Author's Note:

Some cute Daddy Sherlock this chapter!

John woke up a bit confused, eyes staring straight at Sherlock's stomach. Not a bed. They definitely didn't shag the night before. Couch then. He smiled a bit and turned his head, studying Thomas and Amy. Their daughter had substituted her thumb in favor of his index finger, sucking on it intently on her sleep. All he could do was smile. Waking up to this was better than shagging. "You awake?" He whispered as he pressed his nose against his husband's stomach.

Sherlock began running his fingers through John's hair again, in answer. He didn't want to wake up the children. Even though having everyone piled on top of him was a bit uncomfortable, he had slept wonderfully. He was used to it anyway. It had to be one of his favorite moments. A servant must have come in and turned off everything, because it was quiet and dark. The sun wasn't quite up yet.

John let his eyes slip shut, his body relaxing again. He was still tired and the fact that the sun wasn't up definitely wasn't helping. It was better to relax anyway because there was no way he could move. He could sign a bit with his left hand that was resting on Thomas's back. He didn't want to risk pulling his finger from Amy's mouth, it would definitely wake her up. His hand lifted slowly and moved the best he could manage. 'Love you. Sorry.'

Sherlock smiled. He couldn't sign either really. His other hand was under John. He continued to run his fingers through his husband's hair. He was able to move just enough to lean his head down and kiss John's forehead. "Love you too," he murmured before sitting back up. The sun would be up soon, he figured and the servants would begin making breakfast. Once it was close to being done, he' would wake his husband back up.

In hindsight John knew it wouldn't be a good idea to fall back asleep but he was tired. He was only asleep for a few minutes before his eyes opened quickly and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His shoulder felt like it was on fire but any movement of his left arm would wake Amy up and he didn't want to do that. His chest was moving in deep, rapid movements and he instantly tried to calm himself down to keep Thomas asleep. Nightmare. Jesus. He kept his eyes locked intently on Sherlock, several tears running down his face. So much pain.

Sherlock frowned as John woke up. A nightmare. It had been awhile since his husband had on of those. The hand in John's hair moved down to his husband's face, gently wiping away the tears.

Thomas groaned when he felt the change of breathing from his Dad. Was something wrong? He sat up slowly, hands wiping at eyes before focusing on John. "Dad?" He glanced up at Sherlock. "Daddy? What's wrong?" He frowned, brows furrowed in confusion.

John groaned softly, hiding his face the moment he heard Thomas's voice. Amy hadn't moved yet and he was truly thankful for that. It was hard enough having Sherlock and Thomas see him like this. He finally managed to catch his breath but his body was still tense, the pain in his shoulder was nearing unbearable. Don't move. Don't wake Amy up. His finger was still lodged comfortably in her mouth. "Sorry," he whispered into his husband's stomach. "Sorry."

Sherlock continued to comfort John as best he could with one hand. "Everything is fine Love. You are safe now," he whispered.

Thomas looked at his daddies, trying to figure out why his Dad was crying. His eyes went wide in realization and he wrapped his arms around John in a tight hug.

Thomas' hug made John smile slightly, his head moving so his already red eyes could focus on their son. So smart and comforting. His arm slowly wrapped around Thomas's body and he sighed. The best thing he could do at the moment was ignore the pain. "Sherlock," he whispered as he studied his husband. "Sorry. Sorry."

Sherlock's hand moved back to John's hair, hoping his fingers running through it would help calm his husband down. "Shhh, stop apologizing. You are fine. Nothing to be sorry for." He kept his voice at a whisper, hoping little Sandi would keep sleeping.

Thomas continued to cling tightly to his Dad. It was weird to think about adults having nightmares. They still plagued him from time to time. Usually the plane crash and watching his mother die. What did Dad have nightmares about? Dad was so strong and brave, what could his Dad be afraid of?

