Sherlock had spent more time cuddling with John. He'd been so wrapped up in Mary, he'd missed the deepening lines in his lover's face, the fading in his blue eyes. He was concerned, rightly so, that he'd been driving away his partner.
Brandon had left entirely too much food in the kitchen. Seb wasn't a half-bad cook, and Jack could grill. Freya and Sherlock burnt everything, but John made a good cuppa, so they all survived.
Sherlock packaged up some of the muffins and headed towards the cottage. He was intent on dismissing Arabella as a close relative of some sort, or even a con artist of sorts, and he would politely, but firmly ask her to stop the charade.
He wore one of his better suits and knocked on the door, silver-streaked dark head raised high. He looked distinguished for once, instead of slightly deranged. He rather liked dressing up to take Mar-
The girl that opened it presented a sight that was just too cruel.
Her hair was loosely braided again, away from her face, and her feet bare, as she had taken to being in the house. She was wearing a pair of jeans covered in paint and ripped at the knee, her peasant blouse smudged with blues and pinks. Her kind smile faded into shock at the person standing there. "Mr. Holmes?"
Sherlock blinked several times. His brain had shuttered to a halt. He stared.
"I was, um," the girl looked down, "working on something. Let me change. Won't you have a seat?" The girl motioned to a kitchen just off from the door, before turning and heading for her bedroom.
Sherlock stood outside the door for several moments before stepping inside. Soft quilts and eclectic rustic pieces decorated the cabin. An easel was set up near the fire place, a vivid sea-glass colored eye staring at him from inside the confines of the canvas. It was a bit cool, the autumnal air seeping in.
It was like stepping into Mary's brain.
"Mr. Holmes?" her voice called as she padded back down the hall, clean jeans and a Minnie Mouse tee shirt in place. An 'Ari' outfit.
"I assure you, Sherlock is fine," he coughed. "My um," He screwed up his eyes and brows, looking at the ceiling. "Nephew. Yes, nephew, prepared entirely too many muffins for even our hoard to consume." He held the bundle out stiffly.
"Oh, lovely. I hadn't gone out for groceries recently," Ari looked around helplessly, like she didn't know what to do "I can offer you tea?"
"Doubtful," Sherlock said. "Hardly anyone knows how to make a proper cup of English tea anymore."
"Shall I try?" Ari asked, raising her eyebrow.
Sherlock waved his hand. "If you must," he hummed. "How is my brother?"
"Mycroft is deceased. So I'm assuming he's green and covered in mold," Ari said, taking the muffins from him and heading back to the kitchen where she'd meant him to stay.
"Mm, we've all died once or twice. Mummy was dead for a whole summer once," he said, looking around. "Tax evasion. Silly woman." His eyes went back to the painting. "Tell me, Miss Arabella, what do you know of your late mother?"
"Um, nothing really. I know she had red hair. She was a business woman, but I don't know what became of her after some shop. I've been there, it's quite lovely," Ari replied. "I'd hoped you or the others would have more information."
"I'm certain Mycroft would've told his daughter more than that," Sherlock said, whirling. "How did you find the cottage? We're not listed."
"Well, I told you, I was raised by Dr. Desmond. He wasn't very forthcoming with information. It was your other brother, I spoke to him on the phone. He called my mother a harpy and said I'd find you here. He had nothing to say on the subject of her death, or I wouldn't have come a'tall," Ari replied easily, filling the kettle. The counter was littered with half a dozen cups that were mostly full of cold tea.
"Sherrinford remains cruel in his age," Sherlock said. "Freya stealing his DNA to procreate with Mary did not foster better relations between my mistress and twin."
Ari's lips twisted to the side in a wry smile. "I heard you've been unwell, Mr. Holmes. And I can't say your attitude towards me has been warmer than that of your twin's towards Freya and Mary. Are you better now?"
Sherlock was inspecting the tea cups. He jerked back slightly.
"Love is a chemical defect found on the losing side," he murmured. "However, life without love is no love at all. Leonardo Da Vinci. I rather prefer his sentiment than that of my father's, no?"
