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Sherlock was hypnotised. Not by someone who was attempting to do so, but by the only friend he ever had, well, other than Redbeard. Though Sherlock had a very faint memory of the boy so that didn’t count. John was holding his daughter, now four years old, she could say plenty of four or even five word phrases and understood what they meant. She couldn’t say something like Sherlock so she called him ‘wockie’ or ‘daddy’. He didn’t mind either, Rosie was too important to him, he would kill for that child.
He was staring as John smiled at his daughter, not at the laughing baby who was being tickled relentlessly. At the laughing man who was doing said tickling. He sighed and looked away, he didn’t notice when John looked out the window then caught his eye on Sherlock. He also didn’t notice that John had stood up until there was a babbling baby in his arms. With that he immediately went red, well not red, that would be almost impossible with his complexion. But as pink as he could get, and John noticed.
Sherlock turned his focus to the baby and tried to make his face go back to normal, of course, you couldn’t just will that to happen and it did. He tried to get his mind off of it by blowing raspberries into baby Rosie’s cheeks. She giggled and cried “hahahahah Papa! Help!” ‘Papa’ was what she called John and when John came to sweep her away to safety Sherlock stood up and ran into the kitchen with her in his hands.
“She’s mine now!” He said in a jokingly menacing voice, then he laughed his most evil laugh and blew another raspberry into Rosie’s soft cheeks. When John started walking over to take Rosie back, Sherlock sidestepped him and tripped him, then quickly as lightning grabbed his flailing hand. And when he realised what he had done the blush came back and he pulled John back up neither of them said anything for a minute. Then a knock came at the door.
“Boys! Client!” Mrs. Hudson called, and then she opened the door into the living room and a short, black haired man came in, he looked about thirty-seven. He smoked by the smell of him and the way his eyes looked he probably had a daughter who was kidnapped. “Play nice” Mrs. Hudson said, then she took Rosie, as was protocol and left.
“Where,” Sherlock said, sitting in his chair, he pointed to the wooden chair in the middle of the room and the man, whose name he deduced was Darek, sat in it. His peripheral vision saw John sit down next to him, he repeated the question again, “Where, Derek?”
“How do you.. know my name?” Darek asked, and Sherlock told him that it was on his staff badge from the grocery store he worked at, “Okay, what do you mean ‘Where’?”
“Where was your child kidnapped, and it would be nice to know when too,” Sherlock said, when Darek said how, he explained that he knew it was a child because a photo of them was sticking out of his pocket, and by the face shape that he could see they looked young probably older teenage or young adult and guessing as he was hopefully not a paedophile it was safe to assume that they were his child. And kidnapped because he’s not crying enough for it to be a death, and why would he have the photo other than looking for them if it wasn’t a death. Possibly just to look at the victim but that might not be true.
Darek nodded all the way through and then told them where he last saw his daughter. The two followed Darek out to where he had said and looked around. There wasn’t anything that could help so they asked for the daughter’s name and what she looked like, all of the things that might help them find her. Darek told them that she had a boyfriend named Ronald. He begrudgingly gave them Ronald’s address and they started searching there.
“Hullo” The man -Ronald- said when he opened the door after they had rung the bell. “What do you want?”
“Are you Ronald?” John asked, to which the young man nodded and asked what they wanted, “Oh we just wanted to ask some que-”
“He has her.” Sherlock interrupted, John looked at him with a raised eyebrow, “Yes I’m sure.”
“What… who do I have?” Ronald asked, he was slightly shiny with sweat, Sherlock chuckled at this and dialled Lestrade’s personal number behind his back and passed it to John, he then stepped inside, pushing Ronald out of the way. The man tried to grab for Sherlock but he had already gone to the stairs that would lead to the basement.
“Garage,” he called to John. Ronald was already following Sherlock, then at the taller man’s call he turned to run for John. John quickly made his way to the garage door. And, lo and behold there she was. He pressed the call button on the phone and threw it to Sherlock, who was at the door. Ronald tackled John but he quickly flipped over the man and pinned him down.
Sherlock talked to Lestrade for a moment and then put the phone away. He untied the ropes on the woman and pulled off the tape over her mouth. She immediately hugged Sherlock, this caught him off guard, but he patted her back. “Thank you!” She said over and over, pulling away from Sherlock.
He nodded, “my pleasure,” He didn’t notice when John, who was behind him mouthed ‘not you being kidnapped’ to the girl.
They accompanied her to her father’s house and he thanked them. They went home after that. Mrs. Hudson gave them both some tea, and handed Rosie back. They went back up into 221B. John made some dinner and they ate together, then he did a little bit of writing as Sherlock put Rosie to bed.
Sherlock sang to Rosie and she babbled until tiring herself out and falling asleep. He retired to bed early that night. He brought out a book and read for a while, then eventually he put a bookmark in and set it down on the nightstand. He clicked off the lamp and pulled the covers over himself, sleeping soundly.
He woke up later that night, his dreams made him think about his things that weren’t normally in his process, he turned around in the bed and whispered, “John?”
John, who was next to him, looked at the taller man “yeah, Sherlock?”
“Do you like me?” Sherlock asked. John let out a small chuckle and pulled him close, letting Sherlock rest on his chest.
“Do I like you?” He repeated, and he answered the question with another question, “Sherlock if I don’t like you, why do you think I married you?”
Sherlock nodded and then snuggled closer and went back to sleep.