Stitch'n'Bitch
Aaaaaaaand last fanfic for a bit - really should be doing homework and shaz.
Stitch'n'Bitch: The ladies of Sherlock have a knitting circle. Written for sherlockmas.
Rating: G
Word count: 2487
Pairing: Harry/Clara, John/Sarah, some hints of Sarah/Harry/Clara and Sally/Not!Anthea
Warning: none
Disclaimer: I am not related in any way to the Beeb, Sherlock, Doyle, etc, all rights belong to them.
Thanks to tehomet for Britpicking and beta'ing! YOU ARE MADE OF AWESOME.
Sally Donovan finally figured out what had been niggling at her about the Stitch'n'Bitch advertisement she'd picked up in the yarn shop last week, as she stood in front of the building indicated on the leaflet.
Want to knit? Curious about crochet? Work odd hours and can't find the time to take regular classes? Join us for our monthly Stitch'n'Bitch in the heart of London! Next date voted on by those who attend.
Underneath was the address, 221A Baker Street, and the next time and date.
How had she forgotten that The Freak lived in 221B? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then sighed. Over her shoulder was a bag with a couple of skeins of a pretty multicoloured cotton that the owner of the yarn shop had said was good for beginners, along with a few different sets of needles, and she was damned if she was going to have wasted the cab fare over.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched up to the unprepossessing door and knocked sharply. A few seconds later the door flew open, and The Freak's landlady beamed out at her. "Sergeant! I- oh, I hope it's not about him again, is it?" The smile fell off her face in an instant, replaced by anxiety, and Sally rushed to correct her.
"No, no, it's about - well, I picked up this leaflet from a shop in Covent Garden, and I was hoping..." Sally gestured to her bag, and instantly the smile was back.
"Ah! You've come for the Stitch'n'Bitch! Come in, come in, most of the regulars are already here. I'll fetch you a cup of tea and introduce you round," the older woman cooed, bustling her inside and toward the apartment on the ground floor, where the door stood open and inviting smells and soft chatter came spilling out. Stepping into the room, Sally was somewhat surprised at how many faces she recognized.
Molly Hooper from the hospital mortuary was sitting on a sofa with a complicated flow of yarn over her lap, six tiny balls all piled around her and attached at various points to the incredibly detailed weave. Sarah, the lady John Watson was sort of dating, was ensconced in an armchair and rooting around in a much larger bag with needles jutting up out of it, obviously searching for something. A woman who looked remarkably like John (who volunteered her name as "Harry") and another lady Sally had never seen before (whom Harry introduced as Clara, and by the blush on the other woman's face at the introduction must be somewhat intimate with Harry) were cosied up on a larger sofa, one knitting, one crocheting, both working on what appeared to be simple scarves. The landlady, who had introduced herself (again) as Mrs Hudson, fluttered back to her chair and picked up what was probably another tea cosy, from the size of it.
"So what is it you're working on, love?" asked Mrs Hudson, looping yarn about her fingers and click-clacking away like she hadn't just been up and about.
"Actually...I was hoping to learn how to knit," Sally admitted.
Exclamations went up round the circle. "Oh! How lovely!" Molly squealed, grinning ear to ear.
Sarah emerged from her bag to smile encouragingly at Sally, brushing hair out of her eyes and pulling a skein of blue-gray wool out of the bag. "What brought this on?" Sarah asked, doing something complicated with her hands and one needle, obviously just starting a new project.
"Well...I keep telling" John Watson "other people to get hobbies, and I was sitting on the sofa and watching something godawful on the telly the other day and realised I don't have a hobby of my own... and honestly if I keep sitting in front of the telly eating ice cream I won't be able to pass the fitness exams soon enough!" Sally admitted, grinning at her own joke.
The other ladies laughed knowingly, and the lady with the crochet (Clara, supplied her memory) smiled, "Honestly, if it wasn't for yarn I'd be a butterball by now!"
Molly patted the sofa next to her, and Sally gingerly sat on it, trying not to disturb the various balls of yarn. "So knitting rather than crocheting, yes?" Mrs Hudson asked, her needles continuing at a steady pace.
"Yes," Sally confirmed, pulling out the three sets of needles she'd picked out and one of the balls of yarn.
"Then you've sat next to the right lady," Mrs Hudson beamed, winking at Molly, who grinned with a confidence that Sally had never seen before. "Molly's our Stitch Doctor, any problems you might have she can fix!"
