21. Baking and Cooking

At nearly two years old, Emma Margaret Watson grew and learned a little more each day. She had become a pro at what her father and Uncle Greg called "the waddle walk," reaching surprising speeds if she had a destination in mind. She particularly loved crawling up the stairs, or climbing anything she could really. This meant that, when she was not in her crib, high-chair or play-pen, Emma always had an adult keeping a sharp eye on her.

Now, the adult babysitting her could afford to relax a bit, since Emma was safely strapped in her high-chair. Now she could only wiggle her legs restlessly and exercise the ability she hadn't become quite as proficient in as moving around: talking. It wasn't that she was a quiet child or didn't try to speak as well as the adults in her life. On the contrary, she could be quite a chatterbox when she wanted to be. But being only twenty-one months old made quite a lot of her chatter adorable jibberish.

"Sheh-wog! Wah doh!"

Sherlock looked up from the large blue bowl in which he was mixing butter, flour, eggs and other ingredients. He looked at the fair-haired little midget sitting in the high-chair with her mother's eyes and her father's pout and grinned. "One moment, Emma. The texture of the dough needs to be consistent before we can have a taste and add the chocolate chips."

Just then, he heard the front door open and close. A minute later, his future wife walked into the kitchen and smiled at the sight of Sherlock and their goddaughter. "Dearest," greeted Sherlock softly.

"Hello, love," replied Molly, smiling. She then approached Emma's high-chair and crouched down to kiss her hello. "Having fun with Sherlock, Emma?"

"Mah-wee! Mah-wee here!" exclaimed Emma, waving her arms and legs around frantically, wanting her godmother to get her out of the chair. But Molly merely kissed her cheeks and ruffled her blonde hair before turning to Sherlock, who kissed her mouth the same way Mummy and Daddy kissed.

"You're baking cookies?" asked Molly. Her tone was light, but her brown eyes were tinged with worry. She remembered very well that this is what Mummy Holmes did for her son whenever he'd had a bad day.

Thankfully, Sherlock kissed her again reassuringly. "Don't worry. Both of us just had a hankering for something sweet. Would you like a helping of dough before I mix the chocolate chips in?"

"If you all are joining me, absolutely!"

Smiling, Sherlock finished stirring the dough to the perfect consistency, and Molly got three tiny bowls and spoons from the cupboard. She couldn't help but glance in pride at Sherlock. Ever since Emma had been born, Sherlock had made an effort to really separate his experiments from culinary endeavors to make the place more sanitary for Emma, the biggest example being a second refrigerator on the other side of the kitchen that housed all non-culinary specimens.

Soon all three of them were happily munching on the sweet raw cookie dough. While Sherlock and Molly used spoons, Emma dug her pudgy hands right in and helped herself.

"So, when are her parents due to pick her up?" asked Molly.

"After dark," replied Sherlock, shrugging. "John wanted to take Mary out for a nice dinner for their anniversary."

Molly nodded. "So, shall I make her favorite for dinner, then?"

Sherlock grinned. "I've got all the ingredients here."

"Good," said Molly, licking the last of the dough from her fingers. When she saw the way Sherlock was looking at her, she grinned and said, "Cat got your tongue?"

"No, just annoyed that you did that first," said Sherlock, indicating her fingers.

Before Molly could get too red in the face, a restless twenty-one month old made her presence known again. "Sheh-wog! Mah-wee! Wah moe, wah moe!"

Both laughed and Sherlock said, "Not until they are baked. Mustn't ruin your appetite, right? Not when Molly is going to make spaghetti for us!"

Emma's face immediately lit up in a baby-toothed grin. "Yum yum!"

Both adults laughed, and when Molly had knelt before Emma to tickle her, Sherlock looked at them both and nurtured the hope that, one day soon, they would be doing this with a little one that they would create together.

A/N: Oh, I do love writing baby fluff! And don't you worry – Sherlock will get his wish before this series is done, and the name will start with an A…You're welcome. Now review, please!