A/N: Hey kids! Sorry this took so long. I was at a writing convention all weekend and it nearly killed me. I'm also in the middle of editing my next novel, which will be out in the middle of next month! Squee! Just kind of a fluffy/ angsty chapter to get you through your Wednesday! I'm so glad you all enjoyed that last chapter! Thanks for all of your reading, review and support. You make my day!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel and Scarlett.
Several months passed and everything was quiet. Relatively speaking. Irene had been as good as her word, showing up at Gabriel's recital and then quietly disappearing. She called from time to time, but otherwise she was behaving. Gabriel seemed fairly indifferent to the whole thing. He was sweet and attentive to her when she called, but he didn't miss her. They had been expecting him to lash out strangely or insist on being able to see her, but as of yet he had shown no signs of damage from Irene's reappearance.
Scarlett, on the other hand, was incurring more damage every day. At just under ten months she was determined to walk, no matter what obstacles might stand in her way. The greatest of those obstacles was balance. She could pull herself up, and did, on every available object regardless of whether or not it would support her weight. Sherlock was sure she was going to have brain damage from all the blows to the head. In the last few weeks, she'd crashed into the refrigerator, nearly tumbled down the stairs, fallen over the dog who then stepped on her head trying to get away and hit her face so hard on the coffeetable that she had a black eye. All of this made her explosively angry. She didn't scream so much as roar at her foes and then looked at her mother and father as if they were the ones behind this evil villainy. Scarlett's partner in crime was Isabel Watson. Already an accomplished walker, they were convinced that Izzy was carrying out Scarlett's nefarious orders: stealing Sherlock's mobile, acquiring Gabriel's homework papers from his dresser and coloring all over them with his crayons—all sorts of things that a ten month old would never accomplish on her own. However, Scarlett's lack of walking ability hadn't slowed her down in the slightest. On her knees, she could shuffle across the floor like a tiny destructor tank, taking out anyone or anything in her way.
Everyone was having to adjust. Even the clients had grown used to finding the famous detective and his sidekick at Baker Street with two toddling girls squealing and tugging at their fathers' trouser legs. One woman who was convinced that her husband was having an affair with an angel, told her entire story to Sherlock whilst he tried to shovel food into Scarlett's mouth. Amazingly, he was able to get the story, solve the mystery without leaving the flat and tell the woman off in his normally snarky fashion all while feeding Scarlett her lunch of bananas and broken up peanut butter sandwich. Even Sally Donovan couldn't deny his surprisingly exceptional skills. She could only stand by and watch as he briefed an inspector in Dublin via Skype in Lestrade's office while changing Scarlett in his lap. When he was through, he noticed that she was watching him.
"Can I help you?" Sherlock asked.
She started to laugh, shaking her head. "I have to hand it to you, Freak. You're expert at that."
He turned to look at Sally, his eyebrow raised. "So, after all the amazing feats of cerebral fitness you've seen me do, changing a nappy is what impresses you?"
Sally shrugged, looking to Greg for assistance. "Well… yeah, I guess so."
OoOoOo
Meanwhile, as Sherlock was settling into his new role of Superdad, Molly was having issues. At the lab, they were down a technician and a pathologist and she had been working hard to pick up the slack. Weeks before, she had made the decision to begin weaning Scarlett completely because it was becoming too much. She worked all day, sometimes six days a week. She'd had to go in to work in the middle of the night more and more frequently and was working overtime more than she would like. Mrs. Hudson and Mary had been wonderful about helping out with Scarlett and Gabe while she was working, but the stress was starting to get to her. She missed her baby who seemed to be growing up without her.
It was no surprise to anyone when Scarlett started to talk. Of course, she wasn't reciting Lord Byron or anything, but it was impressive just the same. Molly was at the lab with her hand in some guy's stomach when her mobile began to ring. Normally, at a time like this, she'd just let it go, but from her vantage point she could see Sherlock's number flashing on her screen. That could mean that he couldn't find the milk again or that something was wrong with Scarlett. She'd better answer. The last time she'd ignored a call from Sherlock, her daughter had ended up at a crime scene.
