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John set the tray of tea and pastries down on the small, off white table and slid into the booth next to Sherlock with a small groan of relief.
"God, it's good to get off my feet. Think Rosie mistook it for a marble buffet rather than a marble run! Remind me again why we came?"
"4,000 year history of glass, John!" Sherlock said gleefully, stuffing an apple turnover into his mouth next to a very thoroughly worn out, sleeping Rosie in her buggy. Chocolate smeared all around her mouth, stuffed bumblebee clutched tight to her chest. Happy.
"She did seem quite taken with the fairground mirrors, didn't she?" John smiled, leaning in to kiss Sherlock softly on the corner of his mouth. He tasted of cinnamon, and hope. Things hadn't been easy these past six months, but they'd gotten through it, together. He wasn't sure a force existed that was strong enough to pull them apart ever again.
Speaking of force, Rosie seemed to have stirred whilst John had been busy daydreaming and filled her nappy.
"Jeeeeeeesus..."
John suddenly didn't feel much like eating, trying not to gag. Sherlock, meanwhile, had finished his tea and was tapping away at his phone with one hand, pinching his nose with the other, barely suppressing a smirk.
"We forgot the changing bag."