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Saturday, 5th December 2020
"Well," said Molly, "we need to make plans." She was sitting in the front room after dinner as usual with Sherlock. Martha was in the armchair she usually inhabited, using her newest purchase, a scarf loom. Victoria was entertaining Christina in the playpen.
"Plans for what?" asked Sherlock, giving her a curious look.
"Plans for Christmas, of course. It's less than three weeks away. Now that we can combine three households in a temporary 'Christmas Bubble,' as they reported on the news last week, I'd like to have your parents over for Christmas. Aside from FaceTime, they haven't seen the girls since Christina was only a few weeks old. And my mum can come too. She only got to visit us twice before we went back into lockdown."
"That sounds like a good idea," said Sherlock. He raised his legs and put them onto the coffee table, crossing his feet at the ankles.
Molly glared at him. "Sherlock, what have I told you about feet on the furniture?"
Martha looked up from her knitting and said, "He always did that at Baker Street too. He'd often climb over the coffee table onto the sofa if he had something pinned to the wall behind it."
"It was the most direct path to the crime wall," muttered Sherlock defensively.
Molly ignored him and shook her head in mock despair at Martha. "Well, I never saw him do that when we were living there, but all of a sudden, he seems to think it's amusing to lean back on the sofa and put his legs up on the coffee table. Such a ridiculous man."
Sherlock pouted and returned his socked feet to the floor where they belonged. "Must you talk about me as if I weren't here? I don’t care for the way you two are ganging up on me."
Molly slipped an arm about his waist. "Not ganging up on you, honey. Remember what happened a few weeks ago when you put your legs up on the table, upsetting an almost full cup of tea? I'd rather that not happen again, especially if Christina happens to be pulling herself along the furniture."
"Yes, yes, you've made a good point. I shall endeavour to keep my feet off the coffee table from now on."
"Thank you, sweetheart." Molly looked over at the playpen, where Victoria was building a block tower in front of Christina. Even as she watched, Christina leaned forward and pushed over the little tower.
"No, Chwisty," said Victoria in an aggrieved tone. "You help make it." She handed a block to Christina, who put it to her mouth instead.
With a long-suffering sigh, Victoria snatched the block away, and Christina began to wail in protest. Molly watched with interest as Victoria then handed her sister her old favourite detective Pusheen toy. Like magic, Christina stopped wailing and began to suck on the toy instead.
Sherlock chuckled, and Molly saw he too had been watching. "Victoria is getting quite good at knowing how to pacify her little sister."
"Your girls do get along very well, don’t they?" said Martha. "Victoria is always trying to teach her baby sister new things, and she is very good at letting Christina hold her baby doll."
"She'll allow it for a little while, at least. Speaking of which," Molly looked at Sherlock, "we might want to get Christina her own baby doll or a teddy bear for her birthday or Christmas. I think we should ask your parents to come early so we can celebrate both Christina's birthday and Christmas with them. The Christmas guidelines allow for activities between the twenty-third and twenty-seventh."
He rested his arm lightly across her shoulders. "I'd say yes, but how will we accommodate them for an overnight visit?"
Molly realised that was a very practical question she had not considered. Now that Martha was living with them temporarily, she was using the bed Sherlock and Molly had purchased for the guest bedroom.
An idea came to her. "I know my mum has a sofa bed. Perhaps they could stay with her. The guidelines say we can freely mix between the three households. Why don’t I call my mum first and ask? If she agrees, we can ask your parents to come early so they can be here for Christina's birthday as well. I hate to think of them coming from Sussex for just one day."
"That's true, and of course, they would not be able to stay with Mycroft."
Molly made an exclamation. "Oh, I hadn't even thought of Mycroft. Do you think he will be upset if they visit with us instead of him, Elizabeth and Mark?" She bit her lip. "I don’t want your parents to feel they are making a choice to visit with us at the expense of seeing Mycroft and their grandson."
The corner of Sherlock’s mouth turned upwards. "I really don’t think it will be a problem for Mycroft. He has always complained about Mummy and Daddy staying with him whenever they are in London." Then he added, "Besides, last time we spoke, he mentioned something about Elizabeth wanting to have her son and his wife over for Christmas."
"Alright then, I'm glad our plans won't disrupt theirs," said Molly with a relieved smile. "Of course, your parents might decide that travelling is too risky right now, and if that's the case, I'll understand."
Sherlock snorted. "Are you kidding me? Do you not pay attention during FaceTime calls? Mummy keeps saying how she is so disappointed to be unable to see our daughters getting bigger, and how much different they even look via FaceTime. I have no doubt they will jump at the opportunity to see their granddaughters. If it was just you and me, perhaps not, because of my dad's health."
