Hi guys! So, the first chapter of After is here! Just so you know, I've decided to do full-length chapters with one-shots in between each one. Or almost each one. I'M SO EXCITED! I actually really can't believe that I'm doing this, but it's too late to go back now. I'm sure you'll find that Sherlock has noticeably changed and I hope that you'll think that it's alright. I figure that after seven years with Katherine, he would have learned how to show affection more naturally than he used to. That isn't to say that he hasn't retained some of his original persona.

Anyway, I hope you like it! I'll be hiding under a rock awaiting your reviews.

(I'm VERY nervous.)

-lightinside

Seven years after 'the end'...

I cracked open one eye to peer at the alarm clock beside the bed and felt my lips stretch out in a sleepy grin when I saw that it was hardly nine in the morning. This was the first morning that I hadn't been rudely awakened by shouting or squealing in as long as I could remember. Saturdays were sacred, as they always had been. Quiet, soft, and uninterrupted. I closed my eyes and snuggled back into the covers, aware of the warmth of Sherlock's still sleeping form as he lay next to me.

A squeal echoed through the flat. The pattering of small feet came rushing down the hall and I huffed a sigh into my pillow. Saturdays had been sacred. And then came our Mia.

"MUMMY!" She shouted, scrambling up the bed frame and onto my back as she giggled. Sherlock groaned into his pillow as her girlish laughter awakened him from sleep. "It's Christmas, Mummy, wake up." Mia insisted, leaning forward so that her dark curls, inherited straight from her father, tickled my face.

"Go open your presents, love." I said, rolling over so that she fell bum first into the narrow space that was between me and Sherlock. "We'll be in there in a few minutes."

My daughter smiled, her small teeth gleaming in the morning light as she shook her head in defiance and crawled onto my stomach, unaware that her sibling was growing there. I smiled up at her and brushed the curls from her small, porcelain face.

"You have to go with me." Mia said adamantly, a trait which I knew she had inherited fully from me. I turned my head so that I was looking at Sherlock's head, still buried in his pillow.

"You heard her." I said, giving his shoulder a light shove. "Time to get up."

"Absolutely not." He grumbled, though his voice was without bite. I knew that it was only a matter of minutes until Mia moved on to manipulating him and he caved with the soft, adoring smile that he only had for her.

"Daddy," Mia whined softly, throwing her arms over his back as she moved off of my stomach. "Please?"

"Go harass your uncle." Sherlock told her, but I could hear traces of that smile in his muffled voice. "I'm sure he'd love to put down his paper and read to you until we can all open presents."

Mia seemed to be considering this, a mischievous light dancing in her green eyes before she planted a kiss on Sherlock's shoulder and hopped down.

"UNCLE MYCROFT!" She screamed, dashing down the hall like the hellion she was, curls bouncing behind her.

"That was positively diabolical." I said. He only smiled as we both fell silent as we listened, waiting for Mia to go crashing into the sofa and into Mycroft. Even from where Sherlock and I were, we could hear Mycroft groan. The sound sent me into a fit of giggles during which Sherlock turned over so that he could look at me. There was a tenderness there in his eyes that caused me to stop laughing and hold his gaze.

When we'd found out about Mia five years ago, that I was actually expecting after only having been married for a year and a half, Sherlock had taken a few days to come around. Before I even dared entertain the thought to tell him I was pregnant, I'd taken probably fifteen different tests. It wasn't that we hadn't talked about it or that he didn't want children, but neither of us had thought it would happen so soon. I also don't think he expected to fall so completely in love with her so instantly.

But the minute he held her for the first time, something just clicked. Fatherhood wasn't always easy for him, but he'd excelled at it so brilliantly despite his own imagined shortcomings. Watching him with Mia, seeing him smile and read to her and sit down at her pink tea table to be a guest of honor at one of her many parties, it only made me love him more.

