Bad Timing

Chapter Thirty Three

Sherlock looked at himself in the mirror, trousers and socks on, although that already felt like a mammoth task to complete. He was slimmer, he hadn't been eating properly, despite the desperate urges from his friends. Sherlocks eyes zoned in on a scar at his side, a sudden memory coming to his mind.

~

"Hi, you're home! How was the case?"

"Fine, might need a bit of patching up though.."

"What– Oh shitting hell what have you done.."

"Ah. Yes, as you can see–"

"Shitting shit, Sherlock!"

"It's fine, calm down."

"Fine? Fine?!" She was trying to examine the wound. "You've been stabbed, it's not fine!"

Sherlock shrugged. "It's just a graze, needs a stitch or two, that's all. I've been stabbed before."

Her eyes were wide, disbelief across her face. "You don't build immunity to being stabbed, Sherlock!"

~

Sherlock actually laughed out loud at the memory, chuckling for the first time in weeks. It wasn't much, still private and quiet, but it was something, even he could acknowledge that.

He glanced up the rest of his attire for the day. Ties really aren't his thing, but he supposed it was better to not argue on the dress code of these things.

———

Mary walked into the 221b living room, followed by John Watson as he nearly bashed into the door frame, not paying attention as he shouted down to Mrs Hudson. Sherlock chuckled to himself.

~

Sherlock had spun quickly, ready to rush off on a new case, but as he turned he immediately smacked his head into the wooden doorframe, whipping back.

Rebecca hissed. "Oooo, that's going to hurt in the morning." The tone of her voice did a rubbish job of hiding her mirth.

Sherlock rubbed his bump. "It hurts now actually." She laughed then, she couldn't help it. "Are you laughing at my pain?"

Rebecca tried to cover her mouth, to squash the sounds erupting from it. "Not at all, my darling, let me see. I'll kiss it better."

~

John noticed the slight upturn of his friends lips. "Something funny?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, not right now." His eyes scanned over his friends in their all black clothes. Mary held the baby, and even he had a tiny suit on. Sherlock decided then if the child could wear a tie for one day, then so could he.

John pressed his lips together. "How you doing?"

Sherlock shrugged. "You know."

"You look better." The conversation was awkward. "See you shaved."

"Hm. Figured I should smarten myself up a bit." He straightened his tie. "Should always look good for the wife." The Watsons shared a look, unsure if they should laugh or cry, when the small human in the room made a gurgling noise, flexing his fingers in Sherlocks direction. "How's.. How has he been?"

Mary felt like she wanted to jump for joy. He was actually acknowledging Thomas. "Good." She blurted. "He's doing good, he's sitting up on his own for ages now, loves peek-a-boo!" She stops, noting the sadness in her friends eyes, and wonders if she can push her luck today on this topic. "I can tell he gets confused sometimes.. but he knows his daddy." She steps toward Sherlock and when he doesn't step away, she takes it as a good sign.