A/N: I told you I'd be updating! I hope the longish chapter makes up for my absence! Love all of you so much for sticking with me through my slow times. 3
Disclaimer: I own nothing except Gabriel, Scarlett and the twins.
By the time Gabriel came back from Katie's, he'd decided that he did want to go to Halifax in the morning. Sherlock wanted to ask him what had changed his mind, but a petal pink lipstick stain on his cheek said all he needed to know.
"Molly. I think Katie Adams has been around you too much." He flopped down in his chair with a dramatic sigh. Finn immediately wriggled away from Molly and bounced to the floor to crawl toward his father.
"Why do you think that?" she asked, tossing her magazine aside and making herself comfortable in John's old broken down armchair.
Sherlock let Finn pull up on his fingers and attempt standing. The little one toddled on his feet for a few seconds before sitting down hard on the floor. He growled angrily and reached for his father who immediately pulled him into his lap. "She can apparently make Gabriel do whatever she wants him to with a bat of eyelashes."
Molly chuckled. "Well she has been around for quite a while. I'm sure she picked up on a few of my more persuasive qualities."
"Let's hope not." He stared down at Finn who was concentrating very hard on pulling the button off of his shirt. "At any rate, Gabriel and myself are going to Halifax in the morning."
Molly sighed and held her head. Suddenly Sherlock noticed that she looked very tired. "I hope you won't mind if the rest of us stay put."
"I suppose not."
"Good. Mike called just after the Watsons left and he needs me to come in and work Graveyard tonight."
Sherlock sat up quickly and had to grab Finn to keep him from tumbling to the floor. "Gabriel and I will have to leave by six in the morning to make it in time for the funeral. When will you be home?"
"The shift is a twelve hour, so I won't be home until noon." She spied the clock and noticed it was already after seven. "Ugh… I need to go to sleep for a while."
"What are we going to do, Molly? How will we get Scarlett to school and the boys taken care of until you get home or Mary gets back with Scarlett and Izzy?" He sighed and held his head, visions of being trapped in Halifax with all of the children on his own stabbing into his frontal lobe.
"I suppose we could ask Mary to come over early."
"But we still have to get Scarlett to school. And Mary can't take Jada and Isabel and Scarlett and both boys with her. It would be a disaster."
"Maybe she and Jada can just stay at home," Molly offered. "Or John could take them?"
"As John has constantly reminded me this week—he's working extra shifts." Before they could talk more, the front door opened and they could hear Scarlett talking to someone. "Damnit," Sherlock growled, setting Finn on the floor as he got up. "I've told her a million times not to open the damn door without an adult!" Sherlock tramped down the stairs shouting for Scarlett. To his relief she was standing in the foyer with Mycroft.
"Daddy… it's Uncle Mycroft," she said, climbing Mycroft until he was forced to pick her up.
"But did you know it was your uncle when you answered the door?" Sherlock asked. "You aren't ever supposed to answer the door by yourself!"
"I sorry, Daddy."
"No, you aren't. If you were sorry you'd stop doing it. Sometimes the people who come through that door aren't very nice. And sometimes they're complete strangers. You can't just open up for anyone!"
"Don't scold the child, Sherlock," Mycroft said. "She saw me through the window I'm sure."
"Yeah, Daddy. Don't scold me." She giggled at her father's scowl and snuggled against Mycroft. Her uncle always took her side. Scarlett had a way of forcing her cold and stoic uncle into affection. She just ignored his standoffishness and his strange habits. Consequently, he loved Scarlett to pieces.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned back up the stairs, expecting that they would follow. When they emerged into the sitting room, Molly and Mrs. Hudson were changing the twins and chattering away. "No really, Martha. I can't expect you to take care of both boys and get Scarlett up and dressed for school. They're such a handful."
"Nonsense. They're the sweetest little boys. Such good babies." She cooed at Will and he giggled, reaching for her. "Yes you are, aren't you?"
"They're very sweet. And very messy. And very mischievous," Molly said as she tickled Finn's tummy. "But I'm sure we'll work it out so no one is terribly put out."
