It's Not Real

Chapter Fifteen

Sherlock only agreed to host Mrs Hudsons birthday gathering because if he didn't he rather feared Mary Watson would string him up against Big Ben, like some kind of play on the old bolt hole joke.

"Have you done the drinks?" Mary asked, bouncing five month old Rosie back to sleep.

As much as Sherlock wanted to make a comment about Mrs Watson using the baby as an excuse to skip out on her jobs, it was his fault the girl was awake. Mary had left him to blow up some balloons and unfortunately his thoughts got away from him while twisting the helium canister, causing a rather large bang to erupt around the flat.

He offered a tight smile. "As you'll see in the kitchen, I have in fact set up the refreshments you requested."

Mary responded with a hard glare. "People will start arriving soon, I'm only checking."

"I collected the cake, got everything on your list from Tesco, stopped to get an extra banner, and blew up the balloons. You're a bloody commanding officer."

"Yeah, but I think you took blowing up the balloons a bit too far." She gave him a pointed look.

He rocked his head each way and shrugged.

Mary had moved into the kitchen and was scanning the table, mentally checking off each item. "I didn't ask you to get Cherry Pepsi?"

"No, but," Sherlock's ears went pink. "It's Eve's favourite."

"Aww!"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

Sherlock huffed. "Whatever comment you have stirring in your brain."

Mary laughed. "I promise, Sherlock, I'm over the moon happy for you."

"Right. Thank you." He looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Evie has nothing but compliments."

Sherlock froze on his way to sit down, eyes narrowing. "What exactly has Eve been saying?" Suddenly, she disappeared into his bedroom. "Mary? Mary! What has she said–"

"Shh!" She closed the door behind her as she reemerged. "Wake her up again and I'll make you deal with it."

Sherlock paled. He loves his goddaughter, really truly, but that child has incredible lungs on her.

Mary sat down in John's chair, folding her arms. "Sit down, Holmes. As long as you don't burst another balloon I'm sure you'll be safe."

He did eventually sit down, tapping his fingers against the arms of the chair. "So–"

"I told you. Compliments."

"But what does that mean?!"

Mary grinned. "It bothers you, doesn't it? What she might say to others? Mr I-Don't-Care-What-People-Think."

Sherlock shook his head. "No. I care what she thinks. I've found I have become..." He rolls his shoulders. "A tad insecure."

"Oh, you muppet," she tries for a supportive smile. "She's told you how she feels."

"I know," he nods. "And I believe her, totally. She loves me, she wants to be with me, but I can't help this feeling of wanting to be better for her."

Mary shifted forward in her seat. "Sherlock Holmes, if you really want to know, Evelyn has expressed how loved up she is, to a sickening degree. Oh, and how good you are in bed. No dirty details, no matter how much I begged, but she's said enough." Sherlock blushed brightly, Mary chortled. "And to think, John thought you were a virgin."