Chapter Text
Prologue
John learns there is more to Sherlock and Molly's past then he has ever suspected.
One can expect the unexpected if you are acquainted with the Holmes brothers long enough, of that John had no doubt. He had lived through some of those things and even managed to tell a portion of them on his blog too. But nothing, nothing, could have really prepared him for the reveal of the past twenty-four hours. Nor for the reveals that were to come afterwards.
Unsurprisingly, the aforementioned events had taken their toll on John. Having been put in an old well with icy water a-and chained to the wall with small bones laying around-- ah, yes. That had been a bloody cherry on top of this godawful experience as a whole. Mazes with task-rooms as if it was taken from some kind of thriller movie; a death toll increasing with each puzzle; and the culmination! …the culmination.
John swallowed and looked at his best friend on the other side of the back seat. The Consulting Detective was unusually quiet. Not that John could or did blame him. The revelations, the emotional upheaval, everything that had happened… It almost put John’s experience in the war to shame.
He shivered. The blanket that the hospital had provided, while dry, wasn’t a very good cover for the scrubs he was currently wearing. He tightened it a bit more closely around himself to get a little warmer. He really couldn’t wait to be finally home, in his warm clothes, lying under his thick covers with his young, little daughter safe beside him. He was glad the hospital hadn’t wanted to keep him overnight for observations and that he and Sherlock had been pretty quickly proclaimed fit to go. Mycroft, who had met them at the hospital, promised a reunion with their loved ones at his residence and both men went with him without any protest, heading to the car the older Holmes provided.
The journey, while tedious, was thankfully not a long one. All three of them were quiet, each man lost in their own heavy thoughts. John’s arms ached to hold his daughter. He needed to feel her comforting weight in them. Mycroft promised she had been and was safe, and more importantly, on her way to meet them. John felt a deep feeling of longing to see her and keep her close. It had been too long since he saw her. Rosie had been staying with the Stamfords the day before yesterday. After the explosion at Baker Street Mycroft had made sure she was transported to the safest place he knew of. John couldn’t leave Sherlock at that crucial part of their latest quest for the truth about one Eurus Holmes and as a result had no choice but to trust the eldest Holmes to keep his baby girl safe. Now he just needed to have her with him.
The car finally slowed down as they pulled up to the familiar townhouse. All three men stirred and prepared themselves to get out. John saw Mycroft looking at his younger brother but Sherlock didn’t seem to notice, lost deep in his thoughts as he was. And yet, as they were leaving the car, John could still see his bruised and scratched hands trembling a little.
The townhouse was pleasantly warm and surprisingly welcoming, clearly having been prepared in advance for their arrival. Mycroft took them to the drawing room and made them an offer of some strong drinks which John didn’t refuse.
“Rooms have been prepared for you,” Mycroft said after he took a swift gulp of his brandy. “You can stay here as long as you require it.”
John looked up at this information, startled. He hadn’t planned to stay here at all. He opened his mouth to say so, but then Mycroft glanced at his younger brother intently and John felt suddenly torn. All he really wanted to do at the moment was to get Rosie and just go home, but with a pang of regret, he realised that Sherlock had no place of his own to go to anymore. He wasn’t sure how his best friend would take to staying with his brother and John felt he shouldn’t really leave him here on his own. At least not for this night. Sherlock had been unnaturally quiet and John really feared for him. He tried to find an opportunity to talk to him, but they were hardly ever alone, first with the paramedics in the ambulance that had taken them to the hospital and now with Mycroft. In a way he was glad. He wasn’t sure what he could say to his best friend or how to talk about it. It was all still so fresh…
“Will they be here soon?” Sherlock asked suddenly, looking up with piercing eyes to his brother.
They ? John wondered.
Mycroft looked back at his younger brother then checked his phone. “Yes. They’re close.”
Sherlock just nodded, his gaze once again straying somewhere to the side.
“It’s… It’s going to be all right,” Mycroft offered unexpectedly. Uncertainly.
“Is it?” Sherlock asked brokenly, not looking up.
John’s heart hurt.
