Truly the place wasn't in the country. It was an hour and a half drive, tops, from London itself. There were plenty of shops and things just a shorter drive away, a grocer, a chemist, and all sorts. Of course they were all currently closed up because it was Christmas Day.
Vance pulled his duffle and Mary's suitcase from the car, heart leaping his throat. He'd been so many places in a handful of weeks. He'd texted Finch, of course, but more importantly, to practice his writing, he picked up a moleskin and wrote to her every night.
Jack helped Mary from the car.
"Can you make it?" he murmured softly, not wanting to injure her pride.
"Of course I can," Mary sniffed, offended that he'd asked anyway. "I'm fine." It was a slow progression, and a battle she knew she was losing, but damned if she was going to give in right away. "Get the bags."
"The boy's got them," Jack said, offering up his arm. "Go let them know we're here."
He hadn't needed to say anything at all. For a man well into his sixties, Sebastian was far from out of shape as he sprinted down from the porch. A tow-headed man with a scarred face beaming in delight. He rushed Mary, picking her up on her feet. She laughed, kissing his cheek.
"My tiger. I missed you," Mary sighed, snuggling into his shoulder.
"Mary," Seb said, nuzzling into her ear. "They've been impossible without. I deserve lots of treats for not shooting one of them. And I don't only mean Holmes and Watson. Your children are incorrigible. Impossible. Have I mentioned how much I love you?"
Mary giggled, squeezing him tight. "I love you, too. I had to spend nearly two months trapped in hotel rooms with Jack and Vance, it was like babysitting. What have my children done now?"
"Existed in the same space for more than a day," Sebastian laughed. "Come on. We've got one sulking, one cooking, and one doing God knows what. I separated them about two hours ago."
Vance was heading inside, carrying all the bags. He'd been in a lot of shiny places, so the cottage felt much more like home. Jack came beside him to pick out Mary and his own bags.
"Not sure where they're putting you up," Jack called. "Seb or Sherlock ought to know."
Vance nodded, hefting his lone duffle back up on his shoulder.
"It's lovely," Mary was saying to Sebastian, looking around. "Did you have fun? I know you were busy with it."
"It was a challenge," Sebastian said. "Adding on that extra room took some time. Freya was a bit of an unexpected addition, but she managed to get the tree up, come look."
"Mary!" Sherlock rumbled, wiping his hands on a towel. He leaned to kiss her. Sebastian stiffened against his wife. John followed Sherlock, like a short shadow.
"Hello, angel. You're looking well," Mary said, tipping up to kiss him back. "Where are our offspring? I've heard they've been terrible without a mother to scold them."
"I believe Finch is near the tree reading, and Spencer is in the kitchen pestering Brandon," John said, giving a nervous-looking smile. "In fact, someone should chaperone lest we have a repeat of the birthday cake incident."
Seb sighed heavily. "Spencer is quite hard-headed. I sent him to study," he growled, pacing off to break up the mess.
Vance had snuck up behind the glint of red hair. He could see the lights of the tree twinkling on the strands of her hair. He leaned over the back of the couch, covering her eyes with his cold hands.
"Guess who?" he asked.
"Um, I don't know, I've quite forgotten," Finch replied, trying not to move lest he smear her eye make-up. "You sound familiar. Papa? Jack? Ummm, Brandon?"
"I'm ashamed, little bird!" Vance said, pulling his hands back to drop his bag and head around the sofa. He had his hands on his hips. "Forgotten me already. Damn shame that. I got your a present."
Finch turned to smile up at him. In the past few weeks, Abby had introduced her to a whole new level of being a girl. Her eyes were done up in gorgeous matte purple shadow with black liner, a smoky frame for her green eyes. Edgy. Not too tough, but edgy. "I like presents. Maybe I can be bribed into remembering you."
Vance wasn't supposed to have taken the particular necklace hiding in his pocket. But the green of the stone had reminded him of Finch's eyes. He'd lifted it right off a lady's neck in China. And the resulting news articles after the disappearance was just for his own sense of pride.
He pulled the platinum chain from his pocket. A delicately carved jade bird hung on the end. He swung it lightly.
"Oh," Finch held out her hand, touching the bird gently. "It's beautiful, Vance."
"Reminded me of you," he said, unclasping it. "Of course, everything did." He sat on the couch, fastening it around Finch's neck. "Missed you like mad."
"Please, you've been much to busy being a fancy thief to miss me," Finch said, but she was smiling. "Sherlock said you were studying the whole time, too."
"Oh loads," Vance groaned. "I had to practice writing." He pulled the worn moleskin from his coat. "I guess this is sort of a present too." He offered it to her. "If you want it.."
"W-what is it?" Finch asked, taking the little book from him. She trailed her black painted nails over it's worn edges.
"Thoughts, feelin's," he said, shy. "Mary said I had to practice writing, make it better. But copying out of books got boring. So I started writing to you. It's probably boring, and the beginning is probably hard to read, but I wanted to tell you about all the places I saw. I didn't leave anything in about the missions.. erm, but I did a lot of other things too. And spent a lot of time thinking when I wasn't allowed to go with 'em."
"Ah, locked you in a hotel room while they shagged, huh?" Finch asked, grinning at him. "I got you something, too. If you, y'know, wanted it now."
"Yeah a bit," Vance said, running his hand through his longish brown hair. He paused. "Wait-what? You didn't have to get me nothing."
"Anything!" Sherlock's deep voice corrected from the other room.
"Um, well, I did. It's not- It's not as nice as what you got me, though," Finch said, blushing at Sherlock's voice. She stood and crossed the room, her black dress and black cocoon sweater stolen from her mother's closet, worn harness boots giving her a harshness that hadn't been there before. She tugged a little package out of her purse, wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with a little bow. She came back to him, holding it out shyly.
Vance smoothed his hand over the paper. "Been awhile since I've gotten presents. Least, y'know, presents that didn't mean I was going to work," he said. He carefully untapped the edges and slid out a book. "Oh."
The book was a hardcover book, old and well-worn.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Look inside," Finch said, feeling a little deflated when he asked.
The Origin of Species by Charles Darwin
"Maybe it's silly. I should've gotten you something else-"
Vance inhaled, stroking over the title page.
"No," he said, breathlessly. "No, it's.. wow. My mum.. she.. Catholic," he managed. "Never did get to read it as much as I wanted. She burnt up my school copy." He leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "It's perfect."
"I just thought, you know, because you seemed to like it so much," Finch stammered, cheeks heating up. "It reminded me of you."
"Thank you," Vance said, tracing over the spine. "First book in my own collection." He nodded. "Now that I have a place for things."
"Going to start a proper library, then?" Finch teased, smiling at him. "You'll need a shelf soon."
"And a desk," Vance said. "Mr. Holmes has me writing and reading and learning all sorts of things. All that studying and your Mum-!"
"What about her?" Mary asked, leaning on her cane in the doorway. Her shrewd eyes glued to her daughter. "Am I drilling you too hard, little pickpocket?"
Vance turned pink. "No, Missus M. Only that you told me to shut up and look important after all that learning Chinese."
"Mandarin, Vance," Sherlock said from Mary's elbow.
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