Chapter Text
Even as the door clicked shut behind her, Irene had already scanned the hall for her husband. She may not have had the same skills of deduction as the esteemed detective, but she could see the whisp of smoke drift across the front window and made a bee line for the front door.
She made no attempt to mask her foot steps or disguise her approach, so by the time she reached the front door and opened it, there was no visible sign of the cigarette.
Sherlock was standing next to the door, staring at the people across the way with strained eyes. He could have very well have been studying them, playing the deduction game he and Hamish often enjoyed, but she knew better.
"Did you enjoy it?" she asked with eyebrows raised and hands pushed into the pockets of her coat.
Sherlock's gaze turned to her and he raised an eyebrow innocently.
"Enjoy what?" his smirk was just there to taunt her.
Sometimes she truly hated that smirk.
"Oh for God's sake." she rolled her eyes and kicked his ankle. Hard enough to make him jolt it back, but soft enough not to cause anything worse than a bruise.
Sure enough, there under the sole of his shoe, was a half smoked cigarette, tip still barely smoking in the cold winter air.
Sherlock sighed but did not apologize. Indeed, he said nothing at all.
They stood in silence over the smashed, nicotine riddled, stump, neither ready to admit their discomfort yet.
People passed with gift bags and shopping for Christmas, most without a glance at the strained looking couple on the front stoop.
"It's just a broken arm." Irene finally said with a slow release of breath.
Sherlock shifted and nodded, a grunt of acknowledgement escaping with it.
"Is it not our biological responsibility to protect him?" there was no malice in his comment and Irene had the distinct feeling that he actually felt guilty.
Reaching out, she touched his upper arm, forcing him to look at her.
"Do you really think that our son, could have been persuaded not to do it?" she asked with a smile.
His returning smile and the laugh that accompanied it erased the guilt they both felt for the moment. As for herself, she would more than likely still feel a twinge whenever she saw the cast, but Sherlock would probably rationalize it faster.
She tried to egg him towards that conclusion a little faster. He always did work better when part of his mind was otherwise occupied.
"You owe me 10 pounds by the way." she gave him the smirk he was so fond of and watched the gears spin into action.
She watched his eyes dart to the door of the house and the parlor window, through which he could still see John talking to Hamish.
"Rose?" He could follow her line of thinking faster than any man she knew and the thought had her wishing they were back in their flat.
"Hmm. He even blushed." she held out her hand, waiting patiently for his money.
"10 pounds now?" he gave her one of his rare mischievous grins. "Or 10 pounds when we are alone?"
Irene let out a delighted laugh, and stepped closer to him.
"Why Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I do believe you're making me blush." her voice was nearly a purr and, as Sherlock's hand moved up her arm, a young girl came bounding up the steps.