A/N: Here's a new bit! No, Gabriel wasn't destroyed...I know you're disappointed. :) Thanks again for all the kind reviews and follows! Happy reading!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Gabriel, Scarlett and Cat the dog.
"What the hell is going on here?" Sherlock exclaimed as Molly pushed past them to grab Scarlett. Gabriel and Anderson began shouting in unison, both pointing at the other. "Whoa! Just stop! One at a time!" Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn't believe that he was having to referee and be the voice of reason. "Anderson?"
"Why does he get to go first?" Gabriel whined.
"Because he's taller," Sherlock snapped, pulling Gabriel down from where he was perched on the edge of his desk.
"We were having a perfectly lovely evening. The baby had her bottle and was sitting on the floor on her blanket while Gabriel and I played Snakes and Ladders. When we finished, I put Scarlett back in her carrier and Gabe went to get ready for bed. I sat down and started watching telly—"
"Is there any way that we could cut out all these extraneous details?" Sherlock sighed.
Anderson scrunched his face in displeasure. "I'm trying to tell you what happened."
"Just make the end of the story as close to the beginning as possible."
He sighed. "I got involved watching the movie and I saw Gabriel come back into the room. We watched telly for a while longer and then I realized it was time to give the baby her last bottle and put her down—like you told me. But when I went to get her, she was gone."
"She was gone?" Molly exclaimed. "What do you mean, she was gone?"
"She wasn't here. The baby, her carrier—it was all gone. So I asked Gabe where she was and he said he didn't know."
"He wasn't even watching us, Dad," Gabriel interrupted. "He was sitting on the couch watching the television and making me get him fizzy drink out of the refrigerator the whole night! The only reason he played Snakes and Ladders with me is because I bet him he couldn't beat me!"
"Don't interrupt," Molly said, rocking Scarlett as she started to fuss. All the tension in the room was making her antsy.
"But Mum, I—"
"Hush!" Molly snapped, instantly making Scarlett start crying. "Oh sorry, love…" she said, finally taking the baby to the bedroom.
"Go on, Anderson," Sherlock said, his voice taking on the terse, eerily calm timbre that was usually reserved for serial killers and psychos.
"So… I go tearing around the house looking for her. The whole time, Gabriel's shouting at me that I better find his little sister!"
"I wasn't shouting!"
"Gabriel, I'm not telling you again to let him finish." Gabe threw himself down on the sofa in an epically dramatic pout.
"We went all over the flat looking and finally we heard her squealing in the broom cupboard by the stairs. When I opened the door, there she was on the floor, strapped into the carrier. Obviously she'd been there for almost an hour. Gabriel hid her from me!"
"I did not!" Gabe shouted, forgetting his father's threat. "Dad! You have to believe me, I was not hiding Scarlett!"
"Oh yeah? So I suppose she just got up on her chubby little feet and walked herself over to the cupboard, while carrying the seat, and shut herself in?"
"Well… no…"
"You really must learn to be a better liar, Gabriel." Sherlock pulled his coat and scarf off, throwing them over the armchair, then looking to Anderson. "I'm sorry Gabriel was such a demon, but Scarlett doesn't look any worse for wear."
"She was angelic all night. She never even cried until she was locked in the cupboard." He looked over his shoulder to stare pointedly at Gabriel who promptly stuck his tongue out. "And Gabriel wasn't bad until the end. But I promise, Sherlock. I was watching them! I'll stay and help clean up the mess, if you like."
"Of course you were watching them. Thank you." Going to the hook by the door, he handed Anderson his coat and led him down the stairs. "And I wouldn't dream of asking you to clean up Gabriel's mess."
Gabriel could hear them talking a few minutes more below him. Maybe he should just go up to his room and crawl into bed now. Just pretend to be asleep so he wouldn't get in trouble. And oh how much trouble he was in. He'd been in trouble before, but rarely had he heard "the voice of doom." Every now and then he was banished to his room or sent to bed early. Once he was not allowed to go to his violin lesson because he'd refused to do his homework. Rarely, he found himself on the receiving end of a sharp swat on the backside, but on those occasions his pride was hurt more than his person. But this time, he might just be destroyed. In retrospect, it was pretty bad to lock his sister in a wardrobe for an hour. And then a beam of hope—Mum. His mum would not allow him to be destroyed. She would at least be a witness.