Talk. John needed to talk and try to ignore the pain in his shoulder. "They shot me," he whispered as he kept his gaze locked on Sherlock. "I was running and my gun was up and they shot me." His voice was broken and scared. God, he sounded like a little boy. "A-And I went down and screamed." Exactly what happened when he had been shot the first time. But now he was calm, his eyes narrowed slightly as the pain in his shoulder ebbed. At least he had managed to keep Amy asleep. She would be cranky for the rest of the day if she woke up now.

Sherlock was surprised his husband had been willing to talk about the nightmare with Thomas awake. How long had it been since John had that nightmare? A couple years. Usually his husband's nightmares were something more current. "You are safe now."

Should he go? Thomas chewed his lip indecisively. He glanced at the clock. It would be breakfast time soon. He climbed off his Dad carefully, trying not to wake his sister up. He scampered off towards the kitchen, wanting a bowl of cereal over an entire meal.

John almost never had nightmares about Afghanistan anymore. On the rare occasion that they happened they were about the kids, about Sherlock. Why Afghanistan? Why now? He swallowed hard and watched Thomas run off. Fuck, Thomas hadn't known very much about his military service. He probably sounded like a bloody madman to their son now. "Shoulder hurts," he whispered with a small frown, eyes widening a bit when Amy mumbled around his index finger.

Sherlock moved his hand to John's shoulder and began to rub where the scar was gently. "Think about my touch. Think about here and now." He kept his voice low, in hopes Amy would stay asleep still. It was too early for their daughter to get up. With any luck, he would be able to distract John from the psychosomatic pain in the shoulder.

John's eyes slowly closed and he exhaled shakily at Sherlock's touch. Now. On a couch with...most of his family. His husband's hand was warm and he smiled a bit. It faltered when the steady suction on his finger changed and Amy slowly pulled her mouth away. "Amy, sweetie," he whispered as she turned and pressed her face into his ribs. She took a deep breath and started breathing steadily again. Sherlock's hand was still there and he sighed, ending it with a soft groan. Still hurt but it was better.

Was he helping at all or just making things worse? Sherlock continued to rub gently where the scar was located, careful not to bump Amy with his hand. He bent his head and kissed John on the head. "Love you," he murmured. He tilted his head, so his ear would rest on his husband's head. He was hoping to give John a sense of comfort and peace with their closeness.

John lifted his head slightly and gave Sherlock a quick kiss on any part of his body he could reach. "Love you, too," he whispered softly as a spike of pain shot through his arm. He muffled the sound by biting his lips and winced when he felt Amy move even further.

"I is sleepin'," Amy muttered into Sherlock's side, turning to glance at the floor. The sleeping bag she received was still on the floor and that didn't talk or breathe fast. She moved away from John's side and moved instantly into her sleeping bag, clutching the stuffed dog she had slept with all night.

John snorted slightly and looked up at Sherlock, hissing slightly and arching his back now that he could move. All in his head. The pain was all in his head.

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at little Sandi and then lifted his head so he could look down at his husband. "Love, I will get up and then you can stretch out on the couch. I will give you a massage. Maybe that would help." It seemed liked a reasonable suggestion to him. Maybe John would think so too.

John's eyes went wide at the suggestion before he reminded himself that this was Nancy's living room, not the battlefield. Sherlock wasn't a medic, he was his husband and he was going to be right there. Not leaving. He swallowed hard and gently nodded his head. His shoulder felt like he had just been shot. It hadn't hurt this bad in years, even in the cold weather. What had happened? Of all the times to wake up from the worst nightmare of them all. "Yeah," he muttered as he slowly sat up and slumped into himself, hands braced as his shins as he broke into a cold sweat.

Sherlock frowned. Was there something else going on? More than just the nightmare? Had something triggered it? He couldn't think of anything that had happened lately that would have done that. Stress maybe? Was this his fault? Had him using drug put too much stress on John and it was just now catching up with his husband? He sighed at his thoughts, pushing them aside for now. John needed him right now. "Easy Love. I am right here. Try and relax. You are home in London at the Holmes manor, with me and the children." He leaned down to whisper in John's ear. "We shagged on this couch." He was kneeling on the floor now, fingers probing into the tense muscles of his husband's back.

