This really is The End - of this part of the saga. But the Saga is never over...

Epilogue

Sunday, 22nd June was another Red Letter in the Hooper-Holmes family diary. Six months, almost to the day, since the little church in Colbert St Mary had witnessed the joining of Mr Sherlock Holmes and Miss Molly Hooper in holy matrimony, it was to be the scene of a rather different but equally joyful ceremony – the christening of three months old Violet Augusta Hooper-Holmes. And the same personnel were gathering together for the occasion.

William and Freddie had both been christened at St Bartholomew the Great, in Smithfield, but that was before St Mary the Virgin came to occupy a special place in the hearts of Sherlock and Molly. Since the wedding, the happy couple now thought of the Holmes family's ancestral place of worship as 'their church'. No one was more surprised at this than Sherlock himself - who was adamant he had absolutely no religious beliefs, what so ever, and who had previously eschewed all the traditions associated with being a member of the landed gentry - but the spiritual act of pledging himself to Molly, through their wedding vows, had affected him far more deeply than anticipated. Marriage had changed him. He felt, for the better.

So the decision to have Violet – affectionately known as Ada – christened at the little country church was a very easy one to make and Mycroft was delighted to offer his home, once again, as the venue for the little party that would follow the service itself.

The Hooper-Holmes family travelled to Colbert House on the day before the christening, along with Mrs Hudson, all collected by Mr Orgreave, Mycroft's chauffeur. Molly's mother and sister arrived on the Saturday also, by train from Northampton, and would be returning home on Monday morning. Caro and Henrique were already there, having flown over from Brazil the week before for a month-long visit to the UK. After the weekend of the christening, they would be going on up to Scotland, to spend some time with Caro's family, the Bowes-Lyons. All the other guests were making the journey to Hertfordshire on the day itself and gathering at the church.

Caro and Henrique were meeting Violet, in person, for the first time and that meeting, on the Saturday afternoon, was extremely emotional.

'Oh, my goodness! She is so like Violet!' Caro exclaimed, with shining eyes, as Molly placed the baby in her arms. 'She has her eyes and the same heart-shaped face. And look at all those golden curls! What a little darling!'

William and Freddie were thrilled to see Caro and Henrique again, after a six month gap. Henrique commented on how much the two boys had grown, since Christmas. He and William had a lot to catch up on, comparing Mind Spaces, so they disappeared off to the library, whilst Freddie charged upstairs to the Nursery, in search of his cousins, Katy and Charlie, leaving the grown-ups in peace, to chat over tea and scones in the Summer Drawing Room.

Molly could not wait to tell Caro about their new home. The family had been in residence, now, for a week and everyone was settling in nicely. William and Freddie were delighted with their new rooms and not just because they each had their own space again. William's love of everything astronomical and Freddie's obsession with steam engines were fully catered for and any bad feeling, brought on by having to cohabit, was long forgotten.

For Violet, who had been sleeping in Freddie's Moses basket, in her parents' room, for the first three months of her life, it was a major change to be sleeping in a cot, in a room on her own, let alone a new room in a new house. But she was a very laid-back baby, despite her rather dramatic entry into the world – or perhaps because of it. Nothing seemed to upset her equilibrium. Molly was adamant it was because the baby girl was surrounded, on all sides, by adoring males!

William seemed absolutely fascinated by his new baby sister. He would sit and gaze at her, silently, for long periods of time, as though studying her. He was particularly intrigued by the fact that her eyes were the same as his own. It inspired him to research eye colour in general and heterochromia in particular. It didn't seem to concern Violet that William didn't talk to her – he didn't see the point, since she never replied – and Freddie did enough talking for both brothers.

Every day, when Hooper-Holmes Minor arrived home from crèche, he would go straight to Violet's crib and, if she was awake, give her a full account of all his day's activities. If she wasn't awake, he would purse his lips and huff, impatiently, then go off to the kitchen for a chat with Marie, to pass the time until his sister was awake and could listen to his daily updates. It didn't bother him in the slightest that she didn't reply.

Freddie was rewarded for his perseverance by being the first member of the family to elicit a genuine social smile from Violet, when she was six weeks of age, and now, at three months, she would coo excitedly at the sound of Freddie's voice, as soon as he came into earshot, kicking her legs and waving her arms with glee. Freddie was the best entertainment around!

