A/N: So sorry this has taken me so long, kids. I promise I'll be updating this, 'Sandwiches' and "Bijoux" this week. My "real life" writing had to take center stage last week, so I didn't have as much time to write fun stuff as I'd like. Sadly, this chapter is a little shorter than most, but I hope you'll like it anyway. Thanks to everyone sticking it out!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel, Scarlett and Katie.
This was most definitely not a part of being a parent that Sherlock enjoyed. The sitting in the A & E with a crying child waiting for the doctor part. Scarlett lay against his shoulder, sucking her thumb and sniffling as he held a clump of gauze against her still bleeding lip. He had managed to clean most of the blood from her face on the way over, but she still looked affright. He was not looking forward to Molly's reaction when she arrived. It had been bad enough talking to her on the phone. When he'd told her that Scarlett had taken a fall at the playground, she'd thrown her mobile down. That clatter echoed in his ear for a while after she'd gone. Any minute she'd come tearing into the trauma room, ready to breathe fire. Luckily, Scarlett had broken Isabel's fall and so the tiny Watson was fine. Mary had already come by and retrieved little Izzy and Katie Adams. She'd tried to take Gabriel as well, but the little boy insisted that he stay with his baby sister. John had agreed to stay with him, so no one kicked up much of a fuss.
"Daddy," Scarlett whined.
"Yes, Peaseblossom?"he answered, stroking her hair and taking care not to touch the angry bruise on her forehead.
"I hurt, Daddy," she said, pointing to her mouth.
"I know, sweetie. The doctor will make you feel better soon."
"Where Mummy?" she whimpered.
"She's on her way."
"Why she not here now?" Scarlett cried. "I want my mummy!" She looked around again, confused and sniffling. Finally, realizing that Molly was nowhere to be found and that she was utterly miserable, Scarlett threw herself against her father and wept against his shirt. It was probably the most pitiful sound Sherlock had ever heard and he sighed glumly. He honestly couldn't think of a thing to say that might make his child feel better. He was reminded of the time that Gabriel had broken his arm. At least then, Gabriel had been old enough to understand what was happening. Scarlett didn't have a clue. She only knew that she had fallen down and now her face hurt. His alarm had subsided somewhat since the fall. John assured him that the injury was most likely external. She was conscious the whole time and the swelling was on the outside.
"I know you do, darling. She's coming, I promise."
Scarlett pounded her tiny fist against his shoulder. "Make her faster, Daddy!" she exclaimed.
Before he could respond, he heard commotion in the next room just as Molly burst through the door, a nurse on her heels. "That's my baby in there!"
"Hello, Molly," Sherlock said, trying to look as if nothing special was going on.
She ignored him and jerked Scarlett from his arms. "Oh my darling, Scarlett!" she exclaimed, hugging the child gently.
"I fall down, Mummy," Scarlett whined.
"I know, baby! You poor thing. Show Mummy where it hurts."
Scarlett pointed out all of her injuries: her bruised and lumpy forehead, her bloody lip, the heels of her hands that had been scraped up on the woodchips as she tried to catch herself. "I run and fall."
"She tripped over the… uhm…" Sherlock snapped his fingers, trying to call up the word with little success. Obviously the shock of Scarlett's fall had scrambled up his mind palace. "The thing… around the…" He drew the railing in the air, as if that might call it up. "Anyway, she hit her head on the jungle gym."
Molly didn't seem to notice what he was telling her and instead fussed over each of Scarlett's wounds, kissing all of them in turn then holding the child protectively on her lap, rocking her gently. "I'll stay in here with Scarlett, Sherlock. Why don't you go sit with Gabriel so that John can go home?"
"No," Scarlett whined. "Daddy stay."
"Gabriel will be—" Sherlock started.
"Daddy needs to make sure Gabriel gets something to eat, sweetie. We might be here a little while," Molly answered, throwing Sherlock a murderous glare.
He nodded and slid down from the examination table. Evidently she was angry with him for some reason. As he walked down the corridor to the waiting room, he thought back through the events of the previous day up to the present, wondering which of his actions or statements would cause such a response. Sure, they had been stand-offish since their tiff about having another baby. Molly had slept in Gabriel's room the last couple of nights, but she seemed unusually upset. It wasn't as if the child was in any real danger. Perhaps a stitch to Scarlett's lip and an icepack on her head. A few bandages, but nothing more severe than that.
He entered the waiting room to find Gabriel curled up in a chair beside John. "Dad! How is Scarlett?"
"She's fine. Just banged up a bit." He looked to John. "Thanks for sitting with him. How's Izzy?"
"She's good. Scarlett broke her fall, so she just has a scraped elbow and that's it. She didn't even hit her head."
"It's nice that my child could be of assistance," Sherlock grumbled, taking the seat on the other side of Gabriel. "Anyway, Molly banished me out here so you can go. I'm sure Mary will want you home."
John nodded and stood up, pulling his jacket around his shoulders. "I can take Gabe to our flat if you like."
"I want to stay," Gabriel said, looking to his father. "Dad, can't I stay here with you?"
Truth be told, Sherlock wanted Gabriel to stay. He needed an ally and thought that the boy's presence might curb any fights with Molly. "It's fine," he replied. "I don't think we'll be here much longer."
