Words: 256
A/N: nurp nurp nurp. Procrastination is a sure-fire way to winning nanowrimo! ^^
And a huge thank you for the alerts and faves (and review). They make me grin like a mad person o/u/o
"So, your older brother just randomly's dropped off his daughter? Again? After two years with nothing other than a 'just for a couple hours'?"
Sherlock sniffed, "Half brother. And Mycroft's still the oldest."
John groaned as he pushed more clutter from the coffee table, setting down a large mug of tea in front of the nine year old little girl, who sat—shaking and pale and biting her lip determinedly—on the newly sanitized couch.
"There, dear," he told her. "Washed the mug four times for you."
(And this was not just for the little girl's own peace of mind, but for his own as well because god knows what Sherlock had been doing with the mugs; a bout of horrible stomach bug within the first three months of being the man's flat mate taught him as much.)
"Th-thank you," she mumbled and took it carefully. John went to clearing the rest of the coffee table haphazardness, earning a shout from Sherlock (that was an experiment John why in the bloody word did you just toss it like that? It's ruined now I won't be able to keep working on it and it was important John) before spritzing the surface with lemon-scented cleaner.
"Look on the bright side," Said John with a sigh and a tight smile to Sherlock as he thrust a kitchen rag into his flailing arms (still going on about that experiment, well, too bad), "at least she's giving us an excuse to clean up the flat. Dear, would you like to help?"