Chapter Text
The months after Moriarty’s games were rough. John didn’t go anywhere without his gun. He had nightmares about being shoved in a dark van and having bombs strapped to him, about the look on Sherlock’s face when he stepped out at the pool. That brief moment when he was afraid, betrayed, hurt, that John was behind all of this. A month after that night at the pool Staying Alive came on over the speakers at the shops and John barely managed to make it to the bathroom in time to have his panic attack in private. It all haunted him. working cases helped, it was a good distraction but it just made the quiet hours when he was alone in bed hit harder.
Imogen was worse. She had nightmares almost every night, and she couldn’t sleep unless Sherlock was home. In fact if he was out of her sight she became anxious and scared. They had found her more than a few times checking the paper or the news in the morning for ‘gas leaks’.
Nothing happened. Months passed without a trace of Moriarty. Mycroft assured them he had eyes all over Europe looking for him. Sherlock hadn’t been convinced, throwing John’s kidnapping in his face, but Mycroft reiterated his confidence that they would know if Moriarty popped up again.
Sherlock, as unimpressed as he was with his brother, didn’t seem very worried. John suspected he was putting on airs to make Imogen – and possibly himself - less afraid, but he was surprisingly patient with both of them, so he could live with it.
Summer came. Both Imogen and John were back in therapy, though John was tapering out again, and things were slowly returning to normal, the household started to breathe again.
John looked up from the newspaper as Imogen and Sherlock returned. Imogen’s school had an end of year awards day this morning, and Sherlock had brought her home early since the rest of the day would just be wasting time. She had invited him to the ceremony, but he had to finish up at the office. It was his last day of Locum, but fortunately he had another job lined up that he’d start next week.
“How did you go?”
“Good.” Imogen kicked off her shoes.
“She came first in her year,” Sherlock said, a proud smirk on his lips. He held out a stack of awards.
“Wow,” John said, taking and flipping through the cardboard certificates. English, maths, science, language, music, the list went on. “Did you spend any of the ceremony off stage?”
Imogen made a face. “I don’t like being on stage. I asked if they could just give them to me after, but they said no.”
John looked over at her in surprise. “You have stage fright?”
“No.” She said quickly, defensively, pulling her jumper off. “… I just… don’t like it...” Her jumper got stuck and Sherlock had to pull it off.
“Me neither,” John admitted. “Never liked getting up during assembly at school. Had a principle that would just go on and on and forget you were standing up there. One time I was up there with a buddy; he did the YMCA dance about eight times before another teacher told us to sit down.”
Imogen laughed. It was nice hearing that sound again.
When Sherlock woke up the next day, Imogen was sitting on the other side of his bed, playing with her tablet.
“What are you doing?” he mumbled.
“Nothing.” He heard a click and opened his eyes. Imogen was taking his picture. He pushed himself up, reaching over and wrestling the tablet from her.
“Stop it!” she squealed as he tickled her.
“Give it to me, what are you doing?”
“Nothing!”
He took the tablet. Her gallery was full of unflattering pictures of him sleeping. She had covered his face in stickers. He reached up, pulling a seahorse off his cheek.
Imogen laughed hysterically. Sherlock dropped the tablet and started tickling her again.
“What exactly is so funny?” He asked as she shrieked and tried to slip away.
“Stop!” She laughed, curling up in a ball. “I’m sorry!”
“No you’re not,” He scoffed, but stopped tickling her, grabbing a pillow and dropping it on her head. Imogen’s laughter slowly died down and she pushed the pillow and her messy hair out of her face.
“Time to get up.”
“What time is it?” He asked, looking over at the alarm clock.
“It’s after nine, the festival’s started.”
“Alright, alright. Have you eaten yet?”
“Mrs Hudson made breakfast.”
“Good. Get out so I can get dressed,” He picked her up, dropping her on the other side of the bed near the door.
Sherlock had some tea and a few biscuits while Imogen tried to brush her hair. It was too long and thick and curly for her to do a great job, but she was getting better. After his breakfast Sherlock did her hair in a half up hairdo. Imogen had chosen her dress for the day; a short sleeved, deep cream colour with several small bees scattered across it; one on and under the collar, two on the front of the skirt and one on the back, one near her belly button and one on her right sleeve. She looked very pretty.
“Don’t you look nice,” John said as he came in.