"What if you don't know how to love?" the girl asked, letting the water heat. She shoved her hands in her pockets. "Or weren't made for it? Would you know the difference?"
"Ah, but first you would have to define love," Sherlock said, standing back up. "It's an experiment."
"What is?" Ari asked, deciding to clear the used mugs into the sink and take down two fresh from the cupboard.
Sherlock tried to stretch out his hand. "The tea cups," he answered, voice dropping to a whisper.
"Oh, I just keep forgetting to drink them," Ari replied with a wave of her hand. It's not like she needed the fluid... "I make tea and forget it."
"Waste of tea," Sherlock hummed.
"Perhaps," Ari said. She started to set a little tray with porcelain cups and muffins. "Will you get the sugar off the refrigerator for me, precious? It's a bit high."
Overwhelmed, Sherlock was very manly, entirely suave, and a dashing good guest... he passed out cold in Ari's kitchen. The little woman rolled her eyes and bent to start tapping at his face.
"Sherlock. Mr. Holmes?" Ari repeated his name.
Sherlock's eyes flew open and he sat up. His head hurt. He touched the bump at the side of his head. "I'm sorry, sugar?"
"Are you quite alright, sir?" Ari asked, sitting back on her heels. "You fainted."
"Fine, fine, Mary, stop your fussing," Sherlock said. "I've been under the weather. You know my black moods.." He moved to stand.
"Ari," the girl corrected. "Don't stand. You've hit your head, you might be concussed." Her slim fingers probed at his neck for a pulse. Sherlock caught her hand. He leaned forward looking into her eyes. His grey ones flicked over her green ones, face drawn serious.
"I've been quite unwell," he repeated.
"That's what they've told me," Ari whispered, feeling a bit like a trapped rabbit.
"You won't tell me how's it done," Sherlock whispered back. "I've gone mad with it. Help me."
"How what is done?" Ari asked, noticing his face was too close.
"You think I've forgotten you? That my memories have faded with my hair?" Sherlock breathed. "That my mind is dull." He practically hissed the last word. "They've changed you again, and I'm afraid you can't explain yourself, because you're not yourself, see?"
"How do you mean, I'm not myself?" Mary asked, wishing desperately Seb were there to reassure her. If she wasn't Mary, who was she?
"You're not as old as you were last year," Sherlock said, cupping her cheek. "I just don't understand why you'd come back to this mad, mad world."
Mary flung herself at him, arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him. "I didn't mean to leave it, and I didn't mean to come back."
Sherlock cupped the nape of her neck, breathing her in. "You've told Sebastian."
"He knew, the first day. I don't know how he sorted it," Mary sobbed. "Jack came that night. Spencer might've figured it out, I can't tell. Sherlock-"
"Mary, you mustn't tell John," Sherlock breathed.
"I'm trying not to tell John, or Free. I don't think they could handle it. I just hoped, I know you're all too brilliant for it, but I hoped you'd believe I was my daughter and let me stay. Please don't make me go," Mary begged, burying her face on his shoulder.
"No, a different story," Sherlock breathed. "A cousin. Or half sister. You'd never leave a child in the hands of Mycroft. Not your own, or any other. You wanted to know her family. You'll confess to John. Tears, if you're able. Mary- I tried to follow you."
"I'll come up with something," Mary said, sitting back and wiping her eyes. Her reservoirs were low, anyway. She took his hands in hers. "Sherlock, why did you try to die?"
"Because it was in the plans," he said, looking ashamed.
"We have a son, Sherlock. And a John. And they both need you," Mary said softly. She squeezed his hands. "Do you think I should leave?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I think John and I should," he whispered. "In time. Seb and Jack are certain? They're sure of you?"
"You can't leave," Mary told him, not understanding. She stood, going into the living room. "I'll be gone tomorrow. Paris, perhaps, I still have access to your grandmother's old place. You can't break up the family, Sherlock. You drug them out here, you can't leave them."
Sherlock followed. "You can't leave us either! You left! You can't leave again! We all die, Mary. We've come back!"
