Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he saw the look of irritation on Molly's face as she awaited their coffee order. It wasn't their girls bothering her, he was certain about that. Cecilia seemed perfectly content snoozing on her shoulder, her dainty brunette brows drawn into a sleeping frown as her little bow lips pulsed like she was sucking on a phantom dummy. His eyes flicked down to five-year old Melisande, the perfect miniature version of his wife, holding Molly's hand. Her face was turned up towards the stranger (who jabbered at them) with a scowl that matched her Mummy's.

Sherlock edged closer. There was a woman in her late fifties gesticulating wildly as if what she was saying was the most important thing in the world.

"Oh, but you can't be done! No man is complete without a son. Trust me, darling, you'll regret not giving him one …"

Sherlock's blood boiled as he heard that. He was about open his mouth and swoop in when Melisande stomped her little foot. The heel of her black Maryjane shoe made a loud clack against the tile floor.

"He has CiCi and me! Why would he need a boy?" She piped up.

The older woman clucked her tongue and smiled in a patronizing manner. "Oh, little one, you're probably too young to understand-"

Molly seemed ready to lash out as well but Melisande put her hands on her hips and raised her determined little chin (oddly reminding him of Mycroft).

"My daddy says I am already smarter than most people. I think that means you too because I know girls are just as good as boys. You should just . . . go away, because you are stupid and my daddy says that we should never waste our time with stupid people."

The woman's mouth dropped open. "My word! The manners! Are you not going to correct her?"

Sherlock finally interceded.

"No," he looked her up and down with derision, "not when she is right. Now, do as the child has directed and go away."

With a huff, the woman stormed off. Molly shook her head and rolled her eyes. Melisande looked anxiously between him and her mother. Sensing her distress, Sherlock crouched down. She slipped her hand from Molly's grasp and hugged her tiny arms around his neck. Her little brow furrowed as she thought about something.

"Daddy, is it okay that it's just me and Cici?" Her voice quivered.

He nodded. "Better than okay. I love my girls more than anything. Daddy could not be happier with our family."

She sniffed but seemed unconvinced. Sherlock took a calming breath. He wanted to phone Mycroft and have him ruin the ignorant woman's credit for all eternity.

"Listen," he rumbled. "You count, little madam. There are some in this world who may think otherwise but do not ever think that your daddy might be one of them, because you girls are the people who matter the most to me in the world. Besides, boys are yucky, are they not?"

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yup!"

"You're going to stay far away from them, right?"

"Until I'm 25!"

"Otherwise?"

"They'll find themselves floating down the Thames upside down!"

Molly gasped. "Sherlock, you did not say that to her!?"

His eyes darted sideways. "Erm, nooo?"

Sherlock smiled as Molly suppressed a grin. She seemed to sniffle as well as she cradled their younger daughter's head. He stood up, hoisting Melisande up in his arms, leaned forward and kissed both Molly and their youngest. Cecilia sputtered a breath, completely oblivious of what had just happened and resumed her dream feeding. He was happy. This was happiness for him and he would not change anything.