A/N: I know, it's been an age. BUT the good news is, this chapter is really long! I hope you like it. *sniffle* Our Gabe is growing up...
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the multitudes of children.
Greg Lestrade had to admit that when he approached the entrance to the hospital he had expected to find that some kind of horrible fate had befallen them all. He'd heard the emergency call to Baker Street, but by the time he arrived, the place was deserted. After calling Sherlock's mobile to no avail, he used his own rudimentary deduction skills and made his way to the hospital where Molly had given birth the first time. He started into the large revolving door when he saw that Gabriel was sitting on the decorative wall around the landscaping. The child was curled into a tight knot and even from a distance he could see the flushed cheeks and messy hair, signaling that he'd been crying. Greg's heart pounded in his chest. His first thought was that something terrible had happened to Molly. He sprinted toward the boy, trying to choke back his panic. "Gabriel! What's happened? Is everything all right?"
Gabriel nodded, rubbing his nose on the back of his sleeve. "Mum had the twins."
"Oh," he said, not quite processing the words. "Oh! Congratulations! You're a big brother again, are you?" He smiled at Gabriel and punched him playfully in the shoulder.
Gabriel shrugged. "Don't remind me."
Greg narrowed his eyes and sat down on the bricks beside him. "What's going on, Gabe? You don't seem happy. Is your mum and dad okay?"
"They're fine. Mum had to have some kind of surgery, but she'll be okay."
"Good." They sat there in silence awkwardly. Greg wanted to ask the child why he was upset, but he wasn't sure it was his place. "So… have you seen the twins?"
"Yep."
"Are they okay?"
"Yep."
"What are their names?"
"William and Phineas." Gabriel was giving short, monosyllabic answers and it was a bit unnerving. Like Sherlock, the child was usually very verbose and told more than he should. Something was wrong.
Lestrade nodded, trying to seem casual. Finally, after several moments of awkward silence, he stood up. "So why don't you take me to where your dad is?"
Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes as if he were being extremely put upon. "I'm kind of in trouble, Uncle Greg. Do I have to?"
Ah, there was the majority of the explanation. "Well, no. But what's going on, Gabe? Maybe I can help."
Gabriel snickered. "Doubtful."
"Really? Helping people in trouble is kind of my job."
"Well, I kind of mouthed off at my dad and swore at Irene. And I ran away. It's been an hour and they probably don't know where I am." Gabriel heaved a sigh and slid down from his perch. "Not that anybody would notice anyway."
"What do you mean?"
"Now that the twins are here, I'm sure nobody cares what happens to me anyway. Not even Scarlett!" Suddenly the cork exploded from the bottle and Gabriel unloaded all his frustrations on the detective inspector. "The only reason they even keep me around is because they need somebody to watch Scarlett. I had a fight with Katie and when I told my dad about it, he was no help at all! A couple of days ago, I asked Mum to help me with a paper I had to write for science class and she said she would, but she never did! She just forgot all about me!" The child went on and on, listing offenses perpetrated against him by his family members. "I'm sick of those babies already and they just got here! Even Uncle Mycroft doesn't like me anymore. I tried to call him and he didn't even pick up the phone!" Soon he was weeping angry tears. His face was burning as he allowed Lestrade to embrace him. The boy was unhinged. He'd obviously been bottling up this stress for a while.
"Gabriel, I'm sure that no one means to leave you behind. But you have to give your family a break. I'm sure this isn't easy for them either."
"Yes it is!" Gabriel snapped. "The other day I couldn't go to my violin lesson because I had to stay with Scarlett while Dad was out and Mum slept. I wanted to join the rugby team at school, but I can't because 'they really need me to help out until the twins are older.' It just isn't fair, Uncle Greg!"
Greg was startled by the emotional outburst and could think of nothing to do except embrace the child and let him weep pitifully against his shoulder. "Come on, Gabe. It's not so bad," he said, trying to soothe him. The near-hysterics seemed a bit severe over a bit of sibling rivalry. Clearly there was something else going on. "Are you sure this is really necessary? Everyone feels a bit neglected now and then, but I know how much your parents love you. You have to talk to them, mate."
Gabe sniffled and nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "Come on. I'll take you to my dad." Gabriel took Greg's offered hand and tugged him through the revolving door and toward the elevator. They climbed on and Gabriel punched the number for the maternity floor. "Uncle Greg?"
"Yeah, Gabe?"
"You'll stay with me, right?"
"Sure."
"Good. At least there'll be a witness."
