Welcome to my new collection of one-shots, since I reached my goal of 221 stories for Sherlollipops (now renamed '221 Sherlollipops'). This one is for doctor-molly-hooper-holmes on tumblr, who requested a "Sherlock and Molly babysit Rosie" drabble. This one is rated T and is a wee bit cracky.
"It's not my fault!"
"It's entirely your fault! You're the one who volunteered us to watch Rosie for a week while John went to a medical conference in bloody Finland! And you're the one who got Mike to give me the week off! Without asking me first!"
Molly and Sherlock traded glares while their god-daughter slept on, undisturbed their whisper-hissed exchange, in the moses basket at the foot of Sherlock's bed.
The bed her god-parents were currently occupying.
Naked.
"Well how was I supposed to know that babysitting would bring out your long-buried nesting instincts?" Sherlock grumbled.
"And how was I supposed to know that babysitting together would bring out your long-buried sexing instincts?" Molly hissed back as she scrambled to find her underclothes.
"'Sexing' instincts? That's not even a word?" Sherlock said, his expression one of deepest outrage.
A soft noise from the moses basket caught their attention, and they both peered down to make sure she was okay. Yup, still sleeping, just stirring a bit and sucking her thumb. Molly's expression softened. "She's still asleep," she said unnecessarily. Her smile turned into a scowl as she pointed at Sherlock. "No thanks to you!"
He had the gall to smirk at her. "Yes, well, what can I say? Even a strangled whisper sounds sexy as hell when it's your new lover calling out your name because you've just given her an orgasm!"
Molly groaned and rubbed her eyes. "Sherlock, this was such a bad idea…we are the worst babysitters - no, the worst god-parents! - ever!"
The feel of his arms around her startled her, but she allowed him to haul her back onto the bed so they could rest against the headboard. "Molly, are you having second thoughts, or are you worried that I'm having second thoughts?"
She peeked up at him through her extremely mussed up hair. "Um, bit of both?"
"Well, don't," he said firmly. "I'm glad we did it, although perhaps next time we should try and do it when there isn't a sleeping infant in the same room."
Molly smiled at him. "Definitely," she agreed. Another sound from the moses basket had her scrambling off the bed. "She's waking up for real, get dressed, we'll have to change and feed her!"
"Of course," Sherlock agreed calmly, still lounging comfortably on the bed, watching as she started throwing on her clothes. "And after that, we can talk about how many of our own we want, agreed?"
Rosie's cries interrupted whatever response - if any - Molly was going to make.
(But when the subject was broached again, they both agreed on two.)