Sherlock's hands felt like fire but it helped, the touch of reality keeping his mind anchored in London and not in the dream that had suddenly appeared. He bit roughly into his bottom lip, ignoring the blood that dripped on to his leg and soaked into his jeans. One drop. Two drops. He licked his lip and his entire body tensed again before he forced himself to relax. The pain hadn't been this bad since physical therapy when he had been too weak to do anything, had yelled at the staff and broken down all within five minutes. One hand moved to clutch at the couch cushions. Shagged on the couch. He smiled a bit and tilted his head and eyed Sherlock. "'M trying," he whispered.

Sherlock smiled. "I know. You are doing great. Just focus on me talking to you. Think about when I am going to shag you into the window at the flat. How it will be recorded and we can watch anytime we want together. Think about how all of London will see your fine arse." He smirked. God, if he kept talking like that he was going to get an erection. He needed to stay focused and comfort John.

John smirked at that, his head dropped again as his body tensed. "T-Thought you were taking me from behind," he muttered bravely. "Wouldn't that mean they would see my face s-slammed against the window?" A smirk tugged at his lips proudly and he relaxed for a moment, letting out a small shout as his entire left arm tenses. Nerve damage. He had ignored it, not told Sherlock, but he had always had it. Hell, Sherlock had probably always known. He swallowed and forced himself to relax into his husband's hand. Maybe it was working. The pain was starting to go away.

"Oh I am, but first we are making out like a couple of horny teenagers. I will be pressed up against you, my erection pressed tightly against your stomach. My lips on your neck, biting and sucking. I'll be scratching you and pulling your hair." God, he really needed to stop talking but he couldn't stop thinking about it now. Sherlock shifted a bit on the floor, ignoring the growing hard on. John needed him. Now was not the time to be selfish. His fingers continued to knead into his husband's skin, seeking to relieve the tight muscles.

"Jesus," John whispered, his breath hitching in his throat. Was that from Sherlock's hands or his words? Fuck, he didn't know. All he was worried about was not getting a bloody erection while Amy was in the room. Except he could conclude that his husband was well on his way from the amount of movement he was doing on the floor. At least the pain was gone now and he was focused on the images in his head. "And we are recording it."

There. He was finally getting John to stop thinking about the dream and focus on now. Well, the future really he supposed. Sherlock smirked. "Damn right we are." He wasn't sure why he had wanted to record that particular shagging or why he wanted to record them shagging period, it had just popped in his head one day and the idea hadn't left him alone since. At least his husband seemed interested in it as well. Shit, Amy was laying near him and here he was thinking things that were far from appropriate. It had been the only thing he could think of to distract John though.

John's body slumped to the side, his right shoulder against the back of the couch. The pain was gone and Sherlock's hand was there. Warm and reassuring. "You are good at that," he whispered with a sideways smile as he opened one eye and studied his husband.

Sherlock was lost in thought and he almost missed what John had said. "Good at what?" Distracting his husband? It was really the only thing that made sense to him. He supposed he was, but it had taken him awhile to figure it out. He continued to press his fingers into John's skin, finally feeling the tension leaving.

John snorted at his husband and turned, losing contact with Sherlock's hand for a moment to give him a slow kiss. "Everything," he whispered against his partner's lips. It didn't take long for John to kiss his husband again, a hand moving to Sherlock's hair to pull him closer. The man had got him all work up and now he wanted more. The pain in his shoulder was gone and now he wanted Sherlock.

Sherlock smirked and returned the kisses. "Don't forget, I have a sleeping princess behind me." It was his fault. He had worked them both up. "Later. After breakfast." He wasn't sure he could wait that long but he was going to have to. He pulled away from John reluctantly, hands dropping to his sides as he stood up.