Molly, across from Mrs Hudson, shook her head, still smiling. "Honestly, Mrs. Hudson, you're winding me up!"
"I would never, dear!" Mrs Hudson chuckled back. Sally, looking at the half-finished jumper Molly was easily and smoothly switching yarns on every few stitches, privately agreed with Mrs Hudson. Anyone who could make something like that could probably do just about anything with yarn!
"Now, let me scoot over a bit," Mrs Hudson continued, setting aside the half-finished cosy and pulling two thinnish needles and another ball of yarn from her own stash, then pulling her chair closer to Sally's side. "We'll start you off with a simple square, that will teach you most of the basics. Also, our fee is a square from every newcomer; I'm putting together an afghan."
Sally had five rows of her third try on her needles when another woman, dark-haired and smartly dressed, strode in quickly. "Hi! Sorry I'm late, girls - oh, who's the new face?"
"Penelope, this is Sally," Mrs Hudson replied. "She found us through All The Fun Of The Fair and she's come to learn to knit!"
"Oh, delightful!" the dark-haired woman - Penelope - exclaimed, sounding rather more genuine about it than Sally actually expected. Something about her seemed rather more down-to-earth than the business attire suggested. "Well, then it's the sofa for me today; push over girls!" she said to Harry and Clara, who didn't seem at all shy about attempting to budge up even more (and in the process, Sally noted, one of Harry's hands drifted a little more than a friend's would have, but tentatively - must be having another go at the relationship, then?). "Sorry I'm late, but-"
"Something came up at work," everybody else chorused, a bit of sniggering following the obviously much-used statement.
"All right, all right, I HAVE been on time once or twice," Penelope said, exasperation and laughter in her voice, and that seemed to set off another round of giggles, and Sally found herself laughing too, because she knew exactly how it felt when that happened and your mates gave you grief about it.
"That would be why you're still in work clothes today, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked, pointing out to Sally where she'd gone wrong with the last stitch.
"Yes, if I'd gone home first I'd've only had an hour, and I'm absolutely gasping for this," Penelope groaned, plopping on the sofa with a supreme lack of grace at odds with the snappy suit. "Honestly, you girls are the best thing I've discovered thanks to work, otherwise my Blackberry would be positively welded to my hands."
"Speaking of which..." Mrs Hudson said, one eyebrow rising in admonishment, and Penelope pulled an extremely flashy phone out of her pocket and handed it to Harry, who promptly sat on it.
"If it vibrates more than five times you can have it back, same as always," Harry smirked, clearly having been assigned phone-sitting duty before.
"Your bag's in the usual place, love, and the kettle should still be hot," Mrs Hudson said, nodding toward the kitchen.
"Oh! Oh good, you really do have excellent tea," sighed Penelope, who hoisted herself back off the sofa and drifted toward the kitchen, a look of dreamy anticipation on her face.
Molly grinned after her and leaned toward Sally. "Her name's not really Penelope you know, she hesitated a bit too much before introducing herself the first time, and never does say what kind of work keeps her this busy!" Molly said in low, amused tones, flashing a wicked grin. "Still, she's a decent sort, and after the first few incidents with the phone she agreed to let us decide if it was really necessary to keep answering her texts during the Stitch'n'Bitch."
""That’s… interesting,"" Sally replied, blinking a bit. Penelope came back out of the kitchen and sat down, holding a mug in one hand and a large black bag in the other - patent leather, from the look of it - with the expected needles sticking out of the top.
"You are a godsend, Mrs Hudson," "she announced, setting the bag down at her feet and pulling out, much to Sally’s surprise, a delicate-looking green mass, which whispered down Penelope’s lap and puddled a bit at her feet. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly I don’t."
"Well, for one thing, you wouldn’t have figured out the cabling on that throw last month," snarked Harry, and Penelope rolled her eyes and tossed a cushion at her.
"Fair enough, even if you are a brat for pointing it out! Now, who’s got gossip?"