“Thank you,” Dad said, securing her hair with a ribbon, “this is a new suit.”
Imogen laughed. John rolled his eyes, though he was smiling. “Ha-ha. We ready?”
“Yep!” Imogen jumped off her seat, grabbing her purse.
The weather was comfortably warm, the sky was perfectly clear, with just a trace of last night’s chill on the breeze. They started the walk to the park and Imogen took both Sherlock and John’s hand. John tried to suppress the tight feeling in his chest, focusing on whatever Imogen was rambling on about. Something about bugs. She looked adorable in her outfit, and it was nice to see her excited. With Imogen holding both their hands, swinging them slightly as they walked, they really did look like a family.
Maybe seventy or eighty people, not including the workers and the people manning the stalls were already at the park when they got there. Imogen wanted to go to the market first, so that was where they went. They passed by stalls selling second-hand book, crystals and bad smelling incense before they found the one with the baked goods.
“Hi Mrs Hudson!” Imogen called, running up.
“Good morning dear,” Mrs Hudson said, finishing up with a customer. “Enjoying the festival?”
“We just got here.”
“Well it’s a good turnout today, oh and there’s a stall down the way that sells fossils.”
Imogen turned to Sherlock with an excited gasp, looking up at him with wide eyes.
Mrs Hudson pointed them in the right direction and Imogen led the search party for the fossil stall.
The stall was at the far end of the park in the covered area near the bathrooms. The products were more expensive, vintage and imported items, and there was more security milling around.
They found the Fossil stall and John had to hold Imogen back by the back of her dress to stop her pressing her face right against the glass.
“They have Ammonite!” She whispered loudly. “Opalised ammonite!”
“They’re very pretty,” John agreed.
Imogen went around the stall, spouting names of creatures John could barely pronounce let alone recognise off the top of his head.
“Dad! Dad!” Imogen turned, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and dragging him over, “They have megalodon teeth!”
Sherlock knelt down next to her, looking at the display of different teeth. “And a Mosasaur tooth.”
“That’s so cool! Can I get one?”
“Which one do you want?”
Imogen looked over the teeth, a frown of concentration on her face. “That one.”
Imogen indeed bought her ancient shark tooth that was the size of her hand with the money from Mycroft, though John wasn’t going to bring up that last detail. No way Sherlock gave her enough pocket money for that.
They walked through more stalls, taking in model train set and elaborate dollhouses and delicious foreign foods.
Imogen spent a lot of money; John suspected Sherlock didn’t limit her since she was having a good time for the first time in months, but by the time they headed back to Mrs Hudson’s stall John and Sherlock looked like her personal shoppers carrying armfuls of bags behind the little princess.
“Is it gonna be okay there?” Imogen asked nervously as they packed the bags into Mrs Hudson’s friends truck.
“They’ll be just fine dear,” Mrs Hudson assured her. “I’ll bring them in when Amelia drops me off. You go enjoy the rest of the festival.”
Now that shopping was out of the way, the headed over to the games and food stalls.
“Can I get some cotton candy?” Imogen asked. Sherlock, of course, allowed it.
Almost immediately they found a petting zoo and John waited back as Sherlock bought a small bag of food and Imogen tried to keep baby goats from getting at her cotton candy.
“Well look who it is!” A voice called. “Didn’t think I’d see you here,”
John turned, surprised to see Lestrade coming up beside him. He was in old jeans and a t-shirt, so he wasn’t working, which helped quell the spike of anxiety he felt at his voice. There was no danger. Just a day at the fair.
“Didn’t think you’d be here either.” John said, “Trying your hand at the ring toss?”
“I’m here with the kids.”
John looked back over at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you had kids,”
“Oh yeah, two. Girl and a boy.”
“Where are they?” John looked around.
“Matt’s over there with the baby goats,” He pointed over to the petting zoo where a boy in a blue shirt covered in geese was feeding a baby goat with a bottle. It was easy to tell which one was Matt, he was the splitting image of his father. “Just took Livvy to the bathroom, now she’s buying some candy floss.” He gestured back to the tall. A girl maybe a few years older than Matt was walking back over. She had light brown hair and while the resemblance to her dad wasn’t as strong as her brothers, she had his nose and eyes.
“How old are they?”
“Livvy ten, Matts almost nine.”
John was surprised, Livvy looked eleven, maybe twelve, and Matt looked at least ten. The girl stopped at her dads side.
