A/N: Sorry that this chapter focuses more on Sherlock than it does on Molly, but I just couldn't resist writing some fluff about Sherlock and Emma :) Once again, thank you for all the support, and please drop me a review, they are excellent motivation ;)

"I'm really sorry to have to dump her on you like this, especially on Valentine's Day," Mary said, passing Emma over to Molly in her car seat.

"It's fine, honestly. We hadn't planned anything anyway. Just enjoy your weekend in Paris," Molly reassured her, smiling at her friends.

"Thanks again for doing this," John said, as he and Mary gave Emma a final kiss goodbye before leaving for their weekend away.

Once their friends had left, Molly unstrapped Emma from her carrier, and bounced her on her hip, making her way through to their flat, which had been cleared of anything dangerous to a baby prior to the visit. Sherlock followed, looking forward to a relaxed Valentine's Day with just Molly and Emma, and no cases dragging him away.

As much as Sherlock was fascinated by Emma and her development, and always affectionate towards her, he usually let Molly entertain her, as she was better at understanding what was suitable entertainment for a one-year old, as had been proven when he had attempted to read Emma 'A Brief History of Time' by Stephen Hawking the last time they had babysat for the Watsons.

Sherlock stretched out on the sofa, simply enjoying watching his fiancé playing with Emma, although he sometimes wished they would play more intellectual games. After all, Emma didn't have much chance of progressing beyond the level of ordinary people if her parents and Auntie Molly insisted on playing ridiculous games such as "Peek-a-Boo!" with her.

They had been playing these games and reading picture books together for an hour or so when Molly's mobile rang. Handing Emma over to Sherlock, Molly answered the call, wondering if Mary had forgotten something. "Hello?"

"Hi Molly, it's Mike," the voice on the other end replied, sounding apologetic. "I'm really sorry, I know it's your day off, but Meena is off sick, so would you be able to come in and cover for a few hours, until her shift is over?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Molly sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.

"Thank you so much, you're a life saver," Mike answered, sounding relieved. "I'll see you in about twenty minutes."

The phone hung up, and Molly looked over at Sherlock and Emma. "I've got to go in, Meena is off sick and they need me to cover," she said. "Will you be alright looking after Emma while I'm gone? I should be back in time to do dinner."

"Yes, I can actually teach Emma something without being told she's too young to understand. Did you know that infants have the potential to be much more intelligent than we –"

"Thanks Sherlock," Molly interrupted, stopping him before he could get into his speech. "Bye bye Emma," she added, giving her goddaughter a wave and leaving the flat.

"Well now, what shall we do?" Sherlock said to Emma, considering the possibilities. "Hawking was a bit too advanced for you, I will admit, so something more your level?" Placing Emma carefully in the portable cot (he couldn't believe how much stuff one small child needed), he paced the room, thinking of ways to educate Emma so that she didn't become ordinary.

A piercing cry penetrated the walls of his mind palace, bringing his attention back to Emma. "What do you want now?" he exclaimed, knowing that she had been changed and fed recently. Picking his goddaughter up, he patted her back, walked up and down with her, and offered her Bluebell, but nothing stopped her crying.

With an exasperated sigh, he once more placed her in the cot, whilst he retrieved and unfolded the buggy from where it rested against the door, hoping that some fresh air would be all Emma needed to calm down. After strapping Emma into the contraption, he pulled on his Belstaff and navy scarf, slung the bag of baby things over his shoulder, and made his way carefully down the stairs.

Exiting 221B, they made their way along Baker Street, Emma still bawling, and Sherlock wondering what to do. It was then that his mobile rang, alerting him to a text. Pausing to read the message, Sherlock had an idea. Lestrade was asking for his assistance at a murder scene at a house near Waterloo station. This would provide both an opportunity to educate Emma, as well as an interesting destination for their outing.

Twenty minutes later, Sherlock was getting off the tube, grateful to escape the women who had spent the tube journey cooing over Emma and attempting to flirt with him. It only took a five minute walk from there for them to reach the crime scene, which had been cordoned off with police tape. Outside the house, Sherlock took Emma out of the pushchair and strode into the house, before any of the police outside could stop him.

When Greg Lestrade turned to greet Sherlock, he was horrified to see that Emma was accompanying Sherlock. "You can't bring a baby to a crime scene, Sherlock!"

