This Is Real

Chapter Eleven

"What do we think Daddy will bring you home from the shop?"

"Dada gone shop?"

"He's gone to get us some food for the fridge, hasn't he?" Evelyn said to her son, bumping the pushchair up the front step of their house. "I have a feeling he'll be bringing you and your sister some more strawberries, and probably a new toy or outfit or god knows what, Daddy has no restraint."

"With Egg?"

Evelyn scoffed, pulling out her keys. "Not with Uncle Greg, no," with the door open, she unclipped her son from his seat and removed his coat, depositing him on the ground just over the threshold. "You're free! Go find your books and I'll be right behind you." Matthew was off, speeding towards the living room where the little shelf at his height resided.

She set the buggy to the side under the coat hook after removing her own jacket, and shut the door behind her, dropping her bag and heading off to follow her son.

"What story are we starting with–" Evelyn froze.

"Hello, little man," the woman said, wiggling her fingers at the rightfully nervous nineteen month old. "Well, there's no doubting who your daddy is, is there?"

Evelyn's ears were ringing in a panic as she crossed the floor, swept up her son and eventually came face to face with the uninvited guest.

As if they haven't had enough drama recently to last them a lifetime, sitting on their sofa, dressed in a red figure hugging off the shoulder dress, was a woman Eve had never imagined she'd actually meet.

"Surprised to see me?" Irene Adler asked, raising an eyebrow.

Evelyn held onto Matthew as though a gust of wind would sweep him away from her.

"Oh, don't worry," the woman continued. "I'm not going to hurt him. That's not why I'm here."

Evelyn could feel her pulse racing. "You need to leave," she said, a little proud of herself for the steadiness of her tone. "Sherlock isn't here."

"Leave so soon? You haven't even offered me a cup of tea," she waved a well manicured hand dismissively. "Evelyn, isn't it? And I know this fine young man is Matthew," at the sound of his name the boy turned his head towards Irene, curls bouncing with the speed of it. "Goodness me, he really is a Holmes. Is there anything of you inside that child?"

"He has my eyes." As it left her mouth Eve wasn't sure why she said it, why she was even entertaining the intruder, but there it was.

Irene nodded, apparently impressed. "So he does, quite the piercing little things."

"What do you want?" She demanded. "Why are you here?"

Irene smiled, leaning back against the cushions, crossing her long legs one over the other. "I suppose I became curious to see it for myself."

"See what?" Eve demanded.

"The great Sherlock Holmes living a life of domestic bliss," Irene's vibrant red lips curl up into a sneer. "The wife, the child. Oh, sorry, children, you've given him two little sprogs, haven't you? Well..." she dropped her eyes lower to the swell of Eve's stomach. "So far." Evelyn knew her posture changed, ready to battle and run head first into anything for her children. She was mildly aware of a thought at the back of her mind thanking the fact Olivia was at nursery, her daughter was far too inquisitive for a situation like this. "If I'm honest, I'm a little disappointed that there isn't a pet, that would have completed the cliché very nicely."

"We're thinking about a border collie."

Irene tipped her head. "Smart breed, family friendly."

"You must want something," Eve said, rubbing circles on Matthew's back, though she wasn't sure if it was to soothe him or herself. "I don't believe you've come just for a peek at our domesticity and a chat about dog breeds."