Bran hummed to himself, taking the plastic grocery bags into the cabin. He saw Mary dozing in the window seat, eyes half open. "Hullo, Mare-mare!"
She didn't say anything back and he shrugged, placing the bags in the kitchen. When he was on his way back to the car for the second load, he glanced back at Mary. She hadn't moved. Bran took a few slow steps towards her. "Mare-mare? You alright?"
Shaking, he stretched out his hand and touched her cold skin.
"Mary!" he shrieked, jumping back like he'd touched fire.
Freya's little feet came running, half her hair sticking up.
"Bran?" she said, slightly hoarse as she crossed the den. "What's going on?"
"Mary?" Sherlock echoed.
"She's-" Bran fanned at his face, a gesture learned from the cold woman on the sill. "She's not- she's-"
John strode forward to touch the body, gritting his teeth against the tears in his eyes. After a few moments that felt like an eternity, shock settling in around his bones, he said, "She's dead."
Sherlock pushed past Freya and John. His hand flying to her throat, to her heart. "No," he said, pulling her away from the window. "No, no, no."
"Sherlock, we should-" John swallowed, hard, trying to think through the grief that was clenching down on his mind. He looked back at the mute Brandon. Someone should take care of the boy. Someone should- "Call someone. An ambulance, something-"
Bran could do nothing more than stare in horror as Mary's head lolled back in Sherlock's arms. Her skin was the most unnaturally pale shade, all her blood through flowing. His lip quivered, and he whispered, "Mare-"
Sherlock pulled her body from the seat, curling around it before letting out a completely broken and utterly heartbroken wail.
Freya turned, grabbing her son by the arm and yanking him away, tears streaming down her face.
"Sherlock," John said his name, voice cracking. He sat next to his lover, the body of their fiancee between them. He reached out to brush Sherlock's curls. "Sherlock, you- you have to put her down-"
"No," Sherlock sobbed. "No-."
Sebastian and Jack had come out at the shouts. Sebastian put the phone to his ear. Sherlock cried into Mary's hair, stroking her face as if trying to rub the warmth and life back into her.
"She's- She's gone, Sherlock. Please," John's eyes pleaded with the tall man, so full of his own hurt, begging to be the one being held. "Come here."
Sebastian rumbled quietly, beneath Sherlock's sniffles and choked sounds. Jack went to his side.
"Give it over, Holmes," Jack said. "She's not there anymore. Let us take care of what she wanted, yeah?" His brown eyes were red and glassy. Sherlock's face was a mask of pain-terror-agony as Jack shifted to take the entirely too light woman from him. Sherlock's long hands continued to grasp for Mary even as Jack took her.
"Be-be- c-areful," Sherlock said, hand sliding away from Mary's cold cheek. John leaned in to pull Sherlock towards him, burying his face in Sherlock's throat.
Brandon let Freya tug him away, turning for the kitchen with a numb set of legs guiding him. Without a word, he set to making a pot of coffee. Too many memories flashed through his mind to make sense of, and he was too upset to even think about speaking.
Freya was making little whimpering noises as fat tears slipped down her cheeks. "That wasn't her," she said.
"Mum," Brandon whispered, reaching back to grip her like a soft toy. "M-Mum-"
Freya practically clawed him. "That wasn't her, don't you dare remember her like that," she gasped. "This wasn't fair to her." She pressed her face into her son's chest. So tall.
He didn't say anything else, he just rocked her gently, kissing her head, tears spilling into her white-white hair.
***
In the end, Jack was the one to give the call. Spencer had gone entirely still while Liam ran about the sitting room, babbling nonsensically, mashing together words and phrases. His mouth dropped open and heart seemed to stop.
"I understand," he said, hanging up on Jack.
Abby looked over from watching Liam play, the smile fading from her face when she saw his. "Wha' happened? You look li' death."
"My mum's dead," he said, voice empty. "They've put my Father on suicide watch."
"Mary's dead?" Abby asked, her eyes welling up. Even though she hadn't known Mary well, and Moriarty had always been a sworn enemy, she knew Spence loved his mum. And as a mother, it hit her rather hard. "Oh, Spencer, when?"
"This morning sometime," Spencer said. "Heart failure, probably. Seb's not asking for an autopsy. She was just, gone. No explosions, no gun shots, nothing. Just - gone."
Liam had stopped his play to watch, ears perked.
Abby stood, wrapping her arms around Spencer, sniffling on his shoulder. "Spence, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Spencer couldn't find tears. For the soft-hearted boy who'd stopped his mum from committing suicide, he couldn't find them. "She's alright," he said, staring off into the middle space. "She's not hurting anymore. It's the rest of them.."
"Pen?" Liam said, touching his knee. "Mama is sad?"
Spencer looked down. He reached for the boy, pulling him up into a tight hug. "Mama and Pen are both sad, Liam," he whispered. The soft young scent of the boy was comforting. His mum had held him only so much as a child. He's grown so much closer to her as an adult.
