Two Men and a Baby (and a cold): Sherlock Completed 3/6

[matilda3948]

Hi all! So, the world is depressing and I'm desperately looking for escapism wherever I can. As @VoOs mentioned in her awesome story, season 4 of Sherlock has given me a major case of the feels. This is part one of at least a two-part story. Obviously spoilers for season 4.

 

Two Men and a Baby (and a Cold)

John rolled over and resisted the urge to groan. His sweet Rosie was wide awake and standing up in her crib babbling away despite the fact that it was 4am.

HuhhIHHSHHHoo! HUH huhhRUHHSHHHHooo!

The baby giggled and this time John did groan, reaching for the box of tissues on his bedside table. He blew his nose roughly and was just about to get out of bed when there was a light tap at the door. Sherlock opened it and came into John’s room, going straight to Rosie’s crib. He ran his hand over her head and smiled.

“You seem fully recovered,” he said to the baby. “Your dad, on the other hand…”

huhhRAHHshhhoo!

John sneezed again and Rosie laughed. Sherlock picked her up and took her blanket and favorite toy (a stuffed purple monster with three eyes).

“Bless you, John. Go back to sleep. I’ve got her.”

“You sure?” John asked, but he was already getting back under the blankets.

“Positive,” Sherlock said, closing the bedroom door.

The detective took Rosie downstairs and into the sitting room. He sat down on the sofa and balanced her on one knee so she could face him.

“Now then, Rosie. Your daddy—and me for that matter—have been up for two days straight taking care of you while you had a cold. Now that you’ve entirely bounced back and passed that wretched bug on to your father, it’s only fair that you behave and let him rest.” She wrapped her hand around her index finger and Sherlock smiled. “I know,” he said. “Good manners and thoughtfulness don’t come naturally to children but we have to learn, don’t we?” He was met with a steady stream of spit bubbles and a pair of blue eyes that could convince him to do anything—he would be in trouble when she learned to talk. She knew a handful of words but when she acquired full-fledged sentences and negotiating skills he knew he didn’t stand a chance. “So? What are we to do in the fine predawn London morning?” he asked. A stream of nonsense words later and he nodded. “Excellent choice,” he said and stood up and took her into the kitchen. Sherlock worked at fixing a bottle with Rosie balanced on one hip. He was getting incredibly good at doing tasks one-handed since John and Rosie had moved in.  Sherlock was glad to see the color back in the little girl’s face. Even though John had told him it was nothing to worry about, Sherlock had spent two anxious days worrying over her health. Normally happy and independent, Rosie wanted to be held constantly and didn’t want to play or eat. She’d been fussy and uncomfortable and Sherlock had spent hours online researching the scientific merits of various home remedies.

Bottle in hand, Sherlock sat down on the sofa and fished his mobile out of his dressing gown pocket. Rosie took her bottle and he scrolled through his music library until he found his Tchaikovsky playlist—he insisted Tchaikovsky was her favorite despite John’s doubt that a 10 month old could have a favorite classical composer.

John managed to get another couple hours of much needed sleep before slowly waking up on his own. He did a quick mental inventory. Yep, he felt like total shit. As a doctor he knew there were few things as vicious as little kid germs but he truly felt like someone had broken a dam in his sinuses. He blew his nose and coughed…and then repeated that process three more times before he finally felt like he could get out of bed. John decided he couldn’t commit to clothes just yet and settled for tossing on yesterday’s jumper with his pajama pants. He’d just reached his bedroom door when he realized it was quiet. Too quiet. Quiet with either a baby or Sherlock Holmes was not good. Quiet when the two of them were together seemed likely to be a disaster. When he came downstairs and turned the corner into the living room he felt his heart do a happy little flip flop. Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa with Rosie sound asleep on his chest. In one hand she was gripping her stuffed monster; in the other a handful of Sherlock’s dressing gown. There was an empty bottle laying on the floor and classical music was playing softly from Sherlock’s mobile. Both of them looked so peaceful and it reaffirmed John’s decision to move bake to Baker Street with his daughter.

