Poison & Puzzles

Fault Lines

____Roughly 10 years ago.______

“Da! Uncle Myc said we can have real live ponies at my party!” Sherlock picked up the little bundle of raw energy that was Emmalynn Watson Holmes as she bounded through the apartment door in front of his brother. Her dark curls were unruly, the ribbon Sherlock had meticulously placed there that morning long forgotten and lost.

“He did, did he?” Sherlock looked up at his brother, an eyebrow raised, but Mycroft simply shrugged. Sherlock took in his brothers appearance. He was disheveled but happy, he’d actually spent the day playing with Emmalynn, not passing her between secretaries. The idiot was actually growing fond of her. Sherlock had always hoped his brother would let his guard down, if only to be completely wrapped around his niece’s little finger.

“You’re going to ruin all future parties we have for her.” John grumbled from his chair. Sherlock held his daughter on his hip, eying his brother.

“First you want the party in your home. Then you start making it more and more extravagant. You’ve always spoiled our Emma, but this is different.” He was quiet a moment, Mycroft didn't look amused. “What diplomat and offspring did you invite? Stop using my daughter to your benefit.” He scolded as if it would make a difference.

“Drop it, Sherlock, he’s mentioned the bloody horses. We’ll never hear the end of it if you cancel.” John pretended to find something particularly interesting in the Sunday news. “Staying for tea, Mycroft?”

“No. I think I’ve had enough for the day.” He leaned just close enough to Sherlock that he could kiss Emmalynn on the forehead and ruffle her curls. “Goodbye love.”

“Don’t forget the spotted pony Uncle Myc, I need a spotted one.” Emmalynn flashed him a hopeful smile, and Sherlock could practically see Mycroft melt. It wasn’t nearly as entertaining as Sherlock had hoped.

“Of course darling.” Mycroft replied, Sherlock grumbled, but it was ignored as the eldest Holmes simply smiled sweetly at the little girl between them, before heading out the door without much more than a nod at his brother and John.

“They’d never find the body you know.” Sherlock looked over at John, a smirk on his lips.

“Don’t talk about M-u-r-d-e-r in front of the five year old, Sherlock.” John admonished him, but before Sherlock could speak up, Emmalynn interrupted.

“I know that spells murder, I’m nearly six, you know.” She placed her little hands on her hips, looking rather smug.

“Yes, you’re right, and I also should know who gives you your spelling words.” John glared over his paper at Sherlock, who simply looked proud. “Go bugger off and play somewhere, the both of you.” John dismissed, exasperated, getting back to his paper.

“What do you want to do today, Emmalynn?” Sherlock asked his daughter, sure it would be another round with the plastic horses Mrs. Hudson had given her to play with. Sherlock hated that game, but he'd do anything to see their Emmalynn smile.

“Esperiments!” The girl suddenly shouted, Sherlock winced at the volume but couldn’t suppress the pride, if not a bit of relief.

“That’s EX-periments, an ‘X’ not an ‘S’. Want to try it again?” The two disappeared into the kitchen, Emmalynn repeating the word with extra emphasis several times. John hoped they wouldn’t try another messy explosion. He was still working on getting heaven knows what unstuck from the inside of the microwave.

John pretended not to watch the two people he cared for the most in the world from behind his paper. If he could bottle days like this forever, he would. His family. His perfect little family.