A/N: Its been a while. I know I'm going much slower than I used to and for that I apologize. I promise when I finish this book, I'll be more prolific with my fanfiction. But I do hope this longish chapter helps to make it up to you! Thanks for all who have been keeping up!
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel, Scarlett and Cat.
OoOoOo
It wasn't until she was three that Scarlett learned the true art of throwing a temper tantrum. Not surprisingly, this coincided with when she learned the meaning of the word 'no.' It was true that this was a word Scarlett did not comprehend for some time because it was used so rarely around her. Being that she was the baby, a girl, exceedingly cute and had her father's gift of being able to charm even the hardest of hearts, she had everyone wrapped around her chubby little finger. At times this annoyed Gabriel, who insisted that she was becoming impossible. He always managed to get the worst of it. Wherever he was, Scarlett wanted to be. She loved her brother to the point of suffocation. It was particularly bothersome now that he was ten and felt that he was too old to be forced to entertain his baby sister.
"No, Scarlett! You can't go!" The exasperation was evident in Gabriel's voice as he stomped through the kitchen and into the lounge. Sherlock bristled, his concentration on the specimen under the microscope broken once more. It was becoming increasingly hard to work at the flat these days. He blamed Molly's insistence that children be allowed to speak. Of course, it only served to make him feel much better about the remodeling disaster currently taking place. The noise of constant hammering added to the bickering and squealing of both children was slowly driving Sherlock mad, but Molly promised that once the house was done, he'd have a room all to himself.
In her quest for more space, Molly had shrewdly kept herself informed about the house next door and its tenants. She knew that Sherlock would never voluntarily leave Baker Street. And some thought that it was some stubborn resistance to change or just plain obstinacy, but Molly knew the truth: he wasn't willing to leave Mrs. Hudson on her own. She had heard that the people next door were looking to sell, offering the perfect opportunity to solve their space problem and stay in close proximity to Mrs. Hudson. As soon as the house hit the market, she was on Sherlock to buy it and he'd reluctantly agreed. All summer long, contractors had been converting the two smaller townhouses into one large house with a flat for Mrs. Hudson. This allowed them to add a study, another bathroom and a couple of bedrooms, bringing the total up to five. Plenty of room to add more of those distracting little noisemakers. "Stop it!" Sherlock shouted as they buzzed around him. "Just stop it. You're driving me crazy with your arguing!"
"But Dad," Gabriel began. "Scarlett won't leave me alone!"
"Oh join the club," Sherlock growled. "What is it now?"
"Tell Scarlett that she can't go with me and Archie and Katie tonight!"
"Daddy! Gabriel is mean," she whined, climbing into Sherlock's lap with no regard for the slides scattered on the desk. "I want to play too!"
Sherlock sighed and looked helplessly up at Gabriel. "What is it that you're doing? Evidently I haven't been told about it either."
"Yes you have. I asked you last week and you said I could go."
"Go where?"
"The haunted house thing down the street by the park. You said me and Katie and Archie could walk down and then they could stay over."
Sherlock cringed. Surely he hadn't agreed to let two additional children sleep over a week before Halloween. But then again, he said a lot of things when he was only pretending to pay attention. "Was I intoxicated at the time?"
Gabriel gave him his 'we are not amused face.' "No. You said we could. And now Scarlett is insisting that she go too! Please don't let her go, Dad."
"But Daddy," Scarlett interrupted. "I not get scared!"
"Yes she will, Dad," Gabriel said. "You know she will. We'll get down there and she'll be too scared to go in and then we'll have to walk her home. Then by the time we get back, the whole thing will be over with."
"Okay," Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First, I can't imagine that I would have said that three ten year olds—"
"Archie's eleven."
"Whatever. You're not walking to the park by yourselves in the dark."
"But Dad—"
"I'm sure we can get you there."
Gabriel sighed and dropped dramatically to the couch. "Dad, there's a whole bunch of kids from school going. We'll all be together."
"I'm not sure what that has to do with you."
Gabriel rolled his eyes. "Because if we show up down there being supervised like babies, I'll be completely humiliated!"
"That's ridiculous," Sherlock answered. Of course, he didn't really believe his own statement. He remembered all too well about wanting to be left alone. He usually ended up sneaking out and then Mycroft would come after him which only led to fistfights, shouting and his mother's tears. "Look, we'll discuss it later." Gabriel started to say more, but Sherlock's raised eyebrow stopped any further argument. "As for you, tiny human," Sherlock began, standing up and hoisting Scarlett on to his hip. "You're only three. I don't think you're quite ready for haunted houses just yet."
