Her name was Ella. At eight months old, she was a fat little bundle of smiles in a green dress. She could not walk or talk yet, but she could clap, and make all sorts of adorable babbling sounds. She grinned at everything around her, giant brown eyes lighting up at the slightest attention directed her way. On the top of her head was a wispy tuft of blond hair that made her look positively the cutest child in existence, or so said several female police officers.
And somehow, she had ended up in Sherlock's grasp.
"How did I acquire this?" Sherlock questioned, holding Ella at arm's length between both his thin hands as if she were a strange creature he wasn't yet sure about.
John chuckled to himself, running a finger along one of Ella's fat cheeks. "You were a bit distracted. Olson's wife brought her in, and everybody was passing her around. Someone handed her to you, and you sort of reflexively just took what was offered." The sight had been extremely comical – some relatively new police officer handing the baby to Sherlock, thinking the consulting detective was just another member of the force, since he was walking around like he owned the place. And Sherlock taking her without seeming to notice until a moment later. By then most of the unit had wandered away to talk to Olson and his wife about parenthood. "Want me to take her?" John held his hands out expectantly.
Very slowly, Sherlock shook his head. He was watching the child closely, as though waiting for her to do something. Which she didn't, of course – at least, nothing out of the ordinary. She turned her face toward John's voice, grinned her four-toothed grin, and kicked her fat little legs in elation. Sherlock followed her every move, dipping his head to try to catch her eye as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. When she blew a raspberry and clapped her hands, he drew his face away to avoid being caught in the spray. "Fascinating," breathed Sherlock. "I've had very little experience with children this young. If only I could – "
"No," said John abruptly, carefully taking the child from Sherlock. "No, no, no, nope. You may not experiment on the baby."
A/N: This is likely of no interest to you, but I was inspired to write this fic at work today. (I'm a nanny.) One of my charges is 8 months old, and as I was playing with her, I had a "What would Sherlock do" moment. Hope you enjoyed!