After breakfast. John fell back on to the couch, looking up at Sherlock with a smirk. The bulge in his pants was obvious and he didn't bother to hide it. Sherlock should certainly feel proud of himself for turning John on with just his words, especially while he was in pain. "Eat fast," he muttered. He wasn't going to eat because the twist in his stomach was still there, the nightmare was still lingering on the edge of his thoughts. Anything he ate would certainly make a reappearance.

Sherlock tilted his head back to Amy. "I am not the one who will be eating." He smirked as be eyed John's lap and then grabbed a blanket off the back of the couch. He offered it to his husband. Better to be on the safe side with their daughter in the same room.

John snatched the blanket with a blush, spreading it across his lap before locking his gaze on Sherlock's crotch. Jesus. Just the thought made him swallow hard. "I hope you meant that as an innuendo," he whispered harshly, his voice shaking slightly as he lifted his eyes. "Please mean that as an innuendo." Now he just sounded desperate.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, the smirk returning. "I actually hadn't. I was talking about feeding little Sandi breakfast." Probably shouldn't have said that. Would that ruin the mood? At least Amy was still asleep. He wanted to make sure their daughter was fed before running off to shag. He was trying to prove to himself he wasn't failing at being a father, even though lately it felt like it.

"Still sucking you off," John stated with a sure grin as he looked up at his husband wryly. "Pin you against the door and take you down my thro-"

Amy shifted and sat up, rubbing at her eyes before glancing at her parents. "'M hungry," she muttered as she slowly stood up, stumbling toward Sherlock and half dragging her stuffed dog across the floor. "Aeroplane?" She asked softly as her free hand tugged at her Dada's pants. "Aeroplane," she demanded with slightly narrowed eyes.

Sherlock smirked at John and when he turned around to look at little Sandi, it turned into a big smile. "Of course Baby Girl. Anything for my favorite girl in the whole universe!" He picked Amy up. "What are we having for breakfast?" He asked as he began walking toward the kitchen.

"Ummm..." Amy licked her lips and twisted slightly to drop her stuffed dog on to the floor. "Oatsmeal? Can I's have oatsmeal please?" She grinned and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck, placing a kiss on her Papa's cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed their cheeks together, her legs curling around Sherlock's torso the best she could manage. Definitely John's child. Short limbs.

That made Sherlock happy. Little Sandi had dropped her stuffed dog in favor of being closer to him. God, he loved her so much. "Oatmeal it is." He entered the kitchen and went over to the pantry. Right. Of course there were several different flavors in there. There was some with fruit, maple and brown sugar, raisins, and even just plain. "Pick a box that looks yummy Baby Girl."

Amy bit her bottom lip and glanced nervously at Sherlock. So many choices and she got to pick? She cleared her throat and studied each one. Yellow. Well, that must have meant banana, right? "Yellow one," she said hesitantly, reaching out to grab it. "Yeah. Yeah, yellow one." She pushed the box gently against his chest. "'S gonna be 'nana oatsmeal?" She asked curiously.

Sherlock took the box. "That's right Baby Girl. You are so smart. Do you want toast or anything else with the oatmeal?" He read the directions, emptying the contents into a bowl. It called for water but used milk instead. It was how it had been made when growing up and it had stuck with him. He put it in the microwave for the time advised.

More? She could have more? Amy grinned and glanced at the fridge. "Does Gramma has apple juice?" She asked curiously as one of her hands drifted up to wrap loosely in Sherlock's hair. She shifted, balancing herself against his hip, and looked back at him. "I's want apple juice, please," she determined with a sure nod of her head, turning her attention the microwave.

"Of course you can more! You are a growing girl!" Sherlock smiled and grabbed one of those special cups for the children that had a lid where they could suck the drink out. He only filled it half full, just in case. The microwave went off and he stirred the oatmeal. "We have to let it cool down first Baby Girl and then the aeroplane will come. Here." He offered the cup of juice to his daughter.