Sherlock was still coming to terms with being the father of a daughter. He could barely comprehend how much his heart swelled at the very sight of her. Molly sometimes referred to her as 'the other woman', Sherlock was so enamoured of the child. But, unlike her own mother, she felt no jealousy or resentment. She was just delighted that her husband was such a doting father to all his children.

However, for the first month at least, every time he changed Violet's nappy, he thought,

'Oh, my god! We have a girl!'

Freddie was quick to notice that his sister was anatomically quite different to him and his brother. The first time Molly brought the little girl to join the boys for bath time, he exclaimed,

'Mummy! Where is Ada's winkle?'

William was unimpressed.

'She's a girl, Freddie,' he scoffed, disdainfully. 'She doesn't have one. And it's NOT called a 'winkle', it's called a penis.'

Molly quickly intervened, explaining that girls' private parts were different to boys. She also told William that, if he wanted to, Freddie could call a penis a winkle or whatever he liked. William furrowed his brow, at that admonishment, in a manner so reminiscent of his father that Molly had to stifle a giggle.

All these little anecdotes kept the party well entertained until bedtime, when they all retired early, to be fresh and alert for the big day ahead. As they sat down to breakfast, in the main dining room, that Sunday morning, which dawned warm and bright, promising clear skies and sunshine, Mycroft was conspicuous by his absence, having been recalled to London, the day before, over some crisis associated with the News of the World phone hacking trial.

Apparently, the jury were ready to give their verdict and there were serious implications for the PM, if it went against certain individuals, so a plan of action needed to be devised and Mycroft's diplomatic expertise was much in demand. However, he had assured Sherlock and Molly that he would be back in time for the service, which wasn't until two in the afternoon.

ooOoo

The first guests to arrive at St Mary the Virgin were John, Mary and Lily Rose, along with Greg Lestrade and Anthea Smith, who had brought them in Greg's car. John was pleased to see that Greg and Anthea were still together. Their relationship was never mentioned at New Scotland Yard so John assumed that he and Sherlock were the only colleagues of the DI who knew about the liaison and they had certainly never leaked that information – John due to his strong sense of decorum and Sherlock due to his complete lack of interest in other people's social lives.

The clandestine couple were very easy in each other's company, laughing and joking, casually touching each other on the arm or the back, as all the guests stood chatting in the sunshine, in the little country churchyard, waiting for the principles to arrive, and Lily-Rose, Katy and Charlie ran around, chasing butterflies.

The Hooper- Holmeses were the last to arrive at the church. Molly emerged from Mycroft's limo looking radiant, dressed in her handmade 1950's style garden party outfit. Three months of breast feeding had taken care of the baby fat and she was back to her usual dimensions but she glowed with an inner joy, as she took both her boys by the hand and led them up the paved path to the church door. William and Freddie were smart but casual in cotton shorts and polo shirts, with baseball caps to match their individual outfits, cotton socks and sandals.

Sherlock looked handsome and debonair, as always, dressed in a light grey Spencer Hart suit with a plain white shirt, open at the neck, and handmade patent leather shoes. But the star of the show was Violet. Sherlock lifted her from the car seat, to admiring gasps from all those waiting in the churchyard for a first look at the christening outfit.

The vintage Edwardian gown was made of pure white cotton, with a plain bodice and short, puff sleeves, and an exquisite border, just above the hem, embroidered in white silk thread. The matching bonnet was trimmed with white lace and fastened, under the chin, with white satin ribbons. She also wore matching cotton, lace and satin bootees but these were hidden under the long white gown.

The family entered the church and everyone else poured in behind them, taking their seats for the start of the service. As was common in older churches, the font was at the rear of the building so the family sat in what had historically been the servants' box pews and everyone else sat facing the altar.

The service was brief but poignant, with the usual prayers, the god-parents – John, Mary and Molly's sister, Karen, - making their promises and the congregation singing Howard Goodall's version of the 23rd Psalm and 'All Things Bright and Beautiful'. William reduced everyone to tears with his solo acapela rendition of 'The Lamb' by John Tavener, which he had been rehearsing for his school's end of year service. He had never sung it to an audience before, or even without the full choir behind him, but that did not seem to bother him in the slightest.

Violet, in the tradition of all babies everywhere, slept through the whole thing – even when the vicar poured holy water over her head. In fact, she didn't wake up until everyone was back at the big house, assembled in the garden, sipping champagne in the glorious June sunshine. Mrs Willis and Andrew, Mycroft's housekeeper and butler, circulated around the guests with trays of canapés whilst Mrs Orgreave, the cook, put the final touches to the buffet tea. The children played on the Jungle Gym climbing frame that Mycroft had had installed for Katy and Charlie, supervised by a relay of adults. It was the perfect culmination to a memorable day.