An hour later, Sally had learned entirely more than she thought she ever would about making love to another woman without actually experiencing it herself, Clara’s ears were bright red but she was grinning right along with it, Harry was howling hysterically at a story from Mrs Hudson’s youth, Sarah had had at least three pillows thrown at her upon her announcement that she was considering making a jumper for John - "No! Absolutely not, Sherlock’s already ruining what relationship you have, we will NOT permit you to doom yourself!" Mrs Hudson had proclaimed, with all the firmness of a queen speaking from her throne, and Molly had had to explain to Sally about the Jumper Curse as Sarah had started one for herself in defeat - and Sally had one square done and the start of a hat on her needles, marvelling at how easy this was. She still didn’t buy that making a jumper for your significant other was the death knell for your relationship, even after the hair-raising story Clara had told her to support the claim, but deep down had decided never to make one for Anderson, even if he did get back on her good side. Also, she’d stomped the very, very tiny voice that said that as long as Penelope could knit one for herself, that wasn’t a danger either… really, she had.
Thumping noises coming from upstairs had been largely ignored until, midway through Sally finally having brought the Anderson problem before the jury (because honestly they couldn’t say anything she hadn’t said to herself and maybe they could think up something more?), mostly to the jury’s massive disapproval ("Forget that he’s married, Sally, he’s obviously a massive git and clearly doesn’t deserve you!" Penelope had said a little too fiercely, to the firm nods of her fellow sofa-sitters, and Sally had wondered a bit about that fierceness), knocking was heard at the door and John Watson had thrown himself through it after two knocks, as if they were simply a nod to courtesy. "I’m sorry, I know you said no interruptions tonight, Mrs Hudson, but he’s driving me mad and-" he stopped short, clearly surprised at the large number of women sitting in front of him, all needles stilled at his dramatic entrance. "Hi," he finally said, blinking. His eyes fell on Sarah, and he started a bit in surprise. "Sarah, what are you doing here?" he asked, clearly startled.
"It’s my night with the girls, John, I told you that’s where I’d be tonight," she replied, just a bit too calmly.
"Forgot to tell me you were here, though," he said, frowning a bit. "Thought you were going out to the pub or something."
"This is my girl time, it’s really none of your business where I am," Sarah said, and started her knitting again. Sally glanced at Molly, and they shared a tiny grimace. Sarah might not have started the jumper, but they were clearly doomed anyway.
"I… knitting? You never told me…" he trailed off and swallowed uncomfortably. He looked round, where most of the other women had also started their knitting, and Mrs Hudson cleared her throat, kindly drawing his attention away from Sarah, who was determinedly staring at the blue-gray cloth forming in her hands and obviously not okay with her boyfriend being around.
"What’s the problem, love?" Mrs Hudson asked.
"What is ever the problem, Mrs Hudson? It’s Sherlock, and he’s doing something mad with somebody’s severed leg, of all things," (Sally was close enough to notice Molly’s blush and guess that she had something to do with the new toy the mad genius upstairs was playing with,) "and I was hoping I might…hide down here?" he asked, his voice trailing off as his eyes flicked back to Sarah. Sarah kept her eyes away from John, but her glance did flick up to… Harry?
"If you must, dear, you can go sit in the kitchen and have a cuppa until he’s settled again," Mrs Hudson said comfortably.
"Actually…" John looked very strange, thought Sally, like a small boy who’d spotted a frog within reach, "I’ll just…be back in a moment, shall I?" and nipped back out the door. For a few minutes the ladies of 221A looked at each other, eyebrows doing significant things, until John came back in almost shyly, holding something behind his back. "I, ah, I’m having a bit of difficulty with this bit here," he muttered, and revealed… half of a jumper?
"John Watson," Penelope drawled, "are you a closet knitter?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," John replied, a very tiny flush warring with the stare he levelled at her. "It was something I picked up in the hospital before my discharge, they told us it helped recovery and I never saw the point in stopping."
"So that’s why you refused to tell me where you got that gorgeous cabled jumper I like so much," Sarah blurted, eyes flying up to his for a moment before flicking back to Harry and then down to her own knitting. Harry, surprisingly, coughed.
"Actually, that’s my handiwork, ickle Johnny just started."
There was a small, tense silence, then Harry and Sarah looked at each other and started laughing. Clara glanced at the two, a look on her face that changed from puzzlement to dawning understanding to what had to be speculation, and Sally’s cheeks flushed. John looked confused. Molly grinned, and pulled her needles a bit further into her knitting so she could set it down, and waved John over. "Bring it here, I’ll see what you’ve done," she said, a sympathetic smile on her face.