His thinking took too long and before he could bolt up to his room, he heard the heavy footsteps of his father coming up the stairs. Gabriel sank back into the cushions of the sofa and pulled his knees up under his chin, trying to make himself as small as possible. Cat leapt on to the sofa beside him, laying down and giving a tiny whine. Sherlock emerged at the top of the stairs, going to the armchair and gathering his coat and scarf to hang on the hook by the door. He passed by Gabriel and went into the kitchen. He filled the kettle with water and set it on the counter, flipping the switch to boil. Gabriel leaned way over, peeking around the table to see what his father was doing. Why hadn't he said anything yet? He seemed to be ignoring him completely! He was still silent as he pulled down two cups and the container of loose tea. He was methodical as he scooped tea into the pot, poured the boiling water into it and went to the refrigerator for milk. He finished making two cups of tea and disappeared down the hall, Gabe staring after him. "What the…" Gabriel whispered. He stared down at Cat who wrinkled her brow and closed her eyes. He sat there a while longer, afraid to move from his little island. Was his father lying in wait for him? Or maybe he was just waiting for Mum and Scarlett to go to sleep before he killed him and dumped his body in the trashbins downstairs.
He sat there for another few minutes, trying to work out what he should do. If he wanted to run to his room, now was the time. He could hear his parents talking in the other room and every now and then Scarlett would let out a cry of protest. Gabriel glanced at the clock. It was well past when the baby should have been asleep. Most likely she'd be up most of the night and fussy. He sighed. He really did screw up this time. Finally he decided that he'd better go ahead and get it over with. He dragged himself off of the couch and trudged down the hall to his parents' room.
The door was open and Gabriel stood in the doorway. His mum sat in front of the vanity brushing out her hair while his father lounged on the bed with Scarlett. She made tiny, contented noises as she lay against his bare chest. "Mum? Dad?" Gabriel murmured.
Sherlock looked up to acknowledge his son. "Go to your room and wait for me there," he said, his voice quiet and emotionless. "I have to get Scarlett to sleep and then I'll deal with you."
"But Dad—"
"Go. Gabriel. I don't want to see your face right now."
Deciding that he'd better do as he was told this time, Gabriel turned and ran down the hall and up the back stairs to his room.
OoOoOo
The time crept by endlessly. Even Cat couldn't take the tension. She finally jumped down from the bed and ambled back downstairs. Gabriel was curled up in the center, wishing he could vanish. He'd just been having a little fun. He hadn't meant to make his parents so angry. In fact, he thought his dad would have liked his little trick on Anderson. He probably would have if he hadn't involved Scarlett. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of her. She took all the attention away. Dad used to play with him all the time but now it seemed he was always holding the baby or rocking the baby or feeding the baby. Mum was the same. She used to always watch telly with him or play games, but now she was always with Scarlett. Maybe he was a little jealous.
"All right. I've had a little tea, I've had a cigarette, I'm pretty calm." Sherlock stood in the doorway to Gabriel's room, arms crossed over his chest. "So go ahead and tell me what happened."
Gabriel began spitting out the story at an alarming rate of speed. "I didn't mean to leave her in there so long, Dad! I was just playing a trick on Mr. Anderson, but after I hid her in the cupboard, I forgot she was there! I didn't remember until Mr. Anderson said that it was time for her last bottle! I didn't want to hurt her, Dad. I made sure she was strapped in to her carrier and everything!"
"So tell me this. When Anderson began to panic, did you say, 'Hey, I know where the baby is' or 'She's in the wardrobe by the stairs'?"
"Well no. But I was going to! I just wanted to scare him a little bit! It was a joke!" Gabriel's chin trembled and he was on the verge of tears. He knew he was in for it this time. "I'm… sorry…"
"You done?"
Gabriel nodded. "Yes, Sir."
Sherlock sighed and pushed away from the doorframe. He walked into Gabriel's room and sat down on the end of the bed, holding his forehead. "You know, Gabe, I'm so… tired. I'm tired in my body, I'm tired in my mind. I'm tired in my heart. Was it really too much to ask that Molly and myself have one night to ourselves? Just one? Not even a whole one. Just a few hours."