"Mama is very sad," Abby sniffled, kissing the young boy's face. She smoothed back his hair, leaning close to Spencer. "Someone has gone away an' won't come back, and we're goin' to miss her lots and lots."
"Go too?" Liam asked.
"Abby, he's too young to understand. Children can't understand death as irreversible until at least age six," Spencer said quickly. "He'll be lucky to remember her at all. Memory making at this-"
Liam touched Spencer's mouth. "Pen cry?"
"Don' tell me what kids know, Spencer," Abby said, wiping her eyes. "I weren't much older'n' 'im when me own Da died and I remember it."
"Jack said, Aunt Free had been sitting with her, reading, then went off to take a nap," he sniffed. "We were supposed to- to have d-d-dinner Fr-friday."
"Shh, shh," Abby said, trying to soothe him. "I know it 'urts, love. Should we- Should we go 'round Finch's? Would that make you feel better?"
Spencer nodded silently.
Liam patted his other shoulder, mimicking his mother.
Abby looked over from watching Liam play, the smile fading from her face when she saw his. "Wha' happened? You look li' death."
"My mum's dead," he said, voice empty. "They've put my Father on suicide watch."
"Mary's dead?" Abby asked, her eyes welling up. Even though she hadn't known Mary well, and Moriarty had always been a sworn enemy, she knew Spence loved his mum. And as a mother, it hit her rather hard. "Oh, Spencer, when?"
"This morning sometime," Spencer said. "Heart failure, probably. Seb's not asking for an autopsy. She was just, gone. No explosions, no gun shots, nothing. Just - gone."
Liam had stopped his play to watch, ears perked.
Abby stood, wrapping her arms around Spencer, sniffling on his shoulder. "Spence, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."
Spencer couldn't find tears. For the soft-hearted boy who'd stopped his mum from committing suicide, he couldn't find them. "She's alright," he said, staring off into the middle space. "She's not hurting anymore. It's the rest of them.."
"Pen?" Liam said, touching his knee. "Mama is sad?"
Spencer looked down. He reached for the boy, pulling him up into a tight hug. "Mama and Pen are both sad, Liam," he whispered. The soft young scent of the boy was comforting. His mum had held him only so much as a child. He's grown so much closer to her as an adult.
"Mama is very sad," Abby sniffled, kissing the young boy's face. She smoothed back his hair, leaning close to Spencer. "Someone has gone away an' won't come back, and we're goin' to miss her lots and lots."
"Go too?" Liam asked.
"Abby, he's too young to understand. Children can't understand death as irreversible until at least age six," Spencer said quickly. "He'll be lucky to remember her at all. Memory making at this-"
Liam touched Spencer's mouth. "Pen cry?"
"Don' tell me what kids know, Spencer," Abby said, wiping her eyes. "I weren't much older'n' 'im when me own Da died and I remember it."
"Jack said, Aunt Free had been sitting with her, reading, then went off to take a nap," he sniffed. "We were supposed to- to have d-d-dinner Fr-friday."
"Shh, shh," Abby said, trying to soothe him. "I know it 'urts, love. Should we- Should we go 'round Finch's? Would that make you feel better?"
Spencer nodded silently.
Liam patted his other shoulder, mimicking his mother.
***
Finch couldn't feel her fingers. She blinked rapidly, tears already sliding down her face. She settled on the sofa, still in her pyjamas from earlier. She was going to have a heart attack.
Oh, but she couldn't-
She couldn't because- because the baby-
Finch gasped in a breath.
Thaddeus was coming out from getting dressed, still drying his long hair.
"Vaaaance!" he called over his shoulder. "She's go' that look 'bout her again."
A series of thumps and swears, Vance hurtled down the hall in nothing but his pants. He was at Finch's side in seconds, cupping her face. "Can you breathe, baby girl?" he asked.
"Don't ask her to talk durin' a spell. Hurts her," Thad said.
"M-Mum," Finch gasped out, trying to knead her chest with one hand, the other on her stomach. "D-Dead-"
Vance paused like his strings had been cut. He thumped down beside her, pulling her in. He wrapped her up tight against his chest. He reached out for Thad, who fell behind Finch, reaching around to press his palm over her hand on her chest.
"Breathe through it," he said. Vance's face had gone an uncomfortable shade of colors. Lips pale, cheeks blotchy. "Oh for fuck's sake, you too. Breathe, damnit!"
Finch's shoulders heaved with sobs that she couldn't cry. Her mum, her mum was gone. She clung to Vance as best she could. Her head was starting to feel light, and she tried to take a breath, like Thad wanted her to. The baby- "M-m-mum!"
Spencer let himself in. He wasn't certain he stopped at a single red light. He let Abby get Liam from the car. He needed Finch. He needed her. Finch looked up at the noise, her swollen, reddened face stained with tears.
"M-Mum-" she croaked.
"I kn-know," Spencer said, voice equally as wrecked as he half-ran towards her. Thaddeus gracefully moved away so the siblings could embrace. "She went easy, at home, with everyone."