Stitch'n'Bitch: The ladies of Sherlock have a knitting circle. Written for sherlockmas.
Rating: G
Word count: 2487
Pairing: Harry/Clara, John/Sarah, some hints of Sarah/Harry/Clara and Sally/Not!Anthea
Warning: none
Disclaimer: I am not related in any way to the Beeb, Sherlock, Doyle, etc, all rights belong to them.
Thanks to tehomet for Britpicking and beta'ing! YOU ARE MADE OF AWESOME.
Sally Donovan finally figured out what had been niggling at her about the Stitch'n'Bitch advertisement she'd picked up in the yarn shop last week, as she stood in front of the building indicated on the leaflet.
Want to knit? Curious about crochet? Work odd hours and can't find the time to take regular classes? Join us for our monthly Stitch'n'Bitch in the heart of London! Next date voted on by those who attend.
Underneath was the address, 221A Baker Street, and the next time and date.
How had she forgotten that The Freak lived in 221B? She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then sighed. Over her shoulder was a bag with a couple of skeins of a pretty multicoloured cotton that the owner of the yarn shop had said was good for beginners, along with a few different sets of needles, and she was damned if she was going to have wasted the cab fare over.
Squaring her shoulders, she marched up to the unprepossessing door and knocked sharply. A few seconds later the door flew open, and The Freak's landlady beamed out at her. "Sergeant! I- oh, I hope it's not about him again, is it?" The smile fell off her face in an instant, replaced by anxiety, and Sally rushed to correct her.
"No, no, it's about - well, I picked up this leaflet from a shop in Covent Garden, and I was hoping..." Sally gestured to her bag, and instantly the smile was back.
"Ah! You've come for the Stitch'n'Bitch! Come in, come in, most of the regulars are already here. I'll fetch you a cup of tea and introduce you round," the older woman cooed, bustling her inside and toward the apartment on the ground floor, where the door stood open and inviting smells and soft chatter came spilling out. Stepping into the room, Sally was somewhat surprised at how many faces she recognized.
Molly Hooper from the hospital mortuary was sitting on a sofa with a complicated flow of yarn over her lap, six tiny balls all piled around her and attached at various points to the incredibly detailed weave. Sarah, the lady John Watson was sort of dating, was ensconced in an armchair and rooting around in a much larger bag with needles jutting up out of it, obviously searching for something. A woman who looked remarkably like John (who volunteered her name as "Harry") and another lady Sally had never seen before (whom Harry introduced as Clara, and by the blush on the other woman's face at the introduction must be somewhat intimate with Harry) were cosied up on a larger sofa, one knitting, one crocheting, both working on what appeared to be simple scarves. The landlady, who had introduced herself (again) as Mrs Hudson, fluttered back to her chair and picked up what was probably another tea cosy, from the size of it.
"So what is it you're working on, love?" asked Mrs Hudson, looping yarn about her fingers and click-clacking away like she hadn't just been up and about.
"Actually...I was hoping to learn how to knit," Sally admitted.
Exclamations went up round the circle. "Oh! How lovely!" Molly squealed, grinning ear to ear.
Sarah emerged from her bag to smile encouragingly at Sally, brushing hair out of her eyes and pulling a skein of blue-gray wool out of the bag. "What brought this on?" Sarah asked, doing something complicated with her hands and one needle, obviously just starting a new project.
"Well...I keep telling" John Watson "other people to get hobbies, and I was sitting on the sofa and watching something godawful on the telly the other day and realised I don't have a hobby of my own... and honestly if I keep sitting in front of the telly eating ice cream I won't be able to pass the fitness exams soon enough!" Sally admitted, grinning at her own joke.
The other ladies laughed knowingly, and the lady with the crochet (Clara, supplied her memory) smiled, "Honestly, if it wasn't for yarn I'd be a butterball by now!"
Molly patted the sofa next to her, and Sally gingerly sat on it, trying not to disturb the various balls of yarn. "So knitting rather than crocheting, yes?" Mrs Hudson asked, her needles continuing at a steady pace.
"Yes," Sally confirmed, pulling out the three sets of needles she'd picked out and one of the balls of yarn.
"Then you've sat next to the right lady," Mrs Hudson beamed, winking at Molly, who grinned with a confidence that Sally had never seen before. "Molly's our Stitch Doctor, any problems you might have she can fix!"
