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.
He grinned boyishly at Molly and complied. Finally, dinner was served. The four sat around the table and passed the food around, talking happily.
“I’ll have to show you some pictures from when he was a boy. He was a menace!” mummy exclaimed, with Mr. Holmes backing her up as Sherlock denied all accusations and vehemently insisted that no pictures should be exposed.
“Oh Sherlock, I have to know what I’m looking forward to someday.” Molly turned bright red and clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as the words were out and looked as if she wanted to melt into the floor.
Sherlock stared at her for a moment in shock. WHAT?
Luckily, mummy diffused the tension with ease, changing the subject to dessert, a wonderful chocolate soufflé, which Sherlock refused but Molly dug into, possibly to keep her mouth full so she didn’t have to speak as much. The blush hadn’t quite faded from her cheeks; it lingered for several minutes even after the change of subject. The conversation continued until Sherlock’s phone rang.
Ignoring his mother’s incredulous, “William Sherlock Scott Holmes, why isn’t your phone turned off?” he checked the display. It was John and he breathed a quiet sigh of relief and shook his head ever so slightly at Molly whose face had paled, before pocketing his phone, unanswered.
“So sorry mummy,” he smiled his most charming smile, then laughed when he saw that his mother was most definitely not fooled.
There was a vibrating noise and Molly flushed. “Oh, that is mine.” She checked her phone and looked up at Sherlock, her brow wrinkling. “Was that John a moment ago?” When he nodded, she handed him her phone. “Maybe you should answer it.”
Sherlock excused himself and strolled out of the room before accepting the call. “Yes, John?” He winced as his best friend’s voice came through the speaker. John was shouting at the top of his lungs.
“Sherlock, Mary’s having the baby! Get your arse to the hospital NOW!”
Sherlock clicked the phone shut without even replying. He trotted back into the kitchen, grabbing up his and Molly’s coats.
“Come on, Molly, we’ve got to go.”
Mrs. Holmes and Molly both opened their mouths to protest but he cut them off with “Mary’s having the baby right now.”
Molly hopped up and began putting on her coat, hurriedly telling Sherlock’s parents goodbye and thank you and that she most certainly would make Sherlock visit more often. He rushed her out the door, running back inside when he realized he’d forgotten to kiss mummy goodbye. They clambered into the car, their breath steaming the windshield and windows as they headed off towards the city.
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“So,” Molly gave a nervous giggle. “Your parents.” Sherlock didn’t take his eyes from the road but stiffened a bit. “They aren’t at all what I expected.”
He darted his eyes to her at that. “Mmmm, John expressed that same sentiment the first time he met them.”
She relaxed into the seat and closed her eyes.
After a beat, he asked, “Is that good or bad?”
“Hmm?” she questioned, sleepily.
“That they aren’t what you expected. Is that a good or bad thing?”
She opened her eyes and gazed at him a moment before closing them again and responding, “Oh, a good thing I suppose.” She paused and unbuckled her seatbelt and leaned over onto his shoulder. “Only room for one sociopath in my life.”
He hid his pleased grin.
Another thought occurred to her and she lifted her head to look at him.
“Sherlock?’
“Yes?” He hummed.
“Mycroft and Anthea?” She raised a brow, disbelieving.
He shook his head, grinning widely. “No, no, no. My mother lives in eternal hope.”
She chuckled and resumed her position against his shoulder.
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He thought she’d fallen asleep when he felt her stirring against his side.
After a minute, she burrowed into him and whispered, “Sherlock, something is bothering me.”
His brow furrowed. “Hmm? What is it?”
“Well, Jim is like you.” She stopped and tsked her tongue. “No, wait, that came out wrong. I mean, he doesn’t like to repeat himself.”
He hummed his agreement and she continued.
“So why is he using the same thing he used against you before? The cipher? It doesn’t make sense.”
He took in a deep breath before telling her what had been on his mind for a while now.
“I don’t think we are dealing with Moriarty, Molly. We’re dealing with someone else.” He shook his head. “It had to be someone who knew him well though, or they wouldn’t be able to imitate his style so well.”
She sat up and looked at him, his face lit up by the lights of the streets. They were back in London proper.
“Who then?” she asked.
He glanced down at her. “I have no idea.” Sherlock hated having to admit that he really had no clue.
“I thought I destroyed everything and everyone Moriarty left behind. I guess I missed one.”
She sat back and they continued the drive in silence