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“We have a gender, we have a name, and we have a room. Maybe,” Sherlock said as he paced in front of the table. It had been three weeks since they had picked the name for their new addition, and Sherlock was starting to feel that they were running out of time to start getting things set up. Molly was currently feeding Abigail, occasionally looking up to follow what her fiancée was doing. “We need to start making plans.”
“Well, I suppose the first step is to pick colors,” Molly said. “I forbid the room being pink.”
“I thought all girl's rooms should be pink,” Sherlock said with a frown as he stopped.
“Not these two,” Molly replied as she shook her head. “My room when I was a girl was pink. I hated it by the time I was nine. I won't put my daughters through the same thing.”
“Well, blue is supposedly the color for boys rooms,” Sherlock said. “Should we avoid it?
Molly tilted her head as she thought. “Maybe. What I'd really love is to have the room have a mural or something lovely, and have the ceiling painted sky blue.”
“Something from nature?” he suggested. “Like, a forest scene with lots of trees?”
“Oh, that sounds lovely,” she said with a fond smile. “I would love something like that for them.”
“Do we even know anyone who could do that? Anyone who'd have that much time to spend on it?” he asked. “Because if we could make that happen I think that would be very nice and make their room very unique. And you could add touches for a girl, like a castle with a princess in it.”
“I like that!” Molly said, her smile widening. “And unicorns and nymphs and other things like that.”
“So I suppose it comes down to finding someone who would do it,” he said.
Molly frowned. “You know, we didn't even think of if they would like it when they were older. It's perfect for them now, but what happens when they grow out of it?”
“Then we repaint and this time we let them decide,” he said. “Let them put their own stamp on the room if they want.”
She thought about it for a moment, and then nodded. “All right. Let's see who we know who could do that.” She got out of her seat with just a little trouble and went to go get her phone. She was scrolling through it when she came back out. “I have a friend who does murals for the sides of buildings. If he's between projects he might do this for us. We'd need to pay him, of course, but we've been friends for ages. I'm sure he'll be reasonable.”
“Define reasonable,” Sherlock said.
“I can cover it,” she said, waving her hand. She found the contact and hit send, and her friend picked up in moments. They chatted for a moment about other things, and then Molly asked about him doing the mural for the girls’ room. She told him the ideas, and every once in a while Sherlock interjected something, but he said he'd do it for next to nothing, and to give him time to do some sketches for them. She hung up and turned to Sherlock. “I think that was a very good idea. The one thing he did say was that no matter who does the room they're going to want the wallpaper gone and the walls painted white. We can do that without having the sketches, I think.”
Sherlock thought about it. “It shouldn't be hard to get everything together today. We can start doing that tomorrow.”
“Then go get them while I stay here with Abigail?” she said. “And I can cook supper while you're gone.”
He nodded. “I'll go get John to help me. He and Mary are doing similar things to their own home right now so he might have advice.” He moved over to her and kissed her cheek softly. “I'll be back soon.”
“Bye!” Abigail called from her high chair. Sherlock grinned and leaned over, kissing the top of her head, and then he was off. John met him at the store and they got help figuring out all the things they would need to remove wallpaper and paint the room. It took them over an hour, and John came back with him to help lug everything in. “Hi, Dada! Hi, Jaw Jaw!” Abigail called happily from where she was sitting on the floor, playing with a toy piano.
“Hello, sweetie,” Sherlock said with a grin, setting down what he had carried in and going to his daughter to pick her up. “Are you going to help us paint tomorrow?” Abigail nodded emphatically, wide grin on her face. “Good. We got a little brush for you.”
John chuckled. “I imagine paint in her hair within five minutes.”
“That's what baths are for,” Molly called from the kitchen. “Can you stay for supper, John?”
“I can,” he said with a nod. “Mary has a girl’s night out tonight with her coworkers. It's been planned for weeks so it would just be me and crap telly back home.”
“We were thinking about taking down the wallpaper tonight, before Abigail joins us to help paint,” Sherlock said. “John and I can take care of that in a few hours.”
“I think that would be a very good idea,” Molly said with a nod. “I'll go get the two of you when supper's ready.”
Sherlock and John moved back over to their supplies and headed upstairs to John's old room. “I never imagined my room becoming a room for little girls,” John said with a grin.
