Drabble Synopsis : There are 30 C° outside and John, Sherlock and Rosie go to the beach. The only problem is, it's the beginning of April. As a new case, the detective and his partner have to find ways to help the environment. Fluff ensues.

On that morning of the beginning of April - a Saturday morning - John woke up to his toddler jumping on his belly.
He groaned at the "vicious attack" and knew that Sherlock was behind it.
"Sherlock, how many times do I have to tell you, don't let Rosie join me on the bed before I'm fully awake! I could push her out of the bed without knowing!" He shouted at the other man, his eyes still half closed.
"No need to shout, Watson. I'm right here." Sherlock chuckled as Rosie wrapped her tiny arms around her dad.
"She's been awake for hours and we had fun making a lot of drawings, didn't we? She kept telling me to wake up daddy and I couldn't find a more heartwarming way to do that." he said.
"My heart is definitely compressed now." John said with a still sleepy voice. He giggled a little, though. Sherlock was right, for once. "Good morning, princess!" he then hugged his daughter back, keeping her as close to him as possible.
"Mowning, da-dy. " said the little girl in between content giggles. For some reason, John kept feeling a slight tickle on his chest. Curious, he inspected his daughter small hand. Rosie was holding a crumpled up piece of paper. Ah, that must be one of the drawings Sherlock mentioned, John thought.
"What is it you have in your hand, princess?" He asked , in a voice you'd use to talk to a baby.
"Each!"Rosie squealed excitedly as she unfolded the paper. She proudly showed her dad a picture of big, blue dots, accompanied by some random specks of yellow.
John arched his brows in confusion. "Each?" he asked. He turned to Sherlock, who was having a hard time suppressing a laugh.
"How can you not see this? "Asked the younger man, "It's clearly a landscape of a beach. There's the sea, the sand, she even drew seagulls, see?" He said, pointing at the almost abstract piece of art.
"Ooh." John muttered in realisation, "I see now."
"Each!" the little girl repeated, jumping away from her father and then running to Sherlock.
"Why did she draw a beach?" John asked his partner, suspicious.
"Do I always have to explain everything, John?" Sherlock huffed, picking up Rosie. "She clearly wants to go to the beach!"
"The beach? But it's April! Did you show her videos of people going to the beach to make her want to go because you secretly want to go?" John sighed at the "typically Sherlock " situation.
"Maybe." Said Sherlock, looking away from John.
"Don't put weird ideas in her head." John scolded "As I said, we're in April!"
Sherlock gave the other man a look. It was one of those looks that could only mean one thing: Sherlock had thought up something.
"Sherlock, why do I have the feeling that something is about to happen?" John asked, concerned.
"My dear Watson, once again you proved yourself to be a clueless fool." Sherlock responded. "You failed to see that your bundle of joy is wearing a swimsuit." He nodded to the child in his arms.
John gasped. Giving his daughter a second look confirmed his flatmate's words. Rosie was indeed wearing a bright pink one-piece.
"And that I, myself, am wearing trunks" Sherlock continued, "And so are you."
John's eyes widened in terror as he looked under the duvet to see that he was wearing said trunks.
"How did you?" He was definitely confused.
"Don't ask." Said Sherlock.
"This is folly!" John exclaimed, while swiftly getting out of bed. "We are going to no beach!" He shouted, expressing his disapproval.
Sherlock gave John the look once again. "You should have told me before I booked us a taxi to the station, train tickets to Brighton and a one-night stay in a hotel."
"You did what?!"