Another heavy silence fell upon the trio. Minutes dragged by slowly, one after the other. John sipped the whiskey slowly, relishing the feeling of warmth it brought him, even if he felt as if he was tasting ashes. He was sure it was a fabulous and ridiculously expensive whiskey, but at the moment… at the moment. He glanced at Sherlock quickly then looked away. His eyes drifted to the big grandfather clock in the corner. How long before--
A sound of a car stopping in front of the house echoed from outside. All three men looked to the front of the building and got up almost simultaneously. Mycroft led them to the main door, John hot on his heels, hoping to see his small daughter. The car was one of Mycroft’s typical black ones with its usual tinted windows. The door to the back seats opened and Mycroft, unexpectedly, hurried down to help the person inside. John blinked at this unusual display from the so called Iceman, then visibly startled seeing who came out of the car.
It was Anthea.
A heavily pregnant Anthea.
What?
Mycroft put his arm around his assistant, his other hand grasping her arm in support. Anthea looked into Mycroft’s face then put her hand on his cheek. John saw Mycroft’s eyes close at the gesture. It lasted less than a couple of seconds, yet John felt suddenly like the biggest voyeur in the world. The spell broke and both Mycroft and Anthea started on their way up the stairs, arms still around each other. They stopped briefly to speak with Sherlock quietly.
John would have gawked at them longer but then someone else came out of the car, catching his attention.
It was Lady Smallwood.
John blinked. What the hell was going on?
And then he heard it. That familiar cry. Without any conscious thought he was on his way to the car. He saw Lady Smallwood bend to retrieve something from the vehicle and the moment she did so, John’s whole world narrowed to the cranky bundle in her arms. In four big steps he was right beside the older woman, taking his dissatisfied daughter into his arms. His eyes locked with those of Lady Smallwood for a moment, and he just nodded to her in thanks, all choked up. She gave him a soft, understanding smile and turned toward the townhouse. Not that John noticed. His nose was already buried in his daughter’s locks, barely visible from the scarf and cap she was wearing.
“Thank the Lord,” he gasped, breathing in the familiar scent.
A sob built in his throat and he took a couple of shaky breaths, hugging his precious Rosie fiercely. The girl started crying openly and John’s heart both soared and squeezed at this sound. She was alive. She was in his arms. She was here. He rocked her a little, shushing her in a choked up voice, then finally looked into her face.
“Hello, sweetheart,” he rasped in an emotional voice. She hiccuped then hugged him, burrowing her head in his neck. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” he whispered.
He would have stayed there with her in his arms, regardless of the cold air around him and time passing by, if not for the second car pulling up right next to the first one.
A figure hurried past him to the car the moment it stopped. John looked up surprised, as Sherlock, with shaky, scratched and bruised hands, opened the door to the back seats, waiting anxiously for the person to come out.
Molly.
Of course!
Sherlock staggered a little at the sight of her in front of him, his grip on the car door tightening visibly. Yet, his eyes never strayed from her; he was watching her intensely, pleadingly, drinking her all in.
But Molly just shot him a quick, hard stare and, just like Lady Smallwood had done minutes before, turned around and bent to pick up something from the car.
John found himself gawking once again at the unexpected sight before him. As Molly straightened up with practised ease, John saw a small toddler being held firmly in her arms. The child – a boy – was awake. Dark curly locks spilled from under the cap on his head as he looked around with big blue inquisitive eyes. Finally, he spotted Sherlock.
“Daddy!” the toddler called, arms stretching in that universal demand of every child to be taken by a familiar and trusted adult.
What?! John’s eyes bulged out at this unexpected turn of events.
There was a heavy silence as Sherlock and Molly gazed into each other eyes; searching, pleading, accusing, reassessing. The moment stretched, the air thickened and charged and John’s heartbeat accelerated as he stared at his two best friends. The boy in Molly’s arms wriggled and reached for Sherlock once more.
“Molly,” Sherlock rasped finally.
The woman looked down, her firm grip on the child tightening.
“Please.” John had never heard Sherlock’s voice sound this small.
“Daddy!” the boy called once more. “Mummy!” He wriggled even more violently, using his legs as well as his arms to try to set himself free from his mother’s hold.
Molly sighed and looked up into Sherlock’s face bravely. A second passed and another, and then her grip loosened. Immediately, Sherlock’s arms shot up to catch the child into an embrace.
