Make It Work: Chapter 2

Mary shook her head slightly, squinting her eyes skeptically as her husband spoke. Her fingers delicately traced patterns through the fabric of her dress, stopping just at the indention of her navel. She spread ouf her fingers and rested her palm there.

"We can make it work, Mary," Watson said quietly.

"It's unorthidox," his wife replied, almost laughing. "It's mad, John. People don't do that."

The doctor licked his lips, looking away. He leaned against the wall, and ran a hand through his short hair. Mary looked away too. For several minutes, neither of them said anything.

"You've always loved him," Mary finally said, smiling sadly. "It's my fault."

"It's not your fault-" Watson started, but Mary raised her hand.

"Yes it is," she said sternly. "I silenced this persistant little voice in my mind that told me to leave you." She began to laugh. "I already knew you had feelings for him..." she sighed. "I just thought I could change you."

"It wasn't your fault," Watson tried again.

"You can't change a person," Mary said. She closed the short distance between them, pressing her lips to his. He kissed her back, but it was not the kiss they were used to.

-----

"You knew!" Holmes barked, snapping his shirt before he put it on. "You can't tell me you didn't know!"

Irene, sitting cross-legged on his bed, scowled into space. She hardly moved as the man moved beside her to button his shirt. He sighed stiffly, glancing at her. "Watson came up with a suggestion," he said.

"Oh, wonderful," Irene scoffed, standing up. "You want my child as well?"

" OUR child," Holmes corrected her. "Mary's..." he scratched his head awkwardly. "Mary's pregnant too."

Irene laughed, staring up at the ceiling. "This is ridiculous." She covered her face, shaking her head. "This is absolutely ridiculous."

"I told you I loved him before we..." Holmes sighed, leaning back on his palms.

"I'M NOT IN LOVE WITH YOU!" Irene screamed, picking up her dress hat and hurling it at him. "I am...DISEASED by you! POISONED!" She placed her hand to her stomach. "You think I wanted this child?"

"You don't?" Holmes stared at her skeptically.

Irene took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I'm sorry...I'm being rash..." she sat down beside him. "I do want it." She took his hand in hers. "It's our child." She looked around. "So is the doctor going to believe we're still at it?"

"I told him you needed a place to stay," Holmes said.

Irene smiled sweetly. "I guess it's not so bad," she said quietly. "I mean, you're the only man I can stay with and not expect something in return."

"Mm." Holmes kissed her cheek.

"So what was his suggestion?" Irene looked at him.

-------"Oh, John!" Mary gasped, removing the groceries from their parcels. "Where did you find this?" She held up a ripe pineapple.

"I want to touch it!" Clara demanded, leaning across the table.

"Clara," Irene said, patting the seat of her dress. "Our feet go on the floor, Darling."

"Okay, Mama," Clara said, making no effort to move.

"Sit down, Darling." Irene prodded her again.

Edwin watched, and climbed into another chair. He laughed as he stood up, his hands gripping the tabletop. He looked at Clara and laughed again. Clara laughed too.

"Both of you, sit down," Irene told them.

"Wee!" Clara fell to her bottom.

"Wee-Ahh!" Edwin tried to do the same, but toppled right out of the chair. His head hit one of the chair legs with a loud thud. He began to wail.

"Oh!" Watson scooped him up. "Let Papa see."

Mary went to his side, also examining the damage. Edwin reached for her, and Watson obdiently passed him to her. Little Clara began to cry too. Irene picked her up.

"Edwin's alright," she told the little girl. "But that's why we don't stand up in the chair."

"Here, Irene," Mary chuckled. "Let's trade." She started to pass Edwin over, and Irene did the same, but both children clung to the opposite mothers like glue.

"Clara, don't you want to see Mommy?" Irene asked.

"Edwin, look," Mary said. "There's Mama."

Edwin only wailed in reply and tried to bury himself deeper into her dress. Clara wrapped her little legs around Irene, sniffling. Watson and Holmes watched the scene-both amusement and confusion crossing their faces. Mary and Irene looked at each other.

"You don't think..." Mary said quietly, rubbing Edwin's back.

"No." Irene shook her head. "They have to..."

------

"That's ridiculous," Watson sighed, rolling his eyes. He moved about the room, collecting various documents.

"John," Mary said, hot on his heels. "The children are confused. They don't know who their parents are."

"What makes you think that?" The doctor asked, still pretending to busy himself in his work.