"Please, Daddy?" Scarlett begged, dragging the word 'please' out for days. "I promise I not get scared. I be good!"
"I don't think so, Peaseblossom. But we'll do something much more fun while they're gone."
Scarlett poked her lip out, wriggling until her father let her down on her feet. "Like what?"
"Isabel will come over to play, all right?" Before Scarlett could reply, a deafening thud made all of them cover their ears. "What the f—" Sherlock caught himself before he could get the word out. Scarlett had begun to repeat everything lately. Cat raced down the stairs, barking at the offending noise and hid behind Gabriel.
"I bet they just came through the wall!" Gabriel exclaimed, racing up the stairs with the others close behind. Sure enough, the wall in the back of the room that had been Gabriel's first at Baker Street and was now Scarlett's had come crashing down. Much to the surprise of the workman standing on the other side.
"Well that worked better'n I thought," the rough-looking little man said.
Scarlett pushed past Sherlock and ambled into her room. The pink wall was demolished, throwing plaster dust all over everything, including her tiny bed and extensive plush toy collection. She looked around, a puzzled look on her face. "You mess my room up," Scarlett grumbled at the little man. Then she unhinged her jaw and began to wail as if the world were ending. Soon Cat joined in and Sherlock began to seriously consider running away from home.
"Surely they need consulting detectives in America…" he sighed.
Gabriel knelt in front of his little sister, immediately trying to calm her to little avail. She screamed and stomped and cried until her face was nearly purple and her red curls were kinked with sweat and tears. "Damn, Scarlett… it's just a wall!"
"Gabriel!" Sherlock snapped.
"Sorry."
OoOoOo
The afternoon was a wash after the demolition. Scarlett was inconsolable after the affront to her personal property. It wasn't sadness, it was pure anger. She cried and shouted and threw things around until Sherlock finally threatened to give her something to cry about if she didn't stop it. By the time Molly arrived home, Scarlett was sitting in Gabriel's lap watching Doctor Who and Sherlock was nearly done moving all of her stuff into the attic. "Where's your dad?" she asked them, leaning over to plant kisses on each of their heads.
"In the attic," Gabriel said simply, not offering any other explanation. Molly shrugged and continued up the stairs. She could hear him moving around in the space above, pushing things around.
"Oooh… you're all sweaty and unclothed," Molly teased, watching her husband hoist a box of toys onto a shelf overhead. He'd shed his usual attire, opting instead for tattered blue jeans and no shirt. "To what do I owe such a vision?" she asked, following the lines of muscle in his back down to their terminus beneath the low-rising waistline.
He ignored her innuendo completely, grabbing a pile of bedding and tossing it toward the door. "Well, the contractors took down the wall between Scarlett's room and the other house."
"What? I thought that closet was going to stay."
"They did too. Until they employed an idiot who couldn't read the blueprint and knocked down the wrong wall. It's a mess of plaster and wood." That at least explained the plaster dust stuck in his hair. "Scarlett freaked out."
"Was she in there?" Molly gasped, alarmed.
"No. Luckily we were all downstairs arguing when the wall came down."
"Oh. So what are we going to do with Scarlett? Can she still sleep in the room?"
Sherlock answered with a chuckle. "Uhmmm… no. She'll have to sleep in the bottom bunk in Gabriel's room for the time being. That's why I'm moving all of her stuff up here except for clothes and the 'important toys' she chose."
"You got her to 'choose' toys to keep?" Molly was amazed. She made it a point to cull Scarlett's toy collection every few months to keep down the clutter and every time it was a struggle. Even after reminding her that some children didn't have toys.
"Of course not. It's only temporary. I told her she could keep ten things downstairs in Gabe's room until we got her room fixed."
Molly smirked. "Good idea. That should work for about forty-eight hours.
They got a taste of how well it worked not five minutes later. Molly and Sherlock meandered downstairs and into their bedroom. The earthy scent of her husband's moist skin put her in mind of those nights during his "death" when he would arrive on her doorstep, dirty and bruised and exhausted. She'd never confessed it, but seeing him like that had never failed to ignite many heated fantasies that she still remembered with vivid detail. Given that Gabriel and Scarlett were occupied for the moment, it seemed the perfect time to entertain themselves.