Sherlock blinked a set of tired eyes and smiled when he saw John standing in the doorway.

“She’s out,” John said. “Want me to put her back in her crib?” Sherlock shook his head no and glanced down at the little girl. She had barely finished her bottle before falling back to sleep. “You sure?” John asked. “You should get some more sleep if you stand any chance of not catching this either.”

“Too late,” Sherlock said.

“Oh. Sorry mate,” John said. “Tea?”

Sherlock nodded and sniffled, settling back against the pillow. He’d noticed his throat was sore when he’d gotten up with Rosie earlier and now there was no denying it; he’d come down with the cold as well. He listened to John moving through the kitchen a bit slower than usual, pausing every few seconds to muffle a cough into his shoulder. John didn’t sound well at all and Sherlock wasn’t looking forward to what he had in store. As it was, he knew he was about to lose the battle with the sneeze he’d been suppressing for the last ten minutes. Sherlock sniffled again and scrubbed his palm back and forth to try and quash the irritation in his nose but it wasn’t working. He pinched his nose between his thumb and forefinger and his other hand tugged the baby to him. Sherlock successfully stifled five back to back sneezes silently, the slight jerk of his body the only indicator of his distress. He glanced down to make sure Rosie was still asleep before letting his head fall back with a thick, congested sigh.

“Alright?” John asked, coming in with two cups of tea.

“Tissues?” Sherlock asked with a heady sniffle.

“Right. Hang on a sec.”

John’s footsteps echoed down the hallway towards the linen closet. Sherlock heard his friend sneeze twice and make use of the new box of tissues he’d just opened before the doctor came back. He handed Sherlock a few tissues and put the box on the table before collapsing in his chair. The congestion in John’s head had now escalated to the point that he had to breathe through his mouth and, while he couldn’t really taste his tea, it did feel good against his sore throat.

Meanwhile, Sherlock had issues of his own to contend with. His sinuses were on fire making his nose run and his eyes water. His breath hitched twice and he clamped the tissues over his nose, turning his head to the side. He managed to stifle the first, but the others were simply too strong.

hhNTss! hehhISHHeew! HiiSHHHeew!

“Bless you,” John said. He stood up and came over to his ailing friend. Rosie had stirred and was slowly waking up. She yawned and gave Sherlock a look that he could have sworn was textbook annoyance.

“Sorry,” he said and she smiled.

“Come here little one,” John said, scooping up his daughter and freeing Sherlock. Rosie kept up a monologue of “dada dada” while Sherlock got fresh tissues and blew his nose. This cold was hitting him fast. He wasn’t too surprised—he’d seen it take John down in less than 18 hours—but it seemed like he was feeling worse by the minute.

huhhRAHHshhhoo!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said in John’s direction. Hmm…seemed his voice was going too.

“Thags.”

John put Rosie down on the floor and spread some of her toys out in front of her and flopped down on the sofa next to Sherlock. He put the box of tissues on the cushion between the two of them, taking two for himself and sneezing again.

HuhhIHHSHHHoo! HUH huhhRUHHSHHHHooo!

“Bless you,” Sherlock said. John nodded but couldn’t answer due to the racking cough that he couldn’t seem to stop. He finally managed a sip of tea and he leaned his head back while he caught his breath.

“Christ, I feel awful,” the doctor said.

hehhISHHHew! TSSHHHHeew! hhNTSHHHeew! TSHHHEEW! heh Ehh hehhISHHeew! TSHHHeew!

“Bless you!” John said. “Alright?”

Sherlock blew his nose, grabbed another fistful of tissues, and blew it again before answering.

“I should call Mycroft. The government could weaponize this virus,” he said.

“Sorry. It’s a side effect of having Rosie around so much,” John said. Both men glanced at the little girl playing some sort of imaginary game on the rug in front of the fireplace.

“Worth it,” Sherlock mumbled. He cleared his throat and grabbed his mobile. “John, I hate to admit it but I think we need to call in reinforcements.”

 

TBC...

