MHAW Day Two – Day 2 - Scent
A Small Comfort
John crept up the stairs to 221b, utterly exhausted and more than a little worried about what he might find waiting in Sherlock's rooms.
Rosie had taken ill during the night. Even though she seemed to be much improved by the morning, day-care policy said she had to be fever-free for twenty-four hours which meant John had found himself scrambling for childcare.
If the clinic hadn't already been short-staffed he would have called in, but that hadn't been an option.
"I'll watch her," Sherlock had offered when John had stepped by to see if Mrs Hudson was free.
"I'm not sure that would be a good idea." As a matter of fact, it seemed like an incredibly bad idea, but Rosie had already started reaching her arms out to the other man and John was in a bind.
"I am her Godfather, John. I am perfectly capable of watching over her for the day."
"Right. Okay. I can't believe I'm doing this, but promise me you will call for help if you get into trouble." John set Rosie's bag on the sofa and bent down to kiss her daughter goodbye.
"How much trouble can one sick little girl be?" Sherlock had scoffed.
John hoped that Sherlock hadn't actually found out.
He made it to the landing without hearing Rosie (or Sherlock) fussing, so he took that to be a good sign. The sitting room door eased open to show him Sherlock stretched out on the sofa with Rosie sleeping on his chest.
"Has she been out long?" John whispered as he took in the relatively unscathed state of the flat. Only a few of Rosie's toys were spread out on the floor, there was a mound of pillows and blankets that had either been a nest or a pillow fort at one time, and a nearly empty sippy cup on the coffee table next to . . . A bottle of shampoo?
Sherlock's eyes fluttered open. "What time is it?"
"Half five. Rough day?"
"Hmm," Sherlock hummed in agreement. "We were fine until after lunch. She kept insisting she wasn't tired, and I didn't want to push the matter-"
"Rookie mistake," John interrupted.
Sherlock grimaced. "Yes, well, lesson learned. I tried everything I could think of to get her comfortable. Pillows, blankets, juice, Molly."
"Molly's here?" John spun around as if expecting to see their friend sitting in one of the chairs or standing in the kitchen.
"No. She's at Barts." Sherlock carefully sat up and transferred Rosie to the sofa cushion. The little girl barely stirred and immediately dropped back into a deep sleep. "But that's her brand of shampoo. I thought the scent of it might be enough to comfort Rosie. And it worked."
"She does love her Aunt Molly." John smiled down at Rosie. "But why do you have a bottle of Molly's shampoo just lying about the place?"
Sherlock waved his hand. "I'm sure she must have left it one of those times she stayed over while I was recovering."
It was a plausible explanation, Molly had ended up with more than her fair share of overnight shifts while Sherlock had been detoxing, except . . . "Hold on tic, this place blew up after that. Are you telling me that survived unscathed and still smells enough like Molly to calm a cranky toddler?"
"Well, perhaps it wasn't this bottle." Sherlock leaned down to snatch it up an out of John's sight. "But she did leave a bottle, at one point." He flushed and looked anywhere but at John.
"And, what? She brought another one by just in case she needed to pop into the shower?" Was there something going on between Molly and Sherlock, something he'd completely missed?
For a moment, Sherlock looked as if he was going to ignore John entirely, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Your daughter isn't the only one who finds comfort in Molly."