Again, not again.
John Watson moved as fast as he could up Baker St to his friend's house or former friend if these actions didn't stop. He had taken her again, the 3rd time this week. At least this time he had left a note; normally Watson would walk into her room and find her gone without a trace. Watson was utterly furious with Holmes and he had to put a stop to this before Sherlock did any real damage to her. He burst through the door and headed straight to his old rooms. "HOLMES! Where is she?" he bellowed into the old house. "This is the last straw. I will not condone you doing this anymore, do you understand?" Watson shouted as he pulled back the drapes of his old rooms to find Sherlock seated on the floor, glass bottles and rags strewn about, a notebook in his lap and the love of Watson's life lying on the floor.
"Oh will you quit your shouting Watson, the situation isn't dire enough for your dramatics," Holmes said, his eyes fixated on his subject on the floor. "Besides, this experiment could be beneficial to you. Any of these tricks and she'll be quiet and sleeping in no time,'' he said reaching over to wipe some drool off his subject's chin. Watson was always so dramatic when it came to her. She was perfectly safe in his care and he wouldn't dream of performing any experiments that could possibly scar her or leave her unconscious…..well, not permanently anyways. "Besides she's perfectly happy being my guinea pig, aren't you sweetheart?" Sherlock said with a smile, grabbing the tiny foot of the baby on the floor and giving it a little shake, making the infant giggle.
Watson signed in exasperation as he stared at his smiling daughter lying in a bundle of pillows on the floor, her Uncle Sherley tickling her tiny toes. Whatever Holmes was doing she seemed to be enjoying it. "Well….what are you doing exactly?,'' Watson said pulling up a chair besides Holmes, watching the other man take one of the small rags on the floor and dip it into a bottle of liquid. "I'm attempting to see what substance is best used to soothe a teething child," Holmes replied, taking the used rag out of the baby's hand and replacing it with the new one, which the child immediately placed in its mouth. "What are in these?" Watson questioned, taking one of the glass bottles, sniffing the top trying to determine its contents.
"Well the one you are holding is normal chilled water, the one next to you is peppermint and the one she has is watered down brandy," Holmes stated as he scribbled down notes in his book, watching the baby girl chew and gnaw on the alcohol laced strip of fabric. "It's what? I don't want my daughter drinking brandy! She's only 6 months old, Holmes." Watson proceeded to stand and try to take the aforementioned piece of cloth out of his daughter's mouth but neither she nor Holmes would have any of it. "Now look what've you done Watson, you've gotten her all upset," Holmes chided, picking up the wailing girl and holding her to his chest, attempting to comfort the babe. Watson looked at this closest friend in astonishment. He upset his own daughter and she was being comforted by the least paternal man in all of England.
He sat back in his chair and grabbed the bottle of brandy to inspect it. Holmes had given the baby girl back the brandy soaked rag, who was now sucking on it rhythmically, slowly becoming more relaxed and tired as she rested against his shoulder. Watson took a sip of the brandy and had to fight not to spit it out all over the room. "God Holmes that's wretched, it doesn't even taste like brandy," he said wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Well it's not supposed to taste good Watson that's why it's watered down. So little Abby here doesn't feel any of the full effects of the alcohol but still benefits from the numbing sensation,'' Holmes replied as he rocked the now sleeping baby in his arms, proceeding to place her in the small cot he'd purchased after their first sleepover; or what her father liked to call ''kidnapping.''
Sherlock tucked the infant into her bed, drew the curtains and retreated into the other room with Watson not far behind. "How did you do that?" Watson asked in amazement, it normally took him hours to get the teething girl to sleep and Holmes did it in a matter of minutes. "It's elementary my dear Watson,'' Sherlock started as he lit his pipe and placed it in his mouth. "Alcohol as we all know, when consumed dulls the senses and reduces the thresholds of pain. Seeing as the chilled water quickly rises in temperature when exposed to the human mouth it was no surprise that its numbing agents didn't last very long. The peppermint was slightly more successful but the menthol fumes irritated her eyes and made her cough, so the last logical option was alcohol,'' he finished with a shrug, taking a seat on his couch, Watson staring dumfounded above him.
"Mary and I have been tearing our hair out trying different solutions to her teething. Special biscuits, chilling the toys she likes to chew on, dipping her teething rings in cold water and here you figure it out in one afternoon with rags and brandy,'' Watson ranted before plopping down next to his friend. "One afternoon?," Holmes questioned. "What do you think I've been doing with her the past 2 days? I've spent all my time coming up with these theories and hypotheses. It was only just recently I was putting them into action.'' "What made you want to do all of this work to begin with?" Watson questioned rather curious to the answer. "You of course," Holmes stated with a wave of his hand. "You've been complaining of her incessant crying and your lack of sleep for the past month. I realized that if a physician of your stature couldn't figure out how to soothe a cutting tooth, then I should step in and investigate the matter myself."
Watson smiled to himself, not only had his daughter been safe all along but a long term solution to his problem was solved without him even knowing. "Well I've got to thank you old boy you've been a life saver for me and Mary. I don't think either of us would have come up with that idea,'' Watson said giving Holmes a slap on the back. "You can thank Mycroft as well. He informed me that it was the same trick that our parents used on us as infants,'' Holmes stated. Watson nodded in agreement, noting that he needed to send a thank you note to the elder Holmes for his assistance. "Well now that she's asleep I think I'm going to have a much needed drink of actual brandy,'' Watson declared, patting Sherlock's knee as he got up and poured himself a glass. "Oh and Holmes, it's not Abby, it's Abigail,'' he corrected. "Oh but Abby is so much more fun than Abigail. Plus it's the same as Westminster Abbey," Holmes stated enthusiastically. "Holmes you are not calling my daughter Westminster Abbey.'' "I'm not calling her the actual cathedral, just the shortened version of her name, which also happens to be the same name of a large cathedral nearby,'' Holmes said as he stood and walked over to his desk grabbing his violin bow. Watson sighed, knowing this petty argument wasn't going to end well. "Besides, I think Mary would approve of my name for her darling little girl. Don't you?" Sherlock teased, taking hold of his violin as he stared down Watson.
"Abigail"
"Abby"
"Abigail"
"Abby"
"Abiga…Holmes stop that noise this instant you'll wake her up!"
"Wake who up Watson?"
"…..Abby"