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Shopping with Theo was always an experience. He never liked to stay with John and was forever trying to escape and wander on some toddler adventure. John had let Sherlock take Theo to the shop once, but when Theo had wandered off and Sherlock couldn’t locate him for upwards of an half hour- Theo had found his way to the clothes turnaround and decided he and Papa were playing hide and seek without informing Papa- both John and Sherlock had decided never again. Sherlock had been so rattled by the experience and John could never force it on him again.
Not that John didn’t experience his own panic every time Theo thought to venture. He’d even briefly considered getting one of those child leashes he’d occasionally see the Yanks on holiday use, but could never get the image of a dog out of his mind. He doubted Sherlock would have stood for it anyhow.
As it was, he was chasing Theo’s four-year-old legs yet again through the Tesco and no one batted an eye. John frequented this particular grocer enough that the shop keeps and most of the shoppers here were well used to this sight by now.
“Theo, get back here!’ John shouted as his son took a sharp left down the soup aisle, giggling at eluding his father yet again.
When John made it to the aisle, he saw Theo reaching for a tin of his current favorite soup- Glorious! Meal Soup’s “W is for West African Chicken and Peanut.”
“Gotcha!” John said as he scooped Theo up from where he’d successfully snagged his tin.
“Daddy!” Theo smiled at him. “I want this soup.”
“Oh, I’ll just bet you do,” John said as he carried Theo through the aisles, searching for where he’d left the trolley this time. He put Theo in the buggy with the food, once he’d located it, as having him walk beside it clearly wasn’t working.
They continued shopping for another half hour with Theo demanding to be let back out in one breath and demanding John buy him every other thing he laid his little eyes on in the next. John acquiesced to some demands and refused others. Eventually, John put Theo back on the floor to walk just to get a moment’s peace.
“But you stay where I can see you!”
Theo smiled at him and did as bid, for the meanwhile.
When they headed for the checkout, the display of sweets set to entice before leaving the shop caught Theo’s eye and he made a mad dash for it.
“Theodore!” John barked.
Theo reached the display and triumphantly held up his prize- a Galaxy Caramel candy bar.
“Can I have this one, Daddy?” Theo beamed, as if already knowing that John would give in and buy him the candy.
“No, absolutely not,” said John, snagging the bar from Theo’s little fingers and putting it back on the shelf.
“But I want it!” Theo wailed.
“And I said no. You have more than enough sweets at home and Mrs. Hudson baked you a thing of biscuits just this morning. You have enough.”
But despite John’s very reasonable argument. Theo would not be appeased. He set to fussing and whinging and throwing a wobbly worthy of his terrible twos.
When neither John’s cajoling nor his scolding had any effect on Theo, with promises that he’d receive none of the sweets he had at home, John did what he’d learned to do in the face of Theo’s fussing years ago- he put him back in the buggy and let him cry himself out, despite the clucked tongues and “poor dear-s” from the matronly among the shoppers. John turned to the sales clerk and paid for his groceries, ignoring the fussy child clearly in need of a nap behind him. Tantrums tended to like an audience and John refused to give this one one.
When the wails gave way to hiccup-y whimpers, John checked back over his shoulder to see Theo sat on his bum, head bowed, with both hands in his lap. Taking his posture for contrition, John gave a quick nod to himself and finished his checkout before leaving the shop.
Theo was suspiciously quiet as John buckled him into his car seat, but he reasoned anyone would be knackered after that kind of fit and suspected Theo would be well and truly asleep by the time they got home.
When they arrived, Theo seemed to be drowsy but still awake. John bustled him and their purchases out of the car and up the steps of 221B. Sherlock was in a whirl when they got in, working on some experiment or another, and Theo got caught up in his energy and was once again wide awake.
“Papa!” he exclaimed, “Pick me up!”
Sherlock scooped the tot up on one of his passes to and fro and together they were an efficient scientific duo.
John set about putting away his groceries while data collection was winding down. Sherlock plopped Theo into his booster seat and set tea and a couple of biscuits in front of him.
Theo pushed the biscuits away and slowly withdrew a Galaxy Caramel from the pocket of his small trousers.
John turned from his grocery sorting at the crackle of the package and froze when he saw what Theo had in hand.
“Theodore,” John began in a deadly quiet voice.
It was Sherlock’s turn to pause what he was doing upon hearing that tone in John’s voice. He turned curious eyes upon Theodore.
‘Where did you get that candy bar?” John asked in that same quiet tone.
“Um…” Theo began, clearly realising that he was in trouble and that giving the honest answer would be the wrong one to keep him out of said trouble.
“Did Papa give you the candy bar?” John questioned.
Theo turned desperate, almost hopeful eyes upon Sherlock, but one look at his face told both John and Theo there’d be no saving from that quarter.
“Er…no?” Theo phrased it like a question, as if one of his parents would suddenly own up and confess to purchasing it for him.
“Then where did you get it?”
“I… nicked it from the store.” Theo hung his head, assumedly both shamed and expecting swift retribution.
John held his hand out and the candy bar was placed into it. “Up.”
Theo rose from his chair.
“We will be going back to the store, where you will pay for this out of money from your piggy bank, after you have apologised to the cashier for stealing it, whereafter I will be the one eating it. Thanks for buying Daddy a sweet, Theo. Now march.”
Theo trudged to his room and his little money till, sniffling all the while as if he were the injured party here.
“I think he’s also off sweets for the week, don’t you?" John directed at Sherlock.
“The whole week?”
“Yes, so don’t you try slipping him any or allowing Mrs. Hudson to, either.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. But it was only a small sweet, John.”
“A candy bar today, body parts tomorrow,” John said with a raised eyebrow at Sherlock.
Sherlock couldn’t fight his smile. “Fair enough.”
“And don’t think Molly doesn’t know about that spleen you nicked yesterday. I want it out of my freezer by tomorrow.”
Sherlock sighed. “Married life is ruining you.”
“Then it’s you who’s ruined me, then, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Sherlock smiled. “I rather like to think that I have.”
John laughed and kissed him, waiting on their wayward son so he could deliver him his just desserts.