Chapter Text
"John! Your offspring is crying again." Sherlock yells from his chair, maintaining eye contact with the baby that is seated in a high chair.
Today is a rainy day, the grey skies reflecting just how flat out boring it is. Normally, Sherlock would be shooting smiley faces onto the wall. But that's not allowed anymore. Something about safety around the baby.
"Her name's Rosie, and I'm sure she'd appreciate it if you could call her that. She's probably hungry." John pauses from writing his blog and walks to the kitchen.
"Didn't we just feed her?" Sherlock asks, peering at Rosie's reddening face.
"Heads up!" John tosses a hot bottle in Sherlock's direction, which he catches with ease.
"She should be drinking out of sippy cups by now." Sherlock remarks. "She's already one."
"I know, I know. Next week we'll start." John sighs, rubbing his eyes. The sippy cups sit on the top shelf, always forgotten.
"You said that last week." Sherlock raises his voice, as the child in front of him screams louder. He hands Rosie the bottle.
It stays in her hands for precisely two seconds before she throws it, hitting Sherlock square on the nose.
"Agh, bloody hell!" Sherlock glares at the baby as he rubs his nose.
"Don't swear in front of her!" John chides, moving Sherlock's hands away to check on his nose. It's quite red and may bruise, but it's not broken.
"That was not very nice, Rosamund." John wags his finger at his little daughter, failing miserably at looking stern. It was a little funny to see Sherlock's surprised face.
She simply gives a devilish smirk that could rival Sherlock's. Unfortunately, she forgets how fun it was to see her Da injured and starts crying again.
"Play something on the violin, maybe that'll work." John advises, plugging his ears as his cranky child wails.
Sherlock agrees, picking up his beloved instrument and playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star." John lifts Rosie from her high chair and holds her, swaying along to the music.
It isn't until the second verse that Rosie calms down. Her parents both sigh in relief, glad for a little quiet.
Sherlock moves onto a more complex piece, happy to see that Rosie still likes it. She smiles and attempts to move along to the music.
"Your child has taste." Sherlock says with a grin. "I'll teach her to play when she's older. You know, an interest in the violin is a sign of intelligence."
John leans Rosie closer so can see. Her curious little hand reaches out, and John sees the rest happen in slow motion.
She takes hold of the thinnest string, pulling it until it breaks. Sherlock drops his violin in surprise just as Rosie starts to cry, this time in pain.
"She broke my E string!" Sherlock yells mournfully, picking up his instrument delicately, as if it was a fallen friend.
"She hurt her hand." John says, bouncing Rosie on his knee as he tries to placate her. He opens her little palm, a harsh red line slashes across her fingers.
"My poor Rosie." John comforts, hushing her and patting her sparse hair. "Go get her a cookie." Even though he has little experience on babies, he knows that cookies make everything better.
"Mmhm. So you award her for her destruction by giving her a cookie?" Sherlock asks with a raised brow.
"She's just a baby." John is quick to defend his daughter and her curiosity. Sherlock rolls his eyes and goes to the cookie jar.
"I bet that hurt a lot, didn't it Rosie?" John says, holding her close to his chest.
"Buddy hayl." She says in agreement, holding her wounded fingers.
"SHERLOCK!"