“Well, it's not quite as big as my room but it's bigger than the other ones, and since there will be two girls in it it makes more sense,” he said as he opened the door. “And the other bonus is that as they get older they'll have a bit of privacy from meddling parents.”
John chuckled. “Well, I doubt the two of you will be the strictest parents in the world. Abigail already has you wrapped around her little finger, and I imagine Rebecca will do the same thing. I can definitely see Molly being the one who sets the rules and you being the one who lets the girls break them every once in a while.”
“So you don't think I'll be the disciplinarian?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Wrapped around their little fingers, remember?”
“Well, when they start dating that might change,” he said with a frown. “I think I'd much rather wait until they're in their twenties before I allow it. Or thirties.”
“I think you're going to intimidate every boy that comes to call. Especially if you pull your trick of telling them exactly what they're all about. I think at that point your daughters might start to resent you.” John looked at him. “But if you're lucky, they'll try and date boys who are a lot like you.”
“They don't need to date boys like me,” Sherlock said quietly. “I am still not a very good man sometimes.”
“But not with them,” John said. “With them, with Molly and Abigail, you're warm and open and caring. And I'm fairly sure you'll be the same for Rebecca. I mean, I never thought I'd see you like that, when we first met. But Abigail changed you, and so much for the better. If they find boys or men like you I think they would be very lucky girls. They'd be good for them.”
“You really think so?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head slightly.
“I do,” John said with an emphatic nod. “So don't worry about it too much. You have a few years until that happens.” John knelt down next to their supplies and then looked up at Sherlock. “I think this is going to take quite a bit of time. Maybe we should get started.”
Sherlock nodded and did the same, and soon they got to work. It did indeed take far longer than they had been led to believe, especially with a break for supper, and it was nearly one in the morning when they finished. Sherlock walked John out to make sure he got a cab home and then he went back inside and went to his bedroom, checking on Abigail before changing and slipping into bed next to Molly. He fell asleep almost immediately.
When he woke up the next morning it was to an empty room. If Abigail had woken up during the night he hadn't even noticed. He sat up and stretched slightly before yawning and getting out of bed. He could smell coffee from his room and thought that perhaps Molly and Abigail hadn't gotten up that much earlier. He made his way out into the kitchen and saw Abigail in the sitting room, playing with some toys while Molly was cooking. “Good morning,” he said.
“I thought you might sleep all morning,” Molly said with a chuckle. “What time did the two of you end up finishing last night?”
“Close to one o'clock in the morning,” he said.
“Are you going to be up to painting the room today?” she asked.
He nodded, moving over to the pot of coffee. “I just need coffee.”
“Well, I figured that might entice you to get up out of bed so it's freshly made,” she said, moving over to him and kissing his cheek. “And I just started cooking so breakfast will be ready soon.”
“I don't deserve you,” he said with a smile.
“No, you do, but just remember days like today when I ask you to wake up and look after Rebecca,” she said with a chuckle. Then she moved away from him. “Why don't you feed Abigail while you're waiting? I have trouble lifting her up now.”
He nodded. It must have been very awkward for Molly to get her out of her crib this morning, he realized, and he was even more grateful that she had let him get some extra rest. He went to his daughter and picked her up. “Time for your breakfast,” he said, holding her close as he took her back to the table.
She laughed and clapped when he got her situated before getting her food. She was eating things on her own, but he was still cautious enough to watch her like a hawk while she ate. As it stood, she ate quickly and then appeared to look bored. He got up and went to one of her toys, bringing it over to her just as Molly brought a plate for him to the table. “That was smart,” Molly said with a nod.
“Well, if she's still in her chair then I can keep an eye on her better,” he said. “I never tend to eat much when she's running around. I'm always worried she'll get into something.”
“She's inquisitive, just like her father,” she said, setting the plate in front of him. “Which is not necessarily a bad thing but I will admit occasionally means she's a handful.”
“Well, at least the two of us can eat in peace if she's sitting there and otherwise occupied,” he said before taking a bite of his food. After a moment he began to concentrate on eating, even as Molly brought her own plate to the table. They ate in relative silence until he was finished. “I'll do the dishes,” he said, standing up.
“Thank you,” Molly said with a smile. Then she turned to Abigail. “I think we're going to have fun painting your room, don't you?” Abigail nodded happily and Molly chuckled. “I imagine she's going to put more paint on herself than the walls.”
