A/N: I'm pretty sure this isn't the best writing, sorry. There isn't enough Salstrade in the world, though, so I give you this. All this is is fluff. (Yes, there are two "is"s in that sentence on purpose.)

"Greg – Greg, no, you know I'm not good with kids her age. I thought you had worked it out so we wouldn't have to do this!" Sally was panicking now, something she thought she had trained out of her system years before.

"Relax, Sally, you'll be fine. I'll be back in about an hour or so, and Sammy goes down for her nap in thirty minutes. Just watch the time and then put her down in bed. She's almost always pretty good about going without a fuss." Greg leaned in and gave Sally a gentle kiss when a honk sounded from the car sitting out on the street. He smirked and shook his head in amusement. "Always impatient. He gets that from his mother. I'll be back, okay?" Sally nodded, and Greg left.

The detective sergeant sighed and turned around, facing where she knew Samantha Lestrade was waiting for her in Greg's living room. Sally had managed to avoid ever having to meet the children of her previous boyfriends by having a strict policy of never dating anyone who had kids. Of course, she'd also had a policy of never dating her boss, and she could see where that had gotten her.

Sally walked back into the living room, finding her boyfriend's almost-three-year-old daughter playing with dolls on the floor. Sammie looked up as soon as Sally walked through the doorway. Her tiny nose crinkled up. "Daddy?" she asked, seeming somewhat confused.

"Your dad left to take Pete to football practice," Sally said, moving to sit on the couch near Sammie. The little girl nodded, blonde curls bouncing. She had hair almost like Sally's, but it was less frizzy and the ringlets were nearly white, they were so light-colored. Other than her hair and the fact that her eyes were blue-grey, Sammie was a carbon copy of her father.

"Pete," Sammie said, going back to her dolls. "Pete is my brother." She played in silence for a few more minutes before looking up again, seeming surprised Sally was still there. "You watch me?"

"Yeah," the woman said, realizing too late that she and Greg should have mentioned that to Sammie earlier. "Yeah, I'm watching you while your dad's with Pete. He'll be back after your nap."

"Oh." The toddler looked down at her dolls, appearing to contemplate something for a few moments. After she came to a decision, she picked up two of the toys, walked over to Sally, and crawled up on the couch next to her. "You," Sammie said, putting one of the dolls in the woman's lap.

"Um… thank you." Sally picked up the doll and turned it over in her hands. She struggled to remember how she had played with her sister Stacy when Stacy was three, but she couldn't come up with much. Sally hadn't started taking care of her siblings until their father had left them, and Stacy had been almost five at that point. Stacy spent most of her younger years with her twin brother Kyle, anyways, so Sally had never been all that close to her. Shaking herself out of her memories, Sally turned her attention back to Sammie and the dolls. "What's her name?" she decided to ask.

Sammie pointed at the doll in Sally's hands. "Curgie," she said, and she pointed at the doll she was holding and said the same thing.

"They're both named Curgie?"

"Yeah."

"Okay." At a loss for what else to say, Sally cleared her throat and stuttered out, "My – my name's Sally." Right after saying that, she remembered Greg had introduced her when she had come over earlier that afternoon. She hoped Sammie had forgotten already and wouldn't find it weird. God, I'm worried about a toddler thinking I'm weird.

Sammie suddenly picked up her doll and held it against her chest, wrapping her arms around her body and rocking back and forth. She looked over at Sally's doll as she did so. "Curgie wants hug, too."

Sally blinked. "My… Curgie wants a hug?" Sammie nodded, and Sally obliged, trying her best to embrace a doll that was barely the length of her forearm. Sammie looked satisfied and started to push herself off the couch. She then appeared to change her mind and stop, and she crawled over to sit herself in Sally's lap.

Sally inhaled sharply and shifted under the unexpected weight. Sammie took one of Sally's hands in her two smaller ones, turning it over a few times. As she did so, Sally became more and more aware of the differences between herself and Sammie, from their skin colors to their families. Sammie's parents may have gotten divorced, but at least Greg wasn't likely to disappear when Sammie was ten and get himself killed five years later.

While Sally was lost in her thoughts, the clock on the mantle chimed. She found herself lifting Sammie up and putting her on the floor before standing up. "Alright, Sammie, it's your naptime. Can you show me your room?"

"No, here." The girl turned around and grabbed on to Sally's leg, pouting.

"What?"

"Nap here."

"You want to take your nap… here? On the couch?"

"Yeah. With you."

"With me?" Sammie nodded with determination, and Sally sighed. "Okay, just – let me get a pillow and a blanket, okay?"

Greg drove back to Brixton alone, drumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. Finally, traffic began to move along. He loved being able to spend time with his kids, but his ex-wife had moved up into Islington and put Pete into a school there. It took at least half an hour to drive to Islington from Brixton, and Greg felt like it took away from the time he had with Pete and Sammie.

When he arrived back at his flat ten minutes later, Greg opened and shut the front door quietly. Even though Sammie's bedroom was on the lower ground level, Greg knew she could still be easily woken up by loud noises. Hearing nothing, he continued on to the sitting room where Sally would most likely be, probably watching television.

The sight that greeted Greg after he descended the short flight of stairs to the lower level shocked him so much he didn't believe it at first. Sleeping on the couch were his girlfriend and his daughter, Sally's body curled in an almost maternal manner around Sammie's. My girls, he thought, and he was immediately surprised by the sentiment. He and Sally hadn't even been dating for a month yet, hadn't even properly slept together, so he was in no position to call her "his". And yet it fit. His Sally. He wouldn't say it out loud to her, not yet. Not until he knew he was hers as well.

After going to the couch and leaving soft kisses on their foreheads, Greg headed back up the stairs. He had a feeling Sally hadn't planned on falling asleep and wouldn't have wanted him seeing her like that. He would stay out of the living room until she came back up.

Pulling his laptop out of its bag, the detective inspector settled down at the kitchen table to do some work. He could wait as long as she needed him to.

A/N: Greg's flat is a real flat that I found on a Brixton real estate website. (I wanted it to be accurate.) Also, through about two minutes of research, I have determined that Pete plays with the Islington Admiral United Football Club.

Oh, and Curgie is the name my niece gave one of her baby dolls when she was two or three.