"I can't stay here knowing that you're going to abandon that house full of people who love you. They buried Mary, they hardly know Ari. I will not be missed," Mary said, packing her paint supplies into a little case next to her easel.
"I'll know!" Sherlock shouted. "I'll follow you! Either I'll follow you, or Ari will help me make John fall in love with me again!"
"Sherlock," Mary covered her mouth, sinking to her knees. "I didn't want to die. I didn't want to die yet, I was- I can't- I'm never even going to see my own grandchildren. And- and- and it- it's not fair that I came back. I never should have. But the alternatives were repulsive and I-I didn't know what else to do!"
Sherlock sank down with a grunt, wrapping his arms around her. She fit differently, but a sense of deja vu came over him. "I could.. adopt you?"
"Be reasonable, Sherlock," Mary hiccuped, snuggling into him. "Do you really want to be my father? You've all got father complexes I never knew about."
"The children would accept it better. Not a formal adoption, not on paper. You'd be like Vance, one of my irregulars," Sherlock said, stroking her hair. "Only.. out here. Keeping tabs on the forest, on Seb and Jack, Freya and John. My own little eyes and ears of the woods."
"Just, just let me stop visiting. Freya and John won't have to see me. Jack and Seb will still come over sometimes, but they could pretend they were going somewhere in the village. Just pretend you didn't sort it out. Sherlock, I might not even be her. And I don't want you to adopt me. That's the last thing I've ever wanted from you," Mary replied in a hushed tone.
"Let me visit then," Sherlock begged, tipping her face up. "In secret. I'll borrow the grandchildren away, bring them to see you. It isn't fair, Finch is swollen with a little girl. Liam misses his Mare-mare."
"I just want to come home," Mary said sadly, not knowing what the correct answer was. She decided to send a text.
[He's figured it out. Rescue? - MM]
Sherlock pulled her back close, hugging her. "Tea's gone off," he mumbled.
"Did you actually want tea? I'll make it for you. 'S'not like I need to drink anything," Mary replied, letting him hold her.
Seb let himself in.
"Off my girl, Holmes," the old sniper growled.
Sherlock looked up with a very childish scowl.
"Tiger," Mary sighed, trying to twist in Sherlock's arms to look at him. "Shall I make tea?"
"Yes, love," Seb said. Sherlock let Mary go, glaring at Sebastian. "Just a cup."
Mary pushed herself off the floor in a graceful, fluid motion, kissing his cheek before going into the kitchen. She set the old fashioned kettle on the burner, twisting the knobs. Seb yanked Sherlock up and pushed him towards a chair.
The two men faced off.
"She's not human," Sherlock muttered.
"Does it matter?" Seb asked.
"Is it her?"
"Is it not?" Seb countered with a guileless smile. "It shouldn't matter to you. You weren't supposed to figure it out."
"I'm not deaf," Mary called from the kitchen. "Anymore."
"Well aware," Seb said, voice slightly raised. "Him on the other hand."
Sherlock's frown deepened.
Mary leaned in the doorway, shoving her hands in her pockets. "He figured it out, Seb. I'm not coming back to the cottage. I can't risk John, and he and John might leave if I keep visiting. I'm not even sure I should stay here anymore. This was wrong. It was a mistake."
"You'll stay put, and so will he. He'll keep his lips sealed or I'll put a bullet through his brain," Seb said conversationally. "Can't come back from that, can you?"
"Mm, Tiger, you know I love it when you threaten people for my honor," Mary teased, smiling at him sadly. "You and Jack said so, too, Seb. You said- You said you couldn't keep me."
"Now that the punter knows, I'll keep you however I please," Seb said, smug look on his face.
"Pervert," Sherlock sneered.
"Weren't you thinking it?" Mary asked, before going to fuss at the stove. "He wants to adopt me, Seb. Talk some sense into him."
"I'd marry her again before you did such a thing," Sebastian growled. "No one is moving, no one is going anywhere. Mary is back where she belongs, or close as she can without upsetting the group as a whole. Go shag your old husband and leave off my wife."
"Partner," Sherlock said, word full of acid.
