A/N: Damn you, peer pressure! I blame you, Joely! Hehe... enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel and Scarlett...

When they pulled into the driveway at Ambergris, there were two cars that were unfamiliar. "Were you expecting anyone?" Molly asked.

"No," Sherlock replied, pulling up the brake. "Maybe the cleaning service is still here." They emerged from the car and began pulling endless bags and baby debris out of the boot of the car. Gabriel yawned groggily and unstrapped his baby sister from her car seat. She whimpered, unhappy at having her nap cut short.

"Eeww… you smell funny, Scarlett," Gabriel noticed, wrinkling his nose. She replied with a giggle. As always, Gabriel was hilarious to his sister. "Yeah, laugh it up. You stink," he grumbled as Molly opened the back door and picked her up. "I think she needs a new nappy."

"Oh yeah? Sounds like you're volunteering to help with that," Molly replied with a wink.

"Nooo…" Gabe said, holding his arms out defensively in front of him. "You said I didn't have to do the bad ones. And that is most definitely a bad one. I think she exploded."

"Imagine if your dad had said that when you were a baby," Molly scolded, handing Gabriel the nappy bag and Scarlett's empty bottle.

"I had the courtesy to be toilet trained when I got here." He followed her up the stairs to the back door of the summer cottage. Gabriel much preferred coming to Ambergris when it was warm. He didn't have to wear shoes and he liked to swim in the ocean. That is, once his dad had taught him to go out past the breakers to swim where it was calmer. The water was cold, but it felt good against his skin when it was so hot outside. He couldn't wait until everything was settled so he could go for a swim. John and his dad had promised him.

"What are all of you doing here?" As they reached the top of the stairs, they could see that not only was Sherlock, John, Mary and Isabel on the porch, but also Greg Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. They did not look happy.

"We might ask you the same question, young man," Mrs. Hudson scolded. "Imagine! Sneaking off to get married without inviting us!"

"Don't be silly. Why would we sneak off to get married?" Sherlock replied haughtily.

"Oh save it," Lestrade snarled at Sherlock. "I overheard you talking to Molly on the phone yesterday, making your plans. So I called Mrs. Hudson and told her, so we decided to just come on over and see for ourselves!"

"I can't believe you would be so inconsiderate, Sherlock!"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Lestrade interjected. "Sherlock, yes. But Molly… we've been friends for years! I've watched the two of you dance around one another all this time. I think I should be important enough to warrant an invitation! And what about Mrs. H? She's been putting up with your shenanigans for ages…"

"It's just plain cruel, Sherlock!"

"Look…everyone," Molly began, pushing the baby into Sherlock's arms after he opened the doors and ushered everyone inside. "We didn't mean to leave anyone out. We weren't sure ourselves until yesterday. We wanted to just go to the Registrar and get it over with—no fuss. But I just couldn't bear the thought of getting married in a dingy little office. So here we are. John and Mary agreed to serve as our witnesses and as they're Gabe and Scarlett's godparents, we thought it appropriate. We really didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings. We had planned to get everyone together next week and tell you properly."

"Mycroft is out of the country and will be for a while, so he couldn't be here either," Sherlock said, spreading a changing mat out on the sofa and laying Scarlett down. "But since you're here, please stay," he said with an exaggerated smile.

"As if we would leave," Mrs. Hudson huffed, handing Greg her case and immediately going to the kitchen to assess what they would need for the week.

"So which church are you going with?" Mary asked.

"We aren't getting married in a church," Molly explained, searching through the nappy bag to find the wipes.

Everyone looked up, hearing dishes crash in the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson was standing in the archway with her hands on her hips. "What do you mean you aren't getting married in a church?"

"Just that. We aren't," Sherlock replied, kissing and tickling Scarlett's feet to keep her from wriggling away while Molly found the baby wipes. "As I've said so many times—ridiculous fantasy, Mrs. Hudson."

"Sherlock Holmes! How can you look at that perfect little baby you've got in front of you and not believe in a higher power!"