"Hello?" she shouted into the phone.
"Molly?"
"Yes? What do you want, Sherlock. I'm kind of up to my elbows in internal organs."
"Of course you are. Why else would you be on speaker phone?" he answered haughtily. "Anyway, I had to call you so you could hear this." She could hear Gabriel, John, Mary and Scarlett giggling in the background. There was a crackling noise as Sherlock moved the phone and evidently set it down on the table. There was movement and she laughed, hearing Sherlock cooing and coaxing Scarlett in his low rumble.
"Who is this, Scar?" Gabriel's voice.
She squealed and giggled in response. Molly started to become annoyed that they had interrupted her to listen to Scarlett squeal. She always squealed and it was adorable, but not while she was trying to extract the stomach contents of a murder victim. And then, she heard the little one exclaim, "Da!" The others cheered and clapped, so she said it again. "Da!" Soon Isabel joined in until both of them were shouting "Da!" repeatedly.
"Oh, darling that's wonderful!" Molly exclaimed into the phone, laughing and clapping with the others. "Sherlock!"
He picked up the phone off of the table and answered. "Isn't she brilliant?"
"Of course she is," Molly sighed, trying to keep the melancholy from her voice. "Absolutely brilliant."
OoOoOo
A couple of weeks later, Scarlett had expanded her vocabulary to include: Da, Muh, Bre (her name for Gabriel), gog (which, as far as they could tell was 'dog' since she would crawl after Cat screaming it) and Nee for Mrs. Hudson. John and Mary were known collectively as Jam. They weren't really sure how she'd decided on that, but whenever one of them came into the room, Scarlett would shriek, "Jam!" and hug them. This never failed to provoke Izzy, who did not like sharing her parents with others and would shout angrily at Scarlett or attempt clonking her whenever she felt her parents were being violated. Molly's gloomy mood had not improved much whenever she was at work. She longed to be at home playing with Scarlett or snuggling with Gabriel, but she kept on a brave face as much as possible. She didn't want anyone to know how jealous she was of her husband who seemed to catch every important moment of their daughter's development while she was stuck in a lab with dead people who couldn't appreciate her. Or how much she was starting to resent her job. Or how sad it made her whenever they called her at the lab to tell her another of Scarlett's amazing feats.
"Dr. Holmes!" Markus, the intern, shouted late one afternoon. "Come quick!" He sounded alarmed and Molly immediately sprung to action, pulling her lab coat around her shoulders and bursting from her office. She followed him down to the ambulance bay where orderlies swarmed this way and that. The noise of two ambulances arriving at the hospital made it hard to hear and her ears were ringing with the screaming sirens.
"What happened?" she shouted at one of the paramedics as she rushed to help him pull another heavily laden gurney from the back of an ambulance.
"A fire at a children's home," he answered. That was when she noticed that the gurneys being brought in were loaded with zipped black bags. Of course. These were the victims of the fire being brought to the morgue. She helped them bring in four victims in total. All children.
Hours later, Molly looked up and realized that it was well after the end of her shift. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. These were the days when she regretted her choice of profession. Most times, the "patients" on her slabs were adults but today she had processed four children ranging in age from three to twelve. Just babies who had barely begun to live. Babies who, like Gabriel, had been brought into the world unwanted and had never had the chance to know the unconditional love of a parent. It just made her so sad and suddenly she couldn't get home fast enough. She needed to hug her children and tell them how much she loved them.
When she reached Baker Street and began climbing the stairs, she suddenly remembered it was Tuesday night. She could hear the voices of Sherlock, John, Mary and all the others chattering upstairs. Then, Gabriel's gasping laugh—someone was obviously subjecting him to tickle torture. She was literally mesmerized as she stood in the doorway, staring into the lounge. Mrs. Hudson sat on the couch, bouncing Izzy on her lap as Gabriel and Sherlock played turbo chess on the coffee table . Mary and John were the first to acknowledge her as they stood in the kitchen filling glasses with ice. "Oh hi, Mols," Mary began. "We were beginning to think you weren't coming home tonight."