"I witnessed it this afternoon!" Mary said, her voice raising, very rare for her. "Edwin is not aware that Irene is his mother and Clara is not aware that I am hers." She chuckled a little, though nothing was funny. "They call us Mommy and Mama..." she grew quiet. "For God's sake, John."

Watson stopped, throwing all of the papers back on the floor. "I thought was the plan? For the four of us to raise them."

"How can you watch your own child call somebody else 'Daddy'?" Mary asked, shaking her head. Before the man could answer, she left the room.

------

"Mommy?" Clara, who had been toddling down the hallway, stopped when she saw her mother's bedroom door slightly ajar. She pushed it open.

"Oh." Mary sniffed and quickly wiped at her eyes. "Hello, Darling." She held out her arms. Clara ran into them.

Mary held her, kissing the mop of dark blonde hair. Clara raised her head from her dress. "You're crying?"

"No, Love." Mary smiled, and kissed her again. "Mommy's not crying." She stroked her hair. "It's your bath time, isn't it?"

Clara smiled sheepishly, and as if on cue, Holmes stopped at the doorway. "There you are!"

"No, Daddy!" Clara latched onto Mary. "No bath!"

"Edwin's waiting in the tub," Holmes informed her. "You don't want to make him take a bath all by himself." He looked at Mary. "Have you seen the bump on his head?"

"No, but I certainly heard it when it happened," she replied, smiling. She set Clara down on the floor. "Go and get washed up."

The little girl toddled towards the detective and raised her arms. "Up."

Holmes complied, picking her up. He bounced her slightly, and frowned thoughtfully at Mary. "Something wrong?"

"No." Mary stood up. "No, nothing. Why?"

Holmes said nothing, only smiled awkwardly. He took Clara and left the room. He went to the washroom where Irene was kneeling over the tub, scrubbing Edwin's hair. She looked up at Holmes and Clara.

"Mama!" Clara giggled, squirming in the detective's arms. He released her and knelt down to undress her.

"Something troubles you and Mary," Holmes said, unbuttoning the little girl's dress and slipping it over her head.

Edwin slapped the surface of the water and it splashed onto Irene's face. She wiped wet hair from her forehead and cheek. Without looking at Holmes, she replied, "Take your pick."

"Bath time," Clara squeaked, peeking over the edge of the tub. Irene lifted her up and over the side.

"Do you really think it's fair to split up the children because you don't like seeing us together?" Holmes murmered, sliding down the far wall into a sitting position, his knees drawn-up.

Irene took a metal cup and dipped it into the water, and then gently poured it over Clara's hair. She was very careful not to get any water on her face. Edwin made a face and began to whine, so Irene did the same to him. He then dunked himself under water and came up sputtering and laughing. Holmes smiled at him.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time," Irene sighed. "And it still is, on some levels..." she began to wash Clara's hair. "but you know me well enough to know that I do not like to share."

Clara suddenly began to wail and the adults looked at her. Holmes moved across the short distance from the wall to the tub on his knees. Clara sobbed as she held up her arm. It was pink and swollen with several patterned indentions.

"He bit her again?" Irene sounded exasperated. She showed Clara's arm to Edwin. "No, Sir! We do not bite!"

"No! No!" Edwin shook a finger at Clara.

Irene threw her arms up helplessly. "He doesn't even understand he did anything wrong."

Clara frowned at Edwin. "No, Sir! Edwin!" She shook her own finger at him.

Edwin slapped her. Clara began to cry again and Holmes took his arm and dragged across the tub. Edwin used his free hand to slap the air. He continued to say, "No! No!"

Irene placed her elbows on the tub's edge and buried her face in her hands. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, but she was not crying. Holmes watched her silently as she continued to bathe the little girl. Without a word he took a nearby cloth and began to bathe Edwin.

"Sounds like monkeys battling," Watson said, entering the washroom. "What's going on?"

"Edwin bit Clara," Irene said flatly.

"Again?" Watson shook his finger at Edwin. "No, no, Eddie. That's naughty. That's very naughty."

"Noddy," Clara repeated, smiling up at him.

"Hello, Princess." Watson squeezed in between Holmes and Irene and kissed the toddler's wet cheek. She giggled as he kissed her again and again, making playful growling noises.

Edwin whined loudly and tried to make his way over to the affection, but Holmes kept him still, scrubbing his hair. Watson scooted closer to the detective and did the same to the little boy.

-------

"What's your name?" Watson asked, Clara in his lap. Mary sat beside him, smiling

"Clara Wuth Watson," the little girl said grinning.

