John Watson
"Sherlock, will you be my Valentine?" Sherlock did his customary double-blink. He did that when something unexpected came his way. I sat across from him in my chair, smirking. My daughter, the one who had asked the question, stood before Sherlock. She was nibbling one of Mrs. Hudson's cookies, her wispy hair curling about her face, her soft blue eyes looking up expectantly at the famous detective. I leaned forward, hoping Sherlock would not be too harsh with his refusal.
"Okay." It was now my turn to be surprised. I gaped as four-year old Sarah climbed excitedly onto Sherlock's knee and threw her arms around him, cookie still in hand. He patted her on the back, looking awkward. Sarah turned excitedly to me.
"Look, Daddy! I've got a Valentine!"
"I see that," I laughed. Mrs. Hudson entered the room, another platter of cookies in hand. Sarah scrambled down. Sherlock cleared his throat and straightened his suit, avoiding my stare.
"I've got a Valentine," she informed Mrs. Hudson.
"You do!" Mrs. Hudson gushed. "John," she added, "you'd better be careful. She's starting young."
"I think we're safe with Sherlock," I assured her. "I think." I eyed my friend suspiciously. "Sherlock-" I began.
"Yes, of course, John."
"What?"
"I will not subject Sarah to any experiments in this endeavor," he said dryly and scientifically.
"You better not," I warned him, "or so help me-"
"Do you even think I would try? She's your daughter."
"I didn't know you cared like that," I said, gratified.
"I don't. I just don't want to get beaten to a pulp by you." He grinned, a gleam in his eye. I glared back at him and stood up.
"You do know what this entails, don't you?" Sherlock waved his hand.
"It's just a title. I'll have to make her a card too, I suppose."
"Well you're a lousy Valentine," I declared.
"What? Why?" Sherlock looked offended. I retrieved Sarah's cardigan from the coat rack.
"You might want to Google 'Valentine's Day traditions'," was all I told him before I left. He would have to figure the rest out for himself.
Sarah was excited. She bounced on her toes as I dug in my pocket for the house keys.
"How many days?" she asked again.
"Three," I said, turning the lock. Sherlock had three days to figure out this Valentine's business. I chuckled to myself as I opened the front door. Sarah ran off toward the kitchen. I could hear movement in there and smell supper cooking. I sighed contentedly. Baker Street was good, but home was much better.
"I've got a Valentine!" Sarah was saying as I entered the kitchen. Mary stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. One-year old William sat in his chair attempting to eat Cheerios.
"Really?" Mary asked. "Who is it?"
"Guess!" Sarah said.
"Daddy?"
"No."
"Trevor?"
"Who's Trevor?" I asked from beside William.
"Someone at school," Mary informed me.
"No," Sarah giggled, "that's silly."
"Thank goodness," I said to myself, relieved.
"Who then?" Mary asked.
"Sherlock!"
"Sherlock?!" Mary laughed, her spoon held in midair. "Sherlock?" she looked at me, incredulous. I nodded affirmatively. She looked back down at Sarah. "Sherlock?" she repeated. Sarah nodded excitedly, then skipped off in the direction of her room.
"Don't run, dear," Mary told her as she sat her stirring utensil down. She walked toward me. "Sherlock?"
"Yep."
"...he agreed to that?" A small smile played on her lips.
"Yep."
"That's interesting."
"He's promised not to experiment on her."
"Oh, well that's a comfort," Mary said sarcastically. She was quiet for a few moments, clearly thinking. "Does he even know what Valentine's Day is?" she asked finally.
"He knows the basis of it. That's it, though."
"So he's got three days to figure it all out."
"Yes."
"This is interesting."
"Very." William gurgled, placing his hand in the middle of his bowl. Cheerios jumped onto the table.
"I however, know exactly what Valentine's Day is," I said casually, beginning to pick up the cereal.
"Oh you do, eh?" Mary played along.
"Yes. I've got three days to perfect my plan."
"And what might that plan be?"
"You'll find out."
"I better," she grinned. She bounced back toward the stove. I sat back, the events of the last few minutes coming back to mind.
"Who's this Trevor?"
"He goes to school with Sarah, I told you."
"Yes, but who is he? Who are his parents? Where do they live?" Mary laughed.
"I'm really not sure who his parents are. I'm not even sure he knows."
"Then why is our daughter friends with this boy?" I pursued, feeling very protective all of a sudden. Mary shook her head, exasperated.
"John, the poor frog can't help it. Give him a break!" I blinked at her blankly. She doubled over in laughter.
"What?!"
"It's a frog!" she gasped out.
"A frog."
"A frog."
"You know, I might get you a frog for Valentine's Day for pulling that trick on me." Mary grinned, her eyes twinkling.
"Go ahead. You might just find it on your pillow."