“Well, we'll put her in something we don't mind tossing out when this is all over,” he said as he moved into the kitchen. He began to run the water in the sink. “Do you have clothes that you don't mind getting paint on?”
“I can come up with something. I mean, we're going to have to buy me new maternity clothes soon anyway. I feel absolutely huge these days.”
“You still look very small,” he said.
“Trust me, I want to cry every time I step on a scale. I'm gaining a lot more weight for this pregnancy than I would like.” She finished her food and took her plate and utensils into the kitchen. “But in a little over three months it will all be over and I can go back to being my normal self.” She paused to rub her belly slightly. “She's kicking right now, and punching as well. I feel it under my ribs and then lower.”
“I'm sorry if she's causing you discomfort,” he said. “Do you want to rest for a bit?”
She waved her hand. “No, it's all right. I'm getting used to it. There's days I wish she wasn't quite so active but I'm happy all the same. The more she does that the more I can assure myself that everything is going well.” She put her plate and utensils in the sink. “I'll go change into something to paint in. It will probably take me longer to get ready than it will you and Abigail.”
He nodded. “All right. We'll be in shortly.” He concentrated on washing the dishes, then when he was done he lifted his daughter out of the high chair and took her into the room. The sooner they had the room all set up the sooner they could have their bedroom to themselves, and he had to admit he was looking forward to that. It had been quite a long time since there hadn't been a child sharing his room. He almost wasn't sure what he would do with having the room house just him and Molly. He went over to Abigail's dresser and pulled out a change of clothes. “She's about to outgrow this outfit,” he said as he brought it over to Molly.
“Then this is perfect,” she said with a nod as she began to undress Abigail. “Are you excited?” she asked the little girl.
“Yay!” she said, nodding her head vigorously.
“I think that means yes,” Sherlock said with a chuckle as he began to get his own clothing ready.
“We should probably give her a bath as soon as we're finished. I think if she gets paint in her hair it will take forever to get it out,” Molly said with a grin towards him.
“As long as we don't let it dry we should be fine.” He finally picked out some clothing and began to change as Molly got Abigail ready. “The paint is already in the bedroom. Two coats should be sufficient, I think, because it's a primer as well as a paint. Or at least that was what John and I were told.”
“Good. The less painting we have to do the better. I just can't wait until the mural is finished and we can move Abigail in. It will be nice to have our bedroom to ourselves.”
“We need to get her a bigger bed,” he said. “She's going to outgrow that crib soon, and I think it would be best if we let Rebecca use the crib anyway.”
“When we go shopping for other furniture in the room we can look for that,” Molly said with a nod as she finished getting Abigail undressed and reached for the clothes Sherlock had picked out. She put the shirt on Abigail first. “Now that we know I'm having a girl Mary keeps strongly hinting I should have a baby shower.”
“I will make sure I avoid our home that day,” he said, pulling a shirt over his head. “I definitely think that's something you don't need me to be a part of.”
“But we should do a registry somewhere, so people will know what we need,” she said. “And I'd like your input on that. You've already had to go through this once. You know better than I do what we'll need.”
“I can help with that,” he said with a nod. “I know there are things I wish I had gotten when she was an infant that I would like to have with Rebecca.”
“Then we can do that later this week,” Molly said with a nod. She finished getting Abigail dressed a few moments later, and Sherlock finished getting ready a few minutes after that. He went and picked Abigail up again, and the three of them left the bedroom and made their way to the girls’ room. Sherlock and John had left the newspapers on the floor when they had taken down the wallpaper the night before so it was all set for them to paint. Sherlock set Abigail down and handed her a brush. “This is for you,” he said, kneeling down so he was closer to her. “You're going to put the paint on the walls, not on you.”
Abigail giggled and held out the brush to Molly. “Mum,” she said solemnly.
“I get my own, sweetie,” she said with a chuckle.
“You get one of the rollers. I thought that might be easier,” Sherlock said, standing up. He went over to the cans of paint and opened one of them, then poured some of it into the tray. He moved Abigail over to it and dipped her brush in the pain before handing it to her. Then he turned her around. “Put it on the wall, Abigail.”
Abigail looked over at the wall, then put the brush on the wall before dropping the brush. She bent to pick it up, picking up the brush end instead of the handle. Then she turned to look at Sherlock and Molly, wide grin on her face. “Mum! Dada!” she said happily.