"Mum!" Gabriel exclaimed, jumping up and running to embrace her. "Come on! You have to see what Scarlett can do!"
She smiled and lifted the boy up, squeezing him tight. "Oh yeah? What can Scarlett do today?"
He looked over his shoulder at Sherlock. "Can we show her, Dad?"
"It's an imperative," Sherlock replied, knocking over Gabe's king and wiggling his eyebrows. "Checkmate."
"No fair!" Gabriel exclaimed, wriggling from Molly's grasp to run toward the coffee table. "You can't win while I'm not at the table!"
"Where is that written?" Sherlock asked. "You were too slow. I believe I beat you in six minutes, thirty-seven seconds this time. A new record!" Gabriel's expression was stormy as he stood there with his hands on his hips, prepared to protest. "Weren't you going to show Molly something?"
He lit up. "Yes! You have to help me, though."
"Well someone show me before I burst!" Molly said, hanging her coat on the rack by the door.
Sherlock picked Scarlett up from where she was sitting in her playpen playing with her stacking blocks. Or chewing on them. As soon as she saw Molly, she squealed and reached for her. "Muh!"
"You can see her in a minute, Scar," Gabriel said, kneeling down on the rug. Sherlock knelt opposite him a few meters away and set Scarlett on her feet. "Come on, Scarlett. Walk to me!"
"Bre!" Scarlett exclaimed, giggling as she wobbled on her feet.
"That's right, Scar! Come on! Come to Bre!" Gabriel coaxed.
The little girl looked over her shoulder and grinned at Sherlock, reaching her tiny little hand out to him. He took her fingertip lightly and guided her as she toddled toward Gabriel, stumbling on his knees. Just as she reached her brother, Scarlett tumbled forward but Gabe was quick and scooped her up before she hit the ground. "Bre!" she squealed once more, giggling madly.
"Yay, Scar!" Gabriel praised as everyone clapped. Except for Isabel, who seemed unimpressed. "Clever girl!" He looked up at Molly. "Did we teach her right, Mum?"
Molly nodded and laughed, reaching out to take Scarlett from him. "Good girl, Scarlett!" She hugged the little one tightly, kissing all over her forehead and cheeks until she shrieked happily.
"Muh!"
"When did she start doing this?" Molly asked.
Sherlock stood up to embrace them, kissing first Molly and then Scarlett. "She just pulled up on the table and walked over to Gabriel when he came in from school. I wish I'd been fast enough to get it on my phone, but it happened so fast."
"She was probably waiting for a moment when no one was watching. Or so she thought," Mary interjected. "That's what happened with Izzy." Everyone continued chattering, but Molly tuned them out. She was so angry with herself for feeling this way, but she couldn't bring herself to join in their jubilation about Scarlett surpassing yet another milestone without her. That, combined with the profundity of her experience at work that day was just too much. She could feel that tight burning behind her eyes and in her chest. She was about to burst into tears and she didn't want to spoil everyone's fun by doing it in front of them. She should be happy. They should be happy.
"I… uhm… I'd better change before Greg gets here with pizza," Molly said, passing Scarlett over to Sherlock.
"You okay?" he whispered in her ear, then kissed lightly at her temple as he took the baby.
She nodded, whipping her ponytail around to keep her red eyes shielded. "Just a little tired. Maybe I'll take a quick bath too." She didn't wait for him to answer before rushing down the hallway and into the bedroom.
OoOoOo
When Molly didn't come back after forty-five minutes, Sherlock started to worry. She didn't seem to be nearly as elated over Scarlett's first steps as he'd thought she'd be. It wasn't any wonder, really. She was clearly exhausted from all of the extra hours at the morgue. He'd also anticipated some kind of emotional reaction given the news about the fire in Smithfield earlier. He'd read that they were taking victims to the surrounding hospitals. That would imply that the dead kids were probably transported to Bart's for processing and identification. Molly did not share his detachment for the dead. Especially dead children. While this made her an incredibly thorough and compassionate pathologist, it was not particularly good for her emotional state.