“That for me?” Lestrade asked, pinching a bit of the cotton candy.
“Dad!” Livvy said, smacking his arm and stepping away with her treat.
“Liv, this is John Watson, he’s a friend of Sherlock’s. John this is my oldest, Olivia.”
“Hello there,” John gave her a smile.
“Hi.” Olivia said back.
“You want to feed the animals?” Lestrade asked.
“No,” She made a face.
“They’ve got rabbits,”
“Mum said the animals have ticks.”
“They don’t have ticks,” Lestrade rolled his eyes. “They clean them before bringing them here.”
“I don’t wanna touch them.”
“What about the snakes? They don’t have ticks.”
Livvy looked up at him with a bemused stare. “Not funny.”
“What do you wanna do then?”
“Can we go on the rides?”
“Alright, we gotta wait for Matt to finish.”
“He’s gonna be forever.” Livvy groaned.
“Maybe you’ll be tall enough for the drop tower then.”
“Not funny.” Livvy grumbled.
Imogen came rushing over, Sherlock trailing behind her.
“Did you have fun?” John asked.
“Yeah!” Imogen grinned. “A python bit me!”
“What?!” Livvy squeaked.
“A carpet Python.” Sherlock elaborated. “Perfectly harmless. What are you doing here?”
“Spending time with the kids.” Lestrade said. “Livvy, you remember Sherlock.”
“Yeah.” Livvy mumbled around a mouthful of cotton candy.
“Afternoon.” Sherlock nodded. “I assume that’s your son who asked if he could ride the goat?”
Lestrade looked over at the zoo. “Oh- Matt! Come on mate, what are you doin’?”
Matt stopped trying to headbutt the baby goats and came over, brushing the straw off his pants.
“Stop being a muppet,” Lestrade said, wiping the dirt off his cheek. “You don’t have the brain cells to lose.”
Matt laughed, letting his dad pick straw out of his dark brown hair.
“How’s it going Immy?” Lestrade asked.
“Good. A snake bit me.”
“I heard,” He chuckled. “Immy, this is my daughter Livvy and my son Matt, kids this is Sherlock’s daughter Imogen.”
“Hi,” Imogen gave them a smile and a wave.
“Hi.” Matt smiled back.
“I like your shirt.”
“Thanks. Did you really get bit by a snake?”
“Yeah! Look,” She showed him the small red indent on her left hand.
And like that the two were fast friends. They went on to play half a dozen different carnival games. Imogen was pretty good, though her height made it a bit tricky. Matt was less finessed, but he was tall for his age and strong, so when he did hit a target, it went down.
“You can pick anything from this row,” the old man manning the knock ‘em downs said.
“I want the whale!” Imogen said immediately to nobody’s surprise.
“I want the dinosaur.” Matt pointed to the bright orange t-rex.
“So how’s things?” Lestrade asked as they trailed after the kids. “Haven’t seen you loitering around the Yard in a while.”
“I don’t loiter,” Sherlock scoffed.
“Things are alright.” John answered. “Had a few sleepless nights but we’re getting back to normal. Well as normal as things ever are at Baker Street.”
“Good to hear.”
“Why?” Sherlock asked. “Anything interesting happen?”
“Nothing we can’t handle.”
Sherlock made a discontented noise. John rolled his eyes then nodded towards the kids, who were trying to get miniature basketballs in a hoop. “They’ve never met before?”
“Nah, unlike some parents we don’t like ‘em hanging around crime scenes.” He teased.
“Looks like they match well.”
“Yeah, Matt’s a pretty sociable,” He chuckled, “kid could make friends with a wild dog.”
“Thanks,” Sherlock drawled sarcastically.
“You know what I mean.”
“What about Livvy?” John asked. “Might be good for Imogen, having some girl friends.”
“Dunno,” Lestrade made a bit of a face. “I love her to death, but she’s a bit spoiled. Can’t imagine Imogen holding her tongue when she gets bratty.”
“Yeah, good point.” John agreed, looking over at Sherlock who, of course, was smirking. “Don’t look so smug. If Imogen continues to take after you she’s going to be a nightmare by the time she reaches her teen years.”
Sherlock looked offended. “What are you talking about? Imogen’s perfectly behaved.”
“You aren’t. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but she tends to idolise you.”
“Dad!” Livvy said, coming back over to them. “can we go on the rides now?”