Finch shook in her brother's arms. "Was her b-birthday next m-m-month. Bran was b-baking cake- she was s'posed to be here! How could she! I need her!"
Abby stood in the doorway, watching the scene, her son in her arms. She pressed a kiss to his head, holding him close. Thaddeus watched, standing back.
"Wh-where's Bran?" Spencer asked, swiping at his eyes.
Vance stroked over Finch's stomach. He shook his head. "Left this morning from here-"
Spencer's eyes closed in pain. "He found her.." he breathed.
Finch nodded, "That's what Papa said. Oh, oh God, Papa. We need to-" she gasped. "We need to be there."
Spencer nodded, kissing her head. "Jack said they've had to sedate Sherlock," he felt weird saying his own father's name. "He's.. unstable. I think it would be good for you to see him."
"Yes," Finch said, trying to keep breathing, leaning back into Vance's waiting arms. She tugged his hands around her body. "Yes, let's go."
"Anyone got an SUV? I'll drive," Abby volunteered.
Spencer tried not to laugh and failed. "She's only sayin' that because I drove here," he sobbed through a laugh. "Might want clothes, first, sister dear. Mum loved Vance, but I doubt she'd appreciate him in his pants.." He laughed again. "Or maybe she would!"
Finch touched her brother's cheek, gulping. "Spence, we can't- we can't go to pieces. They already are. They need us."
"F-fine, fine," he said clearing his throat. "I'm fine. Just- clothes. Here, I'll help you find something."
Thaddeus turned to Abby, surprised at her lack of dry eyes. Liam had his hand in his mouth, sucking on three fingers for comfort. "That the uh, kid?" he asked awkwardly.
"Yeah," Abby said, bouncing Liam. "He's uh, bit shy 'round men n' all. C'mon Liam, say hello to Thad."
"Lo," Liam said around his fingers, pinkie sticking up as he said it.
Thad caught the boy's eyes. His face melted just a bit. "Oh, Abs," he sighed. "You said he was yours."
"He is mine. He's all mine," Abby said, grip on the child tightening. "Ain't you, Li-li?"
Liam giggled, turning to hide his face again.
"Course 'e's yours, I meant," Thaddeus said. "Lizzy had him. You'd done better by him than she ever would. Definitely not mine, that's for sure. No offense. Coloring's wrong for that."
"A bit," Abby agreed, rocking Liam back and forth. "If it weren't for Finch and M-M- her m-mum, I'd never've got 'im back." Abby sniffed. "Hope she knows how much I 'ppreciate it."
Thaddeus nodded. "Her mum hated me, I think," he said. "But can't please everyone."
Spencer returned, using a handkerchief with keys in the other hand. "Vance said he has a van checked out," he said.
"Checked out?" Thad asked.
Spencer just ignored him. "Meant to carry some stuff to the airport tomorrow, but it'll carry us," he continued. "Finch is comin'. They're having a moment." He shot a look at Thad when he didn't move. "Earth to idiot.."
Thaddeus jumped, and headed down the hall.
Spencer shook his head. "Trade ya?" he asked, offering up the keys for Liam.
Abby shifted, sliding the boy into Spencer's arms with a practiced motion, taking the keys from him. "Hey. Sorry 'bout your mum, Spence. It's going to be alrigh'."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I know. Better than anyone really. She'd bitch at me for crying. Man up, she'd say. I can hear her saying it. Problem is, none of us know who to be angry at. An enemy killing her is one thing - life? How're you supposed to be angry at life? Besides, my dads- they're not going to be well. They may not stay at the cottage. It might be time to start looking for some place for us."
"Well," Abby looked down the hall, grimacing. "Maybe it's for the best. Maybe, um, should look for somethin' near here. Y'know, nest of our own, an' all. Without Mary, I worry about the others comin' for Li. Might be good for us to star' actin' like a clan."
"Come on, let's get the car seat moved over," Spencer nodded. "Da's gonna be so pissed about the lack of autopsy." He'd said this twelve times already.
"I know, love, I know." Abby squeezed his hand, leading him outside. "We'll make them feel better, yeah? Just hug Liam and relax. Everythin' will be alrigh'."
Thaddeus was coming out from getting dressed, still drying his long hair.
"Vaaaance!" he called over his shoulder. "She's go' that look 'bout her again."
A series of thumps and swears, Vance hurtled down the hall in nothing but his pants. He was at Finch's side in seconds, cupping her face. "Can you breathe, baby girl?" he asked.
"Don't ask her to talk durin' a spell. Hurts her," Thad said.
"M-Mum," Finch gasped out, trying to knead her chest with one hand, the other on her stomach. "D-Dead-"
Vance paused like his strings had been cut. He thumped down beside her, pulling her in. He wrapped her up tight against his chest. He reached out for Thad, who fell behind Finch, reaching around to press his palm over her hand on her chest.