OoOoOo
Sherlock peeked into the dim room where Molly slept. All was quiet, so he slipped inside and silently closed the door behind him, careful not to let a blade of bright light sweep across her face. As he approached the bed he could hear the gentle suckling noises coming from his son. Molly had Will cradled to her breast and he was eagerly feeding. She was snoring lightly. It was amazing how she could nurse while she was sleeping and not drop the poor child on the floor. Finn was lying in the bassinet beside the bed, trying to decide whether or not to fuss. He'd obviously determined that swaddling was not for him and had kicked his tiny limbs free of the restrictive blanket. Of course now he was cold and this was slowly annoying him. As Sherlock approached, the newborn shivered pitifully and appeared to reach for his father. "Oh are you going to wake up?" Sherlock cooed, picking the infant up carefully and cradling him. "I was beginning to think you didn't have eyeballs." He needn't have worried. The child had perhaps the largest eyeballs he'd ever seen. Like Molly's, they were round and sparkling. Definitely not the cold, narrow eyes of a Holmes. Sherlock wrapped the infant in his blanket once more, taking care not to wrap him too tightly. "There. Is that better?" he asked. Some might think it's silly, but Sherlock was adamant that children should be spoken to like people, not adorable creatures. None of that silly nonsense talk. Scarlett had only been weeks old when he explained the decomposition rate of dead tissue that had been submerged in water. Molly had been horrified, but as he explained—Scarlett had no idea what he was talking about and was only responding to the gentle, sing-song tone of his voice. "You and your brother gave us all quite a scare, you know. You weren't supposed to be born today." Finn sneezed in reply and Sherlock laughed. "Well it's true. You were supposed to wait until we got to the hospital. As your mother would tell you if she was awake—being fashionably late to the party is the way to go. Not that I know much about parties. But I'm probably going to have to buy a new mattress because of you and your brother."
"Are you still on about the mattress?" Sherlock turned to see Molly's eyes flutter open as she sat up. "The damn thing is so old that it needs to be replaced anyway."
Sherlock's head snapped upon hearing her voice. His heart leapt and he carefully placed Finn back in his bassinet and took Will's squirming form from Molly. He was not happy about having his meal interrupted, clearly. His father didn't seem to care as he put the infant aside and climbed into the bed beside Molly. Without a word he gathered her as gently as he could to his chest. He held her tight, not speaking. Barely breathing.
"Sherlock," Molly chuckled after several minutes. "You're smothering me."
"I'm sorry," he said, but he didn't let go.
"I'm fine. You can let go."
"No, thank you," he replied. After a moment he kicked off his shoes and snuggled into her side, pulling the blankets around them. "You scared me, Molly Hooper. I thought I'd lost you."
"Silly thing," she said, kissing his cheek. "You aren't going to lose me."
"We shouldn't do that again. The bleeding and the fainting thing. I don't like it."
"I can assure you. It wasn't intentional." She shifted slightly and winced, letting out a tiny groan of pain.
Sherlock sat up. "Are you all right? I'm sorry…" he said, thinking he was the cause of her discomfort.
"It's okay. There's just stitches."
"Does it hurt?"
"Only when I breathe." She giggled at Sherlock's blank stare and laid her head on his shoulder. "What a day." A glance at the window revealed that it was nearly dark. Everything had moved so quickly. It didn't seem possible that it was already night time. And though she'd slept for a few hours, Molly was exhausted. Her shoulders were slumped and her eyelids were heavy. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to drop the babies at the flat."
"Not as if you could control that," Sherlock sighed. "They don't seem any worse for wear."
She smiled. "Indeed. The doctor said they were quite healthy. Finn's a bit underweight, but he said that was pretty normal for twins. Will's already a little bruiser." As if they'd heard their names, the twins began to fuss. Clearly they were dissatisfied with being pushed to the side by their parents so that they might cuddle without them. "God… I can't believe there's four of them now. They have us outnumbered by a considerable margin."
Sherlock snickered and nodded. "Well if I keep pissing them off, then we won't have to worry about it much."
"What do you mean?"
"Gabriel's run off because apparently I've wronged him in some way by bringing all of these children here. It's only a matter of time before Scarlett gets in on the act. And well, I just made Will mad by tearing him away from his meal."
"You have been busy in the last few hours," Molly teased. "Where did Gabriel run off to?"
"He's hiding in the lobby, thinking that I don't know where he is. He's down there talking to Greg Lestrade even as we speak."
"How do you know that?"
"I have my ways."
"You've been hacking Mycroft's computer again haven't you?"
"Shush, woman." Before Molly could reply, the door opened and a hoard of people flooded through the door. Mrs. Hudson, John, Jada, Scarlett, Greg, Irene, Anderson (who had a woman that looked mysteriously like Maxine the hairstylist with him) and finally, Gabriel bringing up the rear. "Jesus…" Sherlock grumbled. "I was hoping we were going to avoid all this."
"Be nice," Molly whispered, kissing his temple.
"Mummy!" Scarlett shrieked, sprinting across the room. Sherlock stopped her before she could launch herself into the bed with them.
"Oh no you don't," he said. "You can't jump on Mummy. She's sore." He signed 'hurt' for her. "You have to be careful."