"Remind me why we invited my brother." Sherlock requested after I had laid my head on his shoulder. I could feel his fingers in my hair, exploring the tresses absently like they always did when he was especially contented.

"He's your brother." I answered him with a snort. "You know. Blood is thicker than water and all that."

"It's Christmas." Sherlock huffed. "Mycroft is anti-holiday. Anti-everything, really. He hardly even smiles."

"You hate holidays, love." I reminded him. "And you never smile unless it's for me or Mia."

"He's a grouch."

"So are you."

Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "Can I never win?"

"When I'm feeling generous enough, you might." I kissed his chin, halting his petulance in its tracks. "And Mycroft loves Mia. He might pretend he doesn't, but do you really think if I had invited him that he would have showed up? Mia was the one who insisted he come. And now he's sitting in our living room."

"Who could help but love her?" Sherlock questioned rhetorically, as if Mycroft's reaction was the only obvious reaction to the extending of Mia's childlike affection. After a minute, he sighed and kissed the top of my head. "We should get up before the rest of the world shows up on our doorstep."

I chewed my bottom lip. "Who all is coming again? Did you invite anyone?"

"No. Who did you invite?"

"Well, Dana called." I said, working through the infinite list of Christmas morning brunch-goers in my mind. "She and Andrew are coming. And she's about three weeks away from having Eli so chances are that Andrew won't be too much of a conversationalist. He'll be too busy worrying after her."

"Good." Sherlock muttered. "I might not have to pretend to be courteous."

I elbowed him in the ribs gently. "Stop that. There's no reason to dislike him anymore."

"I dislike him on principle."

A sigh made its way from my parted lips. "You're such a child." He only grunted his agreement, having heard this statement an infinite amount of times over the last nine years, and allowed me to move on down the list. "Your parents are coming. Your mum phoned me yesterday morning, asking me what she should bring. I told her she should only bring herself, but she insisted, so -"

"Tell me that she is not bringing shepherd's pie." Sherlock groaned. "She's sent more shepherd's pie home with us in the last six months than I ever care to see again for the rest of my life."

I shared the sentiment, but he was just out of luck. "Stomach one more plate."

"Katherine."

"Well, I couldn't say no!"

"You don't know how to say no."

"It's your mum, Sherlock. She can be very frightening when she wants to be. Just like you, if you are, in fact, conveniently unaware that you inherited that particular trait from her."

I could feel the corners of Sherlock's mouth curl upward against my forehead. I closed my eyes and tried to enjoy the rare moment of togetherness we were sharing. Usually it would be around the time he fell silent and decided that it was okay just to be there with me that Mia would come bursting through the door. She didn't and I was grateful for a moment that Mycroft was here to distract her.

"Who else?" He asked me after a while, still running his fingers through my hair. The act itself was about to lull me to sleep. During weeks where he was wrapped up in a case, I hardly saw him. He was chained to the table in the living room pouring over evidence or researching on my laptop because he preferred it over his own, or meeting Molly in the morgue to conspire over his findings.

I hadn't seen much of Molly lately, not since Moriarty had been locked away (for good this time), but from what I'd heard she had finally met someone she could manage going on a date with without calling in backup. She managed it so well, in fact, that when the guy proposed three months ago, she said yes.

"Molly is bringing Thatcher with her. My dad is coming by his lonesome – my mum opted out. I think she's going to see Harry in the States this Christmas instead of coming here. Said that if he won't come home, she'll go visit him and remind him he has a family he needs to see every once in a while. And if I know anything, that means that she'll probably overstay her welcome and come back defeated. And Lestrade said he might drop by for a few minutes. He never did give me a straight answer."

"Mmm." Sherlock hummed in the back of his throat, thinking. "What about Kyle and Breanna?"

Before I could open my mouth to tell him that they were indeed coming, we were interrupted.

"MUMMY!" Mia shouted, "DADDY!"

Both Sherlock and I groaned as we heard her take of down the hall toward our room. Mia jumped on top of Sherlock this time, realizing that she could straddle us both to conduct double the badgering until we dragged ourselves from bed.

