Disclaimer – I don't own the characters. They belong to ACD, MG and SM and the BBC. No one pays me to do this, I do it for love.

Loose Ends

by

thedragonaunt

Prologue

Sherlock stepped from the ice cold of the air-conditioned taxi into the humid heat of the tropical mid-afternoon and then, in a few strides, into the relative cool of the hotel lobby, not even waiting for the bell boy to retrieve his valise from the boot of the cab. He trusted it would be taken to his suite. Dressed in a cream linen suit, brown Oxford shoes and a Panama hat, and sporting mirrored wrap-around Ray-Bans, he was a picture of sartorial elegance, drawing from every eye an admiring look but he had no time for any of them.

He had been away from Rio for nearly a week, over in Sao Paulo, meeting with the lawyers that the Rocky Foundation had hired to represent the Indians in their struggle, against the power and mining companies and the impending change in the law, which would drastically reduce their already fragile rights to their own land. Sitting in meetings all day was really not his area – much more Mycroft's sort of thing – but a necessary evil, under the circumstances.

It had been a frustrating experience, which had tested his fragile patience to the limit, but he now felt assured that they were doing everything possible to help the indigenous people, whose legal rights in their own country were constantly being eroded and undermined. The team the Foundation had put together were, individually, the best in their field so, if anyone could make a difference, they could. And they were not alone. They were just one small part of a growing global movement to defend the rights of indigenous populations the world over. When he got home, he would speak to Mycroft about using his influence to apply some diplomatic pressure, with reference to the Proposed Constitutional Amendment 215. That was definitely his brother's area.

He strode straight across the lobby and out onto the terrace, at the rear of the hotel, through the shady, scented bower of passiflora and jasmine, to the outdoor pool area. Skirting around, between the pool edge and the row of sun loungers, his progress was marked by all the occupants of those loungers and the poolside bar, the women with interest and curiosity, the men with suspicion and a hint of rivalry.

William spotted him first, from where he wallowed and frolicked in the splash pool, under the watchful eye of the hotel life guard. Scrambling to the steps, he climbed from the water and scurried along the tiled edge, arms outstretched, shouting 'Daddy!' at the top of his voice. Sherlock's severe visage broke into a broad smile, as he spotted his son hurtling towards him. He stooped, grasping William around the barrel of his chest and hoisting him into the air, where he held the dripping child, at arms' length, whilst the boy flailed his limbs in sheer delight.

All the women in the pool area breathed a collective sigh of disappointment as they each placed a mental tick in the box next to 'Taken' but continued to follow the path of this vision of metrosexual manhood, just out of curiosity to learn what superwoman had ensnared him. The men just breathed a sigh of relief, relaxed their abdominals, and went back to their beers.

'William, hello!' he laughed, then pulled the child close enough to plant a firm kiss on his forehead before plonking him back on the tiled walk way.

'Where's Mummy?' he asked, though he had already spotted Molly, sitting on the edge of the paddling pool, while Freddie pottered around in the six inch depth of water that came almost to his dimpled knees. William grasped his father's hand and began to tug him along the side of the pool, in Molly's direction.

Molly stood up in the paddling pool, lifting Freddie onto her hip before stepping out of the water.

'Look, Freddie, Daddy's back,' she announced, pointing out the approaching figure.

Freddie let out a squeal of 'Dadada!' and kicked his legs to be put down. The moment Molly placed him on his feet, he was off, waddling on his sturdy little pins, fists clenched, arms bent and pumping in a determined fashion, covering the short intervening distance in no time at all, to be scooped up in two large hands and tipped over, sideways, as Sherlock blew a loud raspberry on the toddler's bare midriff.

'Hi, Freddie, my little chunkamunka!' he chuckled, licking the taste of sun protection and chlorinated water from his lips.

The watchers continued to look on as Mr Perfect settled one damp child in the crook of his arm, and knelt on the ground to allow the other soppy off-spring to climb onto his back, without a thought for the safety of his designer suit, then strode over to the woman in the plain red all-in-one bathing suit and grasped her in a one-armed hug, whilst pressing his lips, lovingly, to hers. She's pretty enough, they all thought, and has kept her figure but…well, no accounting for taste. They resumed their pouting, posturing and sun worshipping, curiosity sated.

Sherlock drew back from the kiss and smiled down at Molly.

'Hmmm, so good to be back. Everything alright?' he breathed.

She smiled up at him, slipping her arm around his waist.

'Good to have you back, and, yes, everything is fine. The boys really love it here. They are going to miss the pool.'

They had been in Rio for nearly two months but would be flying home in a two days' time.

'And what about you? Will you miss anything?'

'It's lovely here but I'm looking forward to getting home,' she replied, placing her free hand, reflexively, on her flat stomach.

A shadow of concern crossed his face.

'Everything's OK, isn't it?'

She smiled back, reassuringly.

'Everything is absolutely OK. Better than OK!'

'No sickness?' he asked, tilting his head and fixing her with an intense, searching look.

'Not so far, touch wood. I know it's early days but it feels different this time.'

'Different how?' he enquired, wrinkling his brow.

'I can't explain, just different.'

ooOoo