Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 1: No More Playing With Uncle Sherlock

Hello this is my first published story! Anyway it's not all text images, this isn't a meme thing or anything. Also this chapter is going to be really short, the rest of them are much longer. I hope you like it! :)

---------------------------------------------------

1

John punched the call button and listened to the angry buzzing of the waiting tone until Sherlock picked up.

"Hello, John!" He said cheerfully.

John spoke over him. "Put Rosie on the phone, now."

Muffled sounds, the rustling of the exchange and the murmur of people in the background.

"Hello?"

John tightened his sweaty hand around the phone. "Rosie, this is Daddy. Where are you right now?"

"Papa John's! He says I can get all the toppings I want! And then he's taking me to the morgue."

That son of a bitch.

"Just stay there, okay? Daddy's gonna come get you. Just wait for Daddy."

The line went dead. Did Sherlock take the phone back? He probably didn't care that John was scared out of his mind. He never seemed to understand, or if he did, he never knew what to do about it. Lousy excuse for a best friend.

He tapped his phone. It was dead.

"Where are they?" Molly Hooper was standing in the doorway, dressed in a blue jacket and jeans instead of her usual lab coat. It usually fell to her to watch Rosie when John went to therapy.

He pocketed his phone. "They're at Papa John's. I'm going to try and catch them there, but they're heading for the morgue next. Mind waiting for them there?"

"No problem." She turned quickly away.

"Molly."

"Yes?"

"We're going to have to talk about Rosie's supervision later."

***

Molly burst through the door to find Sherlock and Rosie standing over a blanketed corpse. The little girl was holding a riding crop.

Sherlock motioned to the body. "Remember, Rosie, swish and flick."

Molly snatched the whip away. Keeping one hand on Rosie's shoulder, she met Sherlock's eyes.

As always he seemed both attentive and oblivious, and a little amused. Amused! He had scared both her and John out of their minds. After all, crime was no stranger to London.

"You can't just take Rosie whenever you want! John asked me to watch her."

He shrugged. "She asked to go."

"When?" Molly demanded. "She was in the living room with me the whole time!"

"We left once you went to the bathroom," he said, as if this should have been obvious. And it probably should have been, but Rosie had been so quiet and good, curled up in the corner with her worn-out copy of Forensics For Dummies, that Molly hadn't noticed she was missing.

Her grip tightened a little. "Rosie dear, don't let him in next time."

"But he showed me how to calculate the amount of time it takes for a bruise to form after someone's dead!"

"You've only just learned sums, Rosie-- that's beside the point." She returned her attention to Sherlock, who still seemed rather pleased with himself. She hated that little grin, mostly because it was kind of adorable. "It might have been alright if I had come too. But I have to stay with her when I'm babysitting."

"I'm not a baby!" Rosie protested.

"I thought after... what you said, you might have liked my company." The last word was nearly a squeak.

His grin vanished and he threw up his arms. "Why is it that because I take Rosie out for a day, I'm suddenly insulting you and manipulating your feelings? Normal people are so emotional."

He was emotional too, she knew-- well, hoped. He often kept himself locked up, but every now and then, in his face or in his voice, she caught flickers of feeling. Now he was here in front of her, right where she could see. And although it was neither the time or the place, she said, "I want to know if you meant it."

He blinked rapidly. "What I did or didn't say-"

"Did you mean it?" Molly said fiercely.

"ROSIE!"

John had come. He scooped up his daughter and held her tight. "I'm sorry he took you, sweetie."

"She asked!" Sherlock said crossly.

Rosie giggled. "We were beating up the dead woman"

"Don't-- don't beat up dead women, please." He settled Rosie on his hip, although she was hardly light enough to be held that way anymore. "I think... I think we need to make a new rule. No playing with Uncle Sherlock unless I'm supervising."

"But Daddyyyy! You never let me do anything fun."

"The things he's been showing you shouldn't be fun. Especially not for a seven-year-old." John's worry lines deepened as he looked at Sherlock. "I think it's time Rosie and I go home."

When Molly glanced back, he'd closed his face again. "I've got places to be as well," he said briskly, and slid past them and out the door. Molly followed, but he was nowhere to be seen as John strapped his daughter into the car and drove off.