Mary came back with a tray, three mugs and a tea pot on it. "I-I made tea. I hope it tastes alright." She settled it on the small trunk serving as a coffee table. She sighed. "I miss my life. I mean, it's not fair, is it? I wasn't happy and I fucking should've been."
Seb picked up a cup. "You've got another chance now," he said. "To do things differently. Sit, the tea is perfect. You know it is. Are you taking care of yourself?" He patted his knee.
Mary sat where he gestured, leaning on his shoulder, pressing a hand over his heart to feel the steady beat. "I was painting. I wanted to paint, so I did. I forgot to drink tea again. A few times, Sherlock commented on it. I missed you. I had another nightmare about Jim. I'm not supposed to dream, and I could feel him, in my head."
"You can't see him anymore, though, correct?" Seb asked, drinking his tea.
Sherlock warily picked his up.
"I thought I saw something," Mary said, closing her eyes and wrinkling her nose. She shook her head and blinked her eyes open. "No. Probably nothing. I'm almost afraid."
"Have you been in contact with your doctor?" Seb asked, stroking her hair.
"There's actually a doctor?"
"Of course there's a doctor. What do you think she is? A machine?" Seb snapped.
"Seb, you know how close that is," Mary sighed, shifting off of his knee to cuddle beside him. "Dr. Desmond is only to be contacted in an emergency. He has no interest in malfunctioning units. The other one doesn't care either, I'm to sort it out myself."
Seb pulled her back in close. "We both know you're more than that," he murmured against her temple. "One of us should stay the night. You really should come back home. You're stressing your mind by being here alone."
"Where would I stay? This is the bird loving a fish thing all over again," Mary complained, clinging to him. "I'm Mary. I feel like myself. But I'm not allowed to be myself."
"In your bed," Sherlock said. "Where else?" He had barely sipped the tea. It was perfectly fine. "They all believe I'm ill anyway. I'll say I feel safer with you close."
"Yeah. I want to be present when you tell the two who don't know who I am that load of bollocks," Mary muttered, closing her eyes again.
"No regrets, Mary," Sherlock said, settling his cup back on the table. He sighed, looking wistfully at her. "It's like you haven't aged a day since I was sixteen. I'm for home."
"Be nice to John. He loves you," Mary said, opening her eyes to look at him. "It was nice to see you again, Mr. Holmes."
"Enough of that," Seb murmured in her ear. "Pack your nightie. We're for home, too. Jack said something about a white one?"
Mary blushed, eyes widening. "But Seb-"
"Go along, boss. Hup-hup," he said. "By the time you're ready, I'll have my tea finished and my arse by the door."
"This is never going to work," Mary sulked, but she did as she was asked, throwing the filmy nightgown Jack remembered and a soft cardigan in her floral tote bag. She paused for a moment and then decided to pull off the ugly mouse motif tee shirt and return to her paint clothes. They made her feel comforted. She hesitated, but then took a few steps towards the door. "Seb?"
"Hmm?" Sebastian hummed, getting out of his chair. "Ready?"
"As I'll ever be," Mary replied, holding out her hand. "Thank you. For helping."
"Not helping them," Seb said, taking her hand. "I'm being selfish. Who else has a beautiful bird wanting his old wrinkled arse?" He winked at her and led her to the great cottage. Not a little thing, but a massive home in the woods.
Sherlock was shouting at John for him to make him a cup of tea. Jack was working in the den on a laptop while Freya dozed in the window seat.
"Oh," she said. "Hello."
"Hello, Freya," the girl said quietly, giving Seb's hand a squeeze. John came out of the bedroom, hair sticking up on the side he'd been sleeping.
"What's Sherlock shouting about, oh, hello, Ari. Here for tea?" John asked.
"Mm," Seb agreed. "Let me take your bag. Go play with Free?"
Freya did look like she wanted to grasp Ari to her. Mary nodded and took a step towards Free, like a little dance, wrapping an arm around Free's slim shoulders. Freya nuzzled happily against Ari, always overly friendly.