 

Edited March 7, 2017 by matilda3948

[kushamisukii]

Oh I am loving it. Parent lock and both John and Sherlock are sneezing messes.yay! This is too cute. :')

[SneezyHolmes]

Loved this!

[Hedgehog]

Ahh - lol. Poor babysitters!

[cally]

Oh the poor things!    I look forward to see where you take this.  

[Juto]

This is really adorable. I hope there's more to come

 

[Shamaël]

On 31/01/2017 at 7:01 AM, matilda3948 said:

“So? What are we to do in the fine predawn London morning?” he asked. A stream of nonsense words later and he nodded. “Excellent choice,” he said and stood up and took her into the kitchen.

I melted when I read it. It was so, so, cute. Discussion between Sherlock and Rosie - I love it.

That's an awsome beginning and I really hope you will not stop here! Thank you for sharing.

[matilda3948]

Thank you all so much for your comments! I really appreciate it  

Here's the second part. I think there will be one more after this.

**

He cleared his throat and grabbed his mobile. “John, I hate to admit it but I think we need to call in reinforcements.”

“Who’d you text?” John asked.

“Mycroft.”

“You really think Mycroft is going to come over to this biohazard of a flat and look after Rosie?”

“Of course not,” Sherlock said. “But he’ll feel guilty saying no hehh and hehh…” his voice trailed off as the obvious need to sneeze took priority. John handed his friends a couple tissues and waited as Sherlock’s nose trembled and twitched with irritation. He gave a wet sniffle that finally nudged him over the edge.

heh Ehh hehhISHHeew! TSHHHeew! hhNTSHHHeew!

“As I was saying. He’ll feel guilty and do what he always does when he feels guilty—throw money at the problem. I expect that within the next 90 minutes a courier will arrive with everything we could need to weather the next couple of days.”

“Brilliant,” John said.

Sherlock was drafting a second text message when the sound of John’s coughing distracted him. It sounded wet and painful, scraping at the doctor’s throat and leaving him nearly doubled over before it finally stopped. When John sat upright again his face was flushed and he rested a hand on his chest like it hurt.

“Go back to bed, John.”

“M’alright.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn’t push it. John was a doctor after all; he probably knew when he needed to sleep.

“Lestrade’s coming over to take Rosie to the park,” Sherlock said.

“Yeah? Suppose I should get her dressed then.” John’s head swam when he stood up and for a moment he thought he might actually black out—his vision blurred and wobbled on his feet.

“Idiot,” Sherlock said, but there was little bite to it. He eased John back down onto the sofa and put his hand on his forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m more than capable of getting the tiny human dressed. Just stay here and I’ll get you some water and paracetamol. After making sure John took a couple pills and drank most of his water, Sherlock scooped up the baby and took her upstairs to get dressed. John let the sounds wash over him as he started to drift off. He heard Rosie laughing, Sherlock sneezing, and random snippets of his friend trying to convince his daughter to hold still long enough for him to get her into her clothes. His head was heavy and throbbing but his heart felt lighter than it had in a while.

He must have finally nodded off because the next thing that John registered was the sound of Sherlock and Greg talking quietly. John rubbed his eyes and then massaged his temples—the pounding in his head had only gotten worse. How could he feel that much worse in such a short time?

huhh HuhhNGSCHHoo!

He jerked forward sneezing into his hands.

hhUHHGNSHHHoo!

“Bless you, John!” Lestrade said. He felt the older man wrap an arm around his shoulders and helped him sit upright, then handed him a fair handful of tissues. “You weren’t exaggerating,” Lestrade said to Sherlock.

“What?” John asked.

“Sherlock texted and said you’d both been hit hard with a cold. He wasn’t exaggerating—you look awful, mate.”

“Feel it,” John said.

“You guys need anything?” Greg asked. “I could stop at the shops on my way back.”

“My brother is taking care of that,” Sherlock said. He was sitting in his chair wrapped up in the comforter off his bed. Rosie was sitting on the floor near his feet playing with a board book that made animal sounds when she pressed the buttons.