“Yeah!” Matt agreed. “Let’s go on the dodge cars!”
“Yeah!” Imogen agreed.
“No the Ferris wheel!” Livvy demanded.
“The line for the Ferris wheel is huge, we’ll be there all day,” Matt frowned.
“Shut up, no we won’t.”
“Alright knock it off,” Lestrade said. The kids stopped fighting immediately.
“We can take Matt and Imogen to the cars,” John offered.
“Thanks. Alright I’ll take Livvy to the Ferris wheel, Matty you okay going with Immy and them to the cars?”
“Yes!” Matt grinned. “Let’s go,” He and Imogen took off towards the cars.
“Behave!” Lestrade called after them. He threw one last look at John and Sherlock. “Good luck.”
The line to the dodge cars wasn’t too bad, since it was about lunch time and most of the kids were either going home or having lunch.
“Are you gonna have a turn?” Imogen asked as Sherlock paid for two cars.
“I’ll leave the reckless driving to you. Get it out of your system before you turn sixteen.”
Imogen giggled and climbed the steps up to the track with Matt. She claimed a red car and Matt claimed green.
“It’s nice they’re getting on so well,” John said, sitting on one of the nearby benches with Sherlock. “Doesn’t seem like she has a lot of friends.”
“She doesn’t.” Sherlock confirmed. “It’s a familial trait I suppose. If there was one thing I hoped she would have inherited from her mother it would be her… people skills. Perhaps not wielded in the same way…”
“I thought you didn’t know her that well?” John frowned.
“… We were friends.” Sherlock admitted slowly. “For a while, when we were teenagers.”
“Oh,” John didn’t know what else to say. He’d assumed Imogen’s mother was a stranger, an acquaintance at best from the way he spoke of her. “I thought you two weren’t together.”
“We weren’t.”
John nodded. “So… what happened, exactly?”
Sherlock took a slow, deep breath. “It’s a long story.”
“She married someone else, right?” John asked, “That must have hurt.”
Sherlock scoffed. “Hardly. There were no romantic feelings on my side. I doubt there were any on hers,”
“Didn’t take you for the one-night stand kind of guy.” Honestly John didn’t take him for an any kind of relationship kind of guy, but here they were.
“It’s complicated.”
John dropped the subject. The mood had suddenly become too tense for such a beautiful day.
After the cars and the teacups the kids wanted lunch, so they found a patch of shade near the small pond and bought chips from a stall with about two hundred different kinds of sauces.
“Stop feeding the ducks and eat,” Lestrade said. Imogen and Matt stopped trying to lure over birds and went back to their food.
Imogen knew Lestrade had kids, she’d seen their pictures on his desk at Scotland Yard. So far she liked Matty, he was funny and full of energy and wanted to go on all the same rides as her. Livvy didn’t seem to like being around them, but Imogen put that up to her being older and having mild germaphobia and not liking animals. Based on the way she acted Imogen wandered if something had gone wrong with the family day out. Maybe their mum was supposed to be there. Matt didn’t seem bothered.
After they finished eating they sat by the pond for a bit longer, playing with Imogen’s small dinosaur toys.
“Where did you get these?” Matty asked.
“I won them in the lucky dip.” Imogen said, making her Brachiosaurus drink from the pond.
“Cool,” Matty said, his t-rex creeping through some grass. He called over to the table where the others were still eating and chatting. “Dad can we go to the lucky dip?”
“In a minute,” Lestrade said. “Give your sister a chance to finish eating.”
“What’s your favourite dinosaur movie?” Matty asked.
“I like the land before time movies.” Imogen said.
“What’s that?”
“The movies with Little Foot?”
“Oh yeah! We just call them Little Foot. I like King Kong.”
Imogen frowned, “Is that… a dinosaur movie?”
“Yeah, the one with Jack Black. That’s the only one I’ve seen. How come you got a different accent than your dad?”
“Cus I was born in Ireland.”
“Is your mum Irish?”
“I don’t know, but I think my grandparents were.”
“I don’t think Irish skips a generation.”
“I don’t know, I haven’t seen my grandparents since I was little.”
“You’re still little.”
Imogen glared at him.
“Sorry,” Matty laughed.
“How come your mum isn’t here today?”
“She went away for the weekend with some friends. She was supposed to come, but…” Matty shrugged. “She decides to do other things sometimes.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay. How come your mums not here?”
