"Must we always play these childish games? Is it really beyond you to have a serious adult conversation?" Mycroft asked in his usual droning voice.
"John won't play Cluedo with me." Sherlock replied and resisted the urge to finish the statement with a pout.
"So I must take his place?" Mycroft sighed, "You know very well why I won't play Cluedo with you. The game is flawed."
"John insisted that the victim couldn't have done it. He said that's not how the game works." Sherlock said with a roll of his eyes.
"A victim is not always innocent. All theories are to be considered in a murder investigation." Mycroft agreed with a nod, "They really should have updated the rules in the game by now, especially after you sent them that letter."
"Three letters." Sherlock murmured under his breath.
"Your move." Mycroft announced after he'd moved his counter (the top hat, naturally) into the Free Parking square on the Monopoly board.
Sherlock leaned forward and rolled the dice, before they were interrupted by John's arrival.
"Sherlock, I've got milk! God knows how you get through it so fast but you never actually have any in the fridge when I get here..." John called as he climbed the stairs.
"Tesco Express." Sherlock said to Mycroft, sitting back in his chair and moving his hands into their usual prayer position.
"No, brother dear. Sainsbury's Local." Mycroft replied with a smug smile.
John entered the living room with an orange Sainsbury's bag in one hand and a sleeping Rosie strapped to his chest.
"Go on then." Sherlock sighed, his eyes fixed on his brother.
"Sorry?" John asked, looking at them both and then at the board game between them.
"It's obvious that John went to Sainsbury's Local by his gait on the stairs. Sainsbury's offer significantly stronger bags for life, therefore reducing the amount of strength required to carry it up a flight of stairs. The slight rustle of the bag is also much quieter than that of the lower quality Tesco bags." Mycroft explained without even looking at John.
"Okay... I'll just put the milk away." John sighed, walking into the kitchen and lifting the milk out of the bag.
"You rolled a six, Sherlock. Move or forfeit." Mycroft said, leaning forward slightly. Despite the childish nature of Monopoly, it was clear that Mycroft was determined to win the game.
Sherlock sighed and moved his counter (the dog) onto the Mayfair square.
"Rent please." Mycroft declared smugly, holding his hand out.
Sherlock counted the Monopoly money as slowly as possible before he handed it over.
"Tea." John announced, carrying in a tray of cups of tea and a plate of Hobnobs.
"Very kind of you, John." Mycroft said, accepting his usual cup but avoiding the biscuits.
"No problem. I'll just grab Rosie." John replied, heading back into the kitchen and returning with his now awake daughter.
The two Holmes brothers turned to face John and fixed him and Rosie with a stare.
"What?" John demanded, frustration clear in his voice.
"Are you going to...put her...down somewhere?" Mycroft asked, clearly unsure of the proper social convention when it came to children.
"No, she's going to sit in here with us." John replied with a frown.
"Excuse my brother, his Victorian sensibilities are telling him that children should be seen and not heard." Sherlock said sarcastically.
Mycroft glared at Sherlock and began a silent conversation that John wanted nothing to do with.
"Come on Rosie, let's say hello to Uncle Mycroft." John murmured to the baby in his arms.
"Uncle? We are not siblings." Mycroft said with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, well, you're Uncle Mycroft to Rosie." John replied, walking over and placing his daughter down on the elder Holmes brother's lap.
"John!" Mycroft spluttered, quickly putting his cup of tea down and reaching out to steady the baby with nervous hands, "I have meetings to attend!"
"You supposedly have meetings to attend, but you have two hours to waste on Monopoly? Come on brother, just hold her." Sherlock chuckled, enjoying his brother's discomfort.
"I do hope she won't cause a mess. This is a custom-made suit." Mycroft replied, his expression showing how inconvenient he found the situation as he gently repositioned Rosie.
John let out a snort of amusement as he sat down on the sofa, putting his feet up on the coffee table. Although he hadn't moved back into Baker Street after Mary's death, he still found himself gravitating towards the flat and his quirky detective friend.
Sherlock's phone began to ring and he casually answered it. His eyes lit up with excitement as Lestrade gave him all the details of the latest serial killer on the loose in London.
"A case?" John asked, trying to swallow down the excitement that he could feel building within him. Although he didn't regret becoming a father, John did find himself missing his life as Sherlock's 'sidekick'.
"At least a 6, possibly even a high 7. Murder suicide." Sherlock replied, pocketing his phone and getting to his feet. He strode across the living room and began putting his coat and scarf on.
John watched Sherlock for a moment before he looked back over at Rosie, who was now gazing happily up at Mycroft's stern face. After giving the situation a very, very brief risk assessment, John decided that the British Government would be a satisfactory babysitter for his daughter.
"See you later, Mycroft! All of Rosie's things are in my bag and Mrs Hudson has spares." John said, jumping to his feet and hurriedly putting his own coat on.
"Excuse me? Dr. Watson, I must protest!" Mycroft argued, his tone becoming sharp, "I have important diplomatic meetings to attend this afternoon that cannot be rescheduled."
"That's nice. Have fun!" John replied with a smile and a wave before he turned on his heel and followed Sherlock downstairs.
"You do realise that Mycroft will make your life hell for this, don't you?" Sherlock asked as John joined him on the pavement outside of 221B Baker Street.
"Absolutely, but it's worth it. I get to spend an afternoon on a case with you and Mycroft gets to spend time with his new niece." John said with a chuckle.
"Anthea, we have a situation..." Mycroft sighed, holding his phone with one hand and the small child with the other.