"I do love it when you wear jeans," Molly purred, sliding to her knees before him and pulling at the button.
"It's just an article of clothing," Sherlock said, looking down on her and brushing his fingers through her hair. "I fail to see what the big deal is."
"You wouldn't know," Molly said, nuzzling the soft nest of hair just under his navel. "As you're completely oblivious to most things."
"Not so much oblivious as uncaring…" He gasped as she kissed the sensitive spot of flesh just above the waistline of his underwear.
"You were saying?"
"Nothing…" he mumbled, gripping her hair as her fingertips worked at his zipper and tugged the jeans over his sharp pelvic bone. "Carry on."
Molly smiled mischievously and continued about her play, her breath feathering lightly over his skin. She tasted the salty sweat that rolled down his stomach in glistening beads. She was so close to the place where he most wanted to feel her kiss, but she was intent on his slow torture.
"Scarlett! No!"
Both parents' heads snapped up at hearing Gabriel's squeal. Sherlock let out an exasperated growl and pulled away, rearranging things. "You want to have more of these things!" he exclaimed, buttoning his jeans.
Molly stood up, brushing her hair back from her overheated cheeks. "Well, the good news is, we won't have to worry about it if we keep getting interrupted."
The two of them rushed down the hallway toward the angry sounds coming from their children. "Give it back, Scarlett!"
"No!"
"Yes! It's mine!" Scarlett clutched Gabriel's animatronic dragon against her chest while he tried to pull it away. "Give it to me!"
"No! Scarlett's dragon!"
"No it isn't!" They tugged the toy back and forth. Any second they were going to tear it in two and tiny mechanical parts were going to go everywhere.
"Scarlett! Gabriel!" Sherlock raised a stern voice and both children turned, letting the dragon drop to the floor.
"Dad!" they both started in unison, running over to them.
"She went in my room and took my dragon off the shelf!"
"He said I could have his toys!"
"She's already taking my stuff and messing up my room!"
"Gabriel's just being mean to me!"
All of this was said loudly, quickly and at the same time until both Molly and Sherlock were holding their heads in exasperation. "Stop it! Both of you!" Molly snapped, finally. They both gasped, looking up at their mother with shock. She rarely raised her voice. "Now what is the matter? Gabriel, you start."
Gabriel smirked at Scarlett and pushed in front of her. "She went into my room and took my dragon. I put it on the shelf over my bed like Dad told me to so that it wouldn't be in her reach. But she climbed up on the bed and took it!"
"You said I could have it!" Scarlett protested, stomping her tiny foot.
"I did not!"
"Did so!"
"Stop!" Sherlock shouted. "The next person to interrupt is going to be in serious trouble." Scarlett started to speak again, but an arch of her father's eyebrow made her think better of it. "Gabriel, did you tell Scarlett she could play with your toys?"
"Yes, but not the ones on the shelf. Those are the special ones, Dad! I don't even play with them. And she didn't ask me. She was upset because you said she could only have ten of her toys from her room at a time and I was trying to make her happy by telling her she could play with my stuff if she wanted. I didn't say she could have it!"
Molly knelt in front of Scarlett. "Darling, you must ask Gabriel if you want to play with his toys. They aren't yours."
"He said I could have it!" she insisted, her lip trembling.
"But some of his toys are special and you must ask. It isn't polite just to take things. So why don't you try asking him?"
"Okay, Mummy," Scarlett replied, toddling over to Gabriel. "Gabe, can I play with your dragon?"
"No."
"Mummy!" Scarlett shrieked, running back to Molly. "Gabe said no!"
Sherlock sighed and glared at Gabriel. "Could you not just make her happy, Gabe? She takes my stuff too!"
"Dad! You gave me that dragon my first Christmas! She'll break it."
"No," Molly said. "The toy belongs to Gabriel and if he doesn't want her to play with it, that's his right." She turned back to Scarlett. "So you'll have to find something else to play with, darling. I'm sorry."
Scarlett immediately turned the same shade of red as her hair and began to scream unintelligibly. Fat goopy tears rolled down her cheeks as she screamed and stomped. "I want dragon!" she shrieked. When they didn't react quickly enough, she threw herself on the floor and kicked her feet, still screaming. Sherlock started to grab her but Molly stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.