Molly, across from Mrs Hudson, shook her head, still smiling. "Honestly, Mrs. Hudson, you're winding me up!"
"I would never, dear!" Mrs Hudson chuckled back. Sally, looking at the half-finished jumper Molly was easily and smoothly switching yarns on every few stitches, privately agreed with Mrs Hudson. Anyone who could make something like that could probably do just about anything with yarn!
"Now, let me scoot over a bit," Mrs Hudson continued, setting aside the half-finished cosy and pulling two thinnish needles and another ball of yarn from her own stash, then pulling her chair closer to Sally's side. "We'll start you off with a simple square, that will teach you most of the basics. Also, our fee is a square from every newcomer; I'm putting together an afghan."
Sally had five rows of her third try on her needles when another woman, dark-haired and smartly dressed, strode in quickly. "Hi! Sorry I'm late, girls - oh, who's the new face?"
"Penelope, this is Sally," Mrs Hudson replied. "She found us through All The Fun Of The Fair and she's come to learn to knit!"
"Oh, delightful!" the dark-haired woman - Penelope - exclaimed, sounding rather more genuine about it than Sally actually expected. Something about her seemed rather more down-to-earth than the business attire suggested. "Well, then it's the sofa for me today; push over girls!" she said to Harry and Clara, who didn't seem at all shy about attempting to budge up even more (and in the process, Sally noted, one of Harry's hands drifted a little more than a friend's would have, but tentatively - must be having another go at the relationship, then?). "Sorry I'm late, but-"
"Something came up at work," everybody else chorused, a bit of sniggering following the obviously much-used statement.
"All right, all right, I HAVE been on time once or twice," Penelope said, exasperation and laughter in her voice, and that seemed to set off another round of giggles, and Sally found herself laughing too, because she knew exactly how it felt when that happened and your mates gave you grief about it.
"That would be why you're still in work clothes today, dear?" Mrs Hudson asked, pointing out to Sally where she'd gone wrong with the last stitch.
"Yes, if I'd gone home first I'd've only had an hour, and I'm absolutely gasping for this," Penelope groaned, plopping on the sofa with a supreme lack of grace at odds with the snappy suit. "Honestly, you girls are the best thing I've discovered thanks to work, otherwise my Blackberry would be positively welded to my hands."
"Speaking of which..." Mrs Hudson said, one eyebrow rising in admonishment, and Penelope pulled an extremely flashy phone out of her pocket and handed it to Harry, who promptly sat on it.
"If it vibrates more than five times you can have it back, same as always," Harry smirked, clearly having been assigned phone-sitting duty before.
"Your bag's in the usual place, love, and the kettle should still be hot," Mrs Hudson said, nodding toward the kitchen.
"Oh! Oh good, you really do have excellent tea," sighed Penelope, who hoisted herself back off the sofa and drifted toward the kitchen, a look of dreamy anticipation on her face.
Molly grinned after her and leaned toward Sally. "Her name's not really Penelope you know, she hesitated a bit too much before introducing herself the first time, and never does say what kind of work keeps her this busy!" Molly said in low, amused tones, flashing a wicked grin. "Still, she's a decent sort, and after the first few incidents with the phone she agreed to let us decide if it was really necessary to keep answering her texts during the Stitch'n'Bitch."
""That’s… interesting,"" Sally replied, blinking a bit. Penelope came back out of the kitchen and sat down, holding a mug in one hand and a large black bag in the other - patent leather, from the look of it - with the expected needles sticking out of the top.
"You are a godsend, Mrs Hudson," "she announced, setting the bag down at her feet and pulling out, much to Sally’s surprise, a delicate-looking green mass, which whispered down Penelope’s lap and puddled a bit at her feet. "I don’t know what I’d do without you, honestly I don’t."
"Well, for one thing, you wouldn’t have figured out the cabling on that throw last month," snarked Harry, and Penelope rolled her eyes and tossed a cushion at her.
"Fair enough, even if you are a brat for pointing it out! Now, who’s got gossip?"