"Uncle Mycroft said it was time for you to get up." She told us.

Sherlock turned to me so that he could scowl without Mia seeing. I laughed loudly, unable to help myself, and he turned back to Mia. "We're coming, love."

"Promise?" She asked, poking out her bottom lip in a pout as she stared at Sherlock with those big green eyes of hers that could move mountains.

"Promise." Sherlock told her, tugging on her curls with a smile.

"Then you gotta get up." Mia said.

I fought back a laugh as I watched her push him into consent, realizing that she was too much like Sherlock for her own good. The child was relentless. It would serve her well someday, when she needed that certain kind of strength most.

"We will." Sherlock told her again with a chuckle.

Mia scowled back at him and put her small hands on her hips. "You say that every time and you never do."

"Mia," I said, catching her attention though she didn't remove her hands from her hips. That severe look she'd been giving her father transferred to me. "Is your uncle sending you in here to wake us so he can read his paper?"

The scowl evaporated. "No." She said softly, though she began fidgeting in a way that told me everything I needed to know. I covered her ears with my hands and winked at her so she knew she wasn't in trouble before shouting down the hall.

"DON'T SEND A CHILD TO DO YOUR BIDDING, MYCROFT HOLMES!"

Mia collapsed into giggles, sprawling helplessly across my legs, and Sherlock scooped her off of my lap before sitting up and allowing her to climb onto his back so that she could ride lazily into the kitchen to sit while he made himself a cuppa. He leaned down once she was situated and pecked me on the lips briefly before leaving with Mia, who twisted in his grip just enough so that she could turn and blow me a kiss as she was carried away.

I caught it and pressed it to my heart.

I could hear Mia babbling incessantly from the kitchen, telling Sherlock all about what he'd missed in the thirty minutes since she'd last come to wake us up. The radio in the kitchen was on, playing Jingle Bell Rock, as it always did on Christmas morning, at a low volume. I decided about five minutes later, when the warmth from Sherlock's previous occupancy next to me had faded and I was left to realize that I was now alone and cold and without cocoa (I could smell it from there), I hauled myself out of bed and grabbed Sherlock's robe before making my way down the hall.

"I was looking for that." Sherlock said as I finished knotting the tie at my waist.

I smirked, plucking a cup of cocoa from his hands with a flourish. "You're not getting it back."

He snorted as he turned away to make another cup of cocoa for himself. "I didn't think so."

"Mummy, when is Aunt Dana going to be here?" Mia chirped from her seat in Sherlock's chair. It looked as though it was practically trying to swallow her small form whole, despite the large red blanket that now covered her and took up some of the empty space.

"I don't know, darling. She and Andrew have a very long way to come. They live in the States, you know." I took her a small cup of cocoa and helped her situate her blanket again before drifting back into the kitchen to stand next to Sherlock. Mycroft was reading his paper moodily on the couch, or trying to. His eyes kept darting up as he listened to snippets of the conversation happening around him. I knew he couldn't be getting much out of it.

"Will she bring Eli?" Mia asked.

"Eli hasn't been born yet, sweetheart."

"So that means that she'll have to bring him."

Sherlock snorted into his cup while attempting to take a sip of his cocoa and I could barely stifle my own laughter, but did so to keep Mia from thinking she'd said something ridiculous. Mycroft raised his paper in front of his face to hide the twitching of his lips that threatened to become a real smile.

"Yes, I suppose that means that she'll have to bring him." I answered her. "Since he's still in her tummy."

"When am I going to get a little brother?" Mia asked with a pout. I froze in mid-sip, glancing nervously over at Sherlock to make sure he wasn't watching me. I hadn't told him about the baby yet and I certainly hadn't told Mia. She wouldn't be able to keep the secret long enough for me to be able to make the announcement special for Sherlock.