"Clara Ruth Watson," Mary repeated. "Good job." She leaned over and kissed her. "Good job."

"What's my name?" Watson pointed to a finger to his chest.

"Papa!" Clara exclaimed.

"He is your Papa," Mary said. "But what is Papa's name?"

Clara hemmed and hawed. "John Watson."

"Oh, my goodness!" Mary laughed, and so did the doctor. "What is my name? What's Mommy's name?"

"Marwy Watson."

"Mary Watson, good!" Mary took her from Watson and pulled her into a hug. "You're so smart!" She kissed her. "Such a smart young lady!"

--------

"Edwin, Sweetheart, stop." Irene pulled the jumping toddler into a sitting position on the bed. "Edwin, stop bouncing. We don't bounce on the bed."

She went back to trying to comb her hair. Edwin began to roll around, taking the blankets with him. Irene sighed. "Edwin!"

A knock sounded at the door and Holmes entered the room. Edwin sat up and grinned. "Daddy!" He waved his blanket.

Holmes picked him up and tossed him in the air a few times before suddenly ducking him down and smothering him in growls and kisses. Edwin squealed with laughter. Irene smiled at the pair.

"Did you know Clara knows her full name?" He asked. "Watson allowed her to demonstrate for me just now."

"Mm." Irene went back to combing her hair. She looked at Edwin. "Edwin, what's your name?"

Edwin tucked his thumb in his mouth. Holmes poked his cheek with his index finger. "Your name is Edwin Sherlock Holmes."

"Daddy." Edwin poked his father's cheek with his finger.

"It's my fault he's like this," Irene sighed. "I'm surprised John hasn't told you yet."

"Told me what?" Holmes hardly paid attention, making silly faces at Edwin, who smiled and giggled.

"We did cocaine together," Irene reminded him. "Don't you remember?"

Holmes turned to her so fast he nearly risked whiplash. "You were pregnant?"

"I didn't know at the time." Irene stood up. "I still had my cycle, I never threw up once..." she ran a hand through her hair, blinking furiously. "The second I found out, I quit."

A million expressions crossed Holmes' face in a matter of seconds, but they were all in his eyes. He looked at Edwin, studying him. Edwin puckered his lips like a little duck bill for a kiss. Holmes kissed him, and then pulled him against his chest.

"I think that's why he was premature," Irene said shakily. She wiped at her eyes.

"He's fine," Holmes said quietly. "He's fine."

"No, he's not!" Irene began to cry. "He's hardly toilet-trained! He can't walk or run without tripping! He doesn't even know who his Goddamn parents are!"

"Irene!" Holmes snapped, but not loudly, just forcefully.

"It's true!" Irene said, lowering her tone. "You know it's true! And you know what else-" she pointed her finger at him, as if it held her words like an imaginary gun. "It's all your fault."

Holmes didn't say anything. He just stared at her.

Irene continued. "You were in love with Watson, but you let me in anyway. You shared a bed with me, and I stuck your needles in my body because I was so desperate to be with you. To change your mind."

"How can you say all of this about him?" The detective asked, shaking his head slightly. "He's right here."

Irene looked at Edwin, whose back was turned to her because Holmes was cradling him against his shoulder. Irene noted his little hand, his fingers gripping the fabric of Holmes' shirt, his little knuckles white. She began to cry even harder and took him from Holmes. Tears were streaming down his face.

"Oh, no, Darling..." she sobbed as she kissed him. "Mama is sorry. Mama didn't mean any of that." She kissed him over and over, moving to sit on the bed. "I love you. I love you so much." She looked up at Holmes. "I don't what's come over me lately."

"I think you do," Holmes said quietly. "Give me my son."

"Our son." Irene held onto him more tightly.

Holmes licked his lips as he sighed. "Edwin."

Edwin didn't raise his head from Irene's chest. A knock sounded at the door and Mary opened it a crack before taking a quick peek inside. She opened it all the way. Clara was in her arms. She saw the expressions on their faces and the tears on Irene's.

"What's the matter?" She asked, looking between them.

"Mama's crying." Clara pointed.

"Irene, what's wrong?" Mary asked. "Here, give me Edwin."

Reluctantly, Irene passed him over. Holmes took Clara so Mary was not weighed down by the toddlers. She looked at him and he looked away.

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Author's note: Okay, I know Irene is so very out of character, but every adult is going to go through their own little angst-phase, so just fair warning for future chapters.