Scarlett nodded and climbed over her father to get to Molly. "I miss 'ou, Mummy."
"I missed you too, Precious. You'll have to tell me every little thing you did today." That was the stopper blowing off the bottle. Suddenly Scarlett was babbling on and on about everything that had happened since she woke up: her breakfast when Gabriel ate the last bit of her favorite cereals, the walk to school, her new teacher's red lips, the song about the five little monkeys sitting in a tree and Gabriel's outburst in the waiting room.
"Do I have to go home with Irene?" she said finally.
Molly's eyes went wide and she turned to Sherlock. "I don't know, darling. Do you?" she asked. Her raised eyebrow and smirk looked dangerous and Sherlock quickly moved away and stepped back into his shoes. Scarlett didn't seem bothered by her mother's response and just continued on with all the things she'd been saving up to tell her mother all day. The others had already begun passing Will and Finn around. Finn looked worried and fussed grumpily as Anderson pulled his squirming form from the bassinet. Will, on the other hand, could have been held upside down and it wouldn't have fazed him in the slightest. Irene and John cooed and giggled at the little one as Jada jumped up and down, begging to be allowed to hold him.
"How do we know which one is which?" Jada asked, holding Will close to her face to examine him. "They both look the same."
"That's because they're twins," John explained. "But look—Will is a little bigger than Finn."
"Finn has a little freckle under his eye," Lestrade pointed out.
Sherlock wandered over to where Gabriel sat curled up in the chair Mrs. Hudson had vacated. His knees were under his chin and he was very definitely trying to disappear. His expression was dark, but no longer angry. In fact, he looked sorrowful that he wasn't in on the ecstatic fluttering around the twins. He had a slight flush to his cheeks that wasn't anger, but guilt. Gabriel felt guilty for his earlier outburst. "Welcome back," Sherlock said. "Feel better now?"
"I guess."
"For someone who feels better, you look pretty miserable." Gabriel shrugged. He motioned for Gabriel to get up. "Come talk to me outside." Gabriel grudgingly got up and shuffled out the door. Sherlock closed it behind them and led the child into an empty waiting room.
Gabriel flopped down in the nearest chair. "I guess you didn't want any witnesses when you murdered me."
"Don't be ridiculous. If I haven't killed you before now I'm not likely to start," Sherlock replied. "Though it would be nice if you'd do me the courtesy of sitting up and looking at me while I'm talking to you."
Gabriel sighed and sat up. "Dad, I—"
"You ungrateful brat. Do you have any idea how difficult the last several weeks have been?"
"But—"
"No, Gabriel. I don't want to hear it. I'm talking and you're going to listen to me. I'm sorry you're the oldest. I'm sorry that I can't do everything you want me to the second you want me to do it. I'm sorry that you've had to take care of Scarlett and sacrifice your own personal agenda for a few weeks. I'm sorry, Gabriel. But I'm doing the best I can and the least you can do is help me out. I get that you're a child and you want things the way they've always been, but sometimes that just isn't possible. You're eleven years old and that's really too old to still be throwing tantrums over sibling rivalry."
"You throw tantrums over Uncle Mycroft all the time," Gabriel murmured.
"That's not the point!" Sherlock shouted, scaring a nurse in the hallway. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice again. "Look, I am sorry that things have been so busy. And I wish I could tell you that it was going to get easier now that Will and Finn are here. But that would be a vicious lie. You remember what it was like when Scarlett was born?"
"Yes."
"Double that."
"Dad… the twins aren't the problem," Gabriel sighed. "Neither is Scarlett. I mean, she gets on my nerves sometimes, but no more than usual."
"Then what in hell is your problem? Because I'm really exhausted, Gabe. Really. I don't think I can take one more thing without losing it completely." Gabriel stared at his father silently with his large, stoic blue eyes. Sherlock could see the cogs and wheels turning as he tried to formulate an acceptable answer. His cheeks flushed a little more and he chewed his lip. A glance downward revealed that Gabriel was gripping the armrest of the chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. Whatever it was, it was quite a bit more troubling than twin brothers or annoying little sisters. Sherlock exhaled slowly, softening his expression as he knelt down in front of his child. "What's the matter, Gabriel?"
"Oh, Daddy!" Gabriel exclaimed and immediately burst into tears. Sherlock watched with stunned amazement as the child wept openly in his hands. It was odd. Gabriel hadn't done this in years. So for a moment, Sherlock just sat there with his hands folded, wondering what he should do.
"Gabriel, what on earth is the matter?" he asked finally.
"Dad…" he sniffled. "I think… there's… something wrong with me…" His sobs were coming in big hiccup-y gasps and he finally threw himself against his father's shoulder.
Sherlock embraced the child. "Gabe… you're really too big for all this, you know."
