Ok, not made John yet, but here's the face...of_bag_endJuly 3 2017, 13:36:14 UTC
It had been a matter of necessity rather than choice, having Sherlock look after Rosie for him. The surgery had succumbed to a tummy bug and it was all hands on deck; anyone that wasn't currently glued to their toilet, at least. No one else had been available at such short notice.
John was shattered. He just wanted to go home, but first he had to pick his daughter up. How had he ever managed to drag his feet up the Baker Street stairs after a full night of running around after Sherlock, he just couldn't fathom. When he reached the doorway to the living room, he couldn't quite figure out what he was seeing. What game were they playing?
He leaned his shoulder to the door frame. "What in God's name, Sherlock?"
I've a muse who's be jealous saying Bilbo is his!im_the_monsterJuly 3 2017, 21:46:08 UTC
Sherlock was about to reply to Johns rather obvious question when Rosie managed to pop the lock and free her toy. Sherlock let out a cry of joy. "Your girl is brilliant... It took her less than a minute to pick the lock and free her toy. She has skills. You should be proud"
He'd probably enjoy seeing double right now though...of_bag_endJuly 3 2017, 23:11:12 UTC
John pressed his lips together tightly a moment as he processed this. Then his tongue snuck out, wetting his lips as the gears in his head put together a suitable reply.
"You're teaching my daughter how to pick locks. You're using her toys to reinforce this behaviour. And you think I should be proud?"
Maybe part of him was. Sherlock was praising her, of course he was proud! But that was beside the point. "How do you think this will be useful, Sherlock?"
thats true. But Bilbo is his heroim_the_monsterJuly 4 2017, 10:53:17 UTC
"It seemed more appropriate than using a door... I told her she was being the hero rescuing the toy" he smiled fondly at the small girl. "Here Rosie" he smiled holding his arms open toher. He quickly picked her up balancing her on his hip "next I think you should learn the violin. Be a good little Holmes" he told her stroking her cheek.
He turned his attention back to John "you look exhausted. Go to bed. I'll carry on playing with Rosie"
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John was shattered. He just wanted to go home, but first he had to pick his daughter up. How had he ever managed to drag his feet up the Baker Street stairs after a full night of running around after Sherlock, he just couldn't fathom. When he reached the doorway to the living room, he couldn't quite figure out what he was seeing. What game were they playing?
He leaned his shoulder to the door frame. "What in God's name, Sherlock?"
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"You're teaching my daughter how to pick locks. You're using her toys to reinforce this behaviour. And you think I should be proud?"
Maybe part of him was. Sherlock was praising her, of course he was proud! But that was beside the point. "How do you think this will be useful, Sherlock?"
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He turned his attention back to John "you look exhausted. Go to bed. I'll carry on playing with Rosie"
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