"Why not? She isn't old enough to understand, as you all keep telling me, and it's an educational opportunity," Sherlock replied indignantly.

Seeing that he wouldn't win this argument, and aware that his chances of solving this as quickly as Sherlock were slim, Greg gave in. "Fine, but if John finds out about this, I was completely against it," he sighed.

Half an hour later, Sherlock had deduced the murderer, motive, and weapon, as well as the murderer's current location, and Emma was behaving perfectly, and had stopped crying. "I'll come and apprehend him with you," he said, rocking Emma.

"You are not chasing after a murderer with a baby, that's where I draw the line!" Greg stated, adamant that he would not have to explain to John why his baby had been involved in some sort of shoot-out.

Pouting, Sherlock realised that he had pushed his luck far enough, and departed, placing Emma in her pushchair again. Returning to Waterloo Station, Sherlock boarded a tube to South Kensington station, pushchair in tow. After enduring another journey full of fawning over Emma, he reached his intended destination – the Natural History Museum.

They spent three hours there, stopping only for Sherlock to change Emma and feed her. Although Sherlock thought they were overrated, the dinosaurs were definitely Emma's favourite part, particularly the large animatronic t-rex. Sherlock had been slightly worried that she would start crying when faced by a giant, roaring dinosaur, but instead she simply giggled, exclaiming, "Good doggy!" He was unsure whether to be impressed by her bravery, which she must have inherited from John, or appalled at her lack of knowledge concerning animals.

Their trip to the museum ended at the gift shop, with the purchase of a picture book about dinosaurs, as well as a set of donkey ears which Emma had taken a shine to.

Both exhausted, they returned home, where Sherlock attempted to put Emma to bed. Unfortunately for Sherlock, she suddenly decided that she had more energy left, and demanded to play. Getting out the bag containing the book and donkey ears, he tried to interest her in the images of various dinosaurs, but she grabbed at the ears instead and attempted to place them on Sherlock's head. "I am not wearing them," Sherlock said, gently taking the ears away. As soon he did so, Emma began to wail, and refused to stop. "Oh, for goodness sake," he sighed, and seeing no other way of getting Emma to quieten down, placed them on his head, feeling utterly ridiculous, and glad that no one could see him now.

Lying down on the sofa, Emma on his chest, he allowed her to quietly giggle at his new headgear.

Meanwhile, Molly was finally finishing up at the morgue, having ended up working a full day, instead of just covering a shift. Putting the corpse of Mr Collins away, she cleaned up, put her lab coat away and left for 221B.

Sitting in the cab on the way home, she worried herself with thoughts of all the things that could have gone wrong leaving Sherlock alone with Emma. What if he had spilt acid on her while trying to teach her about titrations? What if he had got her watching CSI?

Therefore, when she entered 221B to silence, she was surprised. She was even more surprised when she went upstairs, and saw Sherlock asleep on the sofa with Emma lying on his chest, also asleep. Then, to complete the picture, Sherlock was wearing – what were they? - donkey ears?

Grinning, she took a picture on her phone, and sent it to John and Mary. As she finished sending the text, Sherlock stirred, slowly sitting up so as not to wake Emma. Placing her in her cot, he smirked triumphantly. "I told you I could be trusted! We had a wonderful day, we went to the Natural History Museum," he said, omitting the part where Emma attended her first homicide investigation.

"It sounds wonderful," Molly smiled, standing on tip toes to give her fiance a kiss.

The domestic bliss continued until Monday, when the Watsons returned, and received an anonymous tip off from someone at Scotland Yard (Anderson), that a certain consulting detective had shown up at a murder investigation with Emma. The next day, the title of John's blog read:

Sherlock Holmes is an Ass!

The entry was accompanied by the photo Molly had taken, and ended with the line, "But he is a well-meaning ass, as proved by this photographic evidence that the world's only consulting detective is also a big softie."

When Sherlock read the entry, he was too worried about Molly's reaction to him taking Emma to a crime scene to even critique John's poor writing style.

Thankfully, the Watson's forgiveness seemed to have softened Molly, who was relatively calm about his actions, despite threatening to cut off his supply of body parts if he ever did it again.

A/N: The donkey headband in question can indeed be found in the Natural History Museum Shop. If you need proof, the link is here :)

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