"Breathe through it," he said. Vance's face had gone an uncomfortable shade of colors. Lips pale, cheeks blotchy. "Oh for fuck's sake, you too. Breathe, damnit!"
Finch's shoulders heaved with sobs that she couldn't cry. Her mum, her mum was gone. She clung to Vance as best she could. Her head was starting to feel light, and she tried to take a breath, like Thad wanted her to. The baby- "M-m-mum!"
Spencer let himself in. He wasn't certain he stopped at a single red light. He let Abby get Liam from the car. He needed Finch. He needed her. Finch looked up at the noise, her swollen, reddened face stained with tears.
"M-Mum-" she croaked.
"I kn-know," Spencer said, voice equally as wrecked as he half-ran towards her. Thaddeus gracefully moved away so the siblings could embrace. "She went easy, at home, with everyone."
Finch shook in her brother's arms. "Was her b-birthday next m-m-month. Bran was b-baking cake- she was s'posed to be here! How could she! I need her!"
Abby stood in the doorway, watching the scene, her son in her arms. She pressed a kiss to his head, holding him close. Thaddeus watched, standing back.
"Wh-where's Bran?" Spencer asked, swiping at his eyes.
Vance stroked over Finch's stomach. He shook his head. "Left this morning from here-"
Spencer's eyes closed in pain. "He found her.." he breathed.
Finch nodded, "That's what Papa said. Oh, oh God, Papa. We need to-" she gasped. "We need to be there."
Spencer nodded, kissing her head. "Jack said they've had to sedate Sherlock," he felt weird saying his own father's name. "He's.. unstable. I think it would be good for you to see him."
"Yes," Finch said, trying to keep breathing, leaning back into Vance's waiting arms. She tugged his hands around her body. "Yes, let's go."
"Anyone got an SUV? I'll drive," Abby volunteered.
Spencer tried not to laugh and failed. "She's only sayin' that because I drove here," he sobbed through a laugh. "Might want clothes, first, sister dear. Mum loved Vance, but I doubt she'd appreciate him in his pants.." He laughed again. "Or maybe she would!"
Finch touched her brother's cheek, gulping. "Spence, we can't- we can't go to pieces. They already are. They need us."
"F-fine, fine," he said clearing his throat. "I'm fine. Just- clothes. Here, I'll help you find something."
Thaddeus turned to Abby, surprised at her lack of dry eyes. Liam had his hand in his mouth, sucking on three fingers for comfort. "That the uh, kid?" he asked awkwardly.
"Yeah," Abby said, bouncing Liam. "He's uh, bit shy 'round men n' all. C'mon Liam, say hello to Thad."
"Lo," Liam said around his fingers, pinkie sticking up as he said it.
Thad caught the boy's eyes. His face melted just a bit. "Oh, Abs," he sighed. "You said he was yours."
"He is mine. He's all mine," Abby said, grip on the child tightening. "Ain't you, Li-li?"
Liam giggled, turning to hide his face again.
"Course 'e's yours, I meant," Thaddeus said. "Lizzy had him. You'd done better by him than she ever would. Definitely not mine, that's for sure. No offense. Coloring's wrong for that."
"A bit," Abby agreed, rocking Liam back and forth. "If it weren't for Finch and M-M- her m-mum, I'd never've got 'im back." Abby sniffed. "Hope she knows how much I 'ppreciate it."
Thaddeus nodded. "Her mum hated me, I think," he said. "But can't please everyone."
Spencer returned, using a handkerchief with keys in the other hand. "Vance said he has a van checked out," he said.
"Checked out?" Thad asked.
Spencer just ignored him. "Meant to carry some stuff to the airport tomorrow, but it'll carry us," he continued. "Finch is comin'. They're having a moment." He shot a look at Thad when he didn't move. "Earth to idiot.."
Thaddeus jumped, and headed down the hall.
Spencer shook his head. "Trade ya?" he asked, offering up the keys for Liam.
Abby shifted, sliding the boy into Spencer's arms with a practiced motion, taking the keys from him. "Hey. Sorry 'bout your mum, Spence. It's going to be alrigh'."
"Yeah, I know," he said. "I know. Better than anyone really. She'd bitch at me for crying. Man up, she'd say. I can hear her saying it. Problem is, none of us know who to be angry at. An enemy killing her is one thing - life? How're you supposed to be angry at life? Besides, my dads- they're not going to be well. They may not stay at the cottage. It might be time to start looking for some place for us."
"Well," Abby looked down the hall, grimacing. "Maybe it's for the best. Maybe, um, should look for somethin' near here. Y'know, nest of our own, an' all. Without Mary, I worry about the others comin' for Li. Might be good for us to star' actin' like a clan."
"Come on, let's get the car seat moved over," Spencer nodded. "Da's gonna be so pissed about the lack of autopsy." He'd said this twelve times already.
"I know, love, I know." Abby squeezed his hand, leading him outside. "We'll make them feel better, yeah? Just hug Liam and relax. Everythin' will be alrigh'."