"What's the problem?" Mycroft asked, setting Scarlett down and wandering into the lounge behind Sherlock.
"I have to take Gabriel to Halifax in the morning for Mr. Rhys's funeral and we're trying to work out how to get Scarlett to school and the boys taken care of until Molly gets home."
Mycroft sighed. "Such domestic problems you seem to have nowadays, little brother." He didn't say it, but Mycroft was pleased that Sherlock's problems were much more sedate in recent years. They were nice problems to have. No death or injury or drug use involved. "But surely the answer is simple."
"Taking care of the boys isn't the real issue," Molly said. "Getting Scarlett to school—"
"I can stay home," Scarlett offered with a hopeful grin.
"No," Mycroft said. "School is important and you shouldn't just shrug it off unless absolutely necessary."
Sherlock nudged Molly. "And again… my entire childhood in a nutshell."
"Mrs. Hudson will sit with the twins until noon when Molly gets home," Mycroft offered.
"And what about getting Scarlett to school?"
Scarlett squealed. "Uncle Mycroft could take me!"
"Oh. No, Scarlett. No, I don't think that would be—" Mycroft stammered.
"That actually would work," Molly said.
"Of course!" Mrs. Hudson said. "I could come up after Sherlock and Gabriel leave and get her up and fed and dressed. Mr. Holmes could come and pick her up around eight and then I'm sure Mary or John will pick her up and bring her home."
"Or I could get her on my way home from work," Molly said. "It will be—"
"Perfect," Molly and Sherlock finished in unison.
OoOoOo
Gabriel played a game on his tablet as they drove through the countryside, but he wasn't really paying much attention. He was trying to avoid talking to his father at all costs. If he talked then he might have to talk about Mr. Rhys and if he had to talk about the old man then he might get upset again. He realized now that when his father told him about Mr. Rhys's passing that he'd had a panic attack. That's what Katie called it anyway. He wasn't sure why. He didn't have anything to feel panicked about, just that intense loneliness and sadness. But still, he felt silly and childish for having cried like Will or Finn. He just couldn't help it. No matter how much he'd tried to stop, he couldn't. Katie had assured him that it was okay and that she wouldn't tell anyone. In the end, she was the one that convinced him that going to the old man's funeral was for the best. So here he was, for better or worse.
"I saw you brought your violin," Sherlock said.
Gabriel nodded. "If it's okay, I thought I might like to play for him. For Mr. Rhys, I mean."
"I'm sure it will be fine. That's a nice thing for you to do, Gabe."
Gabriel shrugged. "It doesn't matter. He won't be able to hear me." He started to say 'because he's dead' but the words kind of choked out in his throat. They lapsed back to silence for another few miles until finally Gabriel had the courage to speak up again. "Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"What's it like to be dead?"
"I'm… not really sure, Gabriel. That might be a question better answered by your mum. She does post-mortems, after all."
"Well yeah. I asked her last night. And she told me all the scientific stuff. About how you stop breathing and your heart stops. She said it doesn't hurt or anything, but that's not really what I mean."
"Oh?"
"No. I mean, what happens to you. I mean, are you just dead?"
Sherlock started to reply several times, but stopped, seeming to rethink his words. "The truth is, Gabriel… I have no idea. Ugh… that leaves such a terrible taste in my mouth."
"But you know everything right?"
"Hardly. And if you ever tell anyone I'll have to lock you in the attic forever."
Gabriel smirked, trying not to laugh. "But… where did Mr. Rhys go? Does he know he's laying in a box underground? Or that I'm playing my violin for him?"
They came to a stoplight and Sherlock turned to Gabriel with a serious stare. "Einstein said that energy can be neither created nor destroyed. If people are energy—which they are, then their energy stays behind. Scientists say that the leftover energy is used up by decomposition and releases as heat. Nothing special."
"So Mr. Rhys is like an old used up battery?"
