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It's almost embarrassing how easily all of them miss it at first, but in their defense moving the irregulars into 221B was not the smoothest transition of living arrangements ever conducted. When you're going from 4 people in two rooms and 1 person looking after another in a house, to five people running around said house, it isn't hard to assume someone else moved Watson's teacup to the sink. A draft snuffed out the candle Bea swore she left burning and rushed down in a panic to put out. The window fell shut by itself just seconds before the rain started. It's an old house.
Then Jessie starts dreaming again.
"Just my name," she tells Spike. " My mother's voice, sometimes my father's."
She trips over "father," but says it more often than "Sherlock."
The lid tips back on the ink pot, the stove lights as Billy walks towards it with the milk.
"It's an old house," Watson tells them.
"Jessie we're sorry. Jessie we love you. Jessie...hold your sister for us."
She holds Bea for a very long time. How do you tell your sister you might be going mad? How do you tell your guardian angel that the darkness is whispering adoration to you?
Leo comes to visit. Helena is at home gathering more of her things, so he has one less pair of eyes on him as he sneaks out of the house. She did however, to tell her to have fun in her absence with a pointed wink. Daimler is, well, Daimler about it but Watson's eyeroll is fond as he lets Leo in. Jessie is hugging him before he's through the door. Billy and Spike are hot on her heels; they clasp his forearms and reel him in. Bea watches it all with amusement, but when the rest are done and heading to the parlor she holds his face in her hands and kisses him.
"Come along," she says, "I'm sure the biscuits will be gone if we don't hurry."
Leo wants to tell her he doesn't much care about the biscuits if they mean he has to stop kissing her, but she has already turned away. So why is it he feels a hand catch his coat as he hangs it up? Perhaps the hook was lower than he thought.
"Not a rip." Jessie says, on the last day of Leo's visit.
They are all sitting in the parlor, telling stories of their time apart and snacking on some fruit. It's still a novelty, having enough food whenever you want it instead of barely enough when you need it.
"Not a rip. But maybe...maybe a missed stitch."
The curtains ruffle, though the air is hot and still. Watson half-smiles and he's pretty sure his brandy refills a bit.