So it has been brought to my attention that Sherlock seems out of character when he is with Kristy. My defense for this… He's young, fresh out of school, he's optimistic, and most of all, he's in love for the first time in his life. Of course he's gonna act a little different.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
CHAPTER 8: MEET THE IN-LAWS
Typically, if John walked into Baker Street and heard raised voices, he would assume a distressed client had arrived and would go in to stop Sherlock from making the cynical comments he was so accustomed to.
However, this was not a typical day.
When John came in, he did hear raised voices, but he was surprised to hear Sherlock's voice among them. His friend almost never raised his voice at a client. But he was almost yelling, and very clearly angry.
Suddenly, Violet whisked around the corner and ran into his legs. She immediately dodged behind them and peered out hesitantly.
John was shocked at the change in the child. Her face was white, her eyes huge with fear, and he could feel her trembling behind his legs. She looked up at him and tugged at his pants leg, pulling him away from the door, before she crept up and closed it with a soft click. The voices inside diminished. Then Violet reached up, grabbed John's hand, and pulled him down the steps until they were concealed at the side of it. She looked up at him, bottom lip trembling.
"Daddy's yelling." She whimpered.
John crouched beside her. "Are you okay?"
A quick shake of the head. "I'm scared."
"Is he angry at you?"
"No, but Gramps is."
John blinked. "Gramps?"
"And Gram. They wanna take me to New York. But I don't wanna go." Violet was hugging herself, looking down at the floor. "Gramps is mean. He says I can't study science because I'm a girl. Gran says I need to wear more dresses and play with princess dolls. They yell a lot and won't let me see Daddy." Violet shot a fearful glance up towards the door. "I don't like it when people yell at me."
John's heart hurt…. As well as his head. Gram and Gramps?
He stood up and forced a cheerful smile. "Well, what does your father say?"
"Daddy says they can't take me because the ju-di-shul court won't let them." Violet looked up at him.
"Well then, trust your dad. Come on, let's go see if Mrs. Hudson will give you a cookie or something and I'll go up and sort it out, yeah?"
It took some coaxing; but Violet eventually took his hand and let him lead her to the landlady's apartment. Mrs. Hudson (bless that woman's soul), after a quick explanation of what was happening upstairs, quickly pulled Violet into her apartment and led her to the kitchen, promising sugar cookies and some lemonade, while John took a deep breath and headed upstairs.
Sherlock was facing off with some very formidable looking people. The man was about Sherlock's height with the appearance of a bulldog: a formidable jaw and chin, small, beady brown eyes, and a nose that looked squashed, like a child had made a nose out of Play-Doh and then pounded it with a fist. The woman had a shock of dyed blonde hair teased gravity-defyingly high and shaped into a beehive. She had stern, uncompromising features, was wearing way too much makeup, and was clutching a small black handbag like it was a deadly weapon she wanted to assault someone with.
John took a wild guess and assumed these must be Kristy's parents. Sherlock's parents did not have the aura of 'must-kill-now' that surrounded these people.
The man was currently yelling, his face thrust close to Sherlock's, as if he could intimidate him with violation of personal space.
"Learn to respect your elders and betters, young man!" Bulldog had a voice like someone talking through a tunnel.
"Hell would freeze over before I allowed you any respect!" Sherlock yelled back. He didn't intimidate easily.
"Watch your language, Mr. Holmes, there is a lady present!" simpered Beehive. Her voice was crisp and sharp.
"With all due respect, you are no lady." Sherlock said, mimicking her tone with such vicious exactness John had to hold in a laugh.
Beehive looked affronted. Bulldog jabbed a sausage-shaped finger in Sherlock's face.
"That child is the last remnant of our dear departed daughter. Kristen would want us to raise her!"
"Kristy specifically stated she wanted neither of you anywhere near Violet!"
