Prompts used in this chapter: "did you bring your gun?" - sentiment - love
The boys are leaving 221B to spend some days at Sherlock’s parents. If John’s anxious about meeting them again? Not particularly, but he observes that he’s misjudged one of them quite profoundly.
They have an early breakfast at Mrs. Hudson’s before they leave for the train station. Gifts are exchanged and the elderly lady wishes them Happy Christmas when they kiss her goodbye.
They avoid the busy hours and arrive only twenty minutes before their train to Bexley, where Mr. Holmes will pick them up for the ten-minute drive to Wilmington.
“Did you bring your gun?” Sherlock asks John after he’s placed their luggage into the boot of Mr. Holmes’ car.
John chuckles, shakes his head and interlaces his fingers with Sherlock’s when they’re settled in the back seat. Sherlock grunts displeased, but the kiss he places on John’s palm, speaks another truth.
Mr. Holmes asks about Mrs. Hudson and both their works and tells Sherlock news about some of their neighbours. John learns that Holmes senior is quite the observer. When John lifts a questioning eyebrow at Sherlock, he only shrugs but his smile is fond and proud.
Mrs. Holmes is a whirlwind compared to her husband, and greets them with hugs, kisses and endless questions, while simultaneously making omelettes and dressing for the salad. John watches her in conversation with her youngest son and is soon joined by Sherlock’s father.
“He’s so much like his mother,” the elderly Holmes tells John.
“Oh, I don’t know, Mr. Holmes. I think Sherlock’s got his observation skills from elsewhere,” John retorts mildly.
And the adorable blushing when being praised, John notices.
It’s no secret that Violet Holmes, the mathematician professor, is a highly intelligent woman, but her husband, who’s just an ordinary teacher without the professor title, is far from an idiot. He’s astute, eloquent, and has a warm sense of humour, which makes him easy to talk to. Most of what Sherlock and his mother speak about, doesn’t make any sense to John whatsoever.
“Has anyone told you about your resemblance to your father?” John asks Sherlock after they’ve gone to bed that night.
Sherlock’s nuzzled into the crook of John’s neck, his favourite way of cuddling, and he rarely gives up the position, but now he almost knocks John’s jaw when he jerks his head up in surprise.
“My father? Never. I’ve always been told by everyone who knows us, I’m reminiscent of my mother,” Sherlock declares, but there’s a hint of insecurity after John’s question.
“Don’t get so worked up, love. Come lie down again, and I’ll tell you what I’ve noticed today,” John says fondly.
Sherlock seems quite satisfied when John’s finished telling him about his observations, if his hums and warm kisses are any indicators.
“Father’s always so quiet compared to Mummy, and he seems truly satisfied playing second violin, so to speak,” Sherlock muses.
John agrees and concludes that Sherlock’s parents remind him quite a lot of himself and Sherlock.
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