***
The funeral was small - family only. Sherlock had been hospitalized for 72 hours, released just in time for the affair. He still had a medical bracelet around his wrist. Spencer had noticed more grey in his father's hair than ever before. He looked nearly broken, except for his hand, white knuckled on John's. Even Seb had a strong hand on Sherlock's shoulder during the service.
The adults had seemed to move as a unit, hands constantly touching, shoulders, heads leaning.
Liam had worn his first ever suit. Spencer wasn't sure he understood that 'Mare-mare' was gone, but the boy remained solemn throughout the affair. Even if he was mimicking, Spencer was proud of his intelligence.
They returned to Baker Street, surprisingly alone. A little family, once again. Albeit a bit smaller.
Liam had dozed off on the drive home, and now fussed quietly on Spencer's shoulder. "Do you think he's hungry?" Spencer asked Abby softly.
"It's been a few hours," Abby whispered back, squeezing Spencer's hand. "Probably 'bout due for a snack. Are you hungry? You should eat."
"Couldn't stomach it," he said, carrying Liam to his booster chair. "Finch is supposed to be coming after-" He made a gesture. "Seb needed more time with her. Finch, that is. I think they're all putting Father on watch, or at least aren't leaving him alone."
"He looked righ' awful," Abby agreed. "Almos' worse than Mr. Seb." She moved to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware container of homemade Liam food from Bran. She almost didn't want to mention the blond boy. "How's um, our cousin takin' it all? He- he ain't said much."
"Dunno," Spencer said. "He's been with Free. Hasn't left her side. Not sure if he's coming back here or to the cottage. He- loved Mary. It was complicated. He wanted to be 'one of us', y'know? Mary's kids."
"He prob'ly was, knowin' your mum. I mean, she took to Liam righ' away, didn't she?" Abby stood waiting for the microwave to beep, tapping her foot. "She was an int'restin' person, your mum."
"She was the best," Spencer said. "The best there was. She held the world together. I always wanted to be like her, and she left me with those two idiots."
"Those two idiots who love you," Abby teased gently, pulling the tiny Batman plate out and blowing on it before placing it in front of Liam. She regarded Spencer with a sad look. "What can I do for you, Spencer? Let me 'elp you."
Spencer held out his arms, wrapping her in them. "You're doing it, Abs," he whispered. "You're doing it right now. This? Family. I need this. You'n'him," he nodded at Liam. "I still wanna be his da. I want to be your- anything, everything. This is what mum fought for. For me and Finch to have our lives, our choices. I wish she were here for me to ask what to do about Bran, but this- caring for you and Li? I can do this."
"I jus' want to make sure someone is takin' care o' you, too," Abby replied, nuzzling into his warmth. "One day at a time, Spence. We're here for you."
"I know, Abby. I love you for it," he breathed out, watching Liam carefully take bites of his food. He'd gotten better, more delicate about eating. Brandon's choices of meals helped. "I don't regret my awkward attempts at seducing you." He kissed her head and smiled.
"Oi, you ain't awkward. I jus' can't shag ya in front of a b-a-b-y!" Abby giggled, squeezing his side.
Spencer laughed in response. He nuzzled near her ear. "Would you ever think of havin' another?" he asked.
Abby snorted. "But we jus' go' this one. Why? You think you'd-" She turned her face and saw the look in his eyes. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah?" Spencer said, a strange smile on his face. "Might take a bit of time, course."
"Let's um, let's get Liam into nursery school before we go addin' any more," Abby said, looking pale. Interested in the possibility, but pale at the thought. She leaned their foreheads together. "You know, enjoy 'im. He's such a gift, Spence. I don' want to miss anythin'."
"Not a bit," Spencer agreed. "But I love my sister. And Bran, but well, the s-h-a-g came later, but we were family first. I want the best for him." He kissed Abby. "Just think on it?"
"Alrigh' I will." Abby watched Liam flinging some food about. "Besides, two would be too many at this age."
"Ah, ah," Spencer said, turning. "Food goes in our mouth!"
Liam let out a loud raspberry.
"Manners!" Spencer said sharply.
"Maaaanners," Liam echoed back at him.. before flinging a handful directly at Spencer's suit.
Spencer sighed, pinching his nose. "I suppose he used them all up during the service."
Abby picked the food off of Spencer's jacket and flung it back at Liam. "How'd you like it?"
Liam's face screwed up. Disbelief, anger, and indignation. "ABA!"
"Yes, Aba, please remember toddler suits aren't as cheap as one would imagine," he said. "Alright, Li, wash up and nap time. I imagine you're knackered."
The boy squirmed, but eventually plastered himself to Spencer's chest. Spencer had noticed that in the weeks since they had him, he was very touch starved. The cot only worked about half the time, because the rest of the time, Abby and Spencer had him sleeping in the bed with them. It was hard not to.
"It's been a few hours," Abby whispered back, squeezing Spencer's hand. "Probably 'bout due for a snack. Are you hungry? You should eat."