An hour later, Sally had learned entirely more than she thought she ever would about making love to another woman without actually experiencing it herself, Clara’s ears were bright red but she was grinning right along with it, Harry was howling hysterically at a story from Mrs Hudson’s youth, Sarah had had at least three pillows thrown at her upon her announcement that she was considering making a jumper for John - "No! Absolutely not, Sherlock’s already ruining what relationship you have, we will NOT permit you to doom yourself!" Mrs Hudson had proclaimed, with all the firmness of a queen speaking from her throne, and Molly had had to explain to Sally about the Jumper Curse as Sarah had started one for herself in defeat - and Sally had one square done and the start of a hat on her needles, marvelling at how easy this was. She still didn’t buy that making a jumper for your significant other was the death knell for your relationship, even after the hair-raising story Clara had told her to support the claim, but deep down had decided never to make one for Anderson, even if he did get back on her good side. Also, she’d stomped the very, very tiny voice that said that as long as Penelope could knit one for herself, that wasn’t a danger either… really, she had.
Thumping noises coming from upstairs had been largely ignored until, midway through Sally finally having brought the Anderson problem before the jury (because honestly they couldn’t say anything she hadn’t said to herself and maybe they could think up something more?), mostly to the jury’s massive disapproval ("Forget that he’s married, Sally, he’s obviously a massive git and clearly doesn’t deserve you!" Penelope had said a little too fiercely, to the firm nods of her fellow sofa-sitters, and Sally had wondered a bit about that fierceness), knocking was heard at the door and John Watson had thrown himself through it after two knocks, as if they were simply a nod to courtesy. "I’m sorry, I know you said no interruptions tonight, Mrs Hudson, but he’s driving me mad and-" he stopped short, clearly surprised at the large number of women sitting in front of him, all needles stilled at his dramatic entrance. "Hi," he finally said, blinking. His eyes fell on Sarah, and he started a bit in surprise. "Sarah, what are you doing here?" he asked, clearly startled.
"It’s my night with the girls, John, I told you that’s where I’d be tonight," she replied, just a bit too calmly.
"Forgot to tell me you were here, though," he said, frowning a bit. "Thought you were going out to the pub or something."
"This is my girl time, it’s really none of your business where I am," Sarah said, and started her knitting again. Sally glanced at Molly, and they shared a tiny grimace. Sarah might not have started the jumper, but they were clearly doomed anyway.
"I… knitting? You never told me…" he trailed off and swallowed uncomfortably. He looked round, where most of the other women had also started their knitting, and Mrs Hudson cleared her throat, kindly drawing his attention away from Sarah, who was determinedly staring at the blue-gray cloth forming in her hands and obviously not okay with her boyfriend being around.
"What’s the problem, love?" Mrs Hudson asked.
"What is ever the problem, Mrs Hudson? It’s Sherlock, and he’s doing something mad with somebody’s severed leg, of all things," (Sally was close enough to notice Molly’s blush and guess that she had something to do with the new toy the mad genius upstairs was playing with,) "and I was hoping I might…hide down here?" he asked, his voice trailing off as his eyes flicked back to Sarah. Sarah kept her eyes away from John, but her glance did flick up to… Harry?
"If you must, dear, you can go sit in the kitchen and have a cuppa until he’s settled again," Mrs Hudson said comfortably.
"Actually…" John looked very strange, thought Sally, like a small boy who’d spotted a frog within reach, "I’ll just…be back in a moment, shall I?" and nipped back out the door. For a few minutes the ladies of 221A looked at each other, eyebrows doing significant things, until John came back in almost shyly, holding something behind his back. "I, ah, I’m having a bit of difficulty with this bit here," he muttered, and revealed… half of a jumper?
"John Watson," Penelope drawled, "are you a closet knitter?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am," John replied, a very tiny flush warring with the stare he levelled at her. "It was something I picked up in the hospital before my discharge, they told us it helped recovery and I never saw the point in stopping."
"So that’s why you refused to tell me where you got that gorgeous cabled jumper I like so much," Sarah blurted, eyes flying up to his for a moment before flicking back to Harry and then down to her own knitting. Harry, surprisingly, coughed.
"Actually, that’s my handiwork, ickle Johnny just started."
There was a small, tense silence, then Harry and Sarah looked at each other and started laughing. Clara glanced at the two, a look on her face that changed from puzzlement to dawning understanding to what had to be speculation, and Sally’s cheeks flushed. John looked confused. Molly grinned, and pulled her needles a bit further into her knitting so she could set it down, and waved John over. "Bring it here, I’ll see what you’ve done," she said, a sympathetic smile on her face.