John
I woke up to what sounded like a miniature explosion. Groaning, I slid out of bed, noticing that Sherlock, my husband, was not there, meaning he was probably the source of said explosion, at six in the morning. I was going to kill him. I stomped into the kitchen to see it half demolished, and Sherlock and our five year old twin sons, Hamish and Daniel, giggling but covered in ash.
"What on earth happened in here?" I asked, looking between the three of them. Hamish and Daniel just continued to giggle.
"Well John, the boys and I were simply trying an experiment, which ended rather poorly," Sherlock "explained."
"What am I going to do with you?" I sighed. "Sherlock, you clean up, and you two come here, you need a bath."
The boys followed me to the bathroom.
"Didja hear the explosion Dad?" Daniel asked as I turned on the tap. I turned around to look at him; he was attempting to pull his nightshirt off his head and only succeeded in tangling himself up in it. I reached out to help him but got a muffled protest in response. Daniel always wanted to do everything for himself. Hamish was already seated in the bath, even though the water was still cold.
"I think every within a five mile radius heard it," I said, glancing back at Hamish, who was looking at me expectantly.
"Hay let's get your hair wet," I cupped water in my hands and poured it over Hamish's blond curls.
"What's radius?" Daniel questioned, now trying to free himself from his pants.
"Papa mixed potassium permanganate and ethylene glycol," Hamish stumbled over the bigger words but I understood what he was saying. I also understood that he was trying to draw my attention to him and away from his brother. Then Daniel, having finally detached himself from him pajamas, jumped into the bath, spraying Hamish and I with water.
"Thank you Dan," I mumbled drying myself off, as both of my sons laughed at me.
All in all, it was a pretty normal morning in the Watson-Holmes household.