“Thags for taking Rosie out for a bit,” John said. Greg patted him on the shoulder.

“Of course. Always happy to spend time with one of my favorite girls. Plus, you two look knackered. Get some sleep and I’ll bring her back before dinner time.” Lestrade got up, picked Rosie up off the floor, and grabbed her diaper bag off the kitchen table.

“Remember, she gets her bottle at two and she’ll probably want to sleep for at least an hour afterwards. She likes to sleep with the purple monster and that little blanket with the blue—”

“Yeah, I know Sherlock. It’s not my first time watching her and we’ve already gone over this twice, AND you put written directions in the diaper bag.”

Hehh…ehh hehhISHHHew! TSSHHHHeew!

“Bless you,” both men said. Sherlock nodded and got a handkerchief out of his pocket in time to catch another four sneezes.

ehhhhNTSHHHeew! SNSHHHeeW! heh Ehh hehhISHHeew! NTSHHHeew!

“Okay, Rosie, say goodbye to Daddy and Sherlock,” Lestrade said, bouncing her in his arms. He paused at the door and watched as the little girl did a slow, clunky impression of a wave. The two cold-riddled men mirrored the action and Greg had to bit his tongue to keep from laughing. When Greg got to the front door he nearly ran into the courier that Mycroft had sent. “Top of the stairs,” he said.

Sherlock began unpacking the bags his brother had sent.

“Oh, Mycroft was feeling very, very guilty,” he said to John. “We shouldn’t have to cook for at least three days.” In addition to several kinds of cold medicine, cough drops, boxes of tissues, herbal tea, honey, lemon, orange juice, and mentholated bath salts, there was food from at least five different restaurants. He opened the last container and found a grilled cheese sandwich cut into fourths. “He did feel guilty,” Sherlock said, taking a bite. He heard John coughing again and decided to go with something simple and soothing, pouring chicken soup into a bowl and bringing that and an armful of supplies back into the living room.

“Thags,” John rasped.

“You’re going to have no voice left at this rate,” Sherlock said.

“I know.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes, just the occasional sniffle or cough from one or the other. John seemed to be asleep sitting up and Sherlock decided the sooner they got to bed the better. They each took a dose of cold medicine and then Sherlock stood and offered John his hand and the doctor readily accepted the help. The comforter dragged down the hallway behind Sherlock as he stayed a step behind John. The doctor stopped suddenly and shivered and sneezed simultaneously.

HuhhNGSSSHHooo! SNSCHHooo!

“Bless you. Here,” Sherlock put a couple tissues in John’s line of sight. After the doctor blew his nose he was hit with another coughing fit that made Sherlock wince. “Come on,” he said when John finally stopped. “We’re not risking the stairs with you in this condition.” He tugged John into his room and got him settled in bed. Sherlock went to his dresser and got himself a thick pair of socks. He was starting to feel chilled and suspected the fever wasn’t far off. Then he got into bed next to John and spread the comforter over the both of them. He put the tissues down in the space between the two of them but not before taking several for himself. Sherlock laid on his back and focused on the burning tingle deep inside his nose. He brought a finger up and pressed it directly under his nose hoping the pressure would either coax the sneeze to come out or get rid of the tickle. When that didn’t work he pinched the bridge of his nose and took slow, deliberate breaths.

Heh Ehh… ehh…

Nearly there. His nostrils flared and Sherlock brought the tissues closer.

heh…Ehh hehhISHHeew! hhNTSHHH!

“Bless you,” John mumbled.

Hehh…ehh hehhISHHHew! TSSHHHHeew!

“Again.”

hehhISHHHew! TSSHHHHeew! hhNTSHHHeew!

“Okay, Sherlock?” John asked, still half asleep.

“I’b fide.” Sherlock got fresh tissues and gave his nose a gurgling blow. It must have sounded bad to John too because he sounded much more alert now.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

“Bloody cold.”

“Came on fast,” John said.

“MmHmm,” Sherlock agreed.

“Get some rest.”

TBC...

[SneezyHolmes]

Ahh, what a lovely update!

