Chapter One: Year 2
Author's note: Okay, I know the song 'Wimoweh' was written much, much later, but for the sake of this chapter, let's pretend it's some well-known folksong or something. Okay? Other than that, I hope you enjoy it.
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. For two-year old Sophie Watson-Holmes anyway. Her fathers, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, were so preoccupied with their case work that they hardly noticed her lying on the floor, singing incoherently to the ceiling. Beside her, Lucy and Lisa were propped up against a stack of books, casework research.
"So I suspect it was the butler," Watson shrugged.
Holmes shook his head. "Too much evidence. A butler-knowing every inch of the house, and all of its secrets, would know better than to leave so many clues to the murder."
Sophie groaned. She didn't care about the butler, or the murder-whatever those were. She just wanted somebody to play with her. Nanny was away, visiting her family. Gladstone was asleep in the corner, snoring loudly. Lucy and Lisa didn't do much, unless Sophie or Daddy or Papa did it for them, so they were of little use.
Her eyes wandered around the room, carefully scanning for something interesting. She slowly sat up, her gaze resting on something Holmes had left on the small table beside his chair. It was still smoking.
She stood up, glancing briefly at Holmes and Watson who were arguing about footprints and mud. She then made her way over to the chair and climbed onto it, leaning over to take the item. She held it both of her hands, studying it carefully. It was warm, and slightly heavy. She smelled it, and withdrew quickly, not enjoying the scent at all. She sat down in the chair, slouching slightly. Clumsily, she placed the long part of the object between her lips, using her teeth to distribute its awkward weight. She wasn't sure why Daddy did this, but apparently it was important because he did it often. She waited, and waited, and finally sucked on it, deciding something must be inside.
Holmes and Watson whipped their heads around, hearing Sophie choke, gag, and cough at the same time. She thrust forward, gagging and spitting, Holmes' lit pipe falling onto the floor. She soon followed, barely catching herself as she continued her choking assault.
"Sophie!" Watson got to her first, Holmes only a second behind him.
The doctor placed one hand on her back, and one hand on her torso. He then took hold of her head and swept a finger through her mouth. He looked at Holmes, who was staring down at the pipe, his face pale.
"Holmes!" He growled, ripping it off of the floor. "You left this out again? And lit?"
Sophie finished coughing, her face red, her eyes watering. "I don't like that," she croaked, frowning at the pipe.
"That's right," Watson agreed, nodding. He showed her the pipe. "This is dangerous. We don't put it in our mouths, or pick it up." He frowned at Holmes again. "Wherever it might be."
"Daddy." Sophie turned to Holmes. She pointed to the pipe, her pitch raising with every syllable. "That's eww..." she squenched up her nose and eyes. "Eww..."
Watson and Holmes couldn't help but chuckle. Holmes took the pipe from Watson and carried it away, and when he returned, he looked around, rocking back and forth on his heels.
"Well, old boy," he sighed. "I don't think we're going to get anywhere today." He bent over to pick up Sophie, who was raising her arms to be held. He manuevered her in his arms so that she was upside down. "What do you say we make other plans for the afternoon?"
Sophie giggled, and tried to touch the floor with her fingertips. Holmes turned her right-side-up and set her back down on the ground. Watson frowned thoughtfully, and finally nodded.
It was dreary and wet outside, but they put on their coats and hats, and decided to leave the house. Sophie danced by the front door, hopping from foot to foot impatiently. Watson joined her, and they both watched Holmes, struggling to get a leashed Gladstone to move. He sat, staring blankly at the detective, and licked his lips.
"Lazy beast!" Holmes growled, tugging again. "Come now."
Gladstone blinked before resting his head on his paws, closing his eyes. Watson snorted and Sophie set Lucy and Lisa down-one at a time, before making her way over to the dog. She squatted down and patted his head firmly. "Get up."
The dog didn't even bother acknowledging her. She took her index finger and thumb, and pried one of his eyes open. It rolled back in her head. She frowned and looked up at Holmes. "Daddy..."
Holmes clapped, he whistled, he threw his hat and said, "Fetch." The dog still didn't budge. Watson leaned against the door, an amused smirk plastered onto his face.
Sophie finally sat on top of the dog, pulling on his ears like the reins on a horse. He rolled over onto his back, making Sophie lose her balance and fall onto her side. She whimpered and whined a bit, and then hit the dog. It hardly phased him. He scratched his belly with one of his back legs.
"Nooooooooo...." Sophie whined, shaking him. "Noooooooo...."
"Maybe just doesn't feel like going out today, Dear," Watson said from his place at the door.
Sophie went to his back end and began to push. Holmes busted out laughing, pointing at her and looking at Watson. He tried to say something, but was overtaken by another fit of laughter. Sophie pushed, and the dog snorted a bit, his eyes still closed. She got him all the way to the door, and he sat up, turning his head to itch his hindquarters.
The toddler took hold of his leash and knocked on the door. Watson stepped aside, opening it. Sophie tugged, and tugged, and tugged, but Gladstone still did not budge. This made her angry, and she threw his leash down, screaming and stomping her feet. Holmes tugged at her little arm.
