It's Not Real

Chapter Twenty Three

"Oh behave," Mary shakes her head, picking up the baby bag Eve had packed up ready for Rosie to go home. "We're desperate."

Eve laughs. "Great. Thanks."

"Only joking. You're her favourite people on the planet, would never come between that."

"I'm glad– William Holmes, if you lay your teeth on me once more while our friends are here I will file for a divorce." She had felt his breath draw closer and the tickle of his hair against her skin.

He grumbled loudly and uncurled himself from around her, standing up in a strop.

Mary and John were both trying not to burst into fits of giggles as Evelyn looked at them exasperated.

"Shouldn't you be off, Watsons? Very nearly Rosamund's tea time." Sherlock looked very impatient, hands on hips and eyebrow raised.

Miraculously, however, when Evelyn began to push herself off the floor, Sherlock dropped his air of irritation and bounced to her side. She took his hands automatically and he pulled her up, once again within one another's personal space. It appeared that once they'd breached that line they couldn't escape it, as if they were trapped within the gravitational pull of the other.

The Watsons shared a brief smile as they noticed.

"Yeah, we better get going," John reached into his wife's bag for a second, pulling out a bundle of varied newspapers. "Assuming you haven't seen these." He dropped them onto the table by the laptop. "We've glanced them, nothing too concerning. They do list your name, Eve, but no details."

Sherlock was looking down at covers of five different largely distributed and well known names in the news industry, every one a picture on the front from the day they wed.

"Not ideal." His phone bleeps and he picks it up off the table, reading the text, then glancing around the room quickly. "Mycroft just text, said he could only delay the papers for two weeks. A wedding gift."

Eve sighed, it dawning on her why Sherlock gave the room a panicked glance over. "Tell your brother if he has cameras in here he's a dead man."

Again, Sherlock's phone beeps. He scoffs, flashing it at his wife. "For your safety, sister dear." Eve decided she'd ask Sherlock later if that's genuinely what he thought his brother sounds like.

She looks up in at the ceiling, picking a random general area to focus on. "Better get used to seeing your brother shagged out of his mind, then!" And, much to Sherlock's amusement, she stomped her foot.

All three adults in the room were staring at her.

"Oh, god." She covered her face. "Sorry."

"I'm not complaining." When she looked at him, Sherlock appeared remarkably smug, an annoying air of male pride around him. "I have been getting shagged out of my mind."

Mary burst out laughing, holding onto the doorframe to stop herself keeling over. John, on the other hand, looked deathly pale while holding his spare hand over Rosie's ear.

Evelyn was now sporting a flush all the way up her neck. "Can you please try and negotiate on the cameras?" She asked quietly, timidly fiddling with his shirtsleeve.