“Daddy!” the toddler squealed.
“Hello, William,” Sherlock rasped, a faint but genuine smile on his face. The boy – William – beamed. Sherlock hugged him, making the child giggle, then jostled him onto his hip, supporting him with one arm.
His eyes locked with Molly’s once more. They stared at each other for a while, the child looking from one adult to the other, an unusual solemnity on his countenance as if he could feel the gravity of the moment.
Sherlock’s gaze was penetrating as if speaking volumes to the woman in front of him. Molly stared right back, firmly, bravely, despite the tears pooling in her eyes.
“Molly,” Sherlock repeated in that same small – pleading – voice and John’s heart squeezed at the raw emotions in it.
Molly’s breath hitched and she closed her eyes for a moment and then nodded faintly.
With a pained groan Sherlock’s free arm shot toward her and crushed her to his side. With his head buried in her hair, Sherlock gasped and rocked slightly, the two people completely and firmly embraced in his arms.
“Daddy!” The boy threw his arms around his father’s neck, hugging him.
Sherlock rasped and John realised he was speaking, murmuring like a mantra, over and over again.
“I love you. I love you. I love you.” His voice was like nothing John had ever heard before. “It’s true. It’s always been true. I love you.”
Although she had just consented to being hugged, John could see how tense Molly was. Then slowly she sighed, as if letting a cleansing breath out, and gently slumped against Sherlock, all the tension leaving her. Sherlock’s breath hitched once more as his arm brought her even closer to him. Slowly, tentatively, Molly’s arms sneaked around Sherlock’s chest and suddenly, they were hugging so close, John couldn’t tell where one of them ended and the other started.
“Um. Did you know that Sherlock and Molly are…” John started, and looked to the side, where Greg had just stopped next to him.
Suddenly it hit John what exactly he was witnessing. Sherlock and Molly- Sherlock and Molly - two of the three godparents to his daughter, his very best friend and his, well, his second best friend, two of the closest people in his life, they- they- not only shared a far deeper relationship than anyone anticipated, they had a bloody kid together!
“John…?” Greg asked, concerned.
John felt a raw red hotness washing over him. Those two were supposed to be his best friends! Sherlock promised! The bloody git promised to not keep any more secrets from him! And Molly! Once again it was Moll-
“Are you planning to come inside?” Mycroft’s voice carried from the doorway.
Sherlock and Molly didn’t seem to hear him as they were still locked in their fierce embrace, seeking and giving comfort to each other.
John, on the other hand, was furious.
“How - how long has this. been. GOING ON?!” he growled at Mycroft with a dark scowl on his face.
Rosie startled and wailed at the sudden shout from her father.
This seemed to finally break Sherlock and Molly apart. Surprised, they looked up to the three men standing with the little girl nearby. Flushed, Molly made a jerky move as if to untangle herself from Sherlock, but he didn’t let her; his arm was still firmly around her waist, keeping her close to his side.
“Oy, John,” Greg said as he came quickly to the angry man. “You’re scaring Rosie.” He took the crying girl into his arms. “Shush, princess, shush. Daddy’s not angry at you.”
John didn’t seem to hear him. “How. Long,” he repeated.
Mycroft huffed.
“Since we met.” It was Sherlock who answered.
Molly gasped, looking up to him with wide eyes. “Sherlock…?”
He glanced at her briefly and nodded resolutely.
“Really?” A ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as her eyes searched his face. He shot her an answering little smile and squeezed her to him briefly.
John glared at them furiously. “Since. You. Met,” he repeated. “And when exactly was that?”
Sherlock turned to look at him squarely in the face, adopting an air of nonchalance. “Hm, about twenty years ago.”
“Bloody hell,” Greg said, Rosie still in his arms.
John exploded. “And it was a secret all this time?”
“Yes,” Sherlock replied, not a note of remorse in his voice.
John cussed severely.
Mycroft sighed resignedly.
Rosie still wailed.
“Well, let’s get inside so we can try to sort it all out,” the elder Holmes said, leading them all into the townhouse.
John took a deep calming breath.
It had better be the night for all their secrets to be revealed or else!
Thankfully for him, it was.
xxx
end of prologue
xxx