Molly's expression clouded. "I don't like to think of your dad travelling by train with his health issues. The risk for the elderly is so much higher."
Sherlock waved a dismissive hand. "If my parents agree to come, and I'm sure they will, I'll call Mycroft and see if he can dispatch a driver to bring them here, rather than have them take the train. I’m sure that would pose less risk for them."
Molly let out a relieved sigh. "That sounds like an excellent idea."
Martha spoke then. "I feel rather guilty about using the bed you purchased for your parents to use for visits."
Molly was going to respond reassuringly, but Sherlock beat her to it. "Martha, we are very glad to have you here. Your assistance these past weeks has been invaluable when Molly has been at work." He patted his stomach. "Plus, I am feeling I have been rather spoiled as well when it comes to food lately."
Molly grinned. "You've put on five pounds since Martha moved in. That ready supply of scones doesn’t help matters." She was teasing, of course. Sherlock didn't look as if he'd gained any weight, and even if he had, she probably wouldn't notice such an insignificant gain, but Sherlock took her statement seriously.
"Four pounds, Molly. I stepped on the bathroom scales yesterday. Besides good food, I am suffering from lack of exercise with this prolonged period of inactivity. Doing consultations via Zoom is not exercising anything other than my intellect."
"I suppose you could always buy an exercise bike or a treadmill." This was Martha's suggestion.
Sherlock sniffed. "I refuse to follow Mycroft's lead and take my exercise indoors. I think I shall walk to the supermarket, rather than drive, next time."
Molly rolled her eyes. "And how do you propose to carry several bags of shopping if you walk?"
Sherlock huffed. "Fine, I shall just meander aimlessly around the block a few times each day."
"If the weather was better, I'd suggest you take Victoria in the pushchair too," said Molly. "COVID has really messed with our lives this year."
"Once the pandemic is over and life gets back to normal, we will take a holiday, Molly," said Sherlock.
"You'd be welcome to stay at my cottage in Cornwall," said Martha.
"Thank you for the kind offer," said Sherlock. "I was thinking more along the lines of going to Brighton. It is very close to where my parents live."
"I remember us discussing the beach last year when we were in Liverpool for Mark's graduation. The beach sounds like a wonderful idea. I enjoyed going to the beach when I was little, building sandcastles with my dad. And I loved going into the ocean and splashing around."
Sherlock made a face. "As I recall, I didn't mind the picnic baskets of food my mother brought to the beach, but I did not care for the ocean itself; too cold."
"Oh, poor baby, afraid of the ocean," said Molly with a giggle.
Sherlock stiffened and withdrew his arm from across her shoulders. "I do not fear the ocean, merely dislike it. Do not make fun of that dislike, Molly. I thought to take you and the girls there on holiday for your benefit, not mine."
Molly blushed. Usually, Sherlock did not mind her teasing him about various things, but this was obviously a sore point, much like his fear of cows which he had revealed on their honeymoon. When she had laughed about that, he had been affronted as well. She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder in a placating gesture, giving his waist a little squeeze. "I'm sorry, honey. I won't tease you about it. You're right, and many people aren't fond of the ocean. I appreciate you being willing to go to the beach for the sake of our daughters and me."
"I find the ocean too cold as well, Sherlock," said Martha. "Never did care for all that sand either."
Sherlock relaxed and turned his head to give Molly a brief kiss. "No, I'm sorry. I overreacted. I think all this enforced isolation from my usual work is driving me up a wall."
"We'll just hope and pray that next year will be a better year, and life can go back to normal," said Molly. "I had better call my mum now."
"Hang on, doesn't Christmas fall on a Friday this year? And you work on Thursdays too. Can you even get the time off with all that's going on?" questioned Sherlock.
"Actually, I spoke with Mike about that earlier this week. He really needs me to keep working the same hours for now, because the NHS is stretched pretty thin, but he said I could just work on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday that week. He was very understanding, especially with Christmas Eve being Christina's birthday as well."
"That's good of him," said Sherlock with a note of approval in his voice.
"Yes, it is." Molly took her arm from around Sherlock’s waist and reached for her phone, which was very close to where Sherlock had decided to rest his legs a few minutes earlier. Another reason for him to take more care. She'd didn't really fancy looking for a new phone if it was broken because of his carelessness.
She called her mother, who picked up on the third ring. "Molly! How are you and the family?" came her mother's voice.