[Juto]

So so very cute  

[muffins]

love this story!!! 

[Shamaël]

The end of this part was... wow.  Fortunately Lestrade is here to help!!!

[MyOwnPrivateSFC]

I love it!

[kushamisukii]

Ugh that was so delightfully cute !!!!

[AngelEyes]

This is fantastic!

[matilda3948]

 Thanks for the comments!! You're all super sweet  Should be one more section after this.

 

Greg carried the sleepy baby upstairs. She had thoroughly worn herself out at the park and he was glad to be bringing her home quiet and ready for a nap. He walked past Sherlock's open door and was pleased to see both men sprawled out on the bed sound asleep, crumpled tissues littering the comforter and floor. He took Rosie up to the room she shared with John and got her settled in her crib before heading back downstairs. He closed Sherlock’s bedroom door and went into the living room. Greg gathered up dirty tea cups and plates, putting them in the sink and running soapy water. After washing dishes he tidied up Rosie's toys even though he knew they'd be all over the floor again three minutes after she woke up. He lit a fire in the fireplace and put the safety screen in front of it. That was something he never thought he'd see at 221B—safety gates at the top of all the stairs, outlet covers, and a safety screen in front of the fireplace. 

He heard one of the men slowly making his way down the hallway—John if he had to take a guess. Sure enough, the doctor turned the corner and shuffled into the room. Greg winced. John's nose was beet red and he swore the doctor's face actually looked swollen. His hair and clothes were rumpled and he had a handkerchief clutched in his hand. When he spoke, his voice was thick and husky.

"Hey Greg. How'd you guys do today?"

"She's a gem. She was asleep when we got back so I put her in her crib. Monitor's on the kitchen table if you want to check on her. How about something to drink?"

"I think there's orange juice in the refrigerator." John sat down at the kitchen table and switched on the video monitor watching his little girl sleep. He nodded his thanks when Greg put down the glass of juice. John took a couple sips and before putting the glass down and getting his handkerchief. His eyes took on a faraway look and he tilted his head back slightly, his nostrils widening slightly with each inhale.

huhh…Uhh…a thick sniffle and rub of his nose and then finally HuhhMFSSSHHooo! hh’MFSCHHHH!

“God bless you. Hope you don't think this was out of line, but I asked Molly to take Rosie for the night," Lestrade said. "You and Sherlock seem like you could use a night off."

"She didn't bind?" John asked, the handkerchief still pressed to his nose.

"I think she was holding back the urge to shout with joy."

huhh—huhhAHHMFSHH! That sneeze seemed to satiate John’s nose for the time being.

"I'm lucky to have so many people who love her," John said.

"She's very sweet. Willful little thing, but sweet."

"Yeah. She wants what she wants," John confirmed. He tried to clear his throat a couple times but broke down into the full-fledged coughing fit. Greg frowned. John sounded awful—that cough sounded worse than it had a few hours ago.

"You need to see a doctor?" Greg asked when John finally calmed down.

“I am a doctor.”

“You know what I mean, John. You sound terrible. Maybe you should have someone check you over.”

"It’s viral, Greg and, while I still feel like hell, I am a bit better than this morning. My temperature’s almost back to normal—just gonna take a while to shake off the other symptoms. I’m a little worried about Sherlock though. The fever came on while he slept. He was pretty warm when I left him. I'm hoping that passes as quickly as it did for me, but he's rarely so lucky."

Greg hummed in agreement.

“His immune system is probably still depleted from…well…from everything the last few months,” John said quietly.

“Plus, he never makes anything easy,” Greg said lightly, trying to keep John from going down a rabbit hole he didn’t need to face at the moment.

“There’s that too,” John said with a smile. Suddenly the men heard Rosie’s voice through the baby monitor. “She wakes,” John said. “I should go get her. You only get about 30 seconds to get her out of bed before it goes from happy wake-up chatter to angry screaming.”

“I’ll go,” Greg said. “No offense, but it looks like a flight of stairs might finish you off.”

