Hello again, my darlings! This one's a little shorter simply because I felt that the next part deserved its own chapter. Thanks Captain Evil!

And good news for you: I am officially done my masters degree! Which means that the only things I have to do at the moment are write more Johnlock for you and hunt for a job! Yay!

The plot monkeys enjoyed this chapter a lot and they hope you do too. :D

She offered him a sympathetic smile and squeezed his hand. "Everything will work out in the end, I can feel it."

"I hope you're right."

"I know I am," Sarah countered before standing to clear away the remnants of their lunch.

~0_o~

They went back to their patient lists after that. The influx of people thankfully started to taper off near the end of his shift. That meant that they were actually able to shut down the clinic at the designated closing time. Word had gotten around about little Benedict, so John ended up having to pass around his mobile while all the ladies fawned over the photos of his son. They demanded he bring the toddler into the clinic as soon as this bout of the virus passed. He also received countless offers to babysit.

As the outer doors to the clinic closed behind him, John snorted and shook his head. There was something about a cute kid women couldn't seem to resist. Then add to that, the cute kid in question was his, and they went wild. He knew that if the ladies didn't already know that he was intimately involved with Sherlock, he would have had those kinds of offers to contend with as well.

He took off in the direction of the tube, contemplating how quickly he wanted to get home. He had just enough notes in his wallet to pay for a cab. The more he thought about it, the firmer his decision to get home as quickly as possible became. He was anxious to see how they were getting on.

It was almost as if fate had heard his call, for as soon as his mind was made up, a black car rolled to a stop on the curb next to him. John had to admit that he had never been happier to see Mycroft Holmes. The elder politician might be able to offer him some insight to his current situation with the other's younger brother. So it was without hesitation that John slid onto the leather backseat of the luxurious sedan.

"I don't think I've ever been more pleased to see you," the doctor said truthfully once the door was shut.

The elder Holmes readjusted his shirt cuffs and raised a questioning eyebrow at him before speaking. "Has my brother really been that difficult?"

John shook his head. "I would say 'you have no idea', but clearly you do. I'm assuming that's why I owe you the pleasure of this ride?"

"Quite right," Mycroft acknowledged. His expression softened minutely. "I heard about your little domestic this morning. I'm truly sorry, John."

The doctor sighed and rubbed his hands over his tired eyes. He was emotionally drained at the moment. The last thing he needed to was to break down in front of Mycroft Holmes of all people.

"Sherlock cares a great deal for you, you know that. He will not just let you walk out of his life," the politician continued.

Leaning back into the seat and shoving his fingers through his short graying hair, John asked wearily, "I know, Mycroft, but what am I supposed to do? I have a child to think about now—it's not just me anymore…"

"I am aware—you misunderstand. I am not suggesting you neglect your son's needs," the elder Holmes reasoned calmly. "But what I am saying is that you shouldn't give up on Sherlock just yet. He's just as terrified as you are, maybe more so. He hasn't the faintest clue about how to handle a child of Benedict's age."

John tilted his head to the side and viewed Mycroft with a curious expression as a thought suddenly came to him. "When was the last time Sherlock was actually around children?"

The politician quirked a smile as his companion finally asked the right question. "I believe it was when he himself was a child."

"But that doesn't count!"

"Right you are, John. It does not."

"Christ! No wonder he's been so standoffish!" the doctor exclaimed.

Mycroft nodded and replied softly, "So you see? Just give him some time. He will come around. In fact, I think you may be pleasantly surprised this evening."

John raised his eyebrows in silent question, but the car had rolled to a stop out front of his door, so no more information was forthcoming from the elder Holmes.

He climbed out but leaned back in before shutting the door. "Would you like to come up and see Ben?"

"I would very much like to do so, but I believe right now is not the best time," Mycroft answered.

The doctor waved goodbye and quickly unlocked the door to 221 as the black sedan sped off.

"Sherlock? Benedict?" John called out as he ascended the steps to their flat. He had spent the last twelve hours at the surgery worrying about how his lover would handle being alone with a toddler—a toddler he very much resented being thrown into his life.