"Hi, Mum. We're doing fine. I'm making plans for Christmas, and I'd like for you and Sherlock’s parents to celebrate with us for Christmas, and to do Christina's birthday the day before as well. What do you think?"
"Oh, Molly, I would love to spend Christmas and Christina's birthday with you. I'm very glad the government is allowing three families to get together. Just let me know what I can make to bring along on Christmas Day."
"We can figure that out later," Molly said. "It's too bad we probably won't be having a Christmas Eve service this year, or I'd invite you to that. Sherlock and I have been practising the Hallelujah Chorus with an accompaniment track. We were supposed to have a choir sing on Christmas Eve, but it might end up being a case of everyone recording their parts and then having our wonderful church audio technician combine them to put on the church website."
"What a shame," said her mother. "I've always loved the Hallelujah Chorus . So uplifting."
"I know." Molly hesitated a moment, then said, "Um, I did have another request, if you don’t mind."
"Of course, dear. What do you need?"
"As you know, Martha has been living with us for a few weeks, so she is using our guest bedroom. I was hoping perhaps, if Sherlock’s parents are able to come, you would be able to put them up for a night or two on your sofa bed?" Molly bit her lip and waited for her mother's response.
"I would be delighted to have them stay with me." The enthusiasm in Ruth Hooper's voice was unmistakable. "Sherlock’s mother and I have so much in common. We both like to cook, we're committed to our church activities, and of course, we share two wonderful granddaughters. It will be lovely to spend time with Violet and William again."
Molly let out the breath she had not realised she had been holding. "Thank you so much, Mum. We'll figure out the finer details closer to Christmas."
"You're most welcome, darling. And what are my granddaughters up to? Is Christina walking yet?"
Molly glanced over at the playpen and tuned into what was happening around her. Victoria was showing Christina how to put shapes into her wooden cube again whilst explaining the shape and colour. Christina, still with the Pusheen toy in her hand, was observing her wide-eyed.
"Victoria is currently trying to explain colours and shapes to Christina, which is so adorable to watch," responded Molly. "And no, Christina isn't walking yet. She cruises along furniture and has let go a couple times to stand, but she has yet to take her first steps. I'm sure it won't be long now."
"Are you still breastfeeding?"
"Just before bedtime at this point," explained Molly. "I promised myself that I would wean her when she turns one. She does tend to go to sleep while I’m feeding her in the rocking chair." Molly's milk supply had dwindled to the point where she no longer wore her maternity bra to bed, much to Sherlock’s delight, but she did enjoy those nightly feedings, and the bond it created between her and Christina. It would be difficult to give up that special time.
"If you haven't weaned her before, I could rock her to sleep on Christmas Eve and again on Christmas Day, so she gets used to not feeding before bedtime," her mother suggested. "I remember my own mother doing that when I was ready to wean you. It helped to have her put you to sleep."
Molly found it interesting to hear about her grandmother. All four of her grandparents had died before she was seven years old. Her mother's mother was the only one Molly even had vague memories of. "Thanks, Mum. I might take you up on that."
She talked a few moments more and then disconnected the call.
"Okay, my turn," said Sherlock, taking up his own phone.
Molly listened to Sherlock’s side of the conversation, and a word here and there from the line. His parents were delighted at the prospect of coming to London for a visit after living for months in near seclusion at their Sussex home.
While Sherlock was still in conversation with his mother, Victoria stood in the playpen and put her hands on the edge. "Mummy, wanna come out. Wanna play vi'lin."
Molly lifted her out of the playpen. "Daddy is just talking with Grandma on the phone, and then he will help you. Grandma and Grandpa and Nanny Hooper are coming here for Christmas. Doesn't that sound lovely?"
Victoria clapped her hands. "And Father Chwistmas too? Towia and Chwisty get pwesents?"
Molly smiled indulgently at her daughter. This would be the first time she was old enough to look forward to Christmas and the visit from Father Christmas.
"Yes, you'll get presents from your grandparents and Father Christmas," said Molly with a smile.
Martha chimed in with, "But you have to be a good girl for Mummy and Daddy, or Father Christmas will put a lump of coal in your stocking."
Victoria looked over at Martha and folded her arms. "I good girl. I help Chwisty."
Martha smiled. "Yes, you do."
"Alright, Mummy," Molly heard Sherlock say, "I'm going to call Mycroft and see if he can send a driver for you on the morning of Christmas Eve to bring you here. I'll let you know what time."
The top of Christina's head appeared at the edge of the playpen. "Mama."
