A/N: An UPDATE! I know, I skipped a day. But this chapter is longish, so maybe that helps. A big, smoochy shout-out to TakeMeBackToGallifrey who left me such lovely reviews that made my day. And of course to all you other chicas who keep me going: MorbidbyDefault, MizJoely, thedragonaunt, Rocking the Redhead- and so many others- y'all make me smile everyday! I'm off to a Convention this weekend- ConCarolinas in Charlotte, NC to talk about my "real" books and probably some fanfiction too, so you may not hear a peep from me til Monday. But perhaps I'll be inspired...

Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel and Scarlett.

Sherlock didn't question her as he shoved past and jerked his coat from the hook. Irene stood there watching as he pulled the coat around his shoulders and wrapped his scarf around his neck in a messy knot. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock… I didn't know he'd run away." He only replied with a grunt. "We were just sitting there having dinner and… he just got angry and ran away."

Sherlock whipped around, suddenly in her face so quickly that she backed into the wall. "You don't really expect me to believe that Gabriel just suddenly, for no reason at all, ran off into the darkness? What did you say to him?"

"Nothing… I mean… I just told him that I was moving back to London."

"And…"

"And that I missed him and wanted to get to know him better."

"And…"

"And that I'd like for him to come take a look at the flat I was thinking of buying." Irene broke his gaze and wrapped her own coat tighter around her frame.

Sherlock's eyes were narrow as he examined Irene, cataloguing every detail about her demeanor. She positively shrank in the wake of his quiet anger and he was enjoying it just a little. "Why?"

"Well… I…"

"What's going on?" Molly asked, appearing in the archway with a wet Scarlett wrapped in a towel on her hip. "Where's Gabe?"

"Care to field that one, Miss Adler?" Sherlock snarled, rushing past her to kiss Molly and Scarlett before rushing down the stairs and out the front door.

"I upset Gabriel somehow, and he ran away from me at the restaurant," Irene murmured.

Molly looked confused, staring at the stairs and then back at Irene. "Where daddy go?" Scarlett asked.

"I don't know, sweetie," Molly replied, setting the little girl down. Scarlett immediately toddled over to Irene, clutching her fluffy pink towel around herself.

"'ello lady," Scarlett said. "I all wet."

Irene smirked and nodded. "So you are. Do you think you might put on pajamas?"

"Nope. I don't like clothes."

"I understand completely," Irene chuckled.

Molly smirked and scooped up Scarlett. "Come on, let's not bother Miss Adler," she said. "You need pajamas." She turned to Irene and gestured toward the couch. "Please sit. Make yourself at home, Irene. I just put the kettle on, so there'll be tea in a few minutes."

"Oh, you needn't go to any trouble," Irene called.

"It's no trouble. I was making some for myself and Sherlock. But seeing as how he's not here, it would be a shame to let it go to waste." With that she disappeared into the bedroom with the babbling toddler. Irene stared around the flat, trying not to think about her terrible evening. She was trying not to be frantic with fear at what might have happened to Gabriel, but if anyone could find him it would be Sherlock. Of course, once he found the child, he may never allow Irene to see him again and though he would be well within his rights, the thought saddened her. She had hoped that if she moved back to London that she could see Gabriel more and that he might even begin to think of her as his mother. Or at least someone of importance in his life. Leaving him at St. Christopher's all those years ago had been a mistake. A childish mistake made as she was sure that her youth was dying and that all of her second chances were spent. And she supposed that he was her final tether to Sherlock, whom she would always see as the one great love of her life.

As mother and daughter emerged from the bedroom, Irene felt a tiny stab of jealousy cut its way through her belly. There was a time when she could have had what Molly has and despite her best efforts, little pangs of regret burned. The old Irene would have schemed and cheated to get Sherlock away from his pathologist and into her clutches, but so much had happened. He'd saved her life and now she had to return the favor. She realized that he would never be happy with her. As much as she liked to pretend that she was Sherlock's equal, Irene knew that wasn't true. She was good at wearing a mask of hollow cleverness but he saw through it quickly. He had seen Irene for what she really was the night after Gabriel was conceived. She remembered that morning well. Even her battle dress had done little to draw his attention. Despite her best efforts, all the exciting stories of her adventures grew stale as he came to realize that he was not a genius child, but a man. And Irene's charms were for boys, not men. But Molly understood Sherlock in a way that she never could. She accepted him for whatever he was and didn't wish to change him in any way. When he was rude, insensitive, sexy or sexless, he was her Sherlock and because of this unconditional affection she had for him—he wanted to be better and was. Irene couldn't help but smile, almost in awe of the sorceress that stood over the kettle.

