A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock I'm just visiting around with them.
John was in the kitchen that morning making a cup of tea. He hadn't heard Sherlock enter the flat and was startled by the loud yelp of surprise that came from the living room. Worried that Sherlock had hurt himself or destroyed something, again, John ran into the living room to find his flat mate staring and nervously pointing at a large cardboard box that was moving slowly across the floor.
"John, I picked up the box and there's... There's a ... a!"
Sherlock found himself completely shocked and at a loss for words by what he had discovered under a normal looking box.
"I think the word that is escaping you is 'Baby.'" John said calmly, realizing now what the shriek of surprise had been about. Sherlock nodded and tried to pull himself together, unwilling to approach the box that was still slowly scooting across the floor.
John walked over to the box and as he lifted it, both men stared down at the bundle of trouble looking curiously up at them.
He was a plump baby and he appeared to be around ninth months old, judging by the single tooth that Sherlock could see, and he had the biggest patch of rebellious red hair Sherlock had ever seen on a baby. His big blue eyes matched the blue footy pyjamas he was wearing.
"My word..." Sherlock whispered, "It's a Weasley! He... he looks like he swallowed a firecracker. Where did you get it, John? Is it a stray or did someone let it loose upon us? Who could hate us this much?"
John bent over and gently lifted the baby off the floor. Sherlock noticed that John didn't look directly at the baby and was actually making sure to be careful not to.
"This," John replied, "Is Max. Mrs. Hudson asked us to watch him for a few hours, as his regular baby sitter is sick and Mrs. Hudson was watching him but then got a call that her sister is also sick and she had to go visit her, she'll be back soon."
"But, John," Sherlock protested, he could feel a hint of a tantrum coming over him as he waved his arms around like a skinny windmill, "We know nothing about infants!" His actions caused the baby to giggle delightedly but his smile disappeared and he looked very serious when Sherlock glared at him.
"I think we can manage one for at least a few hours, Sherlock, you have no cases at the moment and today is my day off so the two of us can hold our own against one baby, don't you think?" John asked as he gently bounced the baby in his arms as Sherlock and the baby eyed each other warily. Sherlock didn't like the way it was staring at him.
"Why won't you look at it?" Sherlock asked.
"What?" John replied, surprised at the question.
"Why won't you look at it?" Sherlock repeated, never taking his eyes off the red headed imposter that clutched his flat mate's jumper with chubby, tiny fingers.
John nodded. "Oh, well... He cries whenever I do, he doesn't like me and whenever I look at him, he cries."
Sherlock snorted in disgust "But everybody likes you, John." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, eying the baby with contempt, the baby bared his gums at him in return and showed him a very sharp looking bottom tooth.
"Not this body, the few first minutes after he came, he wouldn't stop crying and so after a couple of experiments I figured out why and we made a deal that I wouldn't look at him and he wouldn't cry and he hasn't cried since." John said, almost proudly at figuring out the baby by himself.
"That's ridiculous, John." Sherlock replied, he wished the baby would stop staring at him. John sighed, turning his head to look down at the baby in the face. Max stared back at him and a few seconds later, a whimper started to escape him and his face crumpled as tears filled his eyes.
John looked back at Sherlock who was staring at him in disbelief "There, Sherlock, are you happy now?"
Sherlock sighed dejectedly. "Not only do we have to take care of a baby, we have to take care of one with mood swings."
John laughed and tried to smooth down the electrified red hair, his attempt failing, the hair unwilling be tamed "He seems to like you though, look, Sherlock! He's smiling at you and he doesn't cry when he sees you. That's a change isn't it? You usually make everybody want to cry when they see you."
Sherlock scowled at John, turned and walked over to the settee and flung himself down on it, closing his eyes. "You were the one who accepted the baby and you have to take care of it."
John rolled his eyes and was about to place Max on the floor again but, changing his mind, he walked over and plopped Max on Sherlock's stomach. Sherlock's eyes few open and he lifted his head in surprise and outrage as he stared at the tiny person that was sitting contentedly on his stomach and silently blinking at him with blue owlish looking eyes.
"John! I... You... You can't do this to me, John! Children are hazardous to my health." Sherlock stammered as John, who was making good his escape and was already halfway across the room called over his shoulder, "I have to do some laundry, don't worry you'll be fine."
John disappeared and then his head popped around the door frame again. "I believe in you!" he called to the indignant Sherlock, with almost a giggle and vanished. Leaving a stunned Sherlock laying on the settee with a baby Weasley sitting delightedly on top of him.
After a few horrifying seconds of deciding what to do in the situation, Sherlock, gingerly picked up the baby and, holding it away from him at arms length, making sure it didn't contaminate him anymore than possible, sat it down on the floor.
"Stay." he commanded as Max looked up at him, a serious expression on his face and he just silently blinked at him. Sherlock, not knowing what else do picked up his violin and began to play a sad and mournful tune he had composed himself after getting soundly beaten one night at a game of Phase Ten by John.
Ignoring the baby on the floor, Sherlock sat back on the settee and after a few minutes, a tiny noise from the floor interrupted his composition of melancholy drabble and he looked down to see the baby thing looking at up him mournfully, looking utterly heartbroken, tears shined in his eyes and his little brow furrowed worriedly as he listened to Sherlock play.