While Greg was getting the baby, John shuffled over to his chair and sunk down with a heavy sigh. He was ready for a nap and he’d only been awake for about a half hour. His limbs were heavy and he was irrationally annoyed when his nose began to run because he knew it meant he was going to have to move his arm and get his handkerchief and that simply seemed like more effort than he could muster. But the body wants what it wants and John dug the fabric out of his pocket, wiping his nose and mentally preparing himself for more sneezing. The skin around his nose was chapped and sore and it didn’t seem like he was going to get relief any time soon.

huh Ehh…HuhhMFSSSHHooo! huh—HUH! hh’MFSCHHHH!

“Bless you,” Greg said as he came back into the living room, Rosie balanced on one hip. Despite how terrible he felt, John smiled when he saw his daughter. Greg put her on his lap. “You take care of your daddy, Rosie, and I’ll make some tea before I leave.” The inspector enjoyed listening to John ask Rosie questions and the baby respond with nonsense babble only she could understand. As the kettle boiled, they were joined by a bleary looking Sherlock. He had his blanket draped over his shoulders and a tissue box in hand as he settled into his chair with a sniffle.

“You look like the picture of misery,” John said. “Still running a fever?” Sherlock nodded but couldn’t answer due to the urgent need to sneeze.

hehhISHHHH! Tsshhhh! Ktschhhh!

His sneezes sounded fatigued and nasal.

“Bless you,” John said. Greg echoed from the kitchen. Rosie giggled.

“Sure, laugh it up petri dish,” Sherlock said. “This is all your fault.” He pointed a finger at the baby and she took it as her signal to slide off her dad’s lap and crawl over to Sherlock. She pulled herself up using his legs and then held her arms out in the universal sign for “pick me up.” Sherlock mocked disinterest for a grand total of three seconds before lifting Rosie onto his lap. “You tiny humans are terribly demanding,” he said. She settled into the bend of his arm and looked at him expectantly. “I know. Just a moment.” Sherlock dug his mobile out of his dressing gown pocket and opened a child-friendly app with farm animals and an animated storyteller. He handed the device to Rosie and she was content to sit on his lap and watch the small screen. John was not a fan of letting Rosie spend too much time with mobile phones and tablets but Sherlock was a well-established pushover in this area.

ehhIHHSHH! KTSHHH!

Sherlock had twisted his body to the side and sneezed into a tissue before wiping his nose and tossing the crimpled paper on the table next to him.

“You both want tea?” Greg asked, sticking his head into the living room. Sherlock nodded, already feeling another sneeze threatening.

“Thanks, Greg,” John said. “Bless you, mate,” he added in Sherlock’s direction.

hehh ihh…Ihhhktschhhh! hh’TSHHHoo!

“Christ, you two are a mess,” Lestrade said, coming in with a cup of tea for each man. Both were given a dose of cold medicine as well.

“Thank you, Greg,” Sherlock said. Lestrade still couldn’t stop the involuntary smile that broke across his face whenever Sherlock said his name. “If you guys are alright for a bit I’m going to head out. Molly should be here soon.” He bent down and kissed Rosie’s head. “Bye bye, Rosie. I had fun playing today. I’ll check in with you guys tomorrow but call if you need anything.”

TBC...

[Pyrus_Fangmon]

This story is so beautiful!

[AngelEyes]

Totally adorable!

[valemari2012]

I don't know why i began to read it with little Mrs. Hudson voice, but it was so sooooo beautifuuul, and Sherlock saying right Greg's name is one of the things that i find so special and gdgshsdhdhdj.

Loved it, gonna wait the next parts~

[Hedgehog]

Very nice chapter again. Poor Sherlock though - he needs some forehead-feels and cuddles. 

[SneezyHolmes]

Ahh! Poor Sherlock! 

[kushamisukii]

The sickly suffering duo of Baker street, my heart can't handle this. I love your writing ! And I'm worried for sherlock with his low immune system D;

[Shamaël]

On 13/02/2017 at 5:15 AM, matilda3948 said:

“Sure, laugh it up petri dish,”

I love so much this sentence! This is so Sherlock AND so cute at the same time...

