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You drove them through rolling green hills spotted with mansions, humming happily to yourself as Sherlock fidgeted impatiently, “Really, (F/n), Why do you always insist on driving like a snail?”

You tossed him a grin, “Some things aren’t meant to be rushed Sherly. The beauty of this drive is one of them so I suggest you lean back and enjoy because I shan’t be going any faster.”

John chuckled from the back seat as Sherlock folded his arms to mope like a child and you went back to humming, enjoying the landscape and the beauty of the day. You changed tunes after a bit and John turned from looking at the picturesque landscape to tilt his head at you, “That tune… Sherlock plays it often but won’t ever tell me what it’s called”

You grinned widely as Sherlock gave John a look that could kill, “Does he now? I thought it was- how did you put it ‘simplistic and malformed with no consideration for the classics.’ That is what you said when I wrote it, isn’t it Sherlock?”

Giving a single nod, he clenched his jaw for the question the inevitably came next, “So were you wrong or did you just miss me?”

He considered his options, admit that he liked the song so that he didn’t have to say that he missed you far more than he would ever tell you, or anyone for that matter, or admit he missed you and keep his original opinion of the song intact.

Making a decision, he grumbled, “I was wrong. It’s rather nice.”

John did a terrible job of stifling a laugh, you knew exactly how to press Sherlock’s buttons in the most amusing way and it was immensely satisfying to him as he was normally the one having his buttons pressed. You gave a soft smile, tossing a knowing glance at your brother to which he gave a small upward twitch of his lips.

John was about to ask about further questions about the song, when you pulled up to a large house with a gated front, the large ‘H’ in the center split in half as the gates were thrown wide open in anticipation of your arrival. You stopped in front of the house and shut off the car before going to help John with the bags since Sherlock was still moping.

You had just slung yours over your shoulder when a wide grin spread across your face and you let it fall to the ground, bounding over to wrap an older woman who’d emerged from the house in a large hug, “Mum!”

The woman laughed and returned your hug just as fervently, “It’s been far to long darling. Stand back and let me get a good look at you.”

When you pulled away to do as she asked, John could get a good look at her. She looked normal enough, nicely dressed in a floor length black skirt and white dress shirt under a fitted forest green blazer, her dark graying tresses pulled back into a causal yet immaculate bun. She cupped your face in her hands, “Look at you… all grown up. I remember when you were just a scraggily teen, hanging from a tree in my backyard with Sherlock’s violin in hand as he growled up at you from underneath. When did you become a proper woman?”

You grinned, jabbing a thumb in Sherlock’s direction, “When I got away from that child over there.”

You both turned to look at the man who was pursing his lips unhappily and burst into a small fit of giggles, hands coming up to cover your mouths.

“Oh ha ha (F/n). Lovely to see you Mother. You’re doing well I trust.”

She nodded, turning to find John with her eyes, “Manners, Sherlock.”

He sighed, “Mother this is my flatmate, John Watson. John this is my mother, Violet Holmes.”

John extended a hand, which Violet took, “A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Holmes. Thank you for having us in your home.”

The woman examined him closely before giving a small smile, “I like this one Sherlock. Handsome and polite, a surprising choice from you for a partner but I approve.”

John frowned unhappily, “W-we’re just flatmates. I’m not gay… not that there’s anything wrong with that… but I’m not. Gay I mean.”

You covered your mouth to stifle a laugh at how adorably flustered your little hedgehog friend was getting and Violet smirked, “Well then might I point out that last I checked my daughter is very much single and quite beautiful?”

You and Sherlock both groaned, “Not this again.”

Violet leveled you both with an unamused look, “Yes this again. I would like some grandchildren you know and I’m certainly not getting any younger.”

“We know.” you both grumbled and Violet hooked John’s arm with hers to lead him inside, “You know, I had hoped those two would develop feelings for each other over the years, that way (F/n) could finally take the Holmes name and the pitter-patter of little feet would fill this house again, but it seems they are rather content to act like children. Now tell me, what is it you do for a living, John?”

You chuckled as Sherlock came to stand next to you, “Perhaps we should have left John at home.”

Sherlock shook his head, “Perhaps. Though you marrying John may not be such a bad idea, he’s a decent bloke, an idiot but decent… and it would end Mother’s obsession with finding us partners.”

You shoved him playfully, “Don’t get any ideas, Sherlock.”