The Good, The Bad and The Woman

Jump

3. Jump

The day after the small wedding, John and Mary invited themselves over to Baker Street for a chance of catching up with their friends. They'd brought their little one and had been welcomed with open arms by The woman. As they ascended the stairs, they'd found Sherlock himself seated behind his desk with his hands up in a contemplative prayer position. The married couple noticed at once that the man was anything but mentally present as he glared at something on his computer screen and greeted them with an unsociable flare, the papers of the past week scattered carelessly on the floor around him. He reminded them of The Thinker by Auguste Rodin where he sat half in shadow, half illuminated by the daylight outside.

Having expected a warmer welcome, John started to pace the living room with his daughter in his arms. Mary quietly sank into her husband's old arm chair and accepted Irene's offer of coffee or tea. As everyone waited for Sherlock to return from his solitary trip to his mind palace, the worn clock upon the mantelpiece seemed to tick louder and louder with each second that passed dully.

After a little while, Mary was the first to speak, "Well, Greg and Molly should be about halfway to Tenerife by now, right? I quite envy them. I wouldn't mind some sun myself."

"I wouldn't mind a second honeymoon, either," her husband agreed with a grin as he glanced down at Elizabeth. The baby was a true charmer, but she was also a nighttime crier. Thus most dark nights were spent permanently in a condition somewhere between sleep and brain dead existence for the parents. Dates and time had begun to blur for the doctor and his wife, but the little girl was far from tired now as her big eyes took in this brand new place filled with dangerous, exciting items. Each time the man stepped close to the fire place, her small hands reached out towards the old skull and whined when she couldn't touch it.

"She really likes that," the father pointed out in good humor and glanced back at the detective who was still quite busy with his laptop. The doctor couldn't help but smile to himself as he noted the focused frown on Sherlock's features as he looked through his inbox for a new case. Despite the fresh offerings presented to him on a silver platter, the detective's gaze remained impassive to no end. John had seen that look a million times in the past. Sherlock Holmes was bored to bits.

As if feeling all attention on him, the detective at last turned and glanced up at his best friend with something akin to childish confusion as his eyes slowly cleared. "Sorry, did you say something?"

John nodded his head in the direction of the crowded mantelpiece. "The skull. Elizabeth likes it."

"Oh, she can't have it," his friend commented bluntly before turning back to the proposed cases.

"Heavens no!" the other man muttered and rolled his eyes. "What kind of toy would that be for an infant?"

Sherlock wasn't slow to retort, "Judging by her parents? The perfect one."

John's head immediately whipped in his friend's direction, but Mary interceded with the speed of a bullet. The fair woman turned in her seat and glanced back into the kitchen at the dark-haired woman who was gracefully finding her way through the messy kitchen. It was quite astonishing. The couple had been back less than twenty-four hours, and already Baker Street's kitchen area looked like a bomb had gone off in it. Of course, Mary wasn't ruling anything out.

"What about you, Irene?" the blonde asked with an innocent tone meant to defuse the tension. "How about a honeymoon?"

"You'd have to be married to go on one of those," the woman drawled with plain amusement on her silky voice. "Though, a holiday would be nice."

"We just came home yesterday after a six month holiday," Sherlock pointed out but otherwise barely acknowledged her contribution to their discussion.