Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Twenty Four

John rolled his shoulders and kneaded his fingers into his neck. He had put his aching body down to sleeping on the couch. But in the back of his mind he knew that in the months he had called the living room his bedroom, his sadness had seeped into his muscles, wrapped itself around his joints and invaded his sleep.

Mary stepped into view, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her expanding stomach and clutching the pile of post that had just fallen through the letter box.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you'd have left by now," she said, feeling as though she had disturbed a private moment.

"Don't worry, I'm going soon," he replied as he stood up from the couch.

"Oh, come on, John, you know I didn't mean it like that."

He walked to the doorway where she stood, avoiding eye contact as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.

He began making himself a coffee.

"Tea?" he asked without turning around.

John always knew when Mary was in the room with him. She had discovered he was the only person she couldn't sneak up on.

"Please," she replied as she sat down at the counter to sift through the post.

John placed a mug of tea in front of her as she came to a cornflower blue envelope sealed with stickers. Opening it carefully, she quickly realised what it was.

"They're having a party for Vaughan's birthday," she said.

"When?"

"At the weekend. Saturday."

"Right, well I'll nip into town and pick up a present later."

Mary sipped her tea. "We could do that together..."

"Be easier if I just did it."

John gulped down his coffee, picked up his jacket and left. Mary sighed and looked down at her stomach, patting it gently.

III

Upbeat pop music played faintly through the toyshop. The place was deserted besides a single employee sitting behind the counter. Margaux walked down the aisle, pulling an empty wheeled basket behind her. Trailing behind was Sherlock.

"Tell me, what does one buy for a toddler? What could a toddler possibly need?" he asked as he walked along the shelf, pressing the 'try me' button on every toy as he went.

Margaux stopped walking, turning around slowly to the cluster of noise and lights erupting from every box around them. She looked up at Sherlock, glancing between his eyes and his extended finger as it hovered over the next toy.

"I don't know about toddlers, but maybe I should buy you one of these. You seem to be having fun," she said.

"Don't place a button level with my eyes and expect me to refrain from pushing it."

"Oh."

"What?"

"Nothing, I just didn't realise it was your second birthday too."

Sherlock gave a half-hearted, sarcastic laugh before pushing his hands inside his coat pockets.

"If you're not interested, you can go, you know. I don't mind."

Sherlock shook his head. "I've missed enough of his life already. If the role of a father includes an afternoon of torturous shopping once a year, then I suppose I shall endure it."