So I've decided, probably badly, that I'm going to make this a series of parentlock oneshots. Relatively long in length. Obviously, because of Text Message and Just A Kid, the updates will not be regular and not often either. But I hope you enjoy them all the same!
Warning for language.
When Greg Lestrade had hurriedly come to the flat to plead for John and Sherlock's help, John had assumed it was for a new case. Sherlock hadn't received one for a few days so it was a perfectly acceptable conclusion to jump to when he'd received the text:
Really need your help, John mate. I'll be at the flat in 10 mins. V. important. - Greg
So, of course, when the detective inspector had rushed into the living room it surprised both John and Sherlock (who was laid out along the sofa in his usual position). John immediately sprung up to greet the man, Sherlock stayed put, eyes closed.
"John. Look, I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate…" Lestrade began.
"What's wrong?" John frowned, expecting an unsolved murder case or news on another unfortunate Londoner and was instead met with a concern that filled Lestrade's eyes, a panicked concern John'd never witnessed before.
"It's my daughter. Lily, my youngest." His voice was strained.
"What? What's happened? Is she ok?" John's doctor instincts kicked in, combined with his concern for the daughter of his friend.
"No, no, John she's fine. It's just…well I've got that thing in Cardiff this weekend and Marie has refused to take the kids because she's meeting her friends in Lester. Jake's fine on his own for the weekend but I can't leave Lily with him." He was huffing and kept running his hands through his hair. "-and my Mum can't have them because she's having her whole downstairs renovated and is staying in a B&B with Kevin Hogner!"
John had no idea who Kevin Kogner was. Nor had he ever been informed that Marie was Lestrade's ex-wife's name. He simply had to assume so as well as take on the chin the fact that Lestrade sounded like a stressed out schoolgirl spreading negative gossip.
"Wait, you want us to have her?" John suddenly caught up with what he was being asked of. "I don't know, Greg. I'm not even an Uncle and what with Sherlock-"
"Please, mate. Like I said, I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't desperate. And she's relatively quiet, she won't cause a fuss. And I'm sure Sherlock could restrict his…experiments." The man pleaded. "Just for the weekend. I've really got no one else to turn to."
John rubbed a hand over his face, glancing at Sherlock for a second. He noticed that the consulting detective's hands were no longer steepled beneath his chin. He had stopped thinking and was listening intently. Something John had started being able to pick up on for a while now.
"Um…" John thought hard, wetting his bottom lip and running his forefinger and thumb down his mouth to dry it again. "I mean…I would but it's just…it's Sherlock, I don't-"
Sherlock suddenly lifted up off the sofa and strode over to the pair in one fluid motion.
"John and I agree."
"Really? You'll do it?" Lestrade's face lit up but John was too busy gaping at Sherlock like he'd grown a second head to notice.
"Yes. We hereby both agree to take your little offspring under our care for the duration of two days and nights and no longer." Sherlock left to fetch something from his desk and returned a second later with a pad of paper and a pen.
"Sign here to say you agree to those terms. I trust you understand childcare is no easy task? We will be expecting utmost respect of these pre-agreed terms and your child to be explicably behaved at all-"
"Sherlock." John interrupted, finally realising just what a mistake this could potentially be.
Sherlock stared a John for a moment, then added, without looking at the detective inspector, his eyes still fixed on the side of John's head. "We will take Lily in our care." Before disappearing out of the living room and into his bedroom without another sound.
"Listen, thanks mate. You're a godsend. I'll bring Lily over Friday evening." Lestrade stumbled his apology as he made his way backwards out of the flat. "Thanks a bunch!"
And he was gone.
John sighed. His gaze found the closed door of Sherlock's bedroom and he sighed again. Turning to the kitchen to put the kettle on, he thought over what they'd both just agreed to do. They'd just agreed to be responsible for a young child.
Responsible.
They were effectively the responsible adults for this child. Temporary guardians.
"Oh shit…" John sighed under his breath, suddenly very concerned for how Lestrade's daughter would turn out after having spent a weekend at 221B. Utterly convinced it would ruin her chances at a healthy, prosperous life somehow. "We're fucked…she's fucked…"
Lily turned out to be one of the sweetest children John had ever met. He wasn't a paedectrician, so seeing children at work wasn't normally a long-winded thing. He'd simply diagnose them and decide whether they needed further consultation or whether it was something 'Mummy could handle'.
As the daughter of Lestrade, John wasn't expecting anything much different from what Lily turned out to be. She was calm, quiet and polite. Only five years old but Lestrade, despite his busy schedule, had managed to raise her to be a very mature little girl. She didn't speak much, but her thanks were in the form of nods and her pleas were either mumbled or smiled gently.