I feel really bad for both of them - but Lestrade is the best. I like the part he plays in your story. And his thoughts about the safety gates and screen were really funny.

 

[frolicking periwinkle]

I've never seen the show (not more than the first episode anyway).  You make me want to watch it.

[matilda3948]

Thank you all soooo much for the comments!!! I'm not sure if I should add one more section to this or not--a scene with just John and Sherlock?

So this part has a few direct references to season 4 so spoilers if you haven't seen it yet.

***

Molly bounded up the stairs and rapped on the door as she opened it.

“Knock, knock! Anyone home?” She stepped inside and saw a blissfully happy baby playing on the rug in front of the fireplace and two miserable, ill, exhausted men barely awake in their chairs. “Rosie, my love!” Molly cooed as she sat down next to the baby. “How’s my favorite girl? Have you been taking good care of Daddy and Sherlock?”

“Are you kidding? She’s patient zero,” Sherlock said. “In fact, that’s going to be her new nickname.”

“You are not calling her patient zero,” John said. “At least not out in public.”

John broke out in a harsh, barking cough at the same time Sherlock made a mad dash for more tissues. hehhINSHHHH! NTsshhhh!

“Bless you,” Molly said. Sherlock nodded and blew his nose before getting another tissue and blotting away the dampness under his left eye. Meantime, John was gulping down a glass of water to try and calm the irritation in his throat and chest.

“You two sound wretched. I’m taking a look at both of you before Rosie and I leave,” Molly said casually, bopping Rosie on the head with one of her stuffed animals. “And then we’re having a girls night—just me and Rosie.”

“So romantic comedies, margaritas, and pedicures?” Sherlock asked.

“Don’t be silly,” Molly said. “She can’t have margaritas yet—she’s only ten months old.”

“But there will be romantic comedies and pedicures?”

“Of course!”

“You’re not actually going to paint her nails are you?” John asked. Molly kept her eyes on the carpet.

“You know, there’s no medical literature indicating that the ingredients in nail polish are harmful for an infant’s nails,” she said.

“You already bought nail polish didn’t you?” Sherlock asked.

“It’s purple glitter,” she said.

Sherlock smirked and Molly lifted hopeful eyes up towards John.

“Fine,” he said. “But just her toes. She chews on her fingers too much to paint them.”

“She chews on heehh…Ehh her toes too,” Sherlock said. hehIHHNGSHHHH!

“Bless you, Sherlock. Just her toes—promise,” Molly agreed, standing up. “John, where’s your medical bag?”

“Hall closet. You want to start with him and I’ll get patient zero packed up?”

 “Sure. Come on, Sherlock. Sofa please.”

huhihhGNSHHHH!

Sherlock sneezed again but his face remained stuck in pre-sneeze, ticklish agony. His breath caught and hitched twice before he finally bent forward with a wrenching sneeze.

Hehh…ehh hehhISNSHHHew! NTSSHHHHeew!

“Bless you again. Come on, let me look you over yeah?” Molly asked. Much to John’s surprise, Sherlock didn’t argue and moved over to the sofa so Molly could sit next to him. He grabbed Rosie and headed upstairs to get her ready for her girls’ night. As soon as John left the room, Sherlock seemed to slump forward a little, massaging his temples. Molly got the stethoscope out but Sherlock shook his head.

“Waihhh…Ehh…wait…”

The warning was completely unnecessary since Sherlock’s face said it all. Molly felt a pang of sympathy as she watched him. His body language screamed exhaustion and illness. She watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the angry red shade of his nose, and the way his nostrils widened with each breath. He pulled several tissues from the pocket of his dressing gown and finally succumbed to a pair of wrenching, nasal sneezes.

huhh EHH’gsnSHHHH! hhGNTsshhhh!

“Bless you.” She put a hand on his arm and waited until he recovered. “Okay now?” He nodded and Molly quietly got to work listening to his lungs, checking his ears and throat. She noticed something odd when she checked his eyes. The left one would instantly tear up while the right one did not.

