79This is a completed fic that was released on 12/20/15 for the Sherlolly Big Bang Challenge on AO3. I'll be gradually posting it here now as well. :)) Many thanks to my amazing cheerleader and beta reader, Lexie. And also to majesticlolipop who did 8 pieces of gorgeous artwork to go with this fic! You can find that linked in this fic on AO3, though I'd recommend reading first since there's possible spoilers if you see the art first. Hope you enjoy this and I'd love to hear your thoughts! :D
Finally, there was silence at Baker Street and Sherlock exhaled in a slow sigh as he placed his steepled fingers below his chin and shut his eyes. He opened the front door to his mind palace and walked in, almost immediately hearing his father's booming voice echoing off the walls in the hallway. It was the sort of memory that currently couldn't be contained in one area. This was one that needed to be constantly revisited and reviewed.
"Your brother is dead!" He said, pointing at the two of them. "After all these years of your mother and I missing the pleasure of his company, we find that he and his wife are gone. And as a small blessing, their son, our grandson and your nephew, is alive and well! And all you two can talk about is the inconvenience?! I am disappointed in both of you! You are already betraying the trust of your brother, and he is barely cold in his grave! And no, Mycroft, you will not hire some expensive nanny full time to raise him so that neither of you need be bothered! We will all do this…together. Just as Sherrinford wanted! We will take turns, and help each other, and we will make. It. Work! That is the end of the discussion, and I'll hear no more complaints from either of you two!"
Sherlock's lips pressed together in a thin line as he focused on his father's words. Or, more accurately, he focused on the fact that his father had said anything on this subject at all. He didn't speak up till that moment, but when he did…everyone listened. When a man who never asks for very much makes a demand that forceful, no one can deny him. Not even Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes.
That didn't mean that Sherlock liked it. It simply meant that this was how it had to be. This was what must be done.
Sherlock heard a knock on his door and called out, "come in," without opening his eyes or lifting his head. It was the Watsons, as he knew it would be. Typical.
"Sherlock, my God, Mycroft just called us on his way out of town. We figured we should come right over," John said breathlessly as he came in along with Mary who was holding baby Lizzie.
"Are you ok?" Mary asked with a fair amount of concern in her tone. "Listen, Sherlock, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine."
Sherlock heard her walk over toward the middle of the living room and start talking in a soothing motherly voice. As she did, Sherlock carefully closed up his mind palace, saving those vital memories for another time. Finally, he opened his eyes and turned his head to see the little boy standing up in his playpen and staring over at him.
Sherlock's eyes connected with the strikingly similar blue green ones of the little boy, and he was once again given the shocking reminder that he hadn't imagined all of this. He wasn't dreaming. As strange as it seemed…
This was his life now.