John would've said her eating habits weren't that of a normal five year old, but then again, he harboured his very own toddler, who's eating habits were even stranger than Lily's. The doctor found she ate and drank more than Sherlock which caused his worry over his six-year old to spike further.
"Is she still asleep?" Sherlock glanced into their bedroom where they'd set up her bed in the corner. There was just enough room to manoeuvre around it and not have to climb over their bed. The room was semi-dark and he could just make out a small lump beneath her pink covers.
"Yes, Sherlock. She is. Come away, the longer she is asleep the better. She didn't get to sleep last night till almost 10:00." John replied, drying up some crockery with a tea towel. He half-whispered, half-shouted across the kitchen to the detective stood at their bedroom door. "Just leave her a bit longer."
Sherlock huffed and slumped his shoulders, rolled his head and groaned a quietly as he could. "But my microscope cleaning rag is in my underwear drawer! I need it, John!"
"Well you'll just have to wait, Sherlock. It'll only be for one more night. Besides, I think she's a sweetie." John turned his back on the detective as he reached up to put away a bowl in the cupboard above him.
Sherlock stared at John. "Sweetie? Isn't that a name for confectionary? Are you saying you want to eat Lestrade's child? Because that's very weird, John."
"Don't be so ridiculous, Sherlock. I'm saying she's sweet. Well-mannered, quiet, cute. Lestrade should be very proud." John explained and refrained from smacking his detective over the head with the tea towel.
"Hmm." Was all the detective had as a reply and John turned back to face him.
"You'll see. Just wait and you'll call her a sweetie too."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John and the doctor realised his mistake. "Well, you'll think it at least." He corrected.
Sherlock returned to sulking in wait.
Lily Lestrade had very blonde hair, unlike her father who Sherlock could easily work out was dark-haired before the grey attacked. John was right though. She was very quiet and well-mannered.
He sat at the moment, in his armchair, hands steepled beneath his chin. Lily sat on the sofa across the room, eating a packet of crisps. John had popped out to see to a patient Sarah needed help with. After totally regretting his decision to tell Sarah he'd be there, he finally left Sherlock with a stern 'Don't let her touch anything of yours. No chemicals. No violin. No experiments. Got it?' and Sherlock had replied with a simple 'Yes, John. She'll be fine.'
They both now sat in silence. The only sounds were John's whirring laptop and Lily's crisp munching. Her legs dangled off the edge of the sofa but didn't quite reach the floor. Her hair was down and Sherlock grimaced as a piece fell in her face and she tucked it behind her ear with a sticky crisp hand.
"Are those crisps?" Sherlock said after while, desperate to break the awkward silence. Even if it was with a five-year-old.
Lily nodded at him. Still crunching on them contently.
Sherlock nodded back, readjusting his hands below his chin. "Nice crisps? Are those crisps nice?"
Lily just nodded again. Her hair bouncing and her legs kicking against the front of the sofa.
Sherlock looked away from her. "They look like nice crisps." He confirmed it to himself, not really talking to her anymore.
A second later, movement caught his eye and he turned to see Lily shuffling her way off of the sofa. He narrowed his eyes, deducing what she was going to do next. Speak? Toddle off? But once her feet found the floor, instead of toddling off, she toddled over to him. He felt himself recoil a little, lifting his knees up slightly and clutching the arms of the armchair with a slight frown as she approached him. His knees sank again when she stopped in front of his chair. He looked at her, waiting. She stared up at him innocently. Then still without a word between them, she reached into her crisp packet and placed one, solid crisp on his smartly-trousered knee.
Funnily enough, instead of worrying about the grease stain it would leave, Sherlock looked at the crisp then back at Lily again.
Completely in-experienced, he had no idea how to react and instead looked away, choosing to aim his gaze into the kitchen before muttering "...Thank you."
Lily made a noise then, a tiny little hum. Sherlock's head snapped back to look at her in a mixture of confusion and surprise.
"What?" He muttered.
"Daddy said you didn't do that." She spoke. Her voice quiet and gentle.
"Do what? What did he say I didn't do?" Sherlock got ready to feel offended at whatever Lestrade had told his daughter about him.
"The one with curly hair." Lily began, "He doesn't say please and thank you. But be nice to him anyway, because he's in charge." Lily recited what her Daddy had told her.
Sherlock relaxed a little at her words. He found himself almost chuckling at her surprise at him proving her father wrong. And he was in charge? He reminded himself to think better of Lestrade in future. For preaching to his children that Sherlock was in charge.
"And the one with the happy face, he's in charge of the curly haired one." Lily continued and Sherlock's face dropped.
Fucking Greg.