"You're an unfit father!" Beehive snapped. "Dressing her like a boy in those horrid jeans, letting her read the most awful things… she's only five, she shouldn't be reading yet anyway!"
Bulldog jumped back in. "And she's entirely too familiar with adults! Children should be seen and not heard!"
"Violet is exceptionally intelligent, a trait which you both obviously lack, and if she wants to read about science and human anatomy instead of fairy tales and princesses, than I certainly won't stop her! As to what she wears, the sort of things you would put her in simply aren't practical! She's my daughter and I'm raising her as I see fit!" Sherlock held up a hand as Bulldog and Beehive spluttered. "If you don't get out of my flat in five seconds, I will call the police."
"We are Violet's grandparents! You can't call the police on us!"
"I have an order from the judge to keep you both far away from Violet, and as you are not British citizens… which Violet is, might I add. You cannot get the law involved, whether it's here or in New York. Get out. Now."
Bulldog and Beehive started to say something else, but when Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone threateningly, they grumbled and threatened on their way out of the door. Bulldog glared at John as they left. They slammed the door, and a few seconds later, a muted thud from the street door showed they had gone.
Sherlock sank to the couch with a sigh and rubbed his hands over his face.
"I take it Violet is at Mrs. Hudson's?" he asked his palms.
"Yes, she is. Mrs. Hudson said something about lemonade and cookies."
Sherlock gave a tired nod.
"She hates it when people yell. I shouldn't have."
"Who were they?" John asked.
Sherlock sighed and straightened up, before slouching backwards onto the couch again.
"They are James and Naomi Webb. Kristy's parents. They never liked me, and they struggled for nearly a year to have Violet live with them, even after Sabrina got custody. As you can tell, they think I'm an unfit father."
He gave a shake of his head, and one hand clenched into a fist.
"I'd rather die than allow them to raise my daughter."
A little while later, Mrs. Hudson brought Violet back up. She flew across the flat and threw herself into Sherlock's lap, her little arms winding around his neck.
"Are they gonna take me away, Daddy?"
Sherlock, after a moment's hesitation, hugged her tightly and murmured "No, Violet, they're not."
It had been five months since they had started dating, and Sherlock thought he knew something was wrong with his girlfriend.
(It still gives him such a thrill to say that.)
His suspicions were confirmed over coffee one morning.
Kristy: So how did that interview at the police station go?
Sherlock: (with a shrug) Well enough. Though the captain eats far too many doughnuts and has an illegitimate child.
Kristy: (opens her mouth, then closes it and shakes her head) Not gonna ask.
(They sip their coffee in silence for a moment before Kristy puts down her mug)
Kristy: So my parents want to meet you
(Sherlock chokes on his drink).
Kristy's parents had started pestering her to let them meet her new boyfriend. So it was with great reluctance that she dragged Sherlock towards her parent's apartment one unusually sunny March morning.
"So, just a warning. My parents…" she paused, searching for words, then huffed and said "To be perfectly honest, they're a complete nightmare and I really, really wish I didn't have to put you through meeting them, but I must, so just do me a favor and don't punch them, okay?"
As she finished this extraordinary speech, they ended up in front of the apartment door. Kristy shot him a despairing look, took a deep breath, and reached for his hand, twining their fingers firmly together. Then she lifted her hand and knocked firmly on the door three times.
It opened.
"Hello, Kristen."
A woman with dyed blonde hair teased high above her head stood in the doorway. Her eyelids were painted blue, her cheeks bright pink, and her lips red, with lipstick bleeding into the wrinkles around her mouth. She was wearing a fussy floral dress and a string of pearls.
Kristy managed a tight smile.
"Hi, Mom."
The woman turned her gaze to Sherlock. "And this is?"
"Mom, this is Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, this is my mom."
"Sherlock? That's unusual." The woman said before holding out her hand. "Naomi."
Sherlock shook her hand, then followed Kristy inside, her mother glancing distastefully at their conjoined hands. Kristy raised an eyebrow and moved closer to him: a subtle gesture of defiance.
