Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is still not mine

A Note: well, this is it—my last chapter for this story. Thanks to everyone who has followed it from the start, and especially to all my reviewers. I'm not sure if I'll write another story about Sian and Sherlock, but I'm fairly certain that I'll eventually write one about Violet Holmes (Sherlock's daughter, that is—not his mother). Anyway, thanks again!

Chapter Twenty-One

"So, what else has happened since I've been gone?" Sian asked her father the next day at breakfast.

Sian, Holmes, and Ernest were all seated at the dining table the next morning. Sian had tried her best to keep Sherlock in bed, but he had argued that nothing was wrong with his legs, and he outright refused to be mollycoddled like an invalid. This had upset Sian at the time, but she had long-since forgotten to be peeved, since he was holding her hand under the breakfast table.

Ernest chewed his eggs, considering. He swallowed. "Chelsea had another baby," he said. "A girl. She turned one last October." Sian and Holmes exchanged glances.

"What's her name?" Sian asked eagerly. "Is it another city, like Paris and London?" Ernest nodded grimly. "What is it?"

"Roma Italia," he said.

"What?" Sian asked, cringing slightly.

"Yeah, I know," Ernest agreed.

"That's not nearly as good as my suggestion," Holmes observed austerely as he ate his toast. Sian laughed, remembering back when she and Sherlock had suggested some rather outlandish cities for Chelsea's future children.

"Any other news?" Sian asked.

"Well… Chelsea and Dennis are getting divorced."

"She's better off without him," Sian noted, "but I still feel awful for her. What happened?"

"Dennis… well, he was cheating on her," Ernest said carefully. "And Chelsea found out."

"Oh no!"

"And I kick myself everyday for giving her away to such a man," he muttered.

"Dad… I'm sorry that you weren't able to give me away," Sian said softly.

"I never was worried about you. You gave yourself away, and to a much better man than Dennis Kent. I don't need to worry about Sherlock becoming an alcoholic, losing his job, and abandoning you and your children. He seems faithful to me."

"Thank you, sir," Holmes said.

"That reminds me!" Sian said. She turned to her husband, taking his hands in hers. "Sherlock, I should have told you this as soon as I realized, but… I'm pregnant."

"I know."

"You know?" Sian gave him a confused look. "How could you know?"

"Perhaps I should have feigned surprised," Holmes admitted. "Please don't hold it against him, but Watson told me, while you were, um, kidnapped. He felt I should know. I'm sorry for the lack of surprise on my part."

"No. I'm happy you knew—while I was kidnapped, I just kept wishing that I had told you, so you'd've known in case anything happened to me."

"Well, I have the perfect name for the baby it's a girl," Holmes suddenly announced.

"You do?" Sian asked skeptically.

"Yes. Regina."

"Regina?"

"Yes. But only if her middle name can be Saskatchewan."

"Not on your life."

---

"I should probably go home soon," Ernest said after breakfast. The three were sitting in the parlor with Jack and Violet; Holmes was resting on the sofa, Ernest was in the armchair, bouncing Violet on his knee, and Sian was on the floor playing with blocks with Jack.

Sian looked up at her father. She loved seeing him after two years of missing her family fiercely, but she knew that his visit had to end sometime.

"Yes, I suppose you should," she sighed, getting to her feet.

"Can I—can I say what happened to you?" he asked. "I mean, about the time-travel thing?" Sian stole a glance at Holmes, who merely shrugged a shoulder, and then groaned from pain.

"I guess you can tell Mom and Chelsea," she said. "But I wouldn't tell many more people than that."

"Of course. I don't want people to think my sanity's slipping in my old age." Ernest set Violet on the floor and hugged Sian.

"You know, Mr. Fairfax," Holmes said. "You're always welcome to come visit us." Ernest looked at him.

"Am I allowed to do that?" he wondered. Holmes remembered not to shrug as a response this time.

"Why not?" he said. "We have the Moriartys' transporters. Why not put them to good use?"

"Besides," Sian added, "it would be a shame for Jack and Violet and Not-Regina never to know one of their grandfathers." Ernest chuckled.

"Then I'll visit you often," he promised. And with another good-bye kiss to his daughter and grandchildren and a handshake with his son-in-law, Ernest returned to his own time.

Sian sat on the sofa next to Sherlock, contemplative.

"So, it's Not-Regina, is it?" he asked, motioning to her still-flat belly.

"That's right," Sian agreed with a nod.

"Well, if you're going to be so picky, then why don't you choose a name?" he teased.

"I like Olivia," Sian said after some consideration. Sherlock nodded in approval.

"Very well. Then as long as it's a girl, Olivia Holmes it is."