I wasn't going to say anything in front of company, but later, after everyone had gone and Mia was downstairs with Mrs. Hudson watching cartoons as they always did on Saturday nights, despite the holidays, I would tell him. I worried only because I knew that we would eventually have to move from Baker Street. We only had two bedrooms as it was – Mia's and ours. Sherlock would hate that. The suburbs were his absolute worst nightmare and he made sure that I knew it on a regular basis. Dana and Andrew had already made the transition, which was probably why Sherlock was so opposed to it. He didn't want to be even remotely connected to Andrew in any way, shape, form, or fashion. Andrew felt the same way about him, though he was better about hiding it.

"I don't know, Mia." I hummed, smiling at her despite the doubts swirling around toxically in my mind. "Wish hard. Dream. That's how things happen, right?"

"A dream is a wish your heart makes." She said, reciting Cinderella with a sweet smile on her small face. She was always so happy to be able to make a reference to any Disney movie. All my efforts in turning her into a pint-sized geek were succeeding. The next fandom to tackle would be Star Wars and I was so bound and determined to have her in love with Han Solo by next Christmas that I was already planning our binge-watching schedule.

"Mummy, I had a dream I had a little brother." Mia told me, burrowing into her blanket as she daintily sipped her cocoa. "Does that mean I'll get one?"

"Anything is possible." I answered her, planting a kiss in her curls as I walked into the living room. I took my usual seat in John's chair, realizing with a small frown that the fabric was wearing thin over the springs. As much as Mia jumped around on the furniture – a habit that she refused to allow to be broken – it was bound to tear and be forced into retirement sooner rather than later.

"Then I'll just wish really hard." Mia declared and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Oh, for God's sake." Mycroft muttered, finally breaking his silence as he tossed down his paper. He was always uncomfortable when the subject of children arose. Of having children, really. His mother had been all over him for the past year about getting married and starting a family of his own; everyone knew because it was all she talked about when we managed to have dinner as a group. Her reasoning was that she wanted more grandchildren when, really, I thought that all she wanted was to see Mycroft happy. "This day is, as usual, unending."

"It's hardly ten in the morning." Sherlock called over to him with a scowl, not wanting his mood to taint Mia's Christmas experience. "I'm sure that you will find a way to muddle through, as always."

Mycroft sighed as Mia began watching him with bated breath, horrified by the thought that he wasn't as happy to be among family as she was. "Of course." He said, mostly to her. Mia grinned and snuggled back into her seat, content for the time being.

I took a distracted sip of my cocoa that resulted in a scalded tongue.

Mia began chatting away to Mycroft, forcing him to give her his undivided attention as I drifted to the fridge to pour myself a cup of water to relieve my burnt tongue.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock murmured in my ear, standing with his hands about my waist as I rummaged through the fridge.

"We need to go to the shop soon." I said, avoiding his question for the time being. "Everything we had went into making dishes for the party today."

"We'll get to it." He promised. "Is there something you feel you should tell me? You seem very…" There was a long pause, as if he was trying to find the words to describe how he felt I was acting. "… Not yourself."

"Since when?"

"Since about five minutes ago." Sherlock answered, still almost whispering as Mia talked on. "When Mia asked about having a sibling."

"Oh. That." I shook my head as I abandoned my endeavor to find water and turned around so that I could put my arms around his neck. With a kiss to the tip of his nose, I attempted to give him a reassuring smile. "No. I'm alright."

Sherlock still didn't look too convinced. "Katherine, really. If there is something you need to say, you ought to say it now before there are too many people here to be able to have a proper conversation."

I glanced at Mia, who had abandoned her blanket and her cocoa and was now practically in Mycroft's lap, showing him the bruise she'd inflicted upon her elbow "abandoning ship." I remembered the incident well and not with much fondness, seeing as how she'd gotten hurt. It had happened a week ago. I had been making dinner, waiting on Sherlock to come back from seeing Molly, and Mia had been jumping around from one piece of furniture to the next. She claimed that she was fighting her way through the EITC battalions that awaited her outside of Shipwreck Cove.

