Loving a Holmes

Emelia Ricoletti

It had been about a week since Sherlock had shot Magnusson and had been thrown into a jail cell. John, Mary, and I are in a black car, driving along the runway towards where an executive jet is stationary on the tarmac. Standing near the nose of the plane, Sherlock, Mycroft, and a security man watch the car pull up. Mary and I get out of the rear door nearest the plane and John from the other side. Smiling, Mary walks towards Sherlock, John and I following behind. "You will look after them won't you?"

Mary smiles and puts her hands on Sherlock's shoulders, as they kiss each other's cheeks, then hug. "Oh, don't worry. I'll keep them in trouble."

Sherlock smiles as she releases him and pulls back. "That's my girl." As Mary turns and walks back to where John and I have stopped a few paces away and takes his hand. John nods to Sherlock in greeting, and Sherlock turns to his brother. "Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson and Madison afterward, would you mind if we took a moment."

Mycroft looks a little startled but then glances over to the security man and jerks his head towards the side of the plane. The security man, Mycroft, and Mary walk along the side of the jet towards the wing and Sherlock turns to John, who smiles at him and nods. "So, here we are."

Looking vaguely around the airfield Sherlock clears his throat and steps closer to John. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

"Sorry?"

"That's the whole of it. If you're looking for baby names."

John chuckles. "No, we've had a scan. We're pretty sure it's a girl."

"Oh. okay."

They both look awkwardly anywhere except at each other for several seconds. Before John vaguely, turning and looking across the airfield and turns towards Sherlock again. "Actually, I can't think of a single thing to say."

"No, neither can I."

He lifts his head as John steps closer and speaks quietly. "The game is over."

"The game is never over, John... but there may be some new players now. It's okay. The East Wind takes us all in the end."

"What's that?"

"It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind this horrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me."

"Nice."

"He was a rubbish big brother."

"So what about you, then? Where are you actually going to now?"

"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe."

"For how long?"

"Six months, my brother estimates. He's never wrong."

"And then what?"

Sherlock meets his gaze for a moment, then looks down thoughtfully before raising his head and gazing off into the distance. He shrugs. "Who knows." John nods and then turns away to look across the airfield again, breathing in deeply. Sherlock looks directly at him until he turns back, then looks down again. "John, there's something ... I should say; I-I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now... Sherlock is actually a girl's name."

John turns away, laughing almost silently. Sherlock smiles at him. John turns back, still smiling. "It's not."

"It was worth a try."

"We're not naming our daughter after you."

"I think it could work." John chuckles then meet his eyes. Sherlock holds his gaze for a second, then lowers his eyes. After a moment he takes off his right glove and holds out his hand. "To the very best of times, John."