Sherlock and Gabriel sat in silence for the better part of twenty minutes. Sherlock clicked through his messages, answering a few and sighing in exasperation with others. Finally, Gabriel tugged on his sleeve, wordlessly asking him if he might play with the phone. Seeing as how there was nothing going on in the world, Sherlock passed it over. After several minutes, he couldn't take the constant click of the buttons and closed his hand over the mobile. "Stop." Gabriel huffed but handed it back.
"When are they going to be done?" he groused.
"I'm sure they're going as fast as they can," Sherlock sighed. "Since we're here all alone, what's going on with you and Katie?"
Gabriel froze, his eyes bulging. He had obviously been hoping that no one had seen he and Katie's little tableau of love. "Dad, she kissed me. I had nothing to do with it," he answered, the words tumbling out of his mouth faster and faster. "I was just sitting there and we were talking about her parents and she told me that she might have to move schools and then she said she loved me and didn't want to leave and she just kissed me! I couldn't stop her, Dad!"
Sherlock laughed. "Calm down. I'm not interrogating you. I'm just asking."
He seemed to malfunction for a minute as his thoughts caught up to his voice. "Oh. You aren't mad?"
"Angry, Gabriel. Mad implies insanity…"
He groaned. "Fine. Angry. You aren't angry?"
"Why would I be?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I don't know."
"So…" Sherlock nudged. "What's going on?"
"She's just upset about her mum and dad I guess." Gabriel was suddenly very interested in his shoes. "Dad… it wasn't entirely unpleasant."
Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood. He didn't want to laugh at the little boy, but it was not going to be easy to keep the giggles in check. "What do you mean?"
"Well… it was kind of weird. It wasn't like when Mum or Mary kisses me. Or Scarlett—who gives very squishy kisses."
"Indeed." It was true. Scarlett had not quite learned that a kiss was not opening your mouth and devouring the other person and licking their face.
"Her lips were kind of soft and… not really wet. She tasted like cherry lip stuff."
Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Tasted? You didn't open your mouth did you?"
"Eew! No, Dad! Gross! I don't want her tongue in my mouth."
More cheek biting. "That's good."
"And then… my belly felt kind of weird. Like there were bees buzzing around in it. At first I thought I might be sick, but then… I kind of liked it." Gabriel sighed and sat back against the chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "Did I do something wrong?"
Sherlock thought this over. He didn't want to give Gabriel permission to kiss Katie. After all, he's only nine. But he didn't want to make him think there was something wrong with it. Despite his own sociopathic sensibilities, Sherlock didn't want Gabriel to bury or mask feelings like he did. It was only sheer dumb luck that he hadn't ended up alone in the world. Which is what he'd always thought he'd wanted, but he knew now that it had been an error on his part. He didn't want Gabriel to be alone. "You didn't do anything wrong. You're right—she kissed you. And showing your friends that love them isn't wrong, but there's a time and place and nine years old probably isn't the right time."
"What if she does it again?"
"Remember what I told you about having every right to tell someone not to touch your body in a way that's inappropriate? That goes for friends too."
"But I don't want to hurt her feelings, Dad. She's my best friend!"
"Feel free to tell her that your dad told you that you aren't supposed to be kissing girls. There. Happy now?"
Gabriel shrugged. "I guess so." He started to say more, but Molly and Scarlett were at the door of the waiting room.
"Come on," Molly said, holding her free hand out to Gabriel.
OoOoOo
The diagnosis was just as John had predicted. An external head injury. Give the child some paracetamol, an ice pack every twenty minutes and watch her. Luckily, her split lip was easily fixed with a little peroxide and a clear bandage. By the time they got back to Baker Street, she was babbling and giggling at Gabriel. Mrs. Hudson came up and immediately began preparing dinner for them all, knowing that their evening had not been comfortable for anybody. Molly disappeared into the bedroom. Sherlock followed and stood in the doorway and watched as she undressed and slipped into her comfiest sweats.
"Are you ever going to talk to me again?" he asked when she didn't acknowledge him.
"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" she asked, pulling her hair down from its ponytail and twisting it vigorously into a braid.
"Well, you can choose the topic. I mean, there's the fact that you haven't slept with me in three days. Or the fact that you were the ice queen to me in the A & E…"
"How could you let our child get hurt!"
"…or about why you're angry with me because Scarlett fell down."
"Were you wandering through your mind palace again and not paying attention? Or maybe your child not falling down is another of those things that just happens!"
"Molly, it could have happened if I'd been standing right there. I was watching her, John was watching—even Gabriel. She fell over the railing around the playground. And she's two! Balance of probability says that she's going to fall down! That's why they call them toddlers!"
"What if she'd fallen someplace more dangerous?"
"Like where? The roof at Bart's? Stop being ridiculous. You're pissed off at me for something else that you think is irrational, so you've created this whole thing as an excuse to be angry!"
"I have not!"
"Oh really? Remember when Gabriel broke his arm? It was just like this only you were the one that wasn't watching closely enough, remember?"
"I was watching him!"
"And I was watching Scarlett! Which is why this just stupid, Molly!" Their voices had raised louder and louder until finally the entire house could hear them.
"Daddy, I have juice?" Sherlock looked down to see Scarlett standing at his feet holding her sippy cup up to him.
"Oh… ask your mother to get it as I'm apparently incapable!" he snarled, turning his back and rushing down the stairs, tearing his coat from the rack as he went.