After all the day guests had departed and Molly was getting the family's belongings together, for the journey home, Sherlock went in search of his brother. There was something he needed to say and this was the first opportunity he'd had to say it.

He found Mycroft in his study, reading emails from concerned senior ministers, still worried about how tomorrow's verdict might impact on the PM's office, the government and the party. He looked up, as Sherlock entered the room, and the younger Holmes noted the dark shadows under his sibling's eyes. The Iceman was in his private sanctuary so had allowed the strain of responsibility to show.

'You really should learn to delegate, Mycroft,' Sherlock remarked, lowering himself into one of the green, leather wing chairs, by the empty fireplace.

'I would gladly do so, brother mine, if there were but one person with a morsel of intelligence to whom I could. I don't suppose you have had a Road to Damascus epiphany and are finally agreeing to enter the fold? As I've said so many times, there is always a place for you in my department.'

Sherlock snorted with amusement. Mycroft never gave up trying to recruit him, even though he knew it was a long lost cause.

'No, brother, no epiphany or, at least, not of that nature,' he replied, enigmatically.

'Oh, then of what nature was it?' Mycroft asked, rising from behind his desk and walking over to the sideboard, pouring two snifters of brandy and handing one to his brother before sitting in the other leather wing chair.

Sherlock rolled the brandy snifter between his hands, to warm the golden brown liquid it held, before taking a sip.

'Well, I never thanked you for…' he paused, trying to find the right turn of phrase, '…for your thoughtful generosity to me and my family.'

'Oh, dear boy, think nothing of it. I was more than happy to host my niece's christening party…' Mycroft began, waving a hand, dismissively.

'No, Mycroft, I didn't mean the christening party, although, obviously, we are deeply grateful for that, of course. No, I was referring to…' Again, the right words just would not come.

Mycroft wrinkled his brow and glanced at the mantle clock.

'Well, brother, you really need to spit it out - or would you like me to tell Mrs Willis that you and the family will be staying another night?'

'No, thank you,' Sherlock huffed, frustrated that Mycroft was finding his awkwardness so amusing. 'William has school tomorrow and, as it's his last two weeks at that school, he really doesn't want to miss any of it.'

William had been accepted for a place at St Paul's school, beginning in September. He would be a day boy, initially, until he was eight when, if he passed his audition to become a chorister and chose to take up the place, he would become a boarder. And Freddie, who had recently turned three, would be starting at St Paul's, too, in the Foundation Department. So it was a big change for both boys, leaving their respective institutions.

'I was referring to…' he began again '…the house.'

Mycroft frowned again. The house? What house? This house? Oh! The penny finally dropped.

'Oh, Sherlock, you really don't need to thank me for…'

'Yes, I do!' he exclaimed, almost jumping out of his seat and then relapsing back again. 'I do need to thank you and to apologise for not thanking you before…at the time…on the day. You are right. I am a drama queen…but only because you let me get away with it! You always have.'

He paused and the two brothers studied one another for a long moment.

'You really are far too indulgent,' Sherlock said, breaking the stalemate.

Mycroft gave a wry smile.

'You know me too well, brother mine. You see through me. And you are right, of course. I've never been able to stand up to you, not really. But I also know that you usually see sense, eventually. And you have - again.'

He raised his glass.

'Truce?' he asked.

Sherlock raised his glass, too.

'Truce,' he agreed.

'Well, that's good,' Mycroft smiled, 'because I have another job for you.'

Sherlock tensed, suspiciously. What had he let himself in for, he wondered.

'What sort of job?' he asked, warily.

'Oh, a very difficult one, requiring tact, diplomacy and endless patience. I'm not actually sure you're up to it, to be frank.'

Sherlock bristled.

'Well, perhaps I should be the judge of that,' he snorted. 'What is this job?'

'I asked Arthur to marry me. He said yes. I'd like you to be my Best Man.'

ooOoo

That's it, folks! All done and dusted. Hope you liked it.

Some folk have asked about the issue of William going to boarding school. St Paul's is a day school, except for the choristers who have to board because of their singing commitments to St Paul's Cathedral. It is a very busy life for the boys - and girls, as some cathedrals now have girl choristers, too, though the choirs are not usually mixed. Anyway, it will be up to William whether he decides to board or not - assuming he passes his audition, though I don't think that is likely, do you?