"In a manner of speaking." The light turned green and Sherlock drove on. Gabriel leaned back against the seat and thought over his father's explanation. It wasn't any comfort at all, really. When he was at St. Christopher's, the nuns had told him all about God and Heaven and the angels. He knew his father didn't believe in God, but that his mum did. Neither of them could really make him feel any better at all and instead just left him with more questions. Suddenly the thought that death was both certain and unfathomable was too much and Gabriel started to cry again silently. He turned and stared out the window, not wanting his father to see.
"It's all right, Gabriel. You can cry all you want, you know. I won't think any less of you."
"I'm not crying."
Sherlock nodded. "I'm just saying, that if you want to, it's okay." Gabriel responded with a sniffle and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. "You know, Gabe… I know I'm not really the best person to talk to about these things. What you want to know is whether Mr. Rhys had a soul and if that soul goes on. I can't tell you for certain either way. I've seen a lot of death in my profession, far too much perhaps. And in that time I've never seen anything that I could say was proof of life after death."
"So you think he's just laying there. An empty body?" Gabriel spat, unable to hide his sobbing any longer. "He's just gone!"
"No. What I'm saying is that sometimes you can't think through things. Sometimes you have to feel it. I only started believing in that myself a few years ago."
"What changed your mind?"
"A little blue-eyed, stringy headed boy from more than a hundred miles away found his way on to my doorstep and changed my life. And when I looked at that little boy who was perfect in every way and how he utterly changed everything and how he'd just suddenly dropped into my life for no reason at all… It made me rethink my position on a lot of things."
"What did it make you think?"
"That there was something higher in control of everything. I don't know what, but there's something. And that something will take care of Mr. Rhys just like Mr. Rhys took care of you."
Gabriel rubbed his nose and nodded. "I think so too." He looked up at Sherlock and smiled, for the first time feeling comforted since before the whole thing started.
OoOoOo
Martha Hudson had determined in the last hour that she was too old for this shit. It started out pretty smoothly. She got up early and brought tea and biscuits to Sherlock and Gabriel before they left. The twins were an absolute joy, waking up in a lovely and playful mood. They cooed and giggled at her and Sherlock while they dressed them. They ate their breakfasts without incident. It wasn't until after Sherlock and Gabriel were gone and Scarlett woke up that all hell broke loose.
It's no secret to anyone that Scarlett is a creature of habit. Having a predictable routine is very important. Most mornings her father wakes her up, gets her dressed, gives her breakfast and takes her to school. When she was awakened by Mrs. Hudson and realized that her father and Gabriel were gone and that her mother had not been home all night—she went ballistic.
"Scarlett, darling. You have to get dressed now," Mrs. Hudson said gently. "You'll be late for school."
"I want my daddy!" she wailed. Big goopy tears streamed down her red face as she stood in the middle of her bedroom.
"He had to take Gabriel to Halifax this morning, dear. He'll be back tonight."
"I don't care! I want my daddy!" Her words trailed off into a torrent of ugly sobs that grew into shuddery breaths. Will and Finn, sensing their sister's distress, began wailing right along with her.
Mrs. Hudson wanted to cry herself. Usually taking care of the Holmes children was a joy. She wasn't sure what to do when they threw a fit like this. She decided that the only thing to do was ignore the tears and get Scarlett dressed for school. Surely she'd calm down in a few minutes. The child was clearly still sleepy. Some breakfast and sticking to the routine would be the best medicine.
Boy was she ever wrong. By the time Mycroft was banging on the door downstairs, Mrs. Hudson had only succeeded in getting Scarlett's shirt on and the twins were full on weeping in their playpen. Scarlett couldn't catch her breath and just kept repeating that she wanted her daddy. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps the child was sick or possessed by some demon.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Mycroft called from downstairs.
"Up here, Mr. Holmes!" Mrs. Hudson shook her head and fluttered about, still trying to corner Scarlett and get her into her jeans. "Scarlett… look at the mess you've made!" Scarlett didn't answer, only sat in the floor sobbing with shuddery breaths.