As he hung up his coat, he could hear his child's soft voice and then Sherlock's deep timbre answer. They were speaking too low for John to make out what was being said. When the doctor walked over to the kitchen doorway, he stopped dead at the sight before him, completely shocked.

There, seated at the table with a Bunsen burner and test tubes galore, was the great Sherlock Holmes with little Benedict perched on his lap.

"That's it—now only three drops of this one," the baritone voice advised.

John watched as Ben's tiny hand reached up with a pipette and added some strange blue liquid into the beaker. He couldn't help the smile that broke out into his face. He leaned against the door jam and crossed his arms over his chest in amusement. "I really hope you're not letting my son play with corrosive acid, Sherlock."

He couldn't help but laugh when two pairs of goggled eyes turned to stare at him. The consulting detective rolled his eyes and answered, "Honestly, John. I do know that there are certain things children should not be allowed to play with."

"So what are you doing then?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Sher is showing me how to make my own pway dough! We're making gween this time!" Benedict exclaimed with unrestrained glee.

He felt incredibly moved that his lover would go out of his way to do something so nice for the boy.

When John met Sherlock's gaze, the genius gave him a small little smile. I'm trying, it said. Closing the few extra steps between them, the doctor slung one arm around the detective's shoulders and the other one around his son's chest. He first kissed the top of Ben's unruly sable curls, and then met his partner's lips. "Thank you," he mouthed silently against the younger man's mouth.

Sherlock nodded then gently pushed John away with the hand that wasn't wrapped around Benedict's middle. "Now go!" he demanded. "This recipe is time sensitive! If it overcooks, we have to start it over."

That earned a chuckle from John. "Speaking from experience, then?"

There was an annoyed huff, then, "Yes. We went through quite a lot of flour. Had to go out to Tesco's and get more half way through."

John was certain all this shock was not good for his system. "You went shopping?"

"Is that not what I just said? Besides, we had to pick up some other ingredients for another experiment we are going to try tomorrow."

"Oh God."

"You have nothing to worry about, so calm down."

"We're gonna try and make invisibwe ink! And Sher's gonna hewp me buiwd a wocket!" Benedict told John, clearly excited. It seems Sherlock had become his son's new best friend.

The doctor blinked several times before responding. "Do not let him touch the iodine, Sherlock. And a rocket?! He's only three!"

"Three and a half. I assure you the rocket will be safe. It only requires the use of sodium bicarbonate and acetic acid," the consulting detective informed.

"Sodium bicarbonate and acetic acid?" John repeated weakly.

"Yes, John! Baking soda and white vinegar. How ever did you pass medical school? Surely you were required to take chemistry?" Sherlock explained, exasperated.

The doctor wasn't sure what was worse—his partner treating his son like a piranha or his partner conducting experiments with his son. At least Ben would have a head start on science and chemistry…

Without anything to do in the kitchen, John wandered into the sitting room and sat in Sherlock's usual chair so that he would have a clear view of his boys working diligently on their play dough. He allowed a smile to overtake his face. Watching the scene before him, John fell a little bit more in love with his impossible, eccentric boyfriend.

Ten minutes later it seemed that their experiment was complete. Sherlock reached over and turned off the Bunsen burner and stored the green goo in an airtight container.

The detective pulled off his goggles and instructed Benedict to do the same. When the eye gear was discarded, Sherlock heaved the toddler up, stating that they had to wash their hands. John watched in awe as his partner managed to turn on the tap one handed and maneuvered his son so that the boy could place his hands under the flowing stream of water.

When Ben was clean enough, the genius set him back down on the floor to wash his own hands. The little tike turned and ran straight for John. With his running start, he was able to gain enough momentum to take a flying leap onto his father's lap.

"Daddy!" he cried excitedly and wrapped his small arms around John's neck. "You miss me?"

"Hello again, Sweetheart," the doctor greeted with a grin. "And yes, I missed you a bunch. Did you have a good time with Sherlock today?"