A tall man wearing a pressed blue suit was sitting in an uncomfortable-looking armchair, reading a newspaper. He looked up as they entered.
"Ah, Kristen."
"Hi, Dad."
He carefully examined her, one eyebrow raising and a hard tone creeping into his voice.
"Have you been following the diet plan your mother and I gave you, Kristen?"
Sherlock felt his own eyebrow raise.
"Yes, Dad."
"Hmm. I could swear you were putting on weight." He shook open his newspaper again. "No one wants a fat woman, Kristen. Maybe you shouldn't eat anything else today. Do you need any more of that tea Mother sent?"
Sherlock was about ready to punch Kristy's father, and was about to tell him where exactly he could stick his diet plan and special tea when he caught Kristy's warning glance.
"No Dad, I'm good."
Kristy's voice was hard as well, and she was gripping Sherlock's hand so tightly he was fairly certain circulation had been cut off.
"Well, sit down, then." her mother said. "James, dear, this is Sherlock. Kristen's special friend."
Kristy let out a soft sigh and gave Sherlock an 'I'm so sorry about this' look.
"Sherlock? Where is that from?" He raised an eyebrow. "Is that Jewish?"
Taken aback, Sherlock shrugged.
"I really have no idea. Sir." He hastily added.
"Hmm. If you were Jewish I would have had to kick you out of the apartment."
(None of what Kristy's parents are saying is a belief of mine or my family's. Methinks I had too much fun making them into complete jerks. Sorry if I offend, but again, none of it is what I actually believe.)
Sherlock blinked and shot Kristy an incredulous look. She winced.
"Dad, can we not…"
"Don't talk back to me, Kristen. And let go of your friends hand, it's unseemly."
Kristen gritted her teeth but untangled her fingers from Sherlocks.
The lunch progressed in very awkward silence before Naomi spoke up.
"So, Kristen, did you take my advice last time we chatted?"
Kristy tensed.
"No, Mom, I'm still studying biochemistry and have a job interview on Wednesday."
Both her parents heaved a sigh.
"Kristen, how many times have I told you, a woman's place is not where you are. You should take a job teaching. Or nursing. You could work as a receptionist until you get married."
"Mom!" Kristy was bright red.
"I'm just telling you the truth, honey. A woman's place is at home, serving her husband and raising her children, and a job in biochemistry is simply no place for a lady…"
"Enough."
Sherlock's voice silenced Naomi completely.
"Excuse me, young man?"
"I said enough."
Sherlock stood up and glared.
"I really don't think you have any right to lecture Kristy on anything, given the fact that neither of you have any friends to speak of, you" he pointed at Naomi "have been sneaking copious amounts of sweets, most likely for a very long time, and you" he pointed at James "can't talk either, too much beer does make ones belly bulge. You are also on the cusp of being fired from your job, most likely for drinking on the job and most likely for also being an arse." He turned and held out his hand.
Kristy was already standing behind him. She reached out and took his hand, shot one last glare at her very surprised parents, and then they both left.
Once outside, Sherlock raised an eyebrow at Kristy.
"So, your parents are…fun."
"Oh shut up, I know. They're awful."
"Why do you still talk to them, then?"
"I have too. They're paying my tuition. My sister doesn't talk to them anymore. She moved out and changed her name the day she turned eighteen. Her name used to be Grace. Now she's Sabrina Murray. She just… couldn't take it anymore."
Kristy sighed, looking rather forlorn, before absentmindedly nestling against his side. Typically, Sherlock did not prefer human contact, but somehow he didn't mind Kristy almost constantly touching him.
"You shouldn't listen to them."
"Well, hopefully after tonight and the reality check they just got, I won't have too."
She smiled at him, then reached up and pressed a warm kiss to his cheek.
"Sherlock Holmes." She murmured. "I think I might be falling in love with you."