"What is going on here?" Mycroft exclaimed, surveying the damage. Scarlett's clothes were strewn all over, Mrs. Hudson looked ready to pull her hair out and even Cat was hiding under Scarlett's bed, only her shiny black nose and furry muzzle visible from under the bedskirt. "Scarlett, why aren't you dressed?"
She looked up at her uncle, only pausing in her sobbing to wail, "I want my daddy!" before going right back to her tantrum.
"She's been this way for almost an hour, Mr. Holmes and I just can't make her stop," Mrs. Hudson said.
"She's being spoiled and ridiculous," Mycroft replied. "Molly and Sherlock let her get away with this far too often." He handed Mrs. Hudson his umbrella and went toward the shrieking child. "Scarlett. Stop your wailing this instant. It's time to get your breakfast and go to school."
"I not going to school!" she shouted. "You not my daddy!"
Mrs. Hudson crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Mycroft as if to say, "Any other bright ideas, genius?"
"I know that, Scarlett. But I think I speak for your father when I tell you to get up and put your clothes on!"
"No!"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Yes!"
"Stop it! Both of you!" Mrs. Hudson picked up Finn who was now coughing and sputtering with tears, nearly spitting up. "Before I lose my mind completely!"
"Have you tried calling her mother?"
"Yes, and I can't get her on the phone. They keep putting me on hold and then she never answers!" Mycroft pulled out his mobile and began clicking away at the touchscreen.
OoOoOo
Sherlock and Gabriel had just pulled up at the church when the mobile began going off furiously on the seat between them. Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock could see Mycroft's number glowing angrily. "Oh lord…" he sighed. "What?" He winced as Scarlett's shrieking assaulted his ear, forcing him to hold the phone away from it.
"Sherlock?" Mycroft shouted from the speaker. "We have a problem."
"What the hell is going on there?"
"Scarlett is… melting down." Evidently Mycroft held the phone out because Scarlett and the twins' wailing grew exponentially louder. "She won't put her clothes on or go to school. She claims it's because she needs you."
"Well what do you want me to do about it? I'm in Halifax!"
"I don't know, but you'd better figure it out."
"Can't you call Molly?"
"Evidently they've had some kind of emergency because she's not coming to the phone. Look, I don't have time to stand here and argue with a four year old. You're going to have to talk to her." Before Sherlock could protest, Mycroft had put him on speaker phone.
"Is she wearing her hearing aid? Otherwise she probably can't hear me anyway."
But Mrs. Hudson was already working on it. "Scarlett, your daddy is on the phone. Better put this on so you can talk to him."
Gabriel sighed, rolling his eyes. "We're going to be late going inside. She's always doing goofy stuff like this! Why can't she just grow up?"
"Gabriel, just calm down. She's just a baby. Give her a break."
"She's not a baby, Dad. She's four years old. She just can't stand that I might be getting attention that she's not!"
"Hi Daddy," she sniffled, almost shouting into Mycroft's phone.
"Why are you kicking up such a fuss this morning? You have to go to school."
"When you coming home?" she asked.
"I'll be home tonight. Why are you giving your Nena and your uncle such a hard time this morning?"
"I want see you, Daddy! You always get me up. Nena don't sing the 'Time To Get Up' song."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow at his father and Sherlock's cheeks flushed with color. He could only imagine the expression on his brother's face. "The Time to Get Up song? Really?" Gabriel couldn't help it and started laughing.
"Shush!" Sherlock hissed at Gabriel and cleared his throat. "Scarlett, maybe Nena knows a different song."
"No she doesn't!" Scarlett whined. "She say she don't know it!"
"Well why don't you teach it to her, darling?"
"No! I want my daddy!"
Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to lose patience. "Scarlett, I'm not going to argue about this anymore. You are to stop all this silly crying right this instant, put your clothes on and let your uncle drive you to school. Do you understand?"
"But Daddy…"
"No!" Sherlock said, his voice taking on an ominous tone. "Not another word, Scarlett. And if they have to call me back, you will not be happy to see me this evening. Understand me now?"
He hung up and Gabriel chuckled, pulling his violin from the back seat. "I give them about five minutes before they're calling you again."