"I'm sorry… I can't… help it…"
"Just calm down. What makes you think there's something wrong with you? Do you mean physically or mentally?"
"Both!" Gabriel wailed.
Sherlock pulled back, pushing the child's hair back from his sweaty forehead and examining his face. He didn't seem feverish and there was no blood. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know," he sniffled. "Something just isn't right."
"Do you feel sick?"
"Not really. It's…" Gabriel's eyes darted around to be sure they were alone. "It's kind of embarrassing," he said, lowering his voice to a whisper.
"I can almost guarantee it's nothing I haven't heard of before."
Gabriel took a heaving gasp of breath and began to talk.
OoOoOo
By the time Sherlock and Gabriel got back to the room everyone was gone save for Irene and Scarlett. Scarlett was snuggled up beside her mother, snoring lightly. Irene sat in the chair by Molly's bed holding Will and Molly was cooing softly at a wiggly Finn. "I have nightmares that begin this way," Sherlock mumbled with a smirk to Irene.
"You're such a beast to me," Irene replied. "Your father is really very mean," she said to Will, kissing him on the forehead. "Don't grow up to be anything like him. Be sweet and lovely like your mum."
Sherlock chuckled. "Thank you for staying. Even though you're a terrible influence on my children."
"What are friends for?" she said with a wink.
Sherlock took Finn from Molly so that Gabriel could climb into bed with her. "Hi Mum," he said as he gently nudged his way under her arm. He wanted to squeeze her tight, but knew that he might hurt her. "I'm so glad to see you."
"Me too, darling," she said, planting a kiss in the top of his messy curls. "I was wondering where you got to."
"Sorry," he said and then turned to look to Irene. "And you too, Irene. I'm sorry I said what I did. I didn't mean it."
Irene nodded. "I know, silly thing. I hope you're feeling better now."
He nodded and snuggled with Molly, talking about his day and his impressions of Scarlett's new school. She woke up long enough to correct her teacher's name. The longer he talked, the more exhausted he began to feel. Soon he was nearly asleep, finally relaxed under the gentle strokes of his mother's fingertips through his curls.
OoOoOo
Gabriel had to carry his little sister out of the hospital. She refused to wake up. He made a big show of being put upon, but he smiled when Scarlett snuggled against his shoulder. As soon as he closed the door, Sherlock burst into uncontrollable laughter. It was something he didn't do often and Molly, as well as both twins, were frightened by it. "Sherlock? Are you quite all right?"
"Yes," he said, still giggling. "I'm fine."
"What on Earth is the matter? You haven't gone mad, have you? Because one of us needs to be sane over the next few weeks."
"Of course not," he replied. He wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve as his laughter dried up. "I just… I had to laugh. I'd been holding it in for over an hour."
"What are you talking about?"
"Gabriel… I didn't want to laugh at the child, but… it's just so funny. I never thought I'd be having that conversation with anyone." He gently shoved Molly over so that he could lie down beside her. "So Gabriel freaked out in the waiting room earlier. Shouting at everyone, telling Irene she didn't give a shit about him…"
"Is this what's so funny?"
"No, no… it's what came after. So I took him aside to find out why he was acting out in such a way and he…" Sherlock dissolved in giggles again until soon Molly was giggling too. Finn's eyes were wide as he stared at his parents' strange behavior. He made a grunting sound and nudged at Molly's chest. "Let's just say our little boy isn't so little anymore."
"What are you talking about?"
"The child has been going through some… hormonal changes. Yes, that's the best way to put it. He actually thought there was something wrong with him."
"Oh God… you didn't explain the chemistry of sexual arousal, erections and body hair did you?"
"Of course not. I drew a diagram."
"Sherlock!"
"Kidding. I'm kidding," he teased. "I told him that he was perfectly normal and to ask questions. And that he wasn't allowed to play doctor with Katie Adams."
"Oh God…" Molly hid her face in her hands. "Please tell me this hasn't happened."
"I promised I'd never lie to you again, Molly."
"Oh God…"
Sherlock chuckled and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry. It was perfectly innocent I'm sure. I didn't get any details. Trust me, I didn't want any."
Molly shook her head, not even wanting to contemplate what was going on. "At least he spoke to you about it."
"Yes. And I did the responsible dad thing and told him that sex was for grownups and masturbation was for the shower."
"Sherlock!"
"Think that was too much?"
"Yes! He's only eleven!"
"Molly. Darling. Love of my life. It's already happening whether he's eleven or not. Not telling him is kind of like closing the gate after the horse has already gotten free."
"But he's just a baby!"
"No. He's an adolescent. And I won't have him thinking he's a freak or being ashamed, Molly. I won't." It was obvious from Sherlock's expression that he hadn't exactly had the best education on such matters. "You don't think I was wrong do you?"
"Not at all, my darling," she replied, laying her head on his chest and staring down at Finn. "As always you were just perfect."
