The soft spring air rolled through our window as I baked some bread, my attention drawing to young Maverick who was playing fetch with Redbeard outside, the two were inseparable since Maverick was old enough to walk. I felt an arm sneak around my waist, catching me by surprise.
"Morning, Sherlock." I hummed, looking up at him.
"Morning, (Y/N)." Sherlock whispered. I smiled brightly and looked out the window.
"Have you captured Moriarty?" I asked. I felt Sherlock tense, but we both knew he needed to answer.
"No.." He muttered, staring out at Maverick.
"We can't put Maverick in school until he's put away." I turned to face him. His chilly eyes met mine.
"I know; and we will find him, I promise." Sherlock rested his forehead against mine.
"Good." I whispered, hugging him tightly.
Sherlock grabbed his trench coat and set off out the door, waving goodbye to Maverick who was chasing Redbeard. I rested a hand on my enlarged abdomen.
"How many months now?" John smirked, catching me by surprise.
"Only two more, John!" I turned to face him, smiling back.
"Can't wait to meet the little one." He grinned, side hugging me.
"Maverick is fortunately excited too, he wants a little brother though." I laughed, glancing out the window.
"Don't we all." John chuckled, he had stayed the night with Rosamund, who was still asleep upstairs. Rosamund was now 8 years old, and Maverick was only 4, but they still played together and got along well.
"Sherlock already took off, if you feel like catching up." I put a plate of toast down in front of John.
"There's no catching up to Sherlock." He grinned at me. I smirked and nodded.
"I guess you're right." I turned back to the sink and began washing dishes. I peered out the window, but was surprised to find Maverick no where in sight.
"John, did you see Maverick come in?" I called to the dining room. He mumbled a 'no' in response. My heart rate sped up a little, I didn't like the idea of not being able to see him. I hobbled to the door and opened it, finding Redbeard staring up at me with his large brown eyes.
"Where's Maverick, Redbeard?" I demanded, looking across the yard worriedly. He barked and took off towards Quinn's house. "John, call Sherlock!" I yelled, before taking off after Redbeard. My very pregnant weight made it hard to walk, but I moved as quickly as I could, knowing my son could he in danger. Redbeard stood at Quinn's door, barking furiously. I hurried up the stairs, knocking harshly on the large red door. The door pushed open by itself, catching me off guard. I stepped through the door way, listening for any sign of Maverick. There was a quiet squeal from upstairs. I called Redbeard quietly and set off up the stairs, being sure to avoid any loose boards.
"Bloody hell, Jim! You kidnapped his son!?" I heard Quinn hiss from one of the rooms. Anger boiled up inside my chest.
"He'll be here, and he'll be willing to do anything for his son." Moriarty chuckled. I stormed up the stairs, slamming the door open.
"Bitch! You were working for this bloody psychopath this entire time!" I shouted. Moriarty looked over, slightly surprised.
"You got big, Mrs.Holmes." He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked over to me.
"That's because I'm a pissed pregnant woman." I growled, looking at Maverick, who was tied to a chair, sobbing violently. My heart screamed at me to take him and run, but that wouldn't solve my problems.
"Sherlock isn't here." Quinn commented, glaring at me.
"No, but now we have even more leverage." Moriarty pulled out a gun and aimed it at my head. I stared him down, I knew I had to save my son. "Getting brave, are we? You're BORING." He shouted, startling me, and Maverick who started crying again.
"Not anymore." I growled, grabbing a chair from behind me and swinging it full force against the Irish man. He shouted, stumbling backwards. Quinn cried out, grabbed a knife to slash at me. I ducked and swung my leg out, knocking her down. Sherlock had put me in self defence classes after we got married. I grabbed the knife out of her hand and spun it on Moriarty, who had his gun back up.
"A little less sane than I thought." He grinned mischievously. I glared at him, hatred boiling in my stomach like lava. "Oh you enjoy this don't you?" He paced around me, his mouth pulling into a smirk. "You like that you're solving the problems now, not Sherlock."
"I just want my son." I snapped.
"Admit it, I saw the look in your eye when you attacked Quinn, you enjoyed it, it gave you pleasure watching her in pain, didn't it." Moriarty stopped in front of me. My anger began to be replaced by anxiety. 'Was he right? Did I enjoy hurting Quinn?' I glanced at the woman, who wasn't doing anything but sitting helplessly, waiting for Moriarty's command.
"I didn't." I lied, looking at Jim.
"LIAR." His words nearly shook the house, I heard Maverick whimper, and begin to cry after Moriarty's shout. I gripped the knife tightly in my hand, looking at Moriarty. Suddenly everything went into motion. I had reached my knife back to slash at him, he dropped his gun and ducked swiftly. It fired on the ground, shooting Quinn in the stomach. I drove my knife down hard, meeting his shoulder. He gritted his teeth before grinning psychotically. He grabbed my hands that were still holding the knife and pinned me against the wall.
"Oh you little- I have to say, I'm surprised by you, you pretend to be a meek little baker but I see strength in you, and anger. Sherlock likes to keep you meek and following him but I could make you stronger, give you more freedom." His voice hardly shook despite the knife implanted in his shoulder. I spat in his face and brought my knee up to his stomach, knocking him over. I bolted over to Maverick, untying him quickly.
"Get out, go find your father and tell him I'm okay." I whispered to him, watching him run out of the room and down the stairs.
"Sherlock has you tamed pretty well, you'll do anything to protect him and his offspring won't you?" Moriarty chuckled, I didn't notice him picking up his gun.
"I'm not tamed, I have a family, and yes I'll do anything to protect them, not because it's Sherlock Holmes, but because he's my husband, and that's my child." I snapped, looking at him.
"You'd even risk your next child to fight for them?" He gestured to my swollen abdomen.
"I'll protect her too." I glared at him. He drew his gun, aiming it for my stomach.
"We'll see about that-" he was cut off by a loud snarl. Redbeard burst into the room, launching himself on top of Moriarty, biting down hard on his already injured shoulder. I jumped up, fleeing the room for the outside, where cop cars were lined up, waiting for the infamous Jim Moriarty.
"(Y/N)!" Sherlock cried, spotting me running across the yard, he was being held back by many officers.
"I'm okay." I nodded to him, before hearing a gunshot go off in the house.
Officers were filing in, running to find Moriarty in the room where I left him. They dragged him out and threw him into a car. A body bag was removed, carrying Quinn inside, and a limp dog was carried out as well.
"Redbeard!" Maverick began to weep, hugging Sherlock's trench coat. I hugged him tightly, letting a few tears fall myself, the dog had saved my life and the life of my baby, in return of his own.
The next day we buried Redbeard, and returned home. We placed Maverick in therapy so he could be helped with the traumatic events, and a few months later, Fatima Avery Holmes was born, a beautiful baby girl. The chaos was over, no more Jim Moriarty, though Sherlock still lived a life of crime solving, there was never a mystery like that, our life passed fairly smoothly, with our two children.
"That was a good story, grandma." My 14 year old granddaughter smiles excitedly.
"It was an interesting one for sure." I smile back, placing the journal on the desk. Rosamund and Maverick enter the room hand in hand, carrying their three year old son Harry. Fatima is reading in the corner, smiling at Lara who is sitting in front of me. Sherlock sat in the other arm chair, arguing with John about how he could still run down criminals at his age, and Aleah is snapping at her twin grandsons, Ryan and Ryker about respecting their cousins even if they're 16. This is a typical holiday with our family, 33 years after the story finished, we all remain the same.
The end