"So what happened?" Molly asked, breaking the heavy silence between them as she poured the tea. "Why did Gabriel run away?"

"I guess I scared him a bit," Irene said, watching as she set little Scarlett down so that she could carry the small tray.

Molly chuckled. "Let me guess, you wanted him to come and stay with you every now and then, call you mum… that sort of thing. Am I right?"

"How did you guess?"

Molly laughed. "It wasn't a difficult deduction. After all, I do live with Sherlock. One has to stay on their toes." She sat down on the couch beside Irene, pouring two cups of tea and handing Scarlett her sippy cup. Cat even bounded over from where she'd been sleeping by the warm hearth and nosed around the biscuits.

Scarlett giggled and climbed up in Sherlock's chair, balancing her cup on the arm as she patted her lap for Cat. "'ere Cat," she sang. The dog jumped into her lap, spilling the milk in her lap. "Oops…Mummy…"

Molly jumped up and took a small kitchen flannel to the little girl, mopping the dribbles of milk off of her leg and the chair. Cat was trying desperately to help, lapping at the milk. "Why don't you sit on the floor so you can put your cup on the coffeetable?" Scarlett complied, sitting on the floor beside her mum. "Sorry about that," Molly said. "You were saying about Gabriel?"

"Please believe me, Molly. I didn't mean to upset him. I mean, I know he's confused. And I know I'm the cause of it. I just… I want to be closer to him. I feel like I've made a mistake and I want to fix it."

Molly nodded and took a sip of her tea. "Of course you didn't mean to upset him. But you have to accept the fact that he doesn't trust you, Irene. Someday that might change, but right now you're going to have to let him set the pace."

Irene smiled, glad that Molly was somewhat understanding. "You know, Molly," she said, rising from the couch and pacing around the flat. "I envy you so much."

Molly blushed and gave a nervous laugh. "Me? Why?"

"You know, I've spent my whole life using my feminine wiles to get what I thought I wanted. Money, power, an endless stream of parties… and now that it's over, I realize that I never really wanted all that in the first place. I was so damn shallow. Sherlock was my first glimpse of clarity. The first inclination that there might be something more, but I was too stupid to realize it." Irene paused, running a fingertip over a picture that showed the whole family, including the Watsons, standing on the beach in front of Ambergris. "You have everything I ever wanted, Molly."

The silence was broken by Molly's cup hitting the table with more force than she had intended. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she asked. "All my life I've been Mousey Molly. Never standing out, always the strange little girl sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else. Never feeling like I fit in with my limp hair and awkward mouth. Makeup always too garish or non-existent. Playing with dead things… I always wanted to be a woman like you, Irene. Bold and fascinating. So forgive me if I don't have much sympathy."

Irene offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Bold and fascinating is an illusion, Molly. All my cleverness and exotic beauty was always just an illusion. Sherlock saw through it almost immediately. You see, I tried to keep up. Pretending that I was his equal, but he was never interested in the things I knew about. After a couple of days, he saw it for what it was—just… ridiculous trivia or gossip. All my stories of my grand adventures. But you, Molly… he always saw you as his equal. That's probably why he never really saw your true affections for him. He thought you were like him with no time for sentimentality."

"Idiot…"

"Exactly." Irene gave Molly and wink and soon they were both giggling.

"Do you think that things would have been different had he known about Gabriel from the beginning?"

"He'd have tried to make them different. He could have pretended for a while. And he wouldn't have left me or even been unfaithful no matter how much of a beast I was. He'd never intentionally leave Gabriel. But after a while, I wouldn't hold much interest. We'd be like two miserable little islands floating on a sea of regret, both vying for Gabriel's affection in a hellish competition from which the only real loser would be Gabriel."

For the first time, Molly actually felt sorry for Irene Adler. In fact, for a moment she thought that she'd never seen anyone so lonely and afraid as this shade of The Woman. "Look, Irene… I know I've been a bit hostile toward you in the past…"

"You've had every right. Once upon a time, I'd have done everything in my power to pull Sherlock away from you. But I can see now that, even if I tried, it would be a losing battle. You're a part of Sherlock's soul in a way that I never could be. But I hope that we can be friends."

