(thank goodness she hasn't been driven to it yet)


IMPORTANT NOTE: The brothers are in no way involved with each other, only Joan.


First dates were always awkward, Joan knew. There was all of that getting to know each other without giving too much away nonsense, the question of whether or not to catch a cab together, the truly frustrating sympathetic letdowns of prospective partners.

Joan wondered when she had begun sounding a bit like Sherlock in her brain even as she stared, stone-faced, at the men in front of her. Because yes, those other first date difficulties were not actually difficulties when your date knew everything about you, you lived with them, and you were almost ninety-eight percent certain you were going to spend the rest of your lives together through fair means or foul.

Those particular difficulties were replaced with your two committed life partners (who happened to be brothers) refused to agree on the benefits of breastfeeding. How was this her life.

"How did we get to this point in the conversation?" she asked.

"In case of future children," Sherlock said. "Obviously."

"Obviously," she echoed, allowing her sarcasm to shine right on through until it blinded him.

"That, of course, is another conversation entirely," Mycroft broke in smoothly.

"Obviously," Sherlock said again. "Children are hardly convenient. We would have to hire a nanny, first of all, since I'm not entirely certain I trust Mycroft not to attempt to mold the beasts into images of himself. Unacceptable."

"And I would be the only other option aside from a nanny," Mycroft said.

"I doubt Joan would agree to boarding school, and I find myself disinclined in that direction anyway. And Joan and I would be entirely too busy solving crime to raise offspring, even offspring as advanced as ours undoubtedly would be. Yours might take a bit to catch up, but with Joan's DNA in the mix I have no doubt they would succeed."

"Children are a conversation to be had with all partners," Joan said.

"Obviously," Sherlock said yet again. "And I suppose I could be convinced. I've seen the way you eye your friend's sprogs."

Mycroft snorted. Joan sighed. Sherlock looked at both of them expectantly.

"Ma'am," the waiter, who had been standing there patiently if progressively more wide-eyed throughout the conversation, began, "I have a wine list for you."

"You are a wonderful human being," Joan told her, and snagged it.