Since it was five thirty when Mary and John left, Sherlock assumed that the children hadn't had dinner yet. Mary had left concise directions for the children's routines (bedtimes, naptimes, allergies, etc.) and emergency information on the kitchen counter, but had told Sherlock very little about how to go about these routines. It appeared as though Sherlock would have to rely on Alex for a little help.

Alex came out of his room with his trucks, setting them up in the hallway. Isabel was sitting in the playpen, playing with some sort of stuffed animal (it had been loved beyond the point of recognition). Sherlock looked around the flat and realized that this home looked not so different than his own in Darwin, except the Darwin home had been meticulously cleaned almost daily. This home looked like cleaning and tidiness had taken the backseat a long time ago.

Sherlock noted that he would need to enlist Alex for the task of helping him tidy up at some point during the next few hours. But, it was time for dinner, followed by baths.

As Sherlock anticipated, Alex was willing to help with these tasks. Alex was particularly interested in making sure that Isabel was given her dinner properly and that Sherlock followed her bedtime routine perfectly. Both kids were fed, showered, and put to bed by 8 PM, per Mary's instructions.

The following morning, John called to check in. "Hi, I just wanted to make sure everything's going well," he explained to Sherlock.

"Everything is fine. How is Mary's mother?"

John hesitated. He had never heard Sherlock ask a question like that. "Um… she's fine. She's definitely better now that she's in the hospital where people can keep an eye on her. We're probably going to be back tonight, though it's likelier that I'll be back tonight and Mary will stay down here."

"Okay; sounds fine," Sherlock replied.

This meant that he had time to put into place his plan to prove to Mary and John that he was more than competent in regards to childcare. He had gotten the kids up and running for the morning according to Mary's schedule, and since it was the weekend, it seemed as though the responsibilities for school were replaced with other activities not specified on the list.

Sherlock and John ended their phone call and Sherlock turned to Alex, who was busy eating a piece of toast. Isabel was sitting in her high chair, eating Cheerios that Sherlock had put out onto the tray for her. "Okay, Alex… I have a game," he told the boy.

"What sort of game?" Alex asked, his mouth full of food.

"Wait until you've finished chewing and have swallowed your food before talking Alex…" Sherlock reminded him gently.

Alex nodded and swallowed. "What sort of game?" he asked again.

"Your parents will be coming home later on, most likely just your dad, but when he gets home, wouldn't it be nice if the house was tidy for him?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes."

"Okay. It's going to be a race to see who can pick up more toys and put them into the toy bin. When you're done with your toast, we'll start."

Alex scarfed down his toast and ran from the kitchen, racing around the room, trying to win this battle against Sherlock. Sherlock knew that his job was basically done, but wanted to keep Alex's competitive drive in his favor, so he started helping Alex pick up the toys. He was surprised by how driven Alex was, because the room was tidy within minutes.

When John returned a few hours later, he walked into the flat and stopped in the doorway. The flat was quiet, clean, and appeared to be free from any strange odors or sights. In fact, it seemed as though no one was home. "Sherlock?" he called out into the flat.

Sherlock turned around in the armchair he was in to look at his friend. "How was the drive?"

John gaped at him in amazement. "Where are the kids?"

"Napping."

"Napping?" he echoed. "Both of them?"

"Yes."

"How?" John asked, dropping his bag and walked around to sit in the other armchair.

"Tired them out. It's why the flat is tidy."

"You put my children to work."

"Namely Alex, but Isabel attempted to help. She provided the motivational cheers," Sherlock explained.

John snorted. "Okay… okay, I'll give you credit; this is impressive. The flat is still standing, the kids are… presumably still alive… and you're in one piece. I'm sorry we didn't have faith in you."

"You must have known that the flat wasn't going to be destroyed… you wouldn't have let me do this otherwise."

"No, that's true. We had a little faith in your abilities. God… I can't wait to tell Mary about this. She's going to be thrilled!"

"This isn't going to become a normal occurrence, John. I have cases," Sherlock informed John, knowing full well that he wouldn't mind being a babysitter now and then.

Alex and Isabel had been lovely to be with. Granted, Isabel had fussed when she had been put to bed, and Alex had whined about having to eat his vegetables, but once he had recited The Cat in the Hat (one of Adele's favorite books that Sherlock had committed to memory after reading it so much), Isabel had fallen asleep, and explained to Alex the benefits of eating vegetables, these matters had been put to rest.

John laughed. "We'll see."

Sherlock tried to look indifferent to the idea. He sincerely hoped that he didn't let on that he actually wouldn't mind doing this on a regular basis. Irene and Adele weren't anywhere near being out of the forest in regards to their safety, and the more and more exposure he had to the two Watson children would raise more and more questions regarding the origins of Sherlock's paternal instincts.

But, if he could be of some help to John and Mary, he was willing to stick his head out a little bit. Besides, Alex and Isabel could be an interesting experiment.