Author's Note: This is my first fanfiction of any kind, and I hope that you enjoy it! :)

Sherlock dragged me over to the next exhibit. "Look at the monkeys, John! Like a bunch of mini Andersons!"

"Sherlock!"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. My apologies, monkeys!"
"Sher-" I sighed. Why did I even bother? He would never lay off of him, and I (often) find myself in agreement anyway. Still, the constant "Sorry!"s for Anderson are annoying.
"Come on, Jaaawwnnn! We'll miss feeding the giraffes!"
" Sherlock, it's lunch time! We haven't eaten for hours and I'm hungry!"
"Come on!"
I followed, ignoring my grumbling stomach, silently cursing myself for my "brilliant" idea.

5 hours earlier...

"Sherlock, sit still. You're making the whole couch shake!"
"But John…"
"Be quiet and sit still. I can't hear my show."
"But John, I'm bored!"
"Fine. What do you want to do?" I snap, switching off the telly and turning to the overgrown child next to me. Why do I put up with this? I ask myself. My thoughts are interrupted Sherlock.
"I don't know! Lestrade's out of cases, you took away the gun-"
"You were shooting the walls, Sherlock! Do you have any idea-"
"-AND I WANT TO GET OUT OF THIS STUPID FLAT!" he yells, his deep baritone ringing through the room.
"THEN WHY DON'T YOU GO FLY A KITE FOR ALL I CARE!" I scream back at him, thoroughly annoyed now.
"I don't know how. I've never flown one."
"You never flew a kite when you were little?"
"Mycroft said that they were pointless."
"What DID you do as a child?"
"Read and did experiments, mostly. I played pirates by myself when I was little."
"Anything else?"
"I liked to bother Mycroft." he said, smiling at some memory of a very perturbed Mycroft.
"You did nothing else? You never went to an amusement park? The beach? The zoo?!"
"Nope."
"That's it. Go get dressed. We're going on a field trip."
"Where?" he asks, sounding slightly intrigued. "The morgue?" he guesses excitedly.
"Of course not Sherlock! We're going to the zoo! And tomorrow we're going to the beach. I'm going to give you a proper childhood if it's the last thing I do!"
"So not the morgue?" he asks dejectedly.
"No Sherlock, not the morgue."
"Darn."
"Go get dressed."

And now, back to the present…

I sigh, resigned to my fate, and pull out a few pounds.
"Here. Go buy a bag of carrots."
He buys the bag and lopes over to the exhibit. I watch him grab a carrot and hold it out to one of the giraffes. When I see the way his eyes light up as the long necked creature gracefully takes it, I know that it was worth it. All of the yelling and dragging and waiting in line and running around is worth it. Not just to get rid of bored Sherlock (though that is a bonus - a bored Sherlock is a health hazard to himself and others), but because he needed this. He may have been a child (and sometimes acts like one), but he never got to be a kid. As he feeds the giraffe, I watch the cold mask of sarcasm and deductions fade into pure delight. When the bag is empty, I grab his hand and pull him away from the enclosure.
"I love you, Sherlock."
"Yes, yes, I love you too, John. Now come on, I want to go see the poisonous snakes. I wonder if they have any extra venom that I can have? Did you know that there are 2,900 different species of poisonous snakes in the world? In fact…"
I roll my eyes as he drags me away, knowing that he is back to being Sherlock. I smile as he rattles on, basking in the glow of his excitement. I think back to this morning, and answer my own question.
"Sherlock." He keeps talking.
"Sherlock." Still talking. I decide to fix that.
"And then there was that other murder- oomph!" I cut off his rambling with a kiss.
THIS is why I put up with him. Sherlock, the 35 year old child, world's only consulting detective, and the brilliant man I married.

(Another) Author's Note: I hope that you liked it. Please review!

Also, I want to give a shoutout to Atlin Merrick. She's the one who got me hooked on Sherlock fanfiction. Her stuff is for much more mature audiences than mine, but it's all fantastic.