“She’s dead.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. She died three years ago.”
“Do you live with your dad?”
“Yeah, with dad and John.”
“Is John your stepdad?”
“No.” Imogen frowned. “I don’t think so.”
“I think you’d know.”
“I dunno, my dad’s never dated anyone before.” Imogen shrugged. “I think John’s the only person he likes. Besides Mrs Hudson. And Molly. And your dad.”
“Oi!” Lestrade called. “You kids ready to go?”
Imogen and Matty packed up her half dozen dinosaurs into her purse and ran back to them.
After lunch they found the stall with the lucky dip easily thanks to Imogen’s perfect memory, and Matty got a knock off tech deck.
“Cool!” He said, running it up and down his arm.
“You want one Livvy?” Lestrade asked.
Livvy shook her head, looking put out by being dragged back to the stalls.
They went on the flying chairs next.
“She gonna be alright on that?” John asked, watching Imogen being strapped into her chair.
“She’ll be fine, she went on it last year,” Sherlock said. “She’d spend the whole afternoon on there if we let her.”
“Matts the same,” Lestrade said. “The more dangerous the ride, the more he just needs to have a go. We’re thinking of having his next birthday party at an abandoned amusement park.”
John laughed lightly, trying to keep his eyes on Imogen as the ride started.
True enough the only screaming that came from the kids was from excitement. Livvy got off after one turn, but Imogen and Matt stayed on for two more before their dads called it.
Imogen hadn’t even made it to the stairs before stumbling, so Sherlock was carrying her.
“Feeling sick yet?” Lestrade asked, hand on Matt’s shoulder to keep him steady as he walked.
“Nope.” Matt said, before careening into a rubbish bin. “Can we go on the Ferris wheel?”
“Alright, one more ride,” Lestrade agreed.
Lestrade rode with his kids, Livvy threatening Matt to calm down or he’d tip the seat and they’d fall off an die.
“Come on!” Imogen said, dragging John and Sherlock up like a dog on a leash. It was a bit of a tight fit, but soon enough they were rising over the London skyline. When they were almost at the top the wheel stopped, sending the seat swinging. Imogen laughed excitedly, squinting against the glare of the afternoon sun.
“It’s so pretty up here.” She said. “I wish our building was taller.”
John laughed. “Not scared of anything, are you?”
“Nope.”
“She’s got stage fright.” Said Sherlock. Imogen hit him in the leg.
“No I don’t!”
“My mistake.”
Sherlock caught his eye and they shared a smile over her head.
They went around a few times before getting off, meeting the Lestrade’s off to the side of the line.
“Dunno about you, but I think that’s enough excitement for the day.” Lestrade said, glancing up at the sky where the sun was falling into the pink and orange sky.
“Noooo!” Matt and Livvy whined.
“Yeeees,” Lestrade countered, matching their tone. He lifted Matt onto his back in one quick, smooth motion. John was impressed; he made it look so effortless. He didn’t realise Lestrade was so strong. “Say goodbye.”
“Bye Imogen!” Matt waved. “Bye Imogen’s dad and Mr Watson.”
“Bye!” Imogen waved back.
Livvy just gave a half-hearted wave.
“See you ‘round,” Lestrade gave a quick wave as he carried Matt off towards the parking lot, Livvy trailing after him.
“I think it’s time to go,” Sherlock agreed.
Imogen fought a yawn. She was starting to crash from her sugar high. “Do we have to?”
“Yes.” He picked her up. “I think it’s an early night tonight.”
Imogen pouted a bit, but rested her head on his shoulder, her eyelids starting to droop. By the time they walked back to Baker Street she was half asleep in his arms.
In the flat Mrs Hudson was setting Imogen’s shopping onto the table. “Poor dears wiped out,” She cooed as Sherlock set Imogen down in his chair.
“It was a big day.” he agreed, looking through the shopping for the fossil. Not that he didn’t trust Mrs Hudson, but he just wanted to be sure. It was in a bag with the small glass blown animals she’d picked out. Sherlock quickly pocketed the box containing the gift he’d picked up for her next birthday.
Sherlock ordered Chinese food from the place down the block and managed to get Imogen to eat half a plate and showered before she passed out. He turned on her night light/music box, even though she was asleep, and crept out of the room, closing the door carefully.