“What’s wrong with your left eye?” she asked.

“Nothing. Just seehh Ehh…sensitive.” He sniffled and rubbed his nose back and forth with against the back of his wrist. He seemed to have warded off the sneeze for the time being. Sherlock brushed away a tear from the sensitive left eye and she reached over and tilted his head upwards. Molly tapped on his sinuses on the right side of his face and he flinched but just barely. On the other hand, she had barely touched the left side of his face when Sherlock practically yelped in pain.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sherlock, what’s going on here?” He looked over her shoulder to make sure John hadn’t come back before answering.

“I have a slight hairline fracture of the zygomatic arch on that side of my face. It’s not completely healed and the pressure in my sinuses is—”

"You what? That usually requires surgery! Is this from when John…?" He nodded and made an odd sound in her throat. “That must hurt like hell,” she said quietly.

"It does," he said. The congestion in his voice now caused an extra layer of concern for Molly. A partially healed facial fracture (no matter how small) would be incredibly painful with a head cold. Every sneeze and sniffle likely sent a little wave of pain across the left side of Sherlock’s face, not to mention the constant ache of having inflamed sinuses.

"You need to do everything you can to reduce the swelling and congestion in your sinuses. Hot showers, saline rinse, decongestants. Drink as many warm drinks as you can. I wouldn't even begrudge you some pain meds if you want a few."

"Sinus infection that bad?" John asked, coming in at the trail end of the conversation.

"No, but—"

"Molly," Sherlock warned gently. She looked at him for a second and then made her decision.

"He has a fracture in the left zygomatic arch. The swelling in his sinuses is creating a significant amount of pain."

"When did you break your cheekbone?" John asked. When he was met with nothing but silence, John put two and two together quickly. "Shit. You didn't tell me I broke your cheekbone."

"Really wish you hadn't said that, Molly," Sherlock mumbled.

"Yeah well, I really wish you hadn't made me tell you I love you over the phone," she said. Every time the subject was broached she seemed a little less hurt. He took it as a good sign that she was using it as part of an argument. They might just stand a chance at returning to a normal friendship after all.

"How long are you going to continue to hold that against me?" Sherlock asked.

"I'll let you know," Molly said with a smile. "But we're nowhere close yet." She bent down and put a quick kiss on the top of his head. Sherlock’s lips crept up despite his best efforts. Molly’s ability to forgive, and even make fun of, that terrible, shattering phone call never ceased to amaze him.

“I had no idea,” John said. “You didn’t tell me before.”

“I wasn’t exactly at my best that night,” Sherlock said, staring at his hands. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.

“Right,” Molly said. “Well, you two probably need to…talk,,,or not talk…so I’m going to have a quick look at John and then Rosie and I will be off. John and Sherlock switched places and Molly repeated her exam. While she was looking John over, Sherlock sat down on the floor with the baby.

“You behave tonight and try not to let too many of those ridiculous tropes from the movie sink into your impressionable, young, frontal cortex. You must always be careful of what you let into your frontal cortex….” his voice trailed off and he took out the last of the tissues he’d stashed in his pocket.

Hehh Ehh… hehhISNSHHH! hhGNTSSHHHH!

He kept the tissues pressed to his nose and continued, undeterred,

“It shapes your decision making ability and higher level reasoning for the rest of your life.”

“I don’t think infants work that way,” John said. “Okay, Rosie, you’re going to go with Molly for tonight.” He scooped the baby up and then held her at an angle near Sherlock’s face. “Tell Uncle Sherlock to feel better and to stop lying to his doctor.” Sherlock rolled his eyes (which hurt) and kissed Rosie on the forehead.

“Give Molly hell,” Sherlock told Rosie.

“Thanks a lot,” Molly said, but they were both smiling. After a little more fussing and shuffling, Molly and Rosie were off for the night. Sherlock hadn’t gotten off the floor yet and John sat down in his chair, facing his friend.

“So. 7pm and we have the place to ourselves.”