Amy eagerly grabbed the cup and started drinking from it loudly. Her gaze was locked intently on Sherlock's face, very John-like as she glanced between her oatmeal and Papa. Waiting. That seemed to settle well with her, her head resting on his shoulder as she continued to suck at her cup. All she wanted was the aeroplane. After several moments she slowly pulled the cup from her mouth with a hiccup, handing the empty cup to Sherlock.

Sherlock raised his brows. At least little Sandi was already potty trained and it wasn't before bed. He would get more juice if she asked for it. "All right. I think it is ready." He picked up a spoon and blew on it first. "Here it comes. Here comes the aeroplane. Vroooom…" He made some exaggerated zigzags in the air and then went towards her mouth.

Amy opened her mouth immediately, looking up at Sherlock as she chewed intently and smiled. "'Nana," she said around her mouthful of food. One hand clutched at the front of her Papa's shirt as she looked around the kitchen. After a long moment she opened her mouth, keeping her eyes locked on the couch where John had fallen back asleep. Her mouth snapped shut and she looked at Sherlock. "Did Dada know my Mummy?"

Sherlock was in the middle of another 'vrooming aeroplane' when little Sandi asked the question. He faltered slightly but managed to finish the spoon to her mouth. Right. How was going to answer? The truth was probably was best he supposed. "Yes. They used to work together. She was a doctor like Daddy. Her name was Sarah Sawyer."

Amy chewed slowly, swallowing and nodding a bit. "Sarah," she muttered, her face scrunching as the name sounded weird on her tongue. "An' then she left?" She asked softly, glancing back at John. "Was it cause of Dada? Did he does something to make her upset? A'cause one time Dada and you was talking 'bouts... war?" Another foreign word and her gaze lifted to Sherlock. "An' Dada was in the war. He was a...he's said he was a killer."

Sherlock's heart sank. He really didn't want to be having this conversation with little Sandi, especially not alone. John was asleep though. "She…died sweetie, when you were born. I'm sorry." His voice cracked and he cleared his throat. "War is something adults do. Daddy wanted to protect London, me, you, and Thomas. So he went away and fought some bad guys. He only shot them because they shot at him first. He is a hero."

Died? Amy head tilted curiously to the side and she exhaled nosily through her nose. "Died?" She asked softly, her voice low as she tried to figure out what that meant. "Dada didn't make her die, did he?" She eyed the spoon curiously, clearly able to focus on the food and the conversation that she had no idea was serious. "Is that why you's married Dada? A'cause he's a hero?"

"No, no, no of course not sweetheart." It occurred to Sherlock that little Sandi probably didn't know what dying meant. Should he try to explain? Oh thank God, a question he could answer without feeling weird. "I married your Dada because I love him. He's strong, brave, and overall just amazing." He was supposed to be feeding Amy. He got another spoon and sent another 'aeroplane' toward her mouth.

Amy instantly opened her mouth, eyes locked intently on her Papa. She chewed, pushing the food to one side of her mouth and smiling. "That's good. Love is good," she stated simply. "I loves you so it must be good." Clearly the most rational and thought out argument in the world to little Amy. "So Mummy," she muttered as she studied the bowl of oatmeal. "She doesn't come back?"

Sherlock smiled and nodded. "Love is very good." The smile disappeared. "Yes. When someone dies, they fall asleep and don't wake up again. They are gone forever. That is why Dada gave you a picture of your Mum. So, you could see what she looked like. Even though she is gone, she'll always be in here and here." He pointed to her head and then heart.

"I dun 'member her," Amy whispered with a small frown, watching Sherlock's finger before sniffing. "Is that bad? She stays with me even if I doesn't remember her?" She smiled weakly and buried her face into Sherlock's neck. "That is otay, Papa, a'cause I gots you and Dada," she stated as her arms tightened around his neck. "I got's you and Dada," she repeated before she reached a hand out, grabbed the spoon, a sloppily fed herself a bite of oatmeal.

