it?" Sherlock replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. "Anyway…" he motioned Anderson forward and took Scarlett from Molly's arms as she breezed through, her hair still wild. "Okay… this is a tiny human."
"Thanks for the info."
"Well I never know if you have rudimentary knowledge, Anderson."
"Ha ha."
"Anyway, she eats every two hours whether you want her to or not. Don't worry, if you forget to feed her she'll be glad to sing you a song of her people that will remind you. As I said before, she shouldn't take but two more bottles before we get home, but you never know. And for God's sake, if she wants to eat, just feed her. It's easier."
"Indeed."
Sherlock shoved Scarlett into Anderson's arms and arranged her so that she was balanced in the crook of his arm. "Hold her like this or up on your shoulder. She does not like to be too flat and you have to hold her close to you. She can sort of hold her head up, but it's still wobbly, so support it. If you scramble my child's brains, I'll cut you from gullet to gonads. I'm not kidding."
"Oh come on, Sherlock! I won't scramble her brains!"
"Be sure you don't." He smiled, seeming to forget about his gruesome promise. "Oh… and sometimes she does like to be on the floor. Make sure you put her blanket down first. We don't know why the rug freaks her out, it just does." He snapped his fingers, impatiently motioning for Anderson to hand him the baby. "Now, the most important part of your crash course—changing her nappy." He gestured toward Gabriel, who brought a nappy, a box of wipes and a container of baby powder.
"You think I'll have to change her?" Anderson looked apprehensive.
Gabriel laughed. "Uhm… yeah. Probably a lot."
"Well why can't you do it?" Anderson asked Gabe with a sneer.
"Because I'm not the babysitter," Gabriel replied, sticking his tongue out at him.
Sherlock swatted Gabriel playfully. "Don't be rude." He lay Scarlett down on the blanket he'd spread out. She cooed and reached up for Sherlock. "All right, Molly just changed her, but we'll do it again just to show you how it's done. She's starting to get to where she can wiggle away from you, so be prepared." Sherlock unsnapped Scarlett's sleeper and freed her legs. As soon as the cool air hit her skin, she began to kick playfully. "See?"
"Yeah… that could be a problem."
"It's really not," Sherlock explained, trying to sound patient and gentle so that Scarlett wouldn't get upset. "First and foremost, get the new nappy ready. Unfold it and slide it under her." He grabbed Scarlett's ankles, kissing the bottoms of her feet to distract her. "Now you take the old one off, but be sure to open it up, let the air hit her and then put the old one down really fast." He demonstrated.
"What? Why?"
"Trust me on this. If you don't, she'll pee all over you." He pulled the old one off and wrapped it up tight before handing it to Gabriel. "Clean her off really well. Wipe her from front to back."
Anderson had a look somewhere between disgust and confusion. "Why?"
"Never wipe back to front. You'll give her the crotch rot." Gabriel died laughing. "Anyway, sprinkle a tiny bit of the powder on her front and backside and then button up her nappy. Like… so. Make sure its tight, but not so tight that it leaves a mark on her skin." He made short work of rearranging her sleeper and buttoning her back up. "All done," he cooed at Scarlett, lifting her up and kissing her cheeks with exaggerated kissy noises. She squealed and pulled at his hair. "So easy that..." He stopped and looked at Anderson. "Shit… I dunno what to say, I usually say 'so easy that Anderson can do it.'"
"So witty."
"Yes I know." Gabriel reached for Scarlett and Sherlock passed her off carefully. "If you get stuck, Gabriel's gotten pretty good at most things." He got to his feet in one graceful movement. "Oh, I have an emergency bag here that's got essential stuff in it if you suddenly had to leave for some reason. There's also a first aid kit with medicine suitable for both children on top of the refrigerator. Mine, Molly, John and Mary's mobile numbers are also listed on the board on the front of it if you need it. Though, John and Mary and their baby are visiting some friends of theirs in Yorkshire, so they aren't much help. Myself and Molly should be home around eleven."
As if on cue, Molly emerged from the bedroom looking better than she had in a month. Her eyes were wide and clear with no sign of sleeplessness. Her hair hung in loose, auburn curls that fell around her shoulders, highlighting the exquisite peacock pearls that adorned her throat. She was wearing a strappy, turquoise dress that hugged her new, more curvaceous frame perfectly. And of course, the vintage diamond on her hand was the perfect finishing touch. Most importantly, she looked deliriously happy tonight. "I'm finally ready. You didn't threaten him did you?" she asked, nodding to Anderson.
"Of course not." She made her way over to where Gabriel sat in the armchair, bouncing Scarlett. "Be good, loves," she said, kissing the crown of Gabriel's head and tickling Scarlett's ears.
"We're always good, Mum," he replied, stretching up to kiss Molly's cheek.
"Good is a relative term, I suppose," she said. "In bed, actually sleeping by ten, please."
"Can't I stay up until you get home? Who will read to me and tuck me in?"
"Anderson can do that," Sherlock replied. "Reading isn't a difficult skill. I'm sure he can accomplish it."
Molly cleared her throat loudly and carried Scarlett over to her reluctant babysitter. "Don't listen to him, Philip. We have every confidence in you." She leaned over and kissed his cheek. "And we really appreciate you doing this for us." He returned her smile and watched as she hurried down the stairs.
Gabriel tugged at Sherlock's sleeve and reached to be picked up. Sherlock obliged and squeezed him tight. "Laters."
"Be good, child-thing. Don't let Anderson break your sister."
Gabriel giggled. "I won't."
Sherlock started down the stairs then turned back to Anderson. "Gullet to gonads," he said with a wink and a deceivingly pleasant smile.