Shocked, Sherlock stopped playing and Max relaxed and looked at Sherlock hopefully as if he might play something else. As an experiment, Sherlock started playing the same tune again and immediately the worried and sad look came over Max again and tears started to roll down his face and the baby sat there and cried silently as he looked at Sherlock.
"Sherlock!" John said from the doorway, interrupting the experiment as he came to check on the two. "Don't play that! It depresses him. Play something happy for him." He looked down at the baby who was weeping silently and looking like he would melt into a mournful puddle on the floor.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and started to play a happier medley and immediately the worried look of sorrow vanished and Max's eyebrows rose cheerfully and he smiled at Sherlock through his tears. Satisfied with the new song and that the baby had been rescued from his trauma, John returned to the laundry room.
Enraptured by Sherlock's happy music, the baby gave a slight hiccup and being a little head heavy, fell over on his side with a plop. Sherlock stopped playing abruptly and looked around for John, not knowing what to do by the overturned infant.
"John," Sherlock called, as he looked at the baby laying on the floor, his feet waving like a sad bug. "The baby fell over. What do I do?"
"Pick him up then!" came John's exasperated answer from the laundry room.
"But that involves touching it." Sherlock called back, cautiously poking Max with the tip of his bow. Horrified, he quickly withdrew it as Max tried to chew on it.
"Oh the horrors." John's sarcastic voice replied.
Resolving that there was nothing else to do, and clearly seeing that John was not going to take control of the mess he had gotten them into, Sherlock laid aside his violin and bow and knelt down on the floor in front of Max, bracing himself and taking a deep breath, he straightened the baby into a sitting position again.
"There." he said, relieved that the task was completed and then to his frustration, Max immediately fell over again. Sherlock sighed. "It must be all that hair." he muttered and he straightened the wobbly baby again.
After several failed attempts of setting him up and watching him fall over, Sherlock found out that if he placed a hand on the Weasely's back to steady him, it could sit upright without falling over and he was startled when the baby suddenly burst out laughing as he steadied him.
Sherlock realized he must have touched what they call 'a ticklish spot' He sat back and they looked at each other for minute, cheerful blue eyes meeting curious grey blue ones.
Sherlock looked around to make sure John wasn't watching and he tickled the baby again and the action was immediately followed by another shriek of laughter. Sherlock had to admit that this baby did have grand sense of humor and it was a good experiment to see where he was ticklish the most and after a few minutes of forgetting himself and the dangers of children, Sherlock found after successful experimentation that Max was most ticklish under his arms and on the bottoms his feet.
Sprawled out on the floor with his coat flowing around him, Sherlock found himself grinning. He didn't know babies could be this interesting. Max was smiling broadly from his tickle experiments, his wild hair shooting out in all directions. To his great joy he had also discovered the end of Sherlock's scarf and clutching it eagerly began to eat it with gusto.
Jolted out of his thoughts, realizing that he had forgotten to guard his scarf and that he was slowly being choked to death, Sherlock rescued his scarf from destruction and as he did, he forgot to steady the baby who promptly fell over again and as he looked at Sherlock reproachfully, Sherlock knew that they needed to get a new system of stability.
When John walked into the living room few minutes later to check on them, he found Sherlock sitting on the floor with his legs crossed, calmly watching the telly with Max sitting upright in the cardboard box beside him, chewing contentedly on one of John's best jumpers.
John shook his head. "I came to check on the baby," he said, trying not to laugh at the odd pair, "Oh, and Max too."
Sherlock glared at him. "We are doing just fine with no help from you."
"Yeah, I see that. Good idea, the box," John ran a hand across his mouth to hide his grin, "Max will need some milk soon and we're out, will you two be alright alone together for a few minutes?"
Sherlock and Max looked at each other worriedly.
"If you run into trouble you can call me. Which, I'm sure you will anyway and you always have the box to hide in." John grinned and dodged the union jack pillow as it came sailing in his direction. If looks could kill, John would be dying a thousand deaths right then.
After a list of step by step directions from John. "Especially," John firmly stated. "Keep Max away from Mrs. Hudson's cat, the last time he was here she caught him trying to eat the poor thing." Sherlock grinned at Max who looked quite pleased with himself. "I don't blame him, that feline needs an ending."
Finally, Sherlock and Max found themselves alone in the flat, and as Max looked at him, with wide eyed uncertainty, Sherlock felt like he was the one that was going to cry.
"Well, Max Weasley," Sherlock said dryly "What shall we do together?" In answer, Max just smiled up at him from his box, showing his single tooth and handed him a sleeve of the jumper.
Half an hour later, John entered a flat that was much too silent, and started to panic. He hadn't gotten a text from Sherlock in the last twenty minutes, and who knew what damage Sherlock could be up to. After placing the milk into the fridge, he walked into the living room and froze in the doorway at what he saw.
He smiled as he saw Sherlock laying on the settee, Max laying face down on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's hands on Max's back to steady him and both looking like they didn't have a care in the world and peacefully sound asleep, just taking a kip together like best friends.
John didn't know if Sherlock would be more upset about the stain of baby drool on his purple shirt when he woke up, or the picture John took of them.