Sitting Sherlock --Part 3
Title: Sitting Sherlock --Part 3
Fandom: Sherlock
Rating: PG
Genre: Humor, fun, fluff
Word count: 2, 123
Summary: Sherlock. As a baby sitter. Perhaps not the best idea. (Now featuring 100% more children!)
Read Part 1.
Read Part 2.
It hadn’t taken long for John to decide it might be best to get the children out of the flat for a bit. Especially with Jack whining about wanting to practice shooting the smiley face on the wall. With a gun. Thanks for that one, Sherlock.
“But Mr. Sherlock said he thinks I’d be good at it!” the boy wailed, trailing after his uncle. John gave Sherlock a long glare, even though the dark haired man seemed rather intent on whatever he was typing. It was the slightest upturn of his lips that gave it away; just enough of a smirk to assure John that Sherlock was well aware of the ire directed his way.
However, when John suggested they start preparing for dinner instead of shooting the wall, Clover systematically went through the pantry and declared she didn’t like anything. John frowned and pulled down a box of biscuits, “But Clara said you love these things.”
“The cheese kind.”
“We have cheese. I think we have cheese. Sherlock, do we have cheese?” He turned to see his nephew edging close to his flat mate again and that the man had the same devious glint to his eyes. He turned back to Clover, who was studying the box in his hands. “Those aren’t cheese flavor,” she informed him solemnly.
“Should we just go to the store then? Let you pick out what you want?” And most importantly, get Jack away from Sherlock. The girl nodded eagerly and sprang off the counter. John instructed her to go find her jacket and called for his nephew to do the same. As John helped his niece fasten the buttons of her coat, Jack came in carrying an umbrella and riding crop. “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the crop for Sherlock to see.
“I use it on corpses, when need be.”
“Corpses? Aren’t those dead people?”
John, having finally managed to get the last button fastened, glanced over his shoulder and quickly forced a loud laugh. “Horses. He said horses. You use it when riding horses. Corpses? Oh Jack, think you need your ears checked. Where did you find that thing?”
“The umbrella stand.”
“Well go put it back and let’s head out. Wash your hands first, though. Really well.” John stood and slid on his own jacket before turning to Sherlock. “Anything you need from the store? Milk, butter, duct tape for your mouth?”
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow and finally looked up from his computer. “I don’t find it necessary to lie to children.”
“I didn’t lie. Technically, it is for horses. Of course whatever the bloody hell you want to use it for is fine-“
“Uncle John, you said a bad word!”
“What? Oh. Right. Sorry. Don’t repeat that in front of your mum, okay?”
“Maybe you should pick up some soap for your own mouth while you are out shopping for mine.” Sherlock smiled thinly as John fumed, “I’ll keep that in mind. We’ll see you then.”
“Mr. Sherlock isn’t coming with us?” Jack wailed, coming back into the room.
“No.” The men answered in huffy unison.
And then they were off, Sherlock to the seclusion and safety of his bedroom and John took the children to the store. The rest of the evening went fairly smoothly, except for the small squabble between Jack and Clover over who got to carry the basket. Just as they were about to head to the dreaded checkout register, John’s phone jingled.
Pick up sleeping pills. SH
Normally John might have objected, especially considering Sherlock’s past abuse of medications, but perhaps it wasn’t such a horrendous idea. Plus he wanted to stay on his flat mate’s good side unless he decided to fill Jack’s head with further wild ideas in an act of revenge. And its not like Sherlock had said they were for him, maybe he had some new experiment. John paused by the medication aisle and tossed a box of the pills into the basket. At the very least, a sleeping Sherlock would mean he wouldn’t need headache medication for himself.
The trio finished their shopping, stopped for supper (Bring me a prawn and pepperoni slice. SH John didn’t bother asking how he knew they were eating pizza, but ordered the take out) and returned home. He set Jack and Clover to putting away the groceries while he went to hunt down Sherlock. He knocked on the man’s door, “Got your meds and dinner.” He stood there awkwardly for a moment, not receiving a reply. “I’ll just…leave them by the door then.”
When the food had finally been put away, and the children shown where they would be sleeping during their little London vacation, John had them unpack, bathe and get ready for bed. He went down to the sitting room and was surprised to find Sherlock in the kitchen preparing the kettle. “I was just thinking a cuppa sounded fantastic,” John remarked, collapsing on one of the chairs, “Could I bribe you to make some extra? Maybe the kids would want one before bed.”
Sherlock smiled and walked out of the kitchen, “Already taken care of.” John was too exhausted to be suspicious of the detective’s generosity. He picked up the paper and began to scan over the articles as Sherlock perched on the opposite chair and turned on the telly. For a moment, it seemed like another regular night for the two. John reading the paper, Sherlock grunting irritably at the telly, the kettle softly bubbling from the kitchen.
Some time passed until Clover came padding down the hall. “Uncle John?” she called, sounding somewhat lost. “In here,” he called, folding up the paper. The girl entered the room in her nightie, hair still damp from her bath. She clutched a large bottle in both hands, “Jack is still in the shower. Can you help me with the lotion?”
“Of course, sweetheart, bring it over here.” He stood and began to rearrange the furniture so she could sit and watch the telly as he worked. However, the girl froze several steps in, eyes wide as she spotted Sherlock. He glanced up towards her before returning his eyes to the show. John looked at his niece for a moment before patting the seat beside him, “It’s okay, he won’t mind. Come on, sit right here for me. Good girl.”
