The Final Chapter

Mourge

"You need to eat something Sherlock."

"I'm not hungry. Ill be fine."

John and Mycroft are both trying to convince me to eat dinner, with varying results.

"Come on Sherlock, at least try to eat something please."

I roll my eyes, finally giving in and walking into the kitchen. The front door opens and Molly comes into the room, takeout boxes in her arms.

"I brought dinner."

"Thank you Molly. Bring it in here please. Hamish. William. Set the table please."

The boys run into the room, grabbing plates and silverware. Molly sets the food down on the table, calling Mycroft and Greg to the table. Greg is leaning on Mycroft, fingers entwined. I'm not sure how I missed this, them dating or however they are involved. We sit at the table, Molly next to the boys, Mycroft next to Greg, me and John beside each other.

"I got a call from mummy today."

"So?"

"You know full well what she wanted."

"I don't want to go."

"We can have everyone over here, or my flat. Though I suppose my flat would be a tad small for a family gathering."

"We can talk about this later Mycroft."

"I suppose, don't think you are getting out of this."

"I said we will talk about it later."

He stops bothering me, instead making small talk with Greg. John places his hand over mine, gently pressing my fingers flat against the table.

"You're doing it again love."

"Sorry."

"It's okay. How are you feeling?"

"Im fine."

Molly is busy answering questions from the boys about our newest case.

"Was it a murder?"

"Yes."

"How did he die?"

"We aren't sure yet, Sherlock may need to come in and help us figure that out soon."

"Of course I can. When do you need me by?"

"Whenever you are free."

Mycroft shoots me a look, not tonight.

"I can go tonight, after the boys go to bed."

I look back over at Mycroft, who is shaking his head.

"We still need to talk about this Sherlock."

"Work comes first Mikey."

Mycroft glares at me, but stops bothering me.

"Boys, help with the dishes please."

The boys jump up, helping John clear the table, and me wash the dishes.

"Will you tell me about it when you get back daddy?"

"Tell you about what?"

"The murder."

"Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow though, hmm?"

"Yes please."

"Alright then, both of you need to get ready for bed."

They run upstairs, followed by a barking Honeycomb. Mycroft steps into the room, crossing his arms as he leans against the wall opposite of me.

"We can talk about this now, or after you get back."