“In less than a minute she's going to put that hand on her shirt, I bet,” Sherlock said.
“If we're placing a wager, I think she's going to put it on the wall and leave a handprint,” Molly said. “Loser buys dinner tonight, since I don't think either of us will be up to cooking.”
“I could agree to that,” he said with a nod. They watched and after a moment Abigail put her hand on the front of her shirt, leaving a white hand print on it. Sherlock turned to Molly with a grin. “I think Thai would be good tonight.”
Molly chuckled. “Well, let's try and get her to put the paint on the walls this time, shall we?” she said, moving over to the brush Abigail had dropped. She put it back in Abigail's hand, then turned her around and put the brush to the wall, moving Abigail's hand up and down. “Like this, Abigail.”
The little girl giggled, and when Molly removed her hand Abigail continued to move it up and down. “I doubt she'll put more paint on it,” Sherlock said.
“Perhaps that's best.” Molly went over to the roller that had the extended handle. “I suppose we should get to work. The sooner we finish this the better.”
He nodded. “That sounds like a good idea.” He got the other roller and the two of them got to work. They had been painting for about an hour and a half when Abigail drifted over by the paint tray. Sherlock watched her dip her paintbrush in and then she lifted it back up and shook it. Paint splattered on Molly's leg as his eyes went wide and Abigail giggled. “Abigail,” he said with a sigh.
“I think she wants a paint war,” Molly said with a smile, leaning her roller against the wall. She went and picked up one of the other brushes, dipped it in paint, and then shook it at Abigail. Paint got on her clothes and in her hair, and Abigail's laughter got louder. “Was that fun?”
“Yes,” she said between giggles.
“Should we get your father?” Molly asked, looking over at Sherlock. Abigail answered with more laughter and an emphatic nod. Molly dipped her paintbrush in the paint and Abigail did the same, and they made their way to Sherlock, who had his hands up. Abigail tapped her paintbrush on his pants leg while Molly reached over and painted his cheek. Then she looked at Abigail. “That was even more fun, wasn't it?”
“Yes!” Abigail said even more happily. She moved and painted his other leg.
“You think I'll let this go without retribution?” Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. He took his roller back to the tray of paint and put it in the paint, then went behind Molly and ran it up her back, getting her clothes and the bottom of her ponytail.
“Oh, this is war,” Molly said with a grin. She flicked her paintbrush at him and got the front of his shirt. Soon the three of them forgot about painting the room and began slinging paint at each other and taking paintbrushes to clothing.
After ten minutes of this Sherlock collapsed on the newspaper covered floor and Abigail came up and painted his hair. “You win,” he said with a grin. He reached over with paint covered hands, picking Abigail up and holding him up over her. “Can I wave the white flag of surrender?”
Molly chuckled as she watched Abigail nod. “Do we have enough paint to finish?” she asked.
“I think we do, since we were working on the second coat when we started this war,” Sherlock replied. “We did get an awful lot on all of us, though.”
“Well, why don't I take Abigail and get her cleaned up and put her down for her nap?” Molly asked.
“Are you sure you'll be able to lift her up?” he asked, tilting his head slightly to look up at her.
“I'll manage. The sooner I get her cleaned up the sooner I can help you get cleaned up, and you can help me get cleaned up,” she said with a grin. “I think that could be quite fun.”
He gave her a grin. “Then go take her and I'll keep painting until you rejoin me,” he said, setting Abigail down and sitting up. Then he paused. "Are you sure you don't want me to wash her? It's still a bit awkward for you.”
She thought for a moment. “Perhaps you're right. You clean her up and then put her to bed and then come back. Then we can finish this and take our own shower together.”
He nodded before standing up and picking Abigail up. “Say bye to Mum before your nap,” he said.
Abigail reached over for Molly when Sherlock got close enough, and Molly hugged her as best she could. “Sleep well, Abigail.”
“Bye Mum,” she said, and when she pulled away she yawned slightly. The paint war must have taken more out of her than he had realized. She rested her head against his shoulder and he took her to the washroom. They were all covered in paint, and it was going to take longer to finish the room, but he had to admit they all seemed to have had an awful lot of fun, and he supposed that was what mattered most. He could stand paint in his hair as long as everyone had enjoyed themselves, he thought to himself with a grin. That just showed how much of a family they really were.