That had been my own fault for letting her watch Pirates of the Caribbean before she had been in science class long enough to be taught that gravity affects everyone, even pirates. Which was also why I adamantly refused to allow her to watch Lord of the Rings lest she ever find Sherlock's letter opener, which I had hidden out of her reach long ago because of how sharp he insisted on keeping it, and deem herself brave enough to battle orcs in our living room.

She was spinning the colorful tale of how she had received her battle wound in full detail for Mycroft, eyes wide and arms flying about her head in such a convincing manner that I was shocked to see Mycroft actually give in and smile.

"You are rarely so quiet." He murmured again, a crease forming between his eyebrows as he became visibly worried.

"I'm thinking, love." I said, tugging on his curls as he had Mia's. "That's all."

Sherlock sighed. "There's nothing…?"

"Sherlock."

"I know. I rarely speak so much." He shook his head in resignation. "If you say that I have nothing to worry over, I won't mention it again."

"You have nothing to worry over."

It really was the truth. He had nothing to worry about, even though he really did despise the suburbs. Whatever happened, I knew he would be happy. He'd handled Mia exactly as I expected – beautifully. Having another child wouldn't be a challenge for him in the least, I knew that; I was glad of it.

"Mummy remembers!" Mia declared, dragging us from our adult world and back into hers, where the sun was her smile and our every happiness was her laughter. I kissed Sherlock gently and mussed his curls with my hand before walking over to sit down in his chair, snatching up Mia's discarded blanket with fervor as I covered my frozen toes.

"What do I remember?" I asked her.

"How I defeated Bucket."

"Beckett, darling. Cutler Beckett."

"Doesn't matter; I didn't like him anyway." Mia waved her mistake off and turned back to her uncle, who had chuckled briefly despite knowing that Sherlock and I were watching him. It seemed that, for the moment, he didn't mind much. That in itself was profoundly unusual.

Mia had the ability to charm the moodiest and most miserable of human beings with Mycroft being chief among them, though I sometimes thought most of it was just an act. Even so, I never thought I would live to see the day when someone of her size would wiggle their way into his heart.

Sherlock glanced at the clock with a soft growl. "They'll be here in an hour." He called to us, already stalking back to the bedroom so that he could start making himself presentable.

Mia squealed loudly, directly in Mycroft's ear. "Really!?"

"And now I've lost my hearing." Mycroft muttered, scowling marginally as he leaned away from her.

"Yes, sweetheart." I said, standing up. "Do you want to wait until everyone is here to open your presents or start now? Mummy has to run and get ready, so it's up to you."

"Does everybody else get a present?"

"We all exchange them, yes." I told her.

"Then I can wait." Mia paused as she turned thoughtful. "Could I give one of mine to Eli?"

The generosity she held in her heart never ceased to stun me. "How about this?" I reached out for her and she hopped into my arms eagerly, putting her tiny hands on my cheeks as I spoke. "When Eli is born, you and I will go pick out a present for him."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"I love you lots." She said.

"I love you oodles."

"What comes after oodles?"

"Caboodles."

"Oh. I love you caboodles."

"I love you more than most."

"No," Mia protested. "I love you most."

I shook my head with a smile. "That simply isn't possible, my love."

"Anything is possible if you just believe." Mia insisted as I walked her down the hall and plopped her down on her bed with a kiss. "Jiminy Cricket says so."

"Jiminy Cricket never had a little girl." I said. "Aunt Dana will be here soon. Brush your hair for me, and your teeth."

"Do I have to change?"

"Not if you don't want to." I promised, watching as Mia proceeded to hug her shoulders with a shake of her head, grabbing the royal purple fabric of her nightgown in her small, ineffectual fists.

"I want to stay in my pj's."

"Alright."