OoOoOo

It wasn't that hard to find Gabriel. There were only so many places he could be. A few phone calls had confirmed that he was not at Katie's flat, had not called John and had not gone back to Angelo's. His final call had been from Mycroft, who called to tell him that he knew exactly where Gabriel was. Sometimes it creeped Sherlock out completely that his brother apparently just sat at his desk sipping whiskey and watching surveillance tapes of Baker Street and the surrounding area. Other times, like now, it was exceedingly useful. Of course, Sherlock was sure he could have worked out that Gabriel was at the park down the street on his own in a matter of minutes. It was the child's favorite place aside from 221B and Ambergris. And he sure as hell hadn't taken a cab all the way to Camber Sand. For one thing, every cabbie on that end of town knew Gabriel and would take him straight home if he'd gotten into their cab.

He approached the enormous jungle gym in the center of the park. It was deserted at this time of night, making it easier. The metal and wood construction was fashioned in the shape of a castle with a bright red tunnel slide that coiled down from the highest tower. He could see the edge of Gabriel's trainer sticking out of the end. He sprinted across the playground, taking care to step over the edging that Scarlett had fallen over a few months previous. Pausing to listen, he detected faint whimpers coming from inside the tunnel. Sherlock knocked gently on the tube. "Gabriel?"

"Go away," was the sniffling reply.

"Afraid not," Sherlock replied, leaning against the slide casually. "I'll be glad to wait." He pulled a cigarette and lighter from his breast pocket.

Gabriel's head poked out of the tunnel. "Dad, just leave me alone, please. I'm not done thinking."

Sherlock nodded. "Ah. Well, are you planning on just living in a jungle gym forever? If you are, I'll have your mail forwarded." He took a long draw on the cigarette. "Though I must tell you," he continued. "It's very cold and is going to get colder still. Perhaps you'd do better to think at home."

Gabriel wriggled to the end of the tunnel and climbed out enough so that he could see his father. "I can't go home."

"Why not?"

"She's probably there now, right?"

"Who?"

"Irene."

"Oh. Well I'd hardly let that bother me. She doesn't live there." He looked down at Gabriel as he perched at the end of the slide, shivering. Evidently, he'd left his jacket at Angelo's. "Where's your jacket?"

Gabriel shrugged. "Probably still at Angelo's." He sniffled again, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

Sherlock sighed and pushed the cigarette into the corner of his mouth, holding it there so that he could take his coat off and drape it around Gabriel. The child immediately melted into the folds of the wooly coat. It was comfortably warm from being close to his father's body and smelled like home. It made his heart ache a little more. "I don't want to live with her, Dad. Please don't make me!"

"What on Earth are you talking about?" he asked, flicking the cigarette away.

"Irene. She wants me to go live with her."

Sherlock felt his hands tense at either side. "Did she say that to you?"

"Not exactly," Gabriel replied. "She said she was moving to London and that she wanted me to help her find a flat so I could come sleep over there sometimes."

"And do you want to sleep over there sometimes?"

"No! I live at Baker Street! With you and Mum and Scarlett!" Gabriel shrieked, throwing himself against Sherlock and sobbing into his shirt. "She's not my mum! She's not!"

Sherlock knelt down and gathered the child in his arms. He let him cry for several minutes before speaking. "Gabriel, this is ridiculous. Stop crying and look at me." The child obeyed, looking up with watery eyes. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do and Irene can't make you. When she left you at St. Christopher's, she gave up any claim to you whatsoever. The only reason that she's even coming around is because you told me you wanted to see her. If she's making you upset or trying to pressure you into anything, you don't have to see her ever again."

"But I want to see her… I just don't want to live with her. And I don't want another mum! I promised Doctor Molly that I would never call Irene my mum!"

"Is that what's bothering you? Do you think Molly is going to be angry with you if you like Irene? Because I can assure you that she is not going to be angry no matter what you decide."

"Really?" Gabriel sniffled.

"Really. Your mum will always love you. It's not a competition. If you want to see Irene more, you'll see her. You don't have to choose between them and if Irene ever says that you do, then you'll know her true motives. That what she wants is a trophy, not a child. Your home is at Baker Street and will always be at Baker Street even if you ran away to Zimbabwe to join a pygmy tribe—when you came back it would be there waiting. And Gabe, do you honestly think I'd let her take you away from me?"

He shrugged one shoulder and sniffled again. "You could go back to like it was before I came. Like John says. When you could go on a case at three in the morning and not eat or sleep for days…Didn't you have more fun then, anyway?"

Sherlock laughed. "It was different fun, but not more fun. And even if you disappeared, there would still be Scarlett and your mum."

"Oh yeah…"

"Look, let's go home. You have to apologize for running out on Irene like that. She's frantic. Not to mention Mrs. Hudson."

"You weren't worried?"

"I always knew where you were, child-thing."

"How?" Gabe looked skeptical.

"I know everything, remember?"