"Oh God, can we not have this fight again?" he sighed until Scarlett squealed kicking him in the mouth.

John chuckled. "Divine Intervention, that was."

Molly smiled and handed over the small box of baby wipes. "We aren't getting married in a church. But we are getting married on the beach. By the local vicar. So all of you can just relax."

OoOoOo

"So do I have to carry Scarlett down the aisle or something?" Gabriel asked as his father tugged and tucked at his button-up. "Because she wiggles around a lot and I'm kind of scared to carry her around a lot."

"No. There is no aisle. We're just going to stand on the beach and have a short ceremony and then we'll all go have dinner together. It's no big thing. You don't even have to hold Scarlett if you don't want to. "

"No, I want to," Gabriel said. "I like holding her, I just get nervous if I have to walk with her. When's she going to learn to walk anyway?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Not for a while yet, probably."

Gabriel sat down on the bed and watched him finish getting dressed. They figured since they were getting married standing on the sand, that everyone should go with semi-casual attire. Gabriel insisted that he wasn't going to wear shoes because, as he pointed out, Scarlett wasn't going to be. Ordinarily, Sherlock would have protested, but given that he wasn't much for wedding traditions, he didn't say a word. "Are you and mum going on a holiday without us?" Gabriel asked.

"We're going to stay in town tonight, but then we'll be back. We won't actually go on the s—" He stopped. He probably shouldn't call it a sex holiday in front of Gabriel. "I mean, the honeymoon, until probably next summer. When Scarlett is older. Your mum doesn't want to leave her for a week just yet."

"What if I can't sleep?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to sleep?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know. I just usually can't when you aren't at home."

"I think you'll be okay. And we'll be back in time for lunch tomorrow. You probably won't even notice that we're gone." He straightened his shirt and combed his fingers through the curls that fell over his brow. "Besides, you have to help take care of Scarlett. You know you're the only one that can make her stop crying at night." It was true. When Scarlett woke up screaming, at those times when she even refused Molly's breast, Gabriel was the only one that could calm her down. "Oh don't forget, we have to get her little portable crib-thing set up in Mrs. Hudson's room."

"You can put her in my room."

"I think Mrs. Hudson has her heart set on it." He turned and posed for Gabe. "Well, do I look okay?"

Gabriel shrugged. "I guess. I don't think you should wear shoes."

"You don't think anyone should wear shoes. Ever." There was a knock at the bedroom door and Sherlock ruffled Gabriel's hair before opening it. John stood in the doorway, looking like he'd seen a ghost. "John? You look ill."

"Uhm… Sherlock. I uhm… think you should come down. Now." His words were measured like a man who was trying to avoid being shot by an assailant hiding somewhere behind. The last time he'd heard John talk like that, he'd had a bunch of explosive strapped to his chest.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just… I think you ought to come down. And that Gabriel should stay up here."

Sherlock nodded slowly, trying to glean something from John's body language, but he was drawing a blank. "Gabriel, stay here. Don't come out until one of us comes to get you," he said, trying not to alarm the child.

"Okay, but what's going on?" Gabriel asked.

"Everything's fine. Just stay up here, okay?"

Sherlock followed John down the stairs quickly. The other man held himself with the tense posture of a soldier. Whatever it was, John was definitely spooked. As they entered the lounge, Mary, Greg and both babies were sitting on the couch, looking perfectly happy as they played together. Obviously whatever was going on wasn't life threatening. "What exactly is going on? Are we under attack? Is Zombie Moriarty at the door or something?" Sherlock joked.

"Not quite. Perhaps just as frightening." Sherlock paled as he heard the voice. He recognized it immediately and suddenly his body was stone. He couldn't move and for a second feared that he would lock his knees and faint. "Surprise! I would ask you to dinner, but somehow it no longer seems appropriate."

He turned and inhaled sharply as his suspicions were confirmed. "What… how…" He was stammering. Sherlock hated to stammer. It was ridiculous, but this time he thought it might be completely justified. "Irene."