(Mary may have left letters and videos for Rosie, and one of them may be about How To Respect Your Own Body And Sexuality. And since Mary herself pretty much fit the definition of "met strange boy, fell in love, had sex", she's definitely not going to knock it from beyond.)
To: Molly From: Sherlock
9:36 AM: No need, I've already won that. John was not happy about the baby-gate maze I proposed putting together at Baker Street.
9:37 AM: So, around noon? Perfect.
Somehow he doesn't even need an emoticon to convey the smug look on his face.
The morning unfolds pleasantly. It's sunny out, Rosie's in a rare angelic mood (even if she does still drool and get snot all over everything)--and, not long after 10 AM, Sherlock texts over several sketches he's done on a cheap notepad he bought at the Waterstones in the train station. Little girls, no more than six, all with different features but all with recognizable aspects of John and Mary's faces.
(He decides he'll make a birthday present of them to John later. That seems like the kind of thing that would have made Mary happy, too.)
By noon he's back in London and has burned through approximately three-quarters of his to-do list--all errands, all away from John's place, because he's been warned in very strong terms what John will do to him if he comes home and finds them on the living room floor or something. And a sudden wicked idea comes to him about which bolt-hole he wants to duck into for their "appointment".
11:56 AM: I'll be settled in approximately seven minutes. Less if you actually left the spare key to your place under the false rock and didn't throw it in your purse again.
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Date: 2017-02-15 08:14 pm (UTC)To: Molly
From: Sherlock
9:36 AM: No need, I've already won that. John was not happy about the baby-gate maze I proposed putting together at Baker Street.
9:37 AM: So, around noon? Perfect.
Somehow he doesn't even need an emoticon to convey the smug look on his face.
The morning unfolds pleasantly. It's sunny out, Rosie's in a rare angelic mood (even if she does still drool and get snot all over everything)--and, not long after 10 AM, Sherlock texts over several sketches he's done on a cheap notepad he bought at the Waterstones in the train station. Little girls, no more than six, all with different features but all with recognizable aspects of John and Mary's faces.
(He decides he'll make a birthday present of them to John later. That seems like the kind of thing that would have made Mary happy, too.)
By noon he's back in London and has burned through approximately three-quarters of his to-do list--all errands, all away from John's place, because he's been warned in very strong terms what John will do to him if he comes home and finds them on the living room floor or something. And a sudden wicked idea comes to him about which bolt-hole he wants to duck into for their "appointment".
11:56 AM: I'll be settled in approximately seven minutes. Less if you actually left the spare key to your place under the false rock and didn't throw it in your purse again.