"How are you darling?" she asked, as Seb carried Ari's bag down one hallway.
Jack's red brow rose.
"Jooohn," Sherlock called from the kitchen.
"I'm doing well. I had a lovely visit with Mr. Holmes this morning," Mary told her, still pretending to be Ari.
"I'm in here, you nutter," John called back, turning to go to see what Sherlock wanted.
"Tea, John," Sherlock complained. "She doesn't do it right." He smirked at Mary.
"Fine, fine, I'll make you tea," John replied and once he'd turned his back Mary stuck her tongue out at Sherlock. He went in to start a tray. It was almost mid afternoon anyway, the other adults probably needed a snack as well.
With both her hands around Freya, and clearly not touching a device, Mary sent a text. [Next time I'll poison it for you, angel. - MM]
Sherlock's pocket buzzed. He picked it up and looked around. He scowled, sulking for his chair.
"Darling, I'm sure you make a lovely cuppa," Freya said, tucking Mary's stray curls back into her braid. "He's just an overgrown child, really. He was rotten spoiled and now he's an old codger set in his ways."
Seb came back in, jacket off and settled on Jack's right. He sighed as he stretched his feet out towards the fire.
[You brought a bag? - SH]
"You're too kind," Mary said, leaning into the affection like a touch-starved kitten.
[Seb's idea. Wants me to stay. I'll go home when he falls asleep. - MM]
[He'll be cross - SH]
"Nonsense, all these boys. They're dull," Freya pouted, petting 'Ari'. She did so miss her Mary.
"Her heat's out," Seb grunted. "Furnace died. Gonna be cold t'night."
[Clever that. He does have his moments. -MM]
"The landlord said he'll have it fixed soon. Could I kip on your couch?" Mary asked Freya, giving her big eyes.
"Oh, you poor love!" Freya fussed, cupping her face. "Of course, darling. Or practically anywhere. We're a home of nappers. I'm sure you could sleep on just about any piece of furniture, except Sherlock's old chair. That piece of tripe is a monstrosity, not furniture."
"I happen to like my chair," Sherlock said, wriggling down in it.
[What'll she say when you're found in their bed? - SH]
"House is big," Jack said, eyes flicking up only briefly from his laptop. "Meant to be a cold winter. What sort of heat system is in your cottage?"
[Not my plan, ask the Tiger. - MM]
"I- I think it's oil or something like. I hadn't really checked, I just couldn't get it to kick on. Landlord said it's some sort of crack, leaking gas in the air, blah blah, wasn't listening," 'Ari' told him, so nervous she was ready to bolt.
[Jack, Seb is trying to keep me. Sherlock says it's not going to work. xoxo - MM]
"Those sort put out carbon monoxide. You might be out for months," Jack hummed, quickly closing the text window. It popped open again.
[Mean. - MM]
Freya made little sad noises, hugging Ari closer. "Oh, oh, you poor dear! You'll just have to stay here."
"Really? You- You'd let me stay?" Ari asked, blinking at her sweetly.
"Stay here? Why, what's wrong?" John asked, coming in too late in the conversation, tea and Brandon's muffins and scones on a tray.
Freya had Ari around the waist like a human-puppy.
"Oh, John! The poor love's being poisoned by her landlord!" she practically swooned. Her words were spoken in the way an old fashioned lady's letter's might be written, with middling capital letters and tear drops smearing the ink.
"Free," Seb sighed. "John, mate, her furnace is out. I brought her over for a kip. Might be a bit. Figured she was a small enough thing. I looked at the old pisspot itself. Got a crack in it."
[He's lovely. - MM]
"Oh, um, sure, that should be-" he glanced back at Sherlock, and then over to Seb again, making a gesture with his hand. "Might I have a word?"
Sherlock set his feet on the ground from where he was huddled with his phone. He sighed, snatching HIS cup of tea from the tray before climbing back up in it. Seb rolled his eyes and pushed himself up.
"Course I can't have it while it's warm," he grumbled.