"Yep. He's awesome!" Benedict stated.

"I think so too," John stage whispered in a conspiratorial manner, which caused his son to giggle. That gleeful noise set him off as well.

When John heard the click of a shutter, he looked up to see Sherlock standing a few meters away, one hand in his trouser pocket and the other raised with his phone perfectly poised to snap a picture. The doctor gave his partner a questioning look. An adorable blush crept across the detective's face as he offered John a crooked smile. He clearly hadn't planned on being caught in the act.

Glancing back and forth between his son and Sherlock, the doctor asked, "Is anyone else hungry?"

"Starving," that deep baritone answered as Ben chose just to nod.

"Did you happen to buy something for dinner while you were out shopping?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, but I think it would be nice to go out for dinner this evening," Sherlock declared. "Angelo's?"

John was amazed. They sat through dinner at their favorite restaurant at their usual table, only this time with the new addition of Benedict. Angelo and the wait staff fell all over themselves for the little boy.

But that wasn't what really got to the doctor. What made the difference was Sherlock. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, for there was no way this was the same man he had fought with this very morning about caring for the toddler. Perhaps it was Ben's apparent love for science that forged the bond that John had been praying for since they first met his son.

He leaned back in his seat with an amused smile on his face as he listened to his partner tell quite an animated tale of one of their more exciting cases, all for Benedict's enjoyment. Their waiter this evening—Billy—slowly cleared away their plates, obviously lingering to hear the resolution of the adventure.

"...Then John leapt over the car and tackled the jewel thief onto a table just outside of this café. Of course the three elderly ladies sitting there looked up in shock as this criminal effectively sloshes their afternoon tea all over the patio. One of the matrons then picks up her handbag and hits the thief upside his head as she yells at him over how he should not have tried resisting arrest. To this, your father simply says, 'That's alright—I needed the exercise.' I don't think I've ever seen Lestrade laugh so hard," Sherlock concluded with a smirk on his face.

Ben sat wide-eyed and openmouthed staring at the genius, clearly enraptured by the story. "Wow!"

"Indeed," the consulting detective concurred as he looked up and met his blogger's gaze with affection.

The doctor blushed and averted his eyes. He briefly wondered if he would always have this reaction to Sherlock's obvious praise and attentions. Part of him hoped that he that he would. John felt himself start to become overly emotional. It wouldn't do to make a public spectacle of himself, so he flagged down Billy—who was still hovering close by—and asked for their check.

Once dinner was paid for, Sherlock bundled Benedict up in his coat and scarf and the trio made their way out into the night. The toddler insisted on walking, so he situated himself between John and his partner, holding onto their hands with one of his own. Their pace was much slower than usual with those little legs taking such tiny steps compared to theirs. Half way back to the flat, they had to halt their progress momentarily as Ben became too tired to continue.

John laughed as he lifted his son into his arms. The little one's yawn was audible and he wasted no time in dropping his curly head onto his father's shoulder. Sherlock watched this out of the corner of his eye and felt something shift within him. He loved seeing this side of John, the doting parent. It suddenly occurred to him that he couldn't imagine his life any other way in that moment. It was odd because he never envisioned that this was something he would have ever wanted out of life. He chalked it up to John, who continually surprised him at every turn.

Sherlock was very well aware of how wrong this morning's encounter could have gone had he not manned up to meet his partner half way. The thought was quite a sobering one. The detective figured he must have done something right today—John once again gazed at him with that look in his eyes, the look that said he was completely in love. It caused that strange fluttering sensation in the pit of his stomach, which wasn't wholly unpleasant. He mulled this over the rest of the way back to Baker Street as they fell into a companionable silence and as they eventually traversed the steps up to their flat.

More conversations with Mycroft; John-these are becoming a habit...hmm...

So Captain Evil and I totally disturbed my sister by bantering back and forth in character while doing the initial verbal run-down of this chapter. She makes such a dashing Mycroft. The plot monkeys swooned.

Hahahahahaha!