"Hm?" Sherlock hummed, his eyes still closed, hands stapled in his thinking pose.
"Will you remember me in an hour?" His son asked in a most serious voice.
Sherlock opened his eyes to look at him. "Yes, of course."
"Will you remember me in one day?" The little one inquired.
"Yes," Sherlock confirmed with a nod.
Still persistent, the boy followed. "Will you remember me in a week?"
"Of course."
"In a month?"
"Yes, I will."
"Good." William nodded to himself, then asked. "Knock, knock."
Sherlock blinked and automatically answered. "Who's there?"
"See?!" William pointed triumphantly. "You forgot me already."
Sherlock really tried to ignore Molly's giggles coming from the kitchen, he really did, because she's his wife, and he loves her, but it had been her who'd given him this little smartass. Must be her gens. Who else's?
A follow up to A Tangled Web (go read that first):
———
March 2015
“It’s not too late to get married before the baby comes, you know.”
“Yes, perhaps we can get Greg Lestrade to stand over me during the ceremony with a shotgun. Properly set the mood. Then I can give birth during the reception, really give everyone a show.”
“I’ve had worse ideas. There’d be a minister on site to perform the christening. It would save us money, really. We’d only have to order one cake.”
April 2015
Official birth announcement posted on the twitter pages of both Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. It’s possible that Molly’s was hacked by an unknown person. *cough* Sherlock *cough*.
‘Alexander William Jonathan Holmes was ripped screaming from his mother’s womb at 8:16 PM on April 8th weighing a robust 8 lbs 12 oz.
Alexander was sensibly less than eager to be born into a world rife with problems and had to be evicted from his mother’s womb. We were admitted to the hospital on the evening of April 7th where a medication was applied to Molly’s cervix <the following medical description is censored at the moronic request of the pusillanimous individuals who flagged this message as inappropriate>. In the morning, the doctor came in to break the bag of waters, commiting us to the birth and officially voiding the warranty.
Labor proceeded slowly, and the doctors began to grow concerned that Alexander’s heart rate was slowing. A C-Section was deemed necessary, and thus the doctors prepared to carefully retract <the following is again censored, you cowards>. As soon as the initial incision on the womb was complete, Alexander thrust his hand out of the womb, presumably to finish the job himself. The surgeon explained to him that, as an infant, Alexander was unqualified to participate in the procedure. Alexander reluctantly allowed his appendage to be placed back into the womb.
We eagerly awaited his cries and a scant few minutes later, we were not disappointed. Alexander was born with a full head of hair and superior lungs which he used to excellent effect.
He engaged eagerly in nursing and is losing a minimum of birthweight. I’m told I’m not allowed to report the state of Molly’s nipples, but suffice to say that breastfeeding is going swimmingly. The family is tired, but doing well.
William Sherlock Scott Holmes and Molly Elizabeth Hooper (her name certainly could be Holmes if only she agreed to marry me, but I respect her independence and sense of timing) welcome our first child, Alexander William Jonathan Holmes, into the world.’
Find the rest at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13991163
AN: OK, I have been bitten by the Parent!lock bug and the Sherlolly bug and I’ve been bitten badly. This silly one-shot came to me last night and I know it’s not overly realistic as a first word but the idea amused me and I hope you enjoy it.
“Come along Aurora, it is a very simple concept. Two letters, one sound, combined to make a repeated double barrelled word. You are at the stage of cogitative and physical development to vocalise what is in your head. Along with the impressive intellectual genetics you have inherited from your mother and myself, this should not be a challenge for you. Now let’s try again. Say ‘Da-Da’.”
Sitting up on her mat in front of him, Aurora squealed happily and clapped her hands together. Sherlock sighed heavily before handing Aurora her bee plushie, which went straight into her mouth. Sherlock looked at his daughter before picking her up.
“Alright, I’m willing to negotiate. Name your price. A new toy? Money? A claim to the throne? To come to a crime scene? Be allowed to stay out all night with your boyfriend when you’re sixteen?” Sherlock offered as Aurora stared back at him. Obviously he would never agree to such terms, especially the boyfriend one, Molly would have his guts for garters (hmm, Molly in garters, that was a new entry into his Mind Palace) but desperate times called for desperate measures.
An amused snort from the door got his attention and Sherlock turned to see Greg shake his head. “Word from the wise, don’t bribe them. Once they know you can be bribed, they’ll walk all over you. She’ll be demanding everything when she’s thirteen.”
“No she won’t.” Sherlock retorted. “She can’t talk.”
“Probably because she’s stubborn. Like someone else I know.” Greg said pointedly as he took Aurora from Sherlock’s arms. “Hello Princess, are you being mean to your old man? Good. He needs it.”
“Shut up Gavin, are you here for a reason or just to annoy me?” Sherlock snapped. It had been a long time since he pretended to get Lestrade’s name wrong. However he was extremely busy trying to persuade his daughter to say ‘Da-Da’ as her first word and he did not need any interruptions. She ought to have spoken by now. According to Holmes family folklore, he had begun to speak at six months old. According to Mycroft, he hadn’t stopped since six months old either.