"Couldn't stomach it," he said, carrying Liam to his booster chair. "Finch is supposed to be coming after-" He made a gesture. "Seb needed more time with her. Finch, that is. I think they're all putting Father on watch, or at least aren't leaving him alone."
"He looked righ' awful," Abby agreed. "Almos' worse than Mr. Seb." She moved to the fridge, pulling out a tupperware container of homemade Liam food from Bran. She almost didn't want to mention the blond boy. "How's um, our cousin takin' it all? He- he ain't said much."
"Dunno," Spencer said. "He's been with Free. Hasn't left her side. Not sure if he's coming back here or to the cottage. He- loved Mary. It was complicated. He wanted to be 'one of us', y'know? Mary's kids."
"He prob'ly was, knowin' your mum. I mean, she took to Liam righ' away, didn't she?" Abby stood waiting for the microwave to beep, tapping her foot. "She was an int'restin' person, your mum."
"She was the best," Spencer said. "The best there was. She held the world together. I always wanted to be like her, and she left me with those two idiots."
"Those two idiots who love you," Abby teased gently, pulling the tiny Batman plate out and blowing on it before placing it in front of Liam. She regarded Spencer with a sad look. "What can I do for you, Spencer? Let me 'elp you."
Spencer held out his arms, wrapping her in them. "You're doing it, Abs," he whispered. "You're doing it right now. This? Family. I need this. You'n'him," he nodded at Liam. "I still wanna be his da. I want to be your- anything, everything. This is what mum fought for. For me and Finch to have our lives, our choices. I wish she were here for me to ask what to do about Bran, but this- caring for you and Li? I can do this."
"I jus' want to make sure someone is takin' care o' you, too," Abby replied, nuzzling into his warmth. "One day at a time, Spence. We're here for you."
"I know, Abby. I love you for it," he breathed out, watching Liam carefully take bites of his food. He'd gotten better, more delicate about eating. Brandon's choices of meals helped. "I don't regret my awkward attempts at seducing you." He kissed her head and smiled.
"Oi, you ain't awkward. I jus' can't shag ya in front of a b-a-b-y!" Abby giggled, squeezing his side.
Spencer laughed in response. He nuzzled near her ear. "Would you ever think of havin' another?" he asked.
Abby snorted. "But we jus' go' this one. Why? You think you'd-" She turned her face and saw the look in his eyes. "Oh, really?"
"Yeah?" Spencer said, a strange smile on his face. "Might take a bit of time, course."
"Let's um, let's get Liam into nursery school before we go addin' any more," Abby said, looking pale. Interested in the possibility, but pale at the thought. She leaned their foreheads together. "You know, enjoy 'im. He's such a gift, Spence. I don' want to miss anythin'."
"Not a bit," Spencer agreed. "But I love my sister. And Bran, but well, the s-h-a-g came later, but we were family first. I want the best for him." He kissed Abby. "Just think on it?"
"Alrigh' I will." Abby watched Liam flinging some food about. "Besides, two would be too many at this age."
"Ah, ah," Spencer said, turning. "Food goes in our mouth!"
Liam let out a loud raspberry.
"Manners!" Spencer said sharply.
"Maaaanners," Liam echoed back at him.. before flinging a handful directly at Spencer's suit.
Spencer sighed, pinching his nose. "I suppose he used them all up during the service."
Abby picked the food off of Spencer's jacket and flung it back at Liam. "How'd you like it?"
Liam's face screwed up. Disbelief, anger, and indignation. "ABA!"
"Yes, Aba, please remember toddler suits aren't as cheap as one would imagine," he said. "Alright, Li, wash up and nap time. I imagine you're knackered."
The boy squirmed, but eventually plastered himself to Spencer's chest. Spencer had noticed that in the weeks since they had him, he was very touch starved. The cot only worked about half the time, because the rest of the time, Abby and Spencer had him sleeping in the bed with them. It was hard not to.
***
Back at the cottage, Sherlock was coming down from the cocktails of mood stabilizers they'd been feeding him.
"John!" he said, still sitting in his suit.
"Yes, Sherlock?" John asked, sitting across from him, staring warily at his partner.
"I want my pills. They said I could have them. It's been precisely six hours. I want my next dose. I know you've hidden them," he said quickly, scratching at the plastic bracelet. "And this-" He stuck out his arm.
"Can't you just try? Without the pills?" John sighed. He leaned forward with one of his keys in hand, sawing the plastic off. He didn't want blades around Sherlock. "You aren't even putting in an effort, and it's not like the rest of us-"
Sherlock turned dead-eyes on his lover. "I'm not like the rest of you," he seethed. "I want my next dose."
"Shut it, Holmes," Jack spat. "Fuckin' junkie."
"I'll go get your bloody pills," John said, feeling too old and too tired to bother dealing with him. "Maybe I'll slip you extra so you can bloody well be together, then." He pushed himself up with a small grunt.
Seb caught John on his way. "Don't encourage him," he said, catching the old doctor by the elbow. "He needs to learn to live again. I've buried the only two people I've loved, Dr. Watson. There is life after. He needs you."
