How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 25: Coq Au Vin

Sherlock let go of Molly when they got to the house, leaning into the door and wiping his feet meticulously on the mat outside of the back door. He turned the handle and poked his head inside calling out, “Are you ready for us?”

There was a muffled noise from the direction of the kitchen that he took for assent so he stepped inside, reaching back and pulling Molly after him when it seemed she was frozen to the spot. He couldn’t contain his excitement and picked Molly up, twirling her around, before setting her back on her feet and taking her hand to practically drag her further into the house.

Molly was looking a bit dazed, having realized exactly where she was and what was about to happen. Sherlock hauled Molly into the kitchen where both his parents were busy preparing what smelled like coq au vin.

Mmmm, mummy’s coq au vin. Molly’s going to love this.

Sherlock’s parents were excellent cooks. Both he and Mycroft had inherited a love of food from them. Granted, Mycroft didn’t know how to control that love and Sherlock did, but still, it was one of the few things they shared, even if Sherlock liked to tease Mycroft about it.

“Oh Sherly!” Sherlock winced at the nickname and glanced down at Molly subtly, but she had no reaction to it besides a smile.

“I’m so happy you’re here! And this must be Molly!” Sherlock’s mother wiped her hands on a dish towel and crossed to envelope Molly in a huge hug. “We’ve heard so much about you dear! Oh it’s too bad Myc couldn’t come with Anthea. And John and Mary too! Oh that poor dear must be exhausted! So close to her date now, isn’t it?! Well don’t just stand there! Come in, have a seat! Sherly, get Molly a drink.”

Sherlock let go of Molly and turned to his mother, giving her a peck on the cheek and a hug, extending a hug to his father as well, before reaching into a cabinet and taking down two glasses, one for himself and one for Molly. Turning, he grinned at her and poured water in one and white wine in the other, holding out the wine for her and motioning for her to join them all by the table. She went to stand close to him, taking the glass, and he put an arm around her shoulders.

His father had his hands in some bread dough, but leaned over to kiss Molly on the cheek and wink at her before stage whispering, “Don’t mind that old woman, she’ll talk your ear off.”

Molly giggled and just like that, was charmed.

Sherlock beamed with triumph. Sometimes it was good to have ‘normal’ parents.

Molly was asking if she could help with anything and his mother was handing her a bowl full of potatoes to peel as Sherlock watched, feeling happier than he could remember in a long time. He might spout about sentiment being a defect, but deep down, he craved it, just like anyone else. And seeing his parents getting along so well with his significant other was gratifying. Especially since Molly was the first woman he’d ever taken home, and if he had his way, she would be the only one.

He sat down at the table and dodged helping whenever one of his parents pushed a bowl his way, making Molly grin and shake her head. She chatted animatedly with Mrs. Holmes about her job, and Sherlock could see the relief on her face that his mother didn’t recoil when she talked about dead people. It would hardly be fair if she did, considering what her sons did for a living. One investigates murders, the other starts and prevents wars on a daily basis. Sherlock mentally shrugged. Mummy was open to pretty much anything by now.

Not to mention that he was sure that she had all but given up hope that he would ever take anyone home to meet her.

“Sherly, get off your lazy butt and set the table.” His mother swatted him on the back of the head.