“It’s Greg. You know it is.” Greg retorted automatically. “You were right about that last case. It was the dentist. Your dad thinks he’s so clever, doesn’t he? Thinks that I don’t know that he knows my name is Greg. You wouldn’t do anything like that, would you Princess? You’d be able to call me Greg. Can you say Greg? G-re-egg.”
“You know she can’t even master the most basic of sounds, what makes you thin-“ Sherlock was cut off by Aurora squealing happily as her first words left her lips.
“Gegg. Gegg! Gegg! Gegg!” Each word was punctuated by Aurora happily clapping Greg’s face with her hands to show she knew exactly who her ‘Gegg’ was. Greg grinned at Sherlock who glared back at him, his eyes narrowing.
“Come on Rosie.” John said as he led Rosie towards 221B. Thankfully unlike most toddlers, Rosie seemed reluctant to hit the Terrible Twos phase, something John hoped would last. As they approached the door, it was suddenly flung open and Greg rushed past them.
“Hey John, Hi Rosie. Can’t stay. Must dash.” Greg said quickly as they heard Sherlock bellow as he thundered down the stairs.
“GET BACK HERE AND TAKE THIS HARPOON LIKE A MAN LESTRADE!”
Sherlock appeared in the doorway of 221B, brandishing the harpoon dangerously before lowering it at the sight of Greg jumping into his car. Sherlock turned back inside with John and Rosie following. Rosie looking completely unsurprised at Sherlock’s antics. Just like Mary would have, John thought to himself as Sherlock propped the harpoon against the wall and led the way upstairs. As they walked into the flat, Rosie toddled over to where Aurora was sitting happily on the carpet, Mrs Hudson’s washing basket put over her like a cage and looked at Sherlock.
“Why Rora in there?” Rosie asked Sherlock as John picked the basket off of Aurora and set it upright.
“Yes Sherlock, why did you put Aurora under the washing basket and why did you chase Lestrade with a harpoon?” John asked, he was going to have to tell Molly about this. Sherlock was a good father but it was clear that if anyone needed supervising when she was at the morgue, it was him. Not Aurora. Sherlock glared at Aurora who smiled innocently back at him as she played with Rosie.
@mae-jones @maeskitchen I was inspired to write a little ficlet because of your school lunch post hehe. Just a little something cute and fluffy!
“He needs more snacks.”
“This is perfectly fine as it is, Molly,” Sherlock countered as they both stared into the little box.
“It might not be, he might get hungry!”
“This is already a varied, healthy, and might I say artful array of five different food choices for our son. I imagine it’ll be more than he can consume during two snack periods!”
Molly continued staring intensely at the thoughtfully arranged box, absently chewing her nail.
“Besides,” Sherlock added gently, laying an arm over her shoulders. “Perhaps he’d rather not stuff himself during school. Digestion may slow him down as well.”
Molly cracked a smile in spite of herself, giving him a playful wack on the chest. “I can’t help it,” she said softly, shaking her head. “It’s his first day. And he’s only five.”
“Exactly,” Sherlock replied. “So let’s be honest with ourselves and make a little deduction, shall we? He’s going to eat the baggie of ginger nuts...and everything else will be exactly as you see it now.”
There was a moment of silence as both mother and father let that statement sink in.
“Ok fine, I’ll leave it.” Molly nodded resolutely, zipping up the lunch box and setting it in the fridge in an act of closure before letting out a heavy sigh. “Well...I guess at least now we’ve got extra apple slices and carrots now. I could always put them in baggies and you and I could take them with us to- Sherlock, close that box of ginger nuts!!”
Molly: *folding her arms* Why is my son looking at a murder victim's shoe?
Sherlock: *mutters* Our son.
Molly: ...
Sherlock: *rolls his eyes* Oh, come on. They took the evidence, I had it cleaned *pauses* ...once it was removed from the victim's chest-
Molly: He's seven.
Sherlock: *excited* I know. He's on track to beat my record.
Molly: *trying not to smile*
Sherlock: *smirks* So I'm forgiven?
Molly: *sighs* No murders, not yet. We agreed.
Sherlock: *nods* I'll make it up to you. Dinner at Baker Street? Just the three of us.
Molly: *smiles* Okay.
Baby Hooper: *hands over the shoe* I don't know very much. It's just a shoe, really. Can I come with you to see the dead lady?
Sherlock: *glances at Molly* Um, maybe next time. But I'll tell you what *crouches in front of him* we can go to the lab and use the equipment. I might even let you see the morgue. How does that sound?
Baby Hooper: *delighted* Yay! Thanks, Dad *hugs him*
Sherlock: ...
Molly: ...
Baby Hooper: *looks up* What? Did you think I didn't know?