"Yeah, sure." John looked back at Sherlock, shivering at the thing he saw in his partner's chair. "Her own daughter is handling this better than him."
"You aren't handling it much better, soldier," Seb grunted. "She was my wife. Longer than anything else."
John pursed his lips, looking away, nostrils flaring. With one little head shake, he looked back up at Seb. "She was our friend. The mother of our son. We should be sticking together, but no, this is what he does. Sod that, this is what she does. She leaves and he becomes a crack addicted zombie. It's all the same."
"An' from the looks of it, you enable him," Seb said. He took the bottle of pills from John's hand, upturning it into the kitchen sink and hitting the garbage disposal switch. "Cold turkey. He'll live. Mary was my wife, my lover, my friend. And she loved Sherlock Holmes. She didn't want him following her nowhere, and it's still my job to keep him from doing that. You helping or not?"
"I-" John looked at Seb with glassy eyes. "Yeah. I'm helping. Thanks."
Seb patted him on the shoulder again. "Good man," he said. "Go get him out of that monkey suit and into something comfortable. I'm going to cut the power to his little project."
John didn't even want to know what that was. He just gave a nod and went back to the sitting room, pulling Sherlock up by the arms. "Bedroom. You need different clothes."
"But-" Sherlock complained, body still limp and compliant.
Jack was sitting in the window seat. He'd installed just a single camera to watch her. He'd gone back over his footage. She was there one moment, then gone. He hadn't really agreed with Sebastian at first. Sherlock was a piss-shit arsehole and Jack had been incensed by his interference forever.
Freya had cried. And cried. And cried. Until her face was puffy and hurt. She'd tried reaching Ford, but was met with voicemails and receptionists.
"Brandon," she said, sitting in the middle of her bed. Her white dress had been left in the middle of the floor, swapped for Mary's own sleep clothes - stolen, meant to return. Still smelled of her.
The boy had changed into sleep clothes kindly lent to him by Sebastian, swimming in the extra fabric. He edged closer to the bed. "Mum."
"Your father still isn't answering his calls," she said softly. "It used to not matter much. Always fall in love with your best friend. And don't get confused with friendship, it can be love."
"I know, Mum," Brandon whispered back, twisting the hem of his sweatshirt. "You told me that bit." Brandon crawled up on the bed. "Love you, Mum."
"I love you too, sweetheart," she said. "Come here." She laid back. "When did you get so big?"
Brandon snuggled up to his mother, enveloping her in his long arms. "I didn't get big. You're just short."
"You did," Freya sighed with a smile. "You came out, this angry little pink thing. I had no idea what I was doing. Mary just picked you up and showed me how to hold you. I didn't even ask your father, just stopped taking my pills. Mary had Finch, and she and Seb were over the moon. I showed her her girlfriend could give her family too.
We laughed, darling, and giggled, and held you for ages. The Holmeses weren't supposed to have any more kids, end the family line. I was so naughty."
"I miss her, Mum. I don't-" Bran swallowed, thin skin over his jaw flexing. "I wish I hadn't found her."
"No, sweetie, you shouldn't've-" Freya said, nuzzling him. "I should've been with her. I'd been reading, getting one of my headaches. She had been listening, but I thought a nap might knock it. I should've just curled up with her in the window. We always left her alone too much."
"You didn't, Mum. You're perfect. You moved out here to be with her," Bran objected, holding Free tight. "You don't have to stay here. You could come back with me. We could get a place. You could see Liam more-"
"Sweetheart, I don't know," Freya said, heart aching. "John is struggling with Sherlock, and Sherlock never handled Mary being sick well. You live with Spence, honey. Are you- are things alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we're all good. Everything is fine. I just don't want to worry about you out here," Bran choked out, trying not to cry. "He could go postal and take out the whole house with one bloody bomb. P-Please don't make me lose both my mothers."
"Oh, love," Freya said, turning into him. She kissed his face, holding him as much as he was holding her. "I'll think on it, but they need me, too. You can stay here, Bran. Our doors have always been open. If you need some time-"
"I know, I know. I'll think about it, Mum." Brandon tried to hold back his tears but he was failing miserably. He pulled the blankets up over their heads, hiding his face. "Shall we sleep?"
"Yes, love," Freya whispered. She'd pretend to sleep, and let him cry. It was the best she could do. Mary always was the better mother, and Freya played 'father'. They made a game of it - no regrets.
"Yes, Sherlock?" John asked, sitting across from him, staring warily at his partner.
"I want my pills. They said I could have them. It's been precisely six hours. I want my next dose. I know you've hidden them," he said quickly, scratching at the plastic bracelet. "And this-" He stuck out his arm.
"Can't you just try? Without the pills?" John sighed. He leaned forward with one of his keys in hand, sawing the plastic off. He didn't want blades around Sherlock. "You aren't even putting in an effort, and it's not like the rest of us-"
Sherlock turned dead-eyes on his lover. "I'm not like the rest of you," he seethed. "I want my next dose."