"No, don't touch her. In fact, don't pay her any attention, whatever." She eyed Gabriel who was staring down at his sister in disbelief. She could tell he was about to laugh. "You either, Gabriel. Just let her alone and let her scream it out. She simply has to learn that she isn't going to get attention for this behavior." With that she turned on her heel and went back into the bedroom, leaving the little girl writhing on the floor.
"Ohhh kay…" Gabriel murmured, picking up his dragon and walking back to the couch. It was obvious he thought that this line of action wasn't going to work. Scarlett immediately ran to her brother, realizing that he had taken back the toy.
"Gabe! Mine!" she shouted, trying to climb into his lap to retrieve it. Gabriel looked up at his father helplessly, holding the toy out of reach.
Sherlock, taking Molly's advice, went to her and without a word, pulled her away from Gabriel and began walking her toward the bottom step that had been designated as the "seat for bad children." She protested violently, pushing against her father's legs so hard that Sherlock nearly fell over. She used the stumble as the perfect diversion and slipped past him and down the hall. "Mummy!" she screeched, running through the doorway and throwing herself against Molly and wrapping her arms around her thighs. "Mummy…" she whined, drawing the name out with heavy gasps and hiccups. Molly looked almost pained, as if she were going to cry herself for a moment, but remained stoic and allowed Sherlock to disentangle Scarlett's arms and lead her away. He finally managed to get her to the foot of the stairs and forced her to sit down. "No, Daddy…" she croaked pitifully, still panting with tears. Sherlock walked away from her, biting his lip hard to keep from saying anything. He didn't get very far before she was up again, winding up her sobbing to a dull roar once more and running over to him. She was literally jumping up and down to get his attention, but Sherlock held firm. Gabriel sighed and pulled a cushion over his head. Cat couldn't take it and ran down the stairs to seek refuge in Mrs. Hudson's flat. "I not sit, Daddy!" Scarlett declared as Sherlock took her by the arm as gently as he was capable. Though he could feel the anger throbbing behind his temples, he didn't say a word as he put her back in her place one more time. He was determined to put up a united front with Molly.
"Dad… she has to stop screaming," Gabriel whined as Sherlock returned to the lounge.
"I'm trying, Gabriel," he shouted over Scarlett's wails. He turned to see Scarlett getting up again. This time when he went to pick her up and take her back, she retaliated, balling up her tiny fist and hitting her father in the shoulder hard. He might have been able to hold it together if she hadn't hit him square in the collarbone that he'd broken during his "death." The pain left him breathless and he went down on his knee.
"Dad! Are you okay?" Gabriel asked, rushing over.
Scarlett obviously knew she'd hurt him and started to cry again. Gabriel tried to help him up, but he held up a hand to indicate that he should stay away. To Sherlock's credit he was still calm despite the prickly pain that radiated down his arm. Molly came down the hallway, still pulling a teeshirt over her torso. "What is going on?"
"She took me down…" Sherlock croaked, disbelieving that he had been taken out by a toddler. Not Sherlock Holmes, the fierce detective that was an expert in boxing, streetfighting and fencing. The Sherlock Holmes that had grabbed a trained CIA operative by the face and thrown him out of the second story window. The very same Sherlock Holmes who had managed to lay waste to a room full of Eastern European terrorists singlehandedly, had been reduced to a gasping heap of middle aged bones by his own three year old daughter.
As soon as he was able to breathe normally again, Sherlock stood up. Scarlett was hiding behind Molly, her cries reduced to shuddering whimpers. He pushed past Molly and grabbed Scarlett, who immediately began to shriek. "I'm sorry, Daddy! I be good!" Molly and Gabriel looked at one another with wide eyes as Sherlock carried Scarlett up the stairs to Gabriel's bedroom. Both winced, hearing the door slam behind them.
"You don't think he's going to kill her do you?" Gabriel asked.
"Well, you haven't been killed yet, so I'm sure Scarlett won't be either," Molly replied.
"I never acted like that," Gabriel huffed, looking affronted.
"You don't remember the Battle of Jack Skellington, do you?"
"The who?"
Molly giggled. "You threw down like that over an animatronic Jack Skellington at Pines and Needles that first Christmas you were here."
Gabriel shrugged. "I don't remember."
"You probably blocked it out."