Molly lifted her out and set her on the floor, whereupon Christina immediately crawled to the coffee table and hoisted herself upright. She propelled herself along the table until she was close to where Sherlock sat on the sofa.
Victoria had walked over to Martha to watch her do her knitting, and Martha was showing her how to wind the wool onto the pegs of the scarf loom.
Sherlock set down his phone instead of calling Mycroft. For Christina to reach him, unless he stretched out to take her, she would need to take a step between the coffee table and his knees. "Come to Daddy, Christina," he said, holding his arms just out of reach.
Christina contemplated him for a few moments, then released one hand from the table to reach for him.
Molly quickly snatched up her phone and went to the camera icon to begin recording. She had tried to record that first step several times without success. Would Christina release her other hand from the table and take the step necessary to get to her father's waiting arms this time?
Slowly, hesitatingly, Christina released her other hand from the table and stood, swaying a little.
Molly held her breath as she continued to record. And then Christina moved her foot and took a tentative step towards Sherlock. She swayed again and would have fallen if Sherlock had not scooped her up in his arms and said jubilantly, "Good girl, Christina!" He looked over at Molly, who pressed the stop button. "Did you get that on video?"
Molly beamed. "I did."
"Oh, did I miss her first step?" asked Martha, and Molly saw the disappointed expression on her face.
Molly raised her phone. "You did, but I recorded it."
She walked over to Martha and showed her and Victoria the recording. "Baby Chwisty walk," said Victoria, looking impressed.
"Well, not quite walking yet, but soon," said Molly, kissing the top of Victoria's head to make sure her older daughter wouldn't feel neglected.
Sherlock called Mycroft and arranged transportation for his parents to London for Christmas Eve, while Molly got Victoria's violin ready for Sherlock to play with her.
When he got off the phone, he said to Molly, "For your peace of mind, Mycroft told me he, Elizabeth and Mark will be entertaining Elizabeth's son and daughter-in-law over Christmas."
Molly smiled, relieved. "That does make me feel better. Now that is settled, I think we should plan to put up the Christmas tree tomorrow. With no church service and an extra advent candle being lit there each week to mark the lead up to Christmas, it will help us get into the Christmas spirit."
"Sounds good. We can play some Christmas music as well."
"And I will be glad to help," put in Martha.
"I help too," said Victoria, and Molly laughed. She didn't think Victoria knew what she wanted to help with, but they could help her place baubles and tinsel on the tree.
"Speaking of music," said Molly, holding out Victoria's violin to Sherlock. "Our daughter wants to play."
For the next ten minutes, Sherlock patiently helped Victoria with her violin, holding her fingers to the strings and putting his large hand around hers to draw the bow across it. She was more willing now to accept his help than before, and he managed to slowly play a Christmas tune with her.
When they were finished, Martha clapped, while Molly helped Christina, now on her lap, to put her own hands together in a clapping motion.
Victoria beamed proudly, and a little dimple appeared in her cheek. Molly could never be sure whether her dimple came from Sherlock or herself.
Then Sherlock allowed Victoria a little time to "freestyle". She was getting better at drawing the bow along the strings without the devastating screeching sound, although it was still not overly musical. A definite improvement from when she had first begun playing, though. The violin had been such a thoughtful birthday gift from Martha, and Molly was glad the elderly woman was getting to enjoy, well, sort of enjoy, hearing Victoria use the instrument.
Later that evening, after Victoria was in her bed, which Sherlock had finally got around to converting from a cot to a bed, Molly was breastfeeding Christina and moving back and forth gently in the rocking chair in the baby's room. She thought about how much fun it would be to see the house decorated for Christmas again, and how it would be fun to prepare a turkey for several people to enjoy. It was going to be a busy few weeks.
Seeing that Christina's mouth had dropped away from her breast, Molly lifted her up into her arms and patted her back gently so she gave a sleepy burp.
Sherlock, who had just had his shower, came into the room. “Is she ready to sleep?"
"Yes." Molly waited for Sherlock to kiss his daughter goodnight, then deposited her in the cot.
They left the room, closing the door quietly behind them.
"I'll get our devotion ready while you take your shower," said Sherlock.
"Okay." Molly got undressed for her shower and put on a dressing gown to walk to the bathroom, even as Sherlock removed his dressing gown and slid under the covers.
Fifteen minutes later, Molly returned and joined Sherlock in bed.
Together they read their devotional. Molly was finally getting used to wearing reading glasses each time she did her reading. She still loved seeing Sherlock wearing his because they made him look so studious.