"Shut it, Holmes," Jack spat. "Fuckin' junkie."
"I'll go get your bloody pills," John said, feeling too old and too tired to bother dealing with him. "Maybe I'll slip you extra so you can bloody well be together, then." He pushed himself up with a small grunt.
Seb caught John on his way. "Don't encourage him," he said, catching the old doctor by the elbow. "He needs to learn to live again. I've buried the only two people I've loved, Dr. Watson. There is life after. He needs you."
"Yeah, sure." John looked back at Sherlock, shivering at the thing he saw in his partner's chair. "Her own daughter is handling this better than him."
"You aren't handling it much better, soldier," Seb grunted. "She was my wife. Longer than anything else."
John pursed his lips, looking away, nostrils flaring. With one little head shake, he looked back up at Seb. "She was our friend. The mother of our son. We should be sticking together, but no, this is what he does. Sod that, this is what she does. She leaves and he becomes a crack addicted zombie. It's all the same."
"An' from the looks of it, you enable him," Seb said. He took the bottle of pills from John's hand, upturning it into the kitchen sink and hitting the garbage disposal switch. "Cold turkey. He'll live. Mary was my wife, my lover, my friend. And she loved Sherlock Holmes. She didn't want him following her nowhere, and it's still my job to keep him from doing that. You helping or not?"
"I-" John looked at Seb with glassy eyes. "Yeah. I'm helping. Thanks."
Seb patted him on the shoulder again. "Good man," he said. "Go get him out of that monkey suit and into something comfortable. I'm going to cut the power to his little project."
John didn't even want to know what that was. He just gave a nod and went back to the sitting room, pulling Sherlock up by the arms. "Bedroom. You need different clothes."
"But-" Sherlock complained, body still limp and compliant.
Jack was sitting in the window seat. He'd installed just a single camera to watch her. He'd gone back over his footage. She was there one moment, then gone. He hadn't really agreed with Sebastian at first. Sherlock was a piss-shit arsehole and Jack had been incensed by his interference forever.
Freya had cried. And cried. And cried. Until her face was puffy and hurt. She'd tried reaching Ford, but was met with voicemails and receptionists.
"Brandon," she said, sitting in the middle of her bed. Her white dress had been left in the middle of the floor, swapped for Mary's own sleep clothes - stolen, meant to return. Still smelled of her.
The boy had changed into sleep clothes kindly lent to him by Sebastian, swimming in the extra fabric. He edged closer to the bed. "Mum."
"Your father still isn't answering his calls," she said softly. "It used to not matter much. Always fall in love with your best friend. And don't get confused with friendship, it can be love."
"I know, Mum," Brandon whispered back, twisting the hem of his sweatshirt. "You told me that bit." Brandon crawled up on the bed. "Love you, Mum."
"I love you too, sweetheart," she said. "Come here." She laid back. "When did you get so big?"
Brandon snuggled up to his mother, enveloping her in his long arms. "I didn't get big. You're just short."
"You did," Freya sighed with a smile. "You came out, this angry little pink thing. I had no idea what I was doing. Mary just picked you up and showed me how to hold you. I didn't even ask your father, just stopped taking my pills. Mary had Finch, and she and Seb were over the moon. I showed her her girlfriend could give her family too.
We laughed, darling, and giggled, and held you for ages. The Holmeses weren't supposed to have any more kids, end the family line. I was so naughty."
"I miss her, Mum. I don't-" Bran swallowed, thin skin over his jaw flexing. "I wish I hadn't found her."
"No, sweetie, you shouldn't've-" Freya said, nuzzling him. "I should've been with her. I'd been reading, getting one of my headaches. She had been listening, but I thought a nap might knock it. I should've just curled up with her in the window. We always left her alone too much."
"You didn't, Mum. You're perfect. You moved out here to be with her," Bran objected, holding Free tight. "You don't have to stay here. You could come back with me. We could get a place. You could see Liam more-"
"Sweetheart, I don't know," Freya said, heart aching. "John is struggling with Sherlock, and Sherlock never handled Mary being sick well. You live with Spence, honey. Are you- are things alright?"
"Yeah. Yeah, we're all good. Everything is fine. I just don't want to worry about you out here," Bran choked out, trying not to cry. "He could go postal and take out the whole house with one bloody bomb. P-Please don't make me lose both my mothers."
"Oh, love," Freya said, turning into him. She kissed his face, holding him as much as he was holding her. "I'll think on it, but they need me, too. You can stay here, Bran. Our doors have always been open. If you need some time-"
"I know, I know. I'll think about it, Mum." Brandon tried to hold back his tears but he was failing miserably. He pulled the blankets up over their heads, hiding his face. "Shall we sleep?"
"Yes, love," Freya whispered. She'd pretend to sleep, and let him cry. It was the best she could do. Mary always was the better mother, and Freya played 'father'. They made a game of it - no regrets.
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