"He'll tag along next time," he told her, prodding her out the door.
They spent the remainder of the day walking around the area, the bottom of their trousers soaked from Sophie stomping in puddles. They stopped at a cafe to eat dinner, and the waiter smiled at Sophie when he arrived at their table.
"Good evening," he said, looking right at her. "How are you this evening?"
Sophie looked up from playing with her cloth napkin and retrieved her doll from the floor. "Lucy," she said, almost shoving it in his face. She then retrieved the other. "Lisa."
The waiter held his breath, but continued to smile. He turned to the men with her. "She's lovely," he chuckled. "So who's the father and who's the uncle?"
"He's the father," Watson nodded at Holmes. He didn't give anymore clarification.
They fed Sophie from their plates, but she was not willing to share the dessert. Holmes stole a glob of whipped cream from the top with his finger, and Sophie whined, tugging at Watson's sleeve and pointing. As she did so, Holmes took her spoon and took a bite. This made her more frantic and she wrapped her arms around the plate possessively, scowling. "Mine."
Watson returned home late from visiting a patient, a cranky patient at that. He'd been called for just as they arrived home. The patient was an older man, losing his mind, and continued to address the doctor as 'Sir Edward Longbothom'-whoever that was. He also rattled off about a war that Watson wasn't so sure ever even happened, and he had a terrible case of Halitosis. All in all, home was very welcoming.
Before he even got halfway up the stairs, he heard a violin, and not just plucking. Actual music. He also heard squealing. Squealing laughter, to be exact. He smiled, pausing in mid-step, listening to the heavenly laughter. He continued on, and knocked on the bedroom door before opening it. Holmes was in his usual chair, Sophie in his lap. He played a tune on his fiddle, and Sophie nodded her head from side to side, grinning widely. Neither of them seemed to notice the doctor standing in the open doorway.
"Again!" Sophie squealed when Holmes stopped playing, finally eyeing Watson.
"Go to sleep, lions," Holmes whispered in her hear, and then began to play a gentle tune, singing softly, " 'In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight." He looked at Watson. " In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight' ."
Sophie covered her mouth, suppressing giggles. She obviously knew something fun was about to happen. Watson moved his gaze from the girl to Holmes, who began playing wildly, moving around in the chair, making Sophie hang onto him, laughing.
" 'Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimowehhhh' !" He began playing softly again. "In the village, the peaceful village, the lion sleeps tonight." He leaned his head sideways, touching it to the top of Sophie's. "'....Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimoweh, Wimoweh'!"
Sophie squealed again, kicking her feet. Watson couldn't help but laugh, shaking his head. Holmes continued the song/game, and finally settled down for good.
"Hush, my darling, don't cry my darling," he almost whispered. "Hush, my darling, don't cry, my darling-the lion sleeps tonight."
"Weemoolay!" Sophie slapped her thighs. "Weemoolay!"
Holmes set his violin down. He looked at Watson. "I'd say we have our own little lion that needs to sleep tonight."
Watson nodded. "Time for bed, Misses."
Sophie pouted. She manuevered her tiny body around like a noodle, reaching for the violin the detective had put away, just out of reach. Holmes frowned at her, shaking his head and scoffing. Watson mouthed something to him, pointing at her exposed stomach where her nightgown had ridden up. Holmes raised his eyebrows in understanding, and began a tickle assault on her. She screamed with laughter, trying to pry his fast, strong hands away.
"Papa!" She squealed. "Papa!"
Holmes continued to tickle her, shaking his head casually. Sophie stopped laughing, and began to growl. Watson raised his eyebrows and said, "I'd let that one go, old boy. Looks like it might bite."
Holmes released her, and set her down on the floor. She raced over to Watson, holding up her arms. He pretended to back away from her. "I don't want to cuddle a ferocious lion," he warned.
"I'm not lion!" Sophie said indignantly, but smiling.
"Could have fooled us," Holmes muttered, standing up to yawn and stretch.
"Daddy." She turned around and scowled. "Not lion."
"Alright then." Watson scooped her up. "I guess you're a little girl."
Sophie nodded and leaned her head against him, releasing a long, drawn-out yawn. The doctor carried her next door and tucked her into bed. He put Lucy and Lisa on either side of her, and gave all three of them a kiss. "All good?" he asked, smoothing out the comforter.
The little girl nodded, blinking heavily. She watched as Watson reached over to turn off the oil lamp, and when it grew dark, she closed her eyes. Holmes and Watson were working hard to keep her there all night, but thus far, their attempts had resulted in failure.
"Goodnight, Lucy," Watson said, kissing the doll she held up. "Goodnight, Lisa."
Holmes did the same, only wordlessly. Sophie closed her eyes, and Watson and Holmes sighed.
"Tomorrow night for sure," Holmes said.
"Definitely," Watson agreed.
Author's note: For those of you who have never heard 'Wimoweh', go to youtube and look up "Laurie Berkner Wimoweh"
To Be Continued....
