Glass: After the Storm

Facets

Sherlock sat his son on a chair in the kitchen and tucked him into the table. "Then when I say: 'show her' you will hand her the dish, okay?"

Vaughan pulled the microscope towards himself with an excited grin. "Yep."

"Are you absolutely certain?" he crouched down, bringing him level with his eyes. "you hand her the dish when I say what?"

Vaughan rolled his eyes. "When you say: 'show her'. It's easy."

Sherlock nodded and stood up, exhaling slowly. He stuffed the ring box up his sleeve, practicing letting it drop into his hand and opening it in one fluid movement. He took a marker pen from the drawer and held up a Petri dish, carefully writing 'will you marry my dad?' On the bottom. 

"What does that say?" Asked Vaughan as he picked it up and began to sound out the letters. 

"Nothing it's a surprise," he replied, taking it away from him and putting on the table. 

A bustling sound came from the living room. The unmistakeable sound of Margaux getting home from work. Every day she would do the same things in the same order: coat off, bag on the couch, sit down, shoes off. 

He put the goggles on Vaughan's face – which almost immediately slipped down his small button nose – and sat him in front of the microscope. They waited for just a moment before Margaux appeared in the archway of the kitchen. 

"Hello," she began. "What are you two doing?" 

"Blood samples," said Vaughan, exactly how they had rehearsed. 

She glanced across to Sherlock and frowned. "Love, I told you no more of this." 

"No more what?"

"This..." she gestured to the table. "Blood samples, dangerous chemicals, taking him along on cases. It's rubbing off on him."

"Well I know that but..."

"He has a bedroom full of toys, shelves of books, yet you're in here showing him human blood." She sighed. "His teacher said–"

"I know what his teacher said," he interrupted, trying desperately to keep his plan on track. "I just wanted to show you–"

"Look, I realise I haven't been perfect either but I'm trying my best here; I'm watching what I say, I've stopped bringing work home, I need to know you're trying too."

"I am, Margaux, I am, just... come and sit down a minute."

She remained standing and folded her arms. "Sherlock, I love the relationship you two have. But you should be able to transfer it other things – age appropriate things."

Sherlock sighed. He slid the ring box down his sleeve and pushed it back into his pocket; it clearly wasn't the time, and this clearly wasn't the way to do it.

Vaughan let out a grumble and looked up at his mother. "Mummy, I'm going to be a detective–"

"Yes, darling, I know you are. But right now, you're not a detective, you're four."

He threw his goggles onto the table, jumped down from his chair and stormed past her. Margaux turned around, listening as he stomped up the stairs to his room. Sherlock picked up the petri dish and wiped away the message, putting it in the sink before she turned back around.

She looked at him sympathetically. "I haven't even been home five minutes and I'm already his biggest enemy."

"He's stubborn," said Sherlock as he sat down. "I think... Maybe... he might get that from me?"