I'm not a natural romantic, but something about all the Valentine's Day fic I've seen produced by my friends made me want to join in a bit. I thought I could write up a few hundred words of Mummy Holmes remembering a Valentine's Day traditions with her young sons. Three days later, I had 2,700 words of Mummy Holmes sharing tea with Anthea, making deductions, and working out the truth post-Reichenbach. Rounded out by childhood memories and generally Mummy Holmes being the awesome woman she would have to be, to accomplish everything she did both in the domestic and professional spheres.
I do believe I left my short!fic muse in the Shire, but as long as the 221B voices keep yammering away in my head, I'm not complaining.
Title: Hearth-Fires
Length: 2,708 + Notes
Rating: General; no warnings
Beta:
kayleelupin,
lindahoyland Summary: John spent two years believing Sherlock Holmes was really and truly dead. It's entirely possible not everyone was so easily fooled. (ft. Mummy Holmes and Anthea)
Read at AO3