[He had it warm at my house! - MM]
John pulled Seb into the hallway to the kitchen, looking nervous. "Now see here, I know Ari is a sweet enough girl and frankly, I think she does Freya a lot of good, but are you certain we should have her around with Sherlock being so-" John sighed, searching for a word, "emotional?"
"Sure, he's been better since she's been around. Practically snogged your face off last night," Seb shrugged. "Worried, Cap?"
John gritted his teeth. "A bit, Colonel."
"Well, at ease, soldier," Seb said. "I'm shaggin' her."
"WHAT!"
[What did he say? What did he say, that camera doesn't have audio! - MM]
"You heard me, John," Seb said with a cat-grin. "She started it. You know who I was with before Mary."
"Good God, man, she's half your age! What do you mean, she started it? If that little tart thinks I'm letting her stay here-" John started for the sitting area.
Seb yanked him back, pulling him into a choke hold. "Yeah, she's a beauty, isn't she?" he hummed. "Bits still work. I can have a girlfriend. Mary didn't ban none of that."
[I think he told John he was shagging you - SH]
[THE HELL WOULD HE DO THAT FOR WE WERE IN THE CLEAR! - MM]
"She's been dead two months and you've got a young girl Bran suspects is preying on the family in your bed? Yeah, she'd so approve," John said, licking his lips, sneering up at Seb.
"We all grieve in our own ways," Seb said. "You wanna fight, doc? I can still take you down."
[Jack, Seb is going to kill John. - MM]
Jack sighed. He rolled his eyes before getting up.
"Seb," Jack said, slowing raising his voice. "Put him down."
"Fuckin' hell! I won't have him slanderin' her," Seb shouted. He only wished he'd had a knife. "She's a good girl, Jack."
[That is hardly true. Why am I more myself when I text? Maybe I should give up the body? - MM]
"You don't even know her! She could be anyone!" John hissed, trying to keep the conversation between the three of them. His eyes begged Jack. "Talk some sense into him. For God's sake, he was Mary's husband!"
"I don't mind her around," Jack said. "Girl just wants a place to call home. It's how I got on with the family. Just stuck around."
"She's mine," Seb hissed.
"Weren' askin' ya t'share," Jack said, shaking his head. Even though that conversation would be revisited - quickly.
"Freya!" John called.
"I'm not gettin' in on it, John! She can stay if she likes!" Freya said, hugging her close. "You can stay with me, if you like, pretty dove." She flirted with 'Ari'. "Boys are so boneheaded. They'll beat each other half to death, and for God's sake do we even half want them?"
[Rather you do - SH]
[Do what? Want Men or Keep the body? You never answered my text. - MM]
"I-I- Really, Miss Murphy? With me? You would?" Mary gasped, genuinely puzzled at the advances. "Oh, how lovely."
[both - SH]
"Oh, sweetie, really, you must've known Mary to know she loved to love. We're all getting too old to apologize anymore, screw you English bastards and your up-tight ninnies," Freya said. "Irish, love, best lovers in all the world. Seb, though? Naughty girl!"
Mary took a chance, leaning forward to whisper in Freya's ear, very softly, "No regrets, Free."
Freya's eyes went wide. She pulled away, eyes watering as she covered her mouth.
"Oh for God's sake," Sherlock said.
[Well, three of you knew. Now we have help keeping it from John. - MM]
"Shh," Mary whispered, leaning their foreheads together. Then she cleared her throat, and in Ari's slightly higher register, said, "If Dr. Watson is so uncomfortable-"
"No, no, it's fine. Do as you like, no one listens to me," John ground out, his eyes never leaving Seb's face.
Seb raised his chin defiantly, tongue flicking out as he grinned. "Hierarchy's a bitch, innit?"
"Seb," Jack sighed. "Enough. John, tea, you're getting grumpy. Shoo. The girl stays. Learn to like her."
Freya giggled to hide her tears. "I know I do!"
'Ari' breathed a sigh of relief, sitting back in the window seat where Free had pulled her, feeling warm and happy. "You're all very kind."
[Thank you. - MM]
[Nonsense.. Thank Seb - SH]
Sherlock raised up from his chair, leaving behind his empty tea mug.