Sherlock managed a weak smile. "That's okay Baby Girl. That is why Dada gave you a picture of your Mum. So you can see her anytime you want, so you won't forget." The smile got bigger. "That's right. You have us and we love you so much. Well, look at you Big Girl! Feeding yourself." He grinned at little Sandi proudly.

Amy smiled eagerly, clearly proud that she had made Sherlock smile. She moved the spoon and lifted it to her mouth again, smiling around the metal as some oatmeal slid down her chin. She put the spoon back in the bowl and swallowed the bite in her mouth. "Can I asks you what it's like to have a Mummy? You's has a Mummy."

Sherlock's smile got bigger, even though the oatmeal was getting on her face. "Somebody is going to have a bubble bath when breakfast is over!" Right. Another question. Of course. "Well, it is pretty much the same as having a Dad. Except Mummy is a girl and not a boy." What else should he say? He really wasn't sure how to answer this question. "Mum's love their children just as much as daddies do."

That seemed like a good enough answer and Amy dropped the subject with a small hiccup, moving to pick up the spoon and spilling oatmeal across the front of Sherlock's shirt. She blushed furiously and put the spoon back into the bowl. "Oops," she muttered as she studied her Papa. "Sorry. I's sorry."

Good. Little Sandi seemed to have accepted all his answers. Sherlock smiled down at Amy. "You are fine Baby Girl. It just means Papa will have to clean up too. Here." He picked up the spoon. "Here comes the aeroplane! Vrooooom…" He moved the food towards her mouth, moving it around in the air first.

Amy opened her mouth and smiled up at Sherlock. She chewed slowly, turning slightly in Sherlock's arms when John appeared in the doorway. His shirt was wrinkled and partially unbuttoned. His left shoulder was exposed, his scar peaking out from underneath the fabric. "Dada! Papa, he's told me about Mummy and you's being a hero!"

John's eyes shot open at that, locked intently on his husband. "That's...wonderful, Amy."

Shit. Was John going to be mad? His husband had wanted to be the one to tell their daughter about Sarah and he had ruined it. What was he supposed to do though? Just ignore the questions? Sherlock forced the thoughts from his mind, unable to look at John right now. There was only one spoonful left and he scooped it and vroomed it towards little Sandi's mouth.

Amy chewed her final bite, more oatmeal sliding down her chin. Her gaze was locked intently on Sherlock, eyes wide and in sharp contrast to John's. Filled with shock, hurt. "We's a mess, Papa," she declared with a giggle as John brushed past them.

"Why don't you help Amy wash up and then she and Thomas and Siger can go play outside," John said as he pulled an apple from the fridge and bit into. He was keeping himself as calm as possible, trying to keep his emotions in check.

Yep. He had screwed up. John was pissed. Sherlock nodded slowly, and left the kitchen without looking or talking to his husband. He walked into the children's room and got a set of clean clothes and then walked guest bathroom where there was an over sized bathtub. He set little Sandi on the floor gently. "Baby Girl, undress while I fill the tub with water and some extra bubbles." He gave his daughter a small smile, but it disappeared when he stared into the tub.

Amy slowly pulled her shirt over her head, looking at Sherlock with a grin. It faltered when she noticed that her Papa wasn't smiling. "Is this cause of Mu- Sarah?" She slowly finished undressing, climbing into the tub with a frown. "I gotted you in trouble. Sorry," she whispered as she leaned forward and turned the water on. "I hates when you and Dada fight."

"Dada wanted to tell you about your Mum," Sherlock admitted quietly. He hadn't any right to tell little Sandi. No rights. The news was right. He wasn't good at this parenting thing at all, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't even a proper husband. He never would be. Damn it. Why couldn't he stay out of his own head for once? He wanted to flee the room, but there was no way he could leave his daughter unattended in a bathtub filling with water. "I hate when we fight too." He grabbed the bottle of bubble bath and poured more than necessary, the water becoming very foamy and soapy. He turned the water off once it came up to Amy's shoulders.