The child nervously fidgeted on the chair, sending constant worried looks in Sherlock’s direction as John unzipped the back of her pyjamas. The marks Sherlock had spotted along her neck and skull were just the tip of the extensive injury that covered the girl’s body.
Her entire back looked like one gigantic scar, the skin twisted and red reaching around her sides, trailing down the backs of her arms. Only two small areas of her back seemed unaffected, the un-traumatized lines of skin running parallel to each other. They were by no means fresh injuries, but seemed to be permanent scars from a burning that had taken place perhaps a year or more ago. It must have been a very serious burn to ruin the skin to such an extent, especially considering how much of her body it covered. At least, that’s what Sherlock gathered from the glance he’d taken.
Clover seemed to relax as the moments went by and John continued to massage the lotion into her damaged skin. She peered over her shoulder to look at her uncle, looking almost giddy, “He didn’t notice.” The man smiled at her in response, he knew how self-conscious the child was of her scars. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that with a single glimpse, Sherlock had already memorized the scarring of her body.
“Hey Uncle John, can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
“That one doesn’t count!”
“Oh, okay. Go ahead.” He grinned and finished massaging the last of the lotion into the backs of her arms and zipped her nightie back up. She twisted back around to face him, “How come you don’t use your cane anymore?”
“Ah. Well I have Sherlock to thank for that. He helped me get better.”
Clover glanced over at Sherlock with wide eyes. Without a word she climbed off the couch and went off to the kitchen, rummaging around the cabinets. Jack came bounding into the room moments later, dressed in his pyjamas but looking wide awake despite it. “Let’s watch a movie! Oh, good idea Cloves!”
His sister came back into the room, clutching a cookie. She glared at her brother, “This one is for Mr. Sherlock, get your own!” She walked hesitantly up to the man before thrusting the cookie towards him. Sherlock shifted his gaze from the telly to the cookie silently, and just when John was about to explain to Clover that Sherlock wasn’t very fond of dessert, Sherlock took it with two fingers. “This needs a cuppa.” He said with a sudden, wide grin. On cue, the kettle began to whistle.
Sherlock unfolded himself from the chair and pointed to Jack. “You. I’ll need your help carrying.” Jack was more than eager to oblige his new idol and scurried eagerly after him. John watched them in the kitchen with obvious suspicion until he felt Clover snuggling into his side. “That was very nice of you to do for Sherlock.”
“Well, those are the cookies I don’t like,” she replied, “but mummy Clara likes them. Plus, he made you better.” She yawned and rested her head in his lap. John smiled and rested his arm behind her, “Guess that does deserve a cookie.”
He cast another glance towards the kitchen. Sherlock was staring at Jack intently and Jack was mimicking him. Wordlessly, Sherlock reached out and picked up Jack and held him for a moment, looking as though he were weighing the boy before setting him back down. Jack found it hilarious and rushed forward to try and pick up Sherlock. The man looked annoyed with the failed attempt and returned to fixing their tea.
When he heard another yawn, John glanced down at Clover, “Getting tired?”
“No, I want to watch the movie! I’m just…I’m just closing my eyes until it starts.” She sounded quite insistent, yet John suspected by the slur of her voice that the child might not stay awake long enough for it to start. He supposed he should insist that they go to bed on time. Of course it was a vacation and if there was ever a time to break bedtime, it was then. That’s why he was the fun (if not only) uncle, he thought with a touch of pride.
Jack and Sherlock came back into the room, each toting two mugs. Sherlock handed one to John with a look that he supposed was to be innocent indifference. Just being a normal friendly flat mate. John took the mug but sniffed it suspiciously when Sherlock wasn’t looking. It didn’t smell poisoned, but that would have been too obvious for someone of Sherlock’s caliber. Maybe.
Jack poked at his sister, finding her unresponsive except for an irritated grumble, and set her mug on the table beside them before plopping on the floor with his own cup. He munched happily on a chocolate cookie, chugging down his tea. “This is great! Mum never lets us eat these or stay up this late.”
“What! You said she buys them all the time. Isn’t that what you said at the shop?”
“Well,” he said with a very sheepish look, “they look like the ones she buys. They both come in purple boxes. It’s just that she buys the ones in the health food section. They taste like cardboard, Uncle John. Cardboard. Besides, Sherlock likes them. Right?”
Sherlock was back in his chair, idly sipping at his tea with a plate of untouched snacks on the armrest. “Delicious,” he answered dully. John sighed, “Fine, fine. But you can only have one. And you can’t tell your mums.” Jack rolled his eyes as if that was a given, but promised not to tell. He then settle down in front of the telly and was promptly snoring five minutes later.
“Well that was fast,” John said with a glance down at his sleeping nephew. “I’m hardly surprised,” Sherlock remarked, “A sugar crash, most likely.”
“Think I should carry them upstairs? Might wake them up though.”
“Oh I doubt much of anything will wake him up for the next eleven and a half hours.”
John frowned over at Sherlock, “That’s oddly specific.”
“Isn’t that how long children sleep?” That feigned look of innocence was back on Sherlock’s face. That scoundrel, he was up to something.
“Hang on. Those sleeping pills I bought you. You didn’t!”
“Children need their rest, John.”