This will be a case fic, I promise. It's just quite hard for me not to get a little Rosie spilt all over it.

Chapter 1

John almost didn't hear his phone ring over the excited, slightly hyper sound of children being reunited with their parents. They came out in a swarm. A fairly organised swarm, where each class was let out through a specific door, but that only added to the noise. There was no neat and tidy queue where they came out one at a time. Also, he had observed, in his brief time here, that one class would be let out first, clearly when the teacher had frankly had enough. Other classes, however, were let out slowly to parents growing ever more impatient. The Reception class were always last.

He heard it on the second ring and he answered it, shoving his finger in his other ear to hear the line.

'Hello,' he said. 'You all right?'

'Yes. Are you at home?'

'Am I at home? No, Sherlock, I am not at home.'

'Where are you then? Sounds like you're in a field of geese!'

'It's three o'clock, and I have a four-year-old daughter. Make a deduction.'

'I wish you wouldn't tell me to make a deduction so often.'

'Well, you're stupid so often.'

'You could say, 'work it out,' like you'd say to anyone else.'

'Right, well, work it out. Where do you suppose the parent of a four-year-old might be at three o'clock on a weekday?'

There was a pause. Then, 'Is she at school already?'

'Yes! Of course she's at school!'

'But she's four.'

'Which, as I have explained many times, is when they start school.'

'So you can't work a case?'

'I can't work a case. Hang about.' He moved to a slightly less busy corner of the playground, wondering if Rosie's teacher could tell the time at all. 'I'm picking up Rosie. Even if I was still at home, I'd still want to be with Rosie, because it's her first week of school, and she'll be tired and excited and she'll need her dad. OK?'

'OK. I just forgot about the school thing. I didn't know she was going already.'

'For God's sake! She danced in front of you in her new uniform last weekend!'

'John…'

'What?'

'Look to your right.'

John sighed and rolled his eyes. There was Sherlock, standing amongst the chatting parents of other children.

'You utter…'

'There are children about!' Sherlock warned.

'Beany!'

Sherlock put his phone away and made his way to John.

'Beany?'

'It was literally the only word I could think of right then. Sorry. I'm a touch distracted.'

'Where is Rosie anyhow. All of these other children seem to be scurrying out already.'

'Yeah, but it takes an age to get the Reception children all coated up again. Sometimes I wonder why they bother taking them off at all. With all the breaks, they must spend about half the day just getting coats on and off. Oh look! Here they come.'

'Yes. Where's Rosie? Where's Rosie? I can't see Rosie. Where is she?'

'She'll be at the back, gossiping with her friends. See. I can see her there. Still gossiping.'

Sherlock's smile was warm. He always greeted Rosie with as much joy as she greeted him, and they never seemed to get bored of each other, even when John was bored out of his skull with both of them. She saw him now and her little face lit up, and suddenly she was pushing herself forward while her teacher gently chided her, then she was finally released. John had her bag and various papers thrown at him, but she leapt into Sherlock's arms.

'Sherlock!' she yelled into his face, then she gave him a very slobbery kiss wrapped her arms around his neck and squeezed him tightly. He wriggled to get into a more comfortable hold.

John picked up the papers and glanced through. There was information and a newsletter. He shoved them, creased, into Rosie's bag.

'Do I get a cuddle too?' John asked, and Rosie slipped from Sherlock's arms to his. 'Did you have a good day?'

'Yes!'

'What did you do?'

'Nothing!'

'Ah,' Sherlock said. 'The best days.'

John smiled at his daughter. He wrinkled up his nose, and she wrinkled hers, and they rubbed them together.

'Now,' he said, 'I thought we could go out to dinner tonight.'

'To… to… to… Angelo's?'

'Yes, if you like.'

'Can Sherlock come?'

John looked at him. 'How vital's the case?'

Sherlock pulled a face and shrugged. 'The corpse probably isn't going to get any deader.'

'You might as well come and eat then.'

'Might as well.'

Rosie flung herself back into Sherlock's arms.

'Will you tell me a story?'

'Oh, I'm sure I have a story for you and Daddy.'

The playground was rapidly emptying now.

'I suppose we'd better take her home first,' Sherlock said.

'Which home?' she asked.

Sherlock and John looked at each other.

'Our one first, then his one after,' John said.

'Seems fair,' Sherlock replied. 'Come on, little Rosie Petal.' He shifted her about in his arms, then lifted her onto his shoulders. 'Let's take you homes.'