Amy's thoughts were quickly averted to the large amount of bubbles in her bath. Dada never let her have this many. She giggled and splashed her arms up and down, blowing them around the tub before pushing some toward Sherlock. "Here Papa! Play with the bubbles!" She grinned from in between two large piles of bubbles and studied her Papa curiously.

Sherlock couldn't help but smile, despite his current mood. He scooped up some bubbles and wiped them on little Sandi's face and into her hair. He spread them around for a bit, and then picked up the container on the tub's ledge. He dipped into the water. "Here come some showers." He grinned a bit and poured the water over Amy's head.

Amy closed her eyes and coughed slightly, peaking up at Sherlock through the blonde hair spread out across her face. "More showers!" She declared with a small bounce, bubbles sloshing over the side from the movement of the water beneath them. "Has to get cleans a'fore I goes outside!" Her face lights up as she moved a hand and spreads bubbles over Sherlock's knee, watching the fabric darken with a giggle.

Sherlock grinned again. He dipped the container into the water again and dumped it onto little Amy's head. "Time to clean your pretty hair." He grabbed the child's shampoo, squirted it into his hand and gently scrubbed it into Amy's hair. "Close your eyes Baby Girl." He continued to rub the suds in and then dumped some more water on her head to rinse out the shampoo.

Amy sat still, obediently closing her eyes and gently tugging her knees up to her chest. She opened an eye slowly and licked his lips, looking around the tub. There weren't toys here, nothing to splash around or play with. She looked back up at Sherlock and stood slowly, both hands rested on his knees, before smearing bubbles across his cheek. "Papa, you's a better toy then the ones at home," she stated with a nod.

Sherlock smiled. Once little Sandi's hair was rinsed out, he put the container down. He brought his hand down to splash the water. It sloshed everywhere, some even over the sides of the tub. He kept his hand in the water, fingers above the water like a shark fin. "I'm going to get you!"

Amy let out a screech, splashing the water at Sherlock's hand. "No!" She laughed and pushed her back against the tub, cornering herself without knowing it. "Papa, shark! No shark!" She moved to swat at his hand. "Ahhh!" After another giggle she slid into the water and pushed bubbles into the path of Sherlock's hand. "There! Can'ts jump over the wall!"

Sherlock smirked a bit. "Not a magical wall of protection!" His hand circled near the bubbles and began splashing around to get rid of the bubbles. "Water attack!" He continued to splash the water around with small growling noises. He was getting more water on him and on the floor than anything.

Amy's eyes widened and she searched the tub frantically for more bubbles. All of the splashing had made a lot of them disappear. "I's out of bubbles. I dun wanna die!" She grabbed Sherlock's hand and pushed it under the water, holding it as tight as she could manage. "There. Take that!" She declared proudly.

"Beaten again!" Sherlock exclaimed dramatically, with a bit of smile. "Come on Baby Girl. Let's get you out of the tub and dry you off." He took his hand out of the water, wiping it off on his shirt. It didn't really help to dry it off, considering how damp his clothes were. He stood up, bent down and offered to help little Sandi out of the tub.

Amy splashed around the water for a few more seconds before letting Sherlock pick her up. She looked around, curiously taking in everything from his height. The water from her body was quickly soaking through Sherlock's shirt. "Can I go play outside?" She asked curiously. "I wants to put in my pink dress and go play," she muttered as a small shiver ran through her body. "An' I wants to play with 'Iger." She buried her face into the side of his neck. "So's you and Dada can talk."

Sherlock was already wet, so the additional water didn't really matter. "All right." He picked up a towel and began drying off her back, since the front was pressed into him. He set her down gently, so he could finish drying of little Sandi. "There you go." Had he brought her a pink dress? He hadn't really paid attention when getting the clean clothes.

Amy didn't even wait to let Sherlock pick out her clothes, dashing toward the guest room down the hall without a care. She slid into her room and yanked a pink dress from her bag, stepping into it before grabbing a pair of underwear and pulling them on. "'M gonna go play nows!" She declared as she darted down the stairs, brushing past John as he stopped in front of the bathroom.