"John," he said, crooking a finger at his ruffled partner.
[Group text, actually. - MM]
"Sherlock," John replied, brushing his sweater off like Seb's hands had been filthy.
Sherlock pulled John towards their end of the house. He caught Mary's eye, winking once before pulling John around the corner to kiss him heatedly.
"Mmph, hang on," John said, voice breathless. His hands were on Sherlock's bony hips, holding him there. "What's got into you?"
"Soldiers wrestling over a young girls honor?" Sherlock panted. "If only you'd been in uniform.." He laughed, nipping at John's throat. "Mmm, John."
John puffed up like a little peacock, chuffed at the attention. "Well, if that's what gets your attention these days, maybe I should go find a dragon to slay or a damsel to rescue."
"Mmm, John," Sherlock practically moaned, letting his eyes go lidded as he bucked his hips forward. He let a rumble build in his chest. "Or we could skip right to the happy ever after."
John giggled, firm hands sliding around Sherlock's waist. "Alright, then. Happy ever after it is."
In the sitting room, Freya laughed in Mary's ear.
"Missed you, sweetling," she sighed.
"I missed you, too. I'm wretchedly sorry about Brandon," Mary told her, holding her tight. She let her hand cup Freya's bum.
"Me, too, love. Me, too," Freya said. "He's hurting. He misses his mum."
"I miss you, too," Mary teased, patting Freya's soft white hair. "Just don't ask too many questions, and try to keep it a secret, alright? I did die. I'm supposed to be dead. I'm just very bad at it."
"Shh, all dead," Freya said, holding a finger to her lips. "He'll never trust you, love. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it, I won't," Mary replied, letting the fingers of her free hand trace Freya's face. "At least you know, and Seb and Jack. Because I couldn't stand it when you didn't."
"You know I'd love any part of you, sweets," Freya said. "Even a daughter. Go soothe the tiger before he gets jealous. The boys have gotten their hackles raised. I've learned how to play nice with Jack. I'll make him buy me something pretty."
Mary grinned and extracted herself from Freya's arms. She stood in front of Seb, her hand out. Asking. "Could do with a cuddle."
Seb wrapped her up, pulling her back into their, their bedroom. He sighed into her neck as they lay on the bed. "You smell the same," he sighed.
"I like the same things. That helps. You smell wonderful," Mary told him, breathing him in deep. "Thank you for defending me to John. You- You're really trying very hard. I love you."
"I love you, Mary," Seb hummed. "Would you really keep me? Forever?"
"I do. You're the only one I've mentioned that to," Mary replied. He was so warm, it made her feel comforted. Like an electric blanket. "We can't not be together, Tiger. You're my partner. You're the one that I want with me."
"But Sher-"
"No. You," Mary whispered, kissing his forehead, then the tip of his nose. "Sherlock didn't fight for me in there, you did. Sherlock didn't care for me when I was ill, when I was losing my legs the second time. He didn't teach me to walk again- Jim didn't even do that. No. You. It has to be you, or the minute you die, I take out my power source and wipe the memory of Mary Morstan off the face of this Earth."
"Then keep me with you," Seb said. "There are people that need you. I need you."
Mary hummed contentedly, stroking over his still mostly-flat stomach. "I need you. Would you really bring a girlfriend home just shy of three months after I died?"
Seb's stomach moved with his quiet laugh. "Absolutely not. There would be no one else. Just the family. Until I missed one of Sherlock's experiments and he finally blew the cottage with your cherubs."
"I s'pose I shall have to make him some more," Mary sighed, grinning. She kissed his throat, and then wormed her way down, kissing his collarbone. "I missed kissing you. Not even anything else, I just missed kissing you."
"You're missing the best part," Seb flirted, turning to catch her lips. He hummed as they kissed. Mary smiled against his mouth, nipping at his bottom lip.
"Really? Would you care to remind me which those are?" Mary teased.
"Righ' here, honey," Seb said, cupping her head to kiss her again and again. Molasses slow kisses, drawn out and lovely. He wouldn't live forever, until he died.
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