Sherlock looked at her as she removed her glasses and put them away when they were finished, once he'd done the same with his own. "Have I told you how adorable and sexy you look in your reading glasses?"
She giggled. "Several times."
He pulled her towards himself, but Molly wasn't ready for their usual bedtime activities. She wanted to talk about Christmas first.
"I'm so excited about having Christmas here, Sherlock," she said.
His hold on her relaxed somewhat. "It will be the first time you are cooking turkey since we've been together. Have you ever made a whole turkey?"
Molly shook her head. "Not by myself. With no close family except my mum and dad, we never had a whole turkey at Christmastime. But Martha said she will help me. She told me she used to help her mother with Christmas family gatherings when she was young."
"I'm sure you will do admirably," Sherlock assured her. "You're a wonderful cook, Molly."
Molly rubbed her cheek affectionately against his bare shoulder. "Thanks for your confidence. I hope so. I'll have to see if your mum can make the Yorkshire pudding."
"I'm sure she will be happy to do so," said Sherlock.
"I was speaking to Violetta a few days ago via text. They just had Thanksgiving last week in America, and that's their usual holiday for turkey," Molly remarked.
Sherlock frowned for a moment, then his expression cleared. "Oh, your fanfiction friend, GoodShipSherlollipop," he stated.
Molly nodded. "Yep. She was telling me all the things they do for their Thanksgiving traditions. Some are similar to what we have, and some are very different. They have turkey and cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes-"
Sherlock interrupted her. "Mashed, rather than roasted? How odd. I would think it makes things easier to cook the turkey and roast the vegetables in the oven at one time."
Molly shrugged. "Well, that's the way they do it. Maybe because they use the oven for other things, like something called a sweet potato casserole. Then they have something called a green bean casserole. When I told her we have Brussels sprouts as one of our traditions, she was really surprised. She said she's not a fan if Brussels sprouts."
Sherlock smirked. "Well, we're on the same page with that one. I usually pass over that dish when Mummy makes it for Christmas, or take just a small amount if she is watching me like a hawk."
"I'm not a big fan either, but I found a recipe online that uses bacon and a gruyère cheese sauce, which I'm hoping will turn out well."
"That does sound like it would be an improvement. Bacon makes everything better." Sherlock pulled Molly back towards him and caressed her face. "Are we finished with the food talk now? Does your friend still write stories about us?"
Molly smirked. "She certainly does. She's done a whole series about how things are going with the pandemic here in the UK, and how it has affected us. She's also told me how things are in America."
"Has her family been safe?" asked Sherlock curiously. "I've seen how there are so many new cases there lately each day. Didn't they top two hundred thousand new cases in one day a couple times this past week?"
"Yeah. Her family has been safe thus far, praise God, though. We've been praying for each other. I feel awful for her, though. She's had a rough few weeks. Her family's one vehicle was hit in the back end whilst parked in the street outside their house, and it was a total write off as a result. Apparently, her daughters were quite brokenhearted about losing their car, which they had called Cassidy."
Sherlock chuckled. "They named their car?"
Molly tilted her head slightly. "Why not? I like the idea. I think we should name our car Cassidy too, as an homage to the hard work Violetta does with her writing. It isn't like she gets paid for what she does."
"Whatever you want, love." His hand trailed lightly over Molly’s shoulder. "And did you ever tell her about that masked intruder scenario we did a few months ago?"
Molly giggled at his delicate touch on her skin. "Yes, and I told her what a gentleman you were. That reminds me, I'll have to let her know Christina took her first step, so she can write about it in her next story. She loves adding in the family stuff."
He eyed her. "And the love scenes too, from what you've told me."
"Well, her specialty is romance, but tastefully written." She smirked. "She never tries to describe exactly what goes on between us in graphic detail. She thinks people are smart enough to read between the lines."
Sherlock’s hand drifted down further to caress the curve of her hip. "So, no writing exactly what we do in the bedroom. How about when I say things like this about what I'd like to do with you?" He leaned over and whispered in her ear.
Molly blushed at his naughty words which he reserved for only special bedroom talk. "No, Violetta would never go into that much detail. She's more about describing the emotions behind the act, rather than the main event itself. She has told me she wants people to understand it is love, not lust, and that it is a gift from God to share intimacy with a spouse."
Sherlock gave her bum a little squeeze. "I'm glad to hear it. Well, I think we've done enough talking now. It's time for communication of the non-verbal kind."
Molly reached to curl her arms around his neck to pull his lips towards hers. "Sounds perfect," were her last words to him, aside from words of love, as they enjoyed their usual intimacy before going to sleep, cuddled together.