"I'm sorry, Dad," Gabriel whimpered.
"No… please don't say you're sorry. If you were really sorry, you wouldn't keep doing things like this, Gabe. You have this talent for doing things without thinking about what might happen afterwards. And I've been wracking my brain for the last half hour, trying to think of something I could do that you would remember the next time you went off on one of your impulsive stunts. Because evidently none of these little tete a tetes manage to sink in."
"They do, Daddy…"
Sherlock nodded sadly and pushed his fingers through his hair. They sat in silence for several moments, the only noise being the soft sniffles coming from Gabriel. "You know, Gabe, when I was a little boy, I was exactly the same. Probably worse. I used to shout and throw myself down on the floor, kicking and screaming. I'd hide in the woods behind the house until it was so dark that the police would have to come looking for me. I remember once, I got so angry at Mycroft because he was leaving to go back to school after summer break—I snuck into his room, stole all his uniforms and buried them in the garden. One of the maids saw me do it and ratted me out to my father."
"What happened?" Gabe asked.
"In an attempt to make me remember not to do it again, he wore me out with his belt."
Gabriel tensed, sliding back further on his bed, suddenly wishing he could disappear into the headboard. He could tell that this time he'd really screwed up and that his father was sick of being reasonable. "Did you?"
"Did I what?"
"Did you remember not to do it again?"
"Not really. I mean, I never buried Mycroft's clothes again, but I did other things. I was very willful and the more times I met with my father's belt, the more willful I became. He only succeeded in making me afraid of him. As I got older, that fear faded away leaving behind anger and hate." He turned and stared at Gabriel, cowering behind his pillows. "I think you remember what that's like."
Gabriel nodded and relaxed a little, finally crawling down the bed and into his father's lap. "I really am sorry, Daddy… I just forget—"
"No you don't. You ignore," Sherlock replied, putting an arm around Gabriel. "There are rules that must be followed and when they aren't there are consequences."
"But I thought you hated rules," Gabriel replied.
"Nobody likes rules, but they're necessary. And when you break one, you'd better be prepared to take responsibility for it and bear the punishment."
Gabriel had a sheepish expression, as if he were afraid to look up at his father. "What are you going to do to me?" he mumbled.
"What do you think I should do?"
Gabriel gnawed at his lower lip, deep in thought. "Tell me not to do it again and send me to bed?"
Sherlock snorted and nodded. "I'm sending you to bed because you're tired. But I don't think that's going to do much in the way of penance. I think no telly, no playdates and no violin for the week is sufficient."
"But there's a new episode of Doctor Who this week!" Gabe protested. "And I got invited to a birthday party on Friday!"
"Ah, that's where the 'punishment' part comes in."
OoOoOo
Sherlock laughed to himself as he came into the bedroom. He hoped that Molly was still awake, but his hopes were dashed upon entering. There she lay, curled around his pillow, breathing lightly. Scarlett, on the other hand, was wide awake beside her. The infant lay on her back, cooing as she batted at some invisible thing on the ceiling. As soon as she saw Sherlock, she grinned.
"Still awake, eh?" he whispered, picking her up gently. "I guess the excitement got the better of you, Scarlett. Well that's okay, I suppose. It happens to me all the time." He cradled her to his chest and she immediately snuggled against him, seeking out the warmth of his chest. "You know, they aren't going to trust me to put you to sleep anymore. If you keep waking up." She made a gurgling noise and Molly stirred behind them. "Shhh… you're going to wake up your mother." He continued down the hall and into the lounge. "You know, Scarlett… you're totally messing up my plans," he said, finding the remote for the stereo and turning it on. A quiet, sleepy song came on and Sherlock turned it down low. "Though I suppose when I said I'd like to spend the night with the woman of my dreams, I should have specified which one." He pressed a kiss to the messy auburn curls at her crown. She crowed again, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging gleefully. "Ow, Scarlett," he laughed, disentangling her fingers from his own curls. "Clearly you already know how to gain the upper hand."
"She listens to her mother." Sherlock turned to see Molly standing in the doorway, watching their midnight dance.
"Wise girl," Sherlock replied, beckoning her over with a nod of his head. She joined them, wrapping her arms around them both and swaying to the music.
