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Bella goes to Mercury to do her forking.
She decides - since she can order up a custom fork at all - that her fork might as well have a copy of all her memories since she found Soph. To understand, to know what she's doing in the world, to not instantly want to punch Juliet in the nose for mishandling Soph in some way. To know what day it is, if nothing else.
Wish.
And then there are two.
And the new one cocks her head, and says, "Don't worry, we can merge - well, I will, anyway, who knows if the crystal ball was lying - but first why don't we surprise Sherlock?"
And the not-new one smiles, and says, "Why not?"
And at precisely the same time, they teleport, wearing matching smiles.
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Dinner snickers helplessly when the noises in question emerge from her counterpart's mouth. Dessert is also doing something helplessly but it is not snickering.
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And they love him and Dinner has obtained one of his hands to nibble on.
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Good. They aim to delight. That was the point of showing up here.
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Oh good.
Meanwhile Dessert is pretty fucking delighted over here in Sherlock's lap.
Meanwhile Dessert is pretty fucking delighted over here in Sherlock's lap.
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He has lovely aim. The metaphor is particularly apt when sharp objects are involved, isn't it?
Dessert quakes in his arms, whimpering.
Dessert quakes in his arms, whimpering.
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Quite.
She collapses onto him very happily. "I love you," she sighs.
Dinner has his hand still. She bites, smirking.
She collapses onto him very happily. "I love you," she sighs.
Dinner has his hand still. She bites, smirking.
eversomuchfun
"I love you too," says Sherlock, cuddling Dessert with his free arm. "Something on your mind, morsel number one?"
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"Maybe," says Morsel Number One.
"Yes," giggles Dessert breathlessly, and she kisses him.
"Yes," giggles Dessert breathlessly, and she kisses him.
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And they do!
And later, in a cuddly row with a Sherlock in the middle of it, one of the morsels says, "Do you want to see if you can get us to react interestingly to some kinda shibboleth before we are one and the same?"
And later, in a cuddly row with a Sherlock in the middle of it, one of the morsels says, "Do you want to see if you can get us to react interestingly to some kinda shibboleth before we are one and the same?"
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"What did you conclude?" inquires the first. They have developed a habit of taking turns to speak; when the one whose turn it is not speaks forgetfully, they generally say the same thing.
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"Knew you'd figure it out," says Old, forbearing to choose a pronoun.
"What was the giveaway, or did little discrepancies just add up?" asks New.
"What was the giveaway, or did little discrepancies just add up?" asks New.
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"We should pick a merging protocol," yawns Old.
"Nothing too sophisticated with muffling or anything, though, we're both sane and the same mental age and so on," says New.
"Yeah."
"Nothing too sophisticated with muffling or anything, though, we're both sane and the same mental age and so on," says New.
"Yeah."