I walked down the hall, listening to Mia humming to herself as she began picking out a book to read. When I reached our bedroom, I found Sherlock sprawled across the quilt I kept on top of the bed, all knees and elbows and curls. He was already in his suit, but obviously didn't mind wrinkling it before company came.

"What are you doing?" I asked, sighing heavily as I looked him over.

"Sleeping."

"You've slept all morning."

"Yes, but that munchkin of ours awakened the entire street with her screeching." He groaned. "Five minutes more would make me a much better host."

"That's manipulation." I sang, unable to scold him seriously. He tried to bargain with me on a regular basis, practically begging me to allow him to sleep longer. In the years before Mia, he'd stayed up all night playing his violin or pacing the floor – he would do anything but sleep. He hardly ever could. And then, after Mia, though he'd gone from disliking sleep to appreciating the institution in a newly reformed, respectful manner, it was a miracle if he could get an extra five minutes of rest.

"It's the truth." Sherlock said, gazing at me as I began digging through the closet to find something to wear. I held up a red blouse with cartoon candy-canes plastered across the collar and considered it halfheartedly before tossing it in the small wicker bin we kept in our room.

"I've always hated that thing." I muttered.

"A gift from Sylvia?"

"No, actually. My mum."

"By all means, toss it." Sherlock agreed, scrunching his nose in disgust. My mum had the worst taste in clothes. Not her own, really, but it was almost like when she tried to buy a gift for someone, something went awry and she seemed disillusioned to what was actually acceptable to buy without insulting the person she bought it for. Like that one friend a person has that never knows what to get them, no matter how long they've known each other, but they always make the smart and safe choice and buy a blanket every year instead.

Dana and I exchanged blankets every Christmas and every birthday.

"You should wear the jumper your mum bought you last year." I told Sherlock as I pulled it off the hanger to toss at him. It landed on his face and he yanked it off with a roll of his eyes.

"If you would let me throw it in the bin, I would."

"It's only a few hours, Sherlock. It would make her happy."

He stared at the knit reindeer face, accentuated by the tree-green fabric of the background, and pushed its nose unhappily, watching as it turned red and began to flash. "How can you ask this of me?"

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. "I forgot about the nose. Toss it if you want. I wouldn't dare to be so cruel as to make you wear it."

"I remember now why I married you." He reminisced, happily throwing the jumper, which was still dancing with color, into the bin on top of my candy-cane blouse.

"And had babies with me." I said coolly, deciding on a blue cardigan and a pair of black jeans that I'd bought last year.

"One." Sherlock said.

"Babies." I replied, smirking now.

He stopped. "ies?"

"Mmm." I hummed, keeping busy so that he could process the information without feeling like I was waiting for him to exhibit a particular emotion. He didn't like feeling pressured to have a reaction to anything and I wanted him to be able to take his time in grasping what I was saying without becoming upset.

"As in… another?"

"As in another."

When I turned around, I was met with a lopsided grin that nearly swept me off my feet. I smiled back at him, realizing he was gazing at my stomach much as he had when he'd found out about Mia. Reverently.

"When did you know?"

"A few weeks ago." I admitted. "I wanted to be absolutely sure before I told you."

"And are you?"

I laughed. "Well, I'm telling you, aren't I?"

Sherlock sighed happily and stood from his seat on the bed, walking over to put his arms around me. After a moment of us just standing there, he chuckled into my hair.

"I can't believe we're going to do this all over again."

Mia whooped from her room, giving off a war cry of sorts, before dashing into the living room. Something crashed and broke. Mycroft groaned.

I mentally crossed my fingers, hoping she had broken the ceramic cat my mother had given to us for our second wedding anniversary beyond repair (we both hated it). "I know."

"Which do you want, a boy or a girl?"

"Another girl. Just like Mia."

"God. I'll be in my grave before I make it to forty." Sherlock groused, but there was a lightness in his voice that let me know if that was the case, he wouldn't mind it very much at all.

"I love you." I said.

"As I love you."