The sister... [Recently edited]

Chapter 13 - And What on Earth is going on? [EDITED]

Mykala POV

By the time we'd settled into the restaurant, the children had already begun entertaining themselves with the colouring sheets the waitress had brought over.

Joseph was happily drawing dinosaurs.

Boo, unsurprisingly, was attempting to correct the puzzle on the back of the children's menu because "the stars were in the wrong order."

I smiled to myself.

She really was Sherlock's daughter.

Mary excused herself to take the twins to the toilets while John and I finally had a chance to catch up.

"So," John said, leaning back in his chair, "how have you been?"

I gave him a tired smile.

"I've been better."

He frowned.

"I'm a twenty-seven-year-old single mum raising twins whose father died before they ever got the chance to know him."

I shrugged.

"So... I've survived."

John reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

"You've done more than survive."

I looked away, blinking back the familiar ache in my chest.

"You've put on a bit of weight," I teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

John scoffed.

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"I blame Mary."

"You always blame Mary."

We both laughed.

It felt nice.

Normal.

"So," John continued, "are you still working for Mycroft?"

"Mostly from home."

I nodded.

"Once the twins start school in a few months, I'll begin taking field cases again."

"I bet you're looking forward to that."

"I miss it."

A waiter appeared beside our table.

"Would monsieur care for some wine?"

John barely looked up.

"No, thank you."

The waiter lingered.

Something about him felt...

Familiar.

I frowned, but kept reading the menu.

"This wine," the waiter said again, his voice carrying an exaggerated French accent, "is called A Face from the Past."

I smiled faintly.

Sherlock had always been terrible at fake accents.

The waiter spoke again.

"A face from the past."

John slowly looked up.

The colour drained from his face.

"Oh... my God."

I looked up as well.

The world stopped.

There, standing beside our table...

...was Sherlock Holmes.

Dressed as a waiter.