Chapter 30

Author's Note: For those of you who wanted a honeymoon scene… Sorry! I'm more into fluff. So, I tried to shove as much fluff in this as possible and give you guys the ending you deserve.

Side Note: Are any of my British readers going to the Sherlock Convention in April? (It's called SHERLOCKED the event) I would love pics or info with which to live vicariously. Anyone who sends me something (a message about it, or a story like if you MEET BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH) gets a Sherlock story that you send in an idea for written by me for any length shorter than 10,000 words.

Side Note 2: Gosh I wish I lived in the UK just so I could go because he's gonna be there and it will be awesome.

Side Note 3: Review please! Heart you all.

Okay. Now for the story. The final chapter. The End…

Everyone ready?

So, Papa solved another case today…and he refused to take me with him. AGAIN. But, he did let me help with scanning the crime scene photos, which is a start. I even helped identify the way the poison was introduced to the victim…but I've said too much already. Check Uncle John's blog for more case details.


Tilly Holmes

"Tilly, come out of your room, we're home!"

Tilly hurriedly slammed her laptop closed, effectively hiding her blog from view. Not that John and Sherlock didn't approve, they just didn't know the full extent of her followers. She had almost as many as the Queen (whom, she was proud to say, she had met twice in the total of her now fifteen years of age).

"Hello," she cried eagerly, launching herself into John's open arms. John laughed and snuggled her close, while Sherlock stood to the side, a bemused grin on his face. Then it was his turn, and he, as had become a tradition, picked her up and twirled her around as he embraced her.

"You, my dear, are getting too big for that," Sherlock said as he placed her on her feet.

"Yet, you keep doing it," was her reply, and John smirked at her cheek, so akin to his husbands.

"You'll never guess who's coming for supper."

"Mycroft? Mrs. Hudson?"

"Nope. Molly and To-"

"Are they bringing William and Scott?" Tilly cried excitedly, clapping her hands with glee.

Now, a few years after Molly and Tom were married and living happily, Molly was working contentedly at Bart's when Sherlock congratulated her. She wondered whatever for, and so she made an appointment with her doctor. (We all know, of course, that Molly was medically trained herself, but what transpired was so wondrous and far from her mind that she had never dared hope to think of it.)

Molly was expecting twins!

Tom was overjoyed, Mrs. Hudson giggled like a school-girl, and Tilly was so utterly excited that she danced about Sherlock and John's apartment for the better part of an hour. Eventually, she convinced them all to join in her celebration, seeing as her uncle loved to dance, and John tolerated dancing, because he could watch Sherlock do it.

The twins were born healthy young boys, one with Molly's eyes, and one with Tom's, and both with their mother's hair color. Tilly was twelve when they were born, and found them utterly adorable.

Technically, William had been named after Tom's father, whom he loved dearly, while Scott had been named by Molly. But Molly, and Tilly, and Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson…well, anyone who wasn't John, really, knew that Molly had intended to name them after Sherlock in some way, and indeed they had been.* This pleased Sherlock, though he didn't admit it. He had thanked Molly sincerely, however.

Tilly found it all highly amusing.

So now the twins were the lovely age of three, and the Holmes loved their company.

Tilly ran to the kitchen to help set the table for dinner, while John tasked Sherlock with clearing the table first. Sherlock begrudgingly put away his experiments, and when John found a stunning lack of body parts in the fridge, he rewarded his husband with a passionate kiss. This caused Sherlock to drop a beaker or two, which John then endeavored to sweep. It could be agreed upon that their domesticity was very heartwarming.

"Papa, would you play a duet with me tonight?" Tilly asked hopefully. Sherlock nodded, and with a smile, kissed his niece, who had long ago been adopted as his daughter.

"Of course he will," John answered.

"I can speak for myself, John."

"Occasionally. At times, you can just sit stoically for the better part of three hours."

"How was the paperwork at the Yard?" Tilly questioned, looking innocent.

"Well, Anderson is back at work, and he tried taking Sally's crisps, again, so Lestrade had to cut his rant to Sherlock short today," John replied.

"That's always nice."

"Being punished for being smarter than everyone else is becoming a great annoyance," Sherlock muttered. John rolled his eyes. Tilly made an indignant noise.

"You are not smarter than everyone else, Papa."

"Must we really count Mycroft? He's rather dull-"

"I meant me!"

Tilly crossed her arms over her chest and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Sherlock tried to keep his face neutral, but eventually he had to let loose a chuckle at the sight of his niece. John would add that he chuckled as well, and that neither of them were giggling. It's wasn't as if it were a crime scene.

"I live with the only two people incapable of showing humility," John commented, his tone fond. Tilly and Sherlock sighed in unison, having heard this many times before.

They were saved from further chastising by a knock on the door. Tilly darted for it eagerly, pushing Sherlock towards John on her way out. Sherlock smiled and hugged his husband close.

"You didn't marry me for my humility, if I recall."

"Well, I can't seem to recall why I did."

"Maybe I can help stimulate your memory."

Sherlock placed a chaste kiss on John's lips before quickly pulling away.

"I think it's going to take more than that," John added breathlessly. He pulled Sherlock down by his collar, just as Mrs. Hudson entered the room.

"And you two said you needed two bedrooms."

*William Sherlock Scott Holmes