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“Say it!” Rosie just giggled at him and John let out an exasperated sigh, hanging his head. She still hadn’t said her first word, and it was an epic race to see who could get her to say it first, him or Mary. He was bound and determined to get “Dada” to be her first word, because there was a lot riding on it: a hundred quid, dinner at Hakkasan Mayfair with no limit, and household chores for a month. Mary was so bloody sure that Rosie was going to say “Mama” first that he just had to win.
“I do not see why you're being so competitive,” Sherlock remarked from his seat nearby. “You were the one to push for the ridiculous terms of the bet when Mary was willing to make them much more reasonable.”
“Because I’m determined to win,” John said, pushing a few more Honey Monster Puffs towards his daughter on the tray of her high chair as the front door opened. “All right love. We know you love your daddy. So say it. Please just say ‘Daddy.’”
“Is he resorting to bribery?” Mary asked Sherlock as she came into the sitting room, carrying two sacks of groceries with Molly behind her.
John turned in time to see Sherlock nod. “He’s turned to Honey Monster Puffs.”
Mary shook her head. “She already said her first word, love,” Mary said as she went into the kitchen.
“What?” John said, his eyes wide. “No bloody way.”
Molly nodded. “Oh, yes. I heard it.”
John crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing. “Let me guess. Mama? Mum?”
Mary shook her head and set her bags on the counter. “Nope.”
All of a sudden his eyes widened and a grin crossed his face. “I guess that means I won, then. Her first word was Daddy.” He turned back to his daughter. “I’m so proud--”
“Nope,” Mary said, cutting him off. “It wasn’t Daddy, either.”
This time when John turned around there was a frown on his face. He slowly moved into the kitchen. “Well then, what word was it?” he asked slowly, watching his wife unpack groceries.
“Apparently, we had a spanner in the works,” she said. “While you and I were hell bent on one-upping one another, trying to get her to say Mummy or Daddy, somebody else was teaching her a whole other word. And apparently, he’s a better teacher than either of us ever were,” she said, throwing a pointed glance at Sherlock, who was looking innocent in his position on the chair.
John turned to look at his best mate. “So you’re saying...”
“Her first word was ‘Unca.’ I’m sure if she could have strung two words together it would have been ‘Unca Sherly,’” Mary said, giving Sherlock a mild glare. “This is why we should limit our daughter’s time with her godfather.”
John moved around the counter and then advanced on Sherlock. “You knew I was trying to get her first word to be ‘Daddy,’” he said through gritted teeth.
“Well, it’s not as though you want her calling me Daddy, do you?” Sherlock asked innocently, looking up at an irritated John as Molly stifled a laugh. “Come now, John. How often do you leave Rosie in my or Molly’s care? Or both of our care together? It’s just as surprising her first word wasn’t ‘aunt’. You brought this on yourself.”
“Why you sodding--” John said, his face getting red before Mary tutted.
“He has a point,” Mary said. “We do rather leave Lucinda in his care often. We should have expected with the nine hundred or so people who refer to him as Uncle Sherlock compared to how many times we’re referred to as Mummy and Daddy that ‘uncle’ or some form of Sherlock would've been her first word.”
John was quiet for a moment, but then his anger seemed to deflate. “But I wanted to win the bet,” he said.
“Well, I can cover a meal for the two of you at the restaurant,” Sherlock said, tilting his head. “And while I don’t feel inclined to fork over my hard earned earnings to give you each fifty quid, I could perhaps be persuaded to hire a maid service for a week?”
“I’ll help with the maid service and add a week,” Molly piped up. “That’s two weeks you two don’t have to worry about household chores.”
“Well, at the very least the two of you should come to dinner with us,” Mary said, giving John a sly smile. “Fair’s fair and all.”
Molly blushed slightly. “Oh. Um...no, it’s...um...it’s all right.”
“I wouldn’t mind sharing a meal with you in public, Molly,” Sherlock said.
“But it would be like a…date,” she said, finishing the sentence lamely. "We don't go on dates in public."
He was quiet for a moment. “Would it be so bad?” he asked quietly.
“No!” she blurted out. “I mean, no, I don’t think it would be bad. I just want to make sure that you don’t think it would be bad.”
“I have no problems with it,” he said, getting his mobile out of his pocket. “I suppose I should make reservations. Does tomorrow suit everyone? Lestrade could babysit, or Mrs. Hudson.”
John nodded. “We’ll find someone.” He went back into the kitchen and then gave his wife a quick kiss. “Brilliant,” he murmured.
“I know,” she said with a grin. “I’m good.”
“Yes, you are.”