The bedroom door was closed and he didn't knock as he opened it slowly, trying not to let it creak. Molly sat on the edge of the bed with her back to the door. She had not changed from her work clothes yet and her purse was still draped over her shoulder. She stared out of the window, but he could see the glistening streaks of old tears on her cheeks and hear her shuddery breath. "Molly?"
She turned fast, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and rubbing her nose, still red. "What is it?" she asked, putting on that fake, cheerful tone.
"Are you okay?"
"Of course. Why do you ask?"
"Possibly because you've been sitting here with your sweater and purse on, unmoving for almost an hour."
She gave a nod and a wan smile. "I just got distracted I guess," she sniffed. "I'll be out in just a minute."
"Dinner is here. Do you want me to feed Scarlett?"
She shook her head and rose from the bed. "No, you've been taking care of her all day. It's my turn." She made her way around the bed, kicking her shoes off under the edge. As she did so, she stubbed her toe hard on the leg of the bedframe and cried out in pain. This only brought those tears that had been so close to the surface, roaring in once more and she began to sob again.
Sherlock rushed over as she sat down on the end of the bed. "Molly! What did you hurt?"
"I'm fine," she wailed, hiding her face in her hands.
"You're not fine. That's obvious."
"Yes I am!" she breathed. "It's just… stupid. Damn bedframe!" As soon as he sat down beside her, she threw her arms around his neck and melted against him. He wound his arms around her and pulled her closer until she was nearly perched on his lap. She wept against the crook of his neck as he soothed her gently. After several minutes, she sniffled. "I'm missing everything. I'm a terrible mother."
"Why on Earth would you think that?" he asked. "You're an incredible mother, Molly."
"No I'm not," she sobbed. "My baby can walk and talk and I've missed it all! And all because of that stupid morgue! What does a morgue matter anyway? Those people are already dead, Sherlock!" Suddenly, a rush of quicksilver anger shot through her blood. "Once they get there, I can't save them anyway, so what difference does it make? But my own children are alive and I'm missing it!"
"You aren't missing it, Mols," Sherlock said.
"Yes I am! She didn't even say my name first!"
She was close to hysterics. He decided that it would be best to remain the calm participant in the discussion. "You do realize that she's not really saying our names. She's making noises and mimicking what the people around her do."
"That's shit, Sherlock, and you know it! If I point to you, she says 'da' and if I point to Gabriel, she says 'bre'. She knows what she's saying!" She sighed, sniffling again. "Let's face it. She only says 'muh' because Gabriel drilled it in her. And who can blame her for not knowing me. I'm never fucking here! I spend my life at Bart's where nothing I do matters at all. I'm just a stupid… silly… nothing."
Sherlock took her firmly by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. "Molly Hooper Holmes! You stop that right now," he said. His tone was stern and shocked her a bit. "You could never be 'nothing.' What you do at Bart's matters a great deal. You give dignity and justice to those people that come into the morgue and compassion to their families. You train students to not only do the same, but to learn to save people's lives. You saved mine, you know."
"That was different…"
"And as for your own children, they miss you every second that you aren't here, but you aren't damaging them. Gabriel is so proud of what you do and Scarlett will be too. So what if you missed a few words or steps. She'll be doing that stuff for the rest of her life."
"But it won't be the first time," Molly replied. "I wanted to see it the first time. To be able to scoop her up in my arms and squeeze her."
"There will be so many firsts, Mol."
"And I'll miss those too…"
Sherlock was quiet for a moment, trying to think of something to say that she couldn't shoot down. "Molly…do you want to quit?"
"Quit what?"
"Quit Bart's. If you feel really strongly that you're unhappy, then quit."
Molly thought this over for a moment. Obviously she had not expected this solution. "We can't do that."
"Of course we can. If it's about money, it shouldn't be. First, that's a trivial thing and second, money isn't an issue." He paused, a terrifying revelation creeping in. "Of course… how would I get access to the lab…"
Molly smirked. "Nice that you're thinking only of me."