It was about 12pm when the happy family finally got to a Brighton seaside. It was very hot outside, around 30 degrees. There were quite a few people there, basking in the strange and sudden British heat. The climate change was real, as United Kingdom rarely saw that weather in Summer, let alone in April.
The beachgoers seemed to be happy about it, though.
It was a private beach, specifically the Hotel's property, so the price included a full sized beach chair, a mini one for Rosie and a beach umbrella.
As soon as Rosie's feet hit the sand, she began running around in utter happiness.
"Wait! " John shouted after her "You need sunscreen." He chased her until he was able to catch her to remove her clothes and spread the product all over her, much to her annoyance.
"Relax, John! Don't overwhelm her!" Sherlock shouted in the distance.
He then proceeded to sit on the sand and lift himself up, so that he was standing on his head and arms, much like a gymnast would do.
"Sherlock what are you...? I don't even know why I still get surprised. " John shook his head as he made his way to the beach chair, followed by his daughter, who rolled around the sand excitedly. Oh, to be a toddler and discovering sand for the first time.
"I'm just doing an experiment. You see, Watson, climate is changing, there's no doubt in that. I want to see how dangerous it is for me to be exposed to these modified rays." Sherlock answered John's unanswered question.
"I don't wanna know about it." John said as he comfortably sat on the chair. He had his sunglasses on and he was ready to sunbathe. "I just want to take advantage of this heat, since I was basically forced to come here."
"Ugh, shut it. You are enjoying every second of it."said Sherlock, matter of factly.
Rosie imitated Sherlock's position by attempting a clumsy version of it. She kept falling on her tummy, yet she didn't seem to mind too much.
"No, Rosie!" John yelled in worry . "You're setting up a bad example for her!" He spat at Sherlock.
"She won't hurt herself. It's not like she's banging her head on rocks repeatedly. On the contrary, she's proving herself to be very dedicated to environmental issues, like her favourite out of the two of us." Sherlock said defensively.
John only rolled his eyes at that. Deep inside him, he knew Rosie's favourite could only be her biological father, so he chose to ignore Sherlock's provocation. He just sighed contentedly as he took in everything about the beach, the feeling of sand on his feet, the smell of saline water and the soothing sounds that the waves were producing. Sure, the sound that seagulls made wasn't as soothing, but he chose not too care too much. He was happy. Sure, that getaway Sherlock had organised had been a bit rushed and, somewhat , out of place. There was probably another reason than just for the sake of a little girl's whims.
You could never be too careful with Sherlock around. Nonetheless, he still considered himself lucky to be there, in a relaxing spot, surrounded by the two most important people of his life.
He closed his eyes and let himself be cuddled by the cool, soft sea breeze that he couldn't find in London.
He could almost fall asleep there.
"Ok, experiment over. Time to do what we're here to do." Sherlock got back to a sitting position, then he rose to his feet. He had to struggle quite a bit to get all the sand out of his hair.
"I knew this was coming. What exactly are we here for?" John groaned.
"To help the environment. The Hotel issued a contest, whoever wins gets free coupons for food. We have to free the beach from as much litter as we can." said Sherlock, a broad smile on his lips - one of those high functioning sociopath smiles.
"Uh, makes sense." John observed.
So, the three of them spent the next two hours bending down to collect pieces of rubbish, cigarette butts and other type of polluting hazard.
Rosie seemed to have the time of her life.
John, a little bit less. His age was starting to get to him, plus his military wounds had left their mark.

The detective had never looked more serious before. Who knew that messy, experiment making Sherlock cared so much about saving the planet.
Greta Thumberg was right, the world was really dying.
30 C° in April? Something unheard of before, almost sounded impossible to the average British person, but it was real, it was happening, and Sherlock and his gang were working hard to make a change, even if it was small.
Plus, it was fun to do that together.
Tired and spent, after hours of labour, Holmes and Watson had filled up two enormous bags with garbage.
"At first glance, I'd say that we've won." said the black haired man, drying up sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
Looking around the beach, you could, indeed, see that the other participants didn't even have half of the amount of rubbish he and his" family" had picked up.
"Uff." John panted, while massaging his own back "I'm too old for this. I sure hope our contribute helped make the world a better place." he finished his sentence while plopping back onto the beach chair.
"Yes, I'm sure we did. We're also instructing Rosie the right way. She'll end up being an advocate for the environment, one day. She picked up the most trash!" Sherlock gave a triumphant smile.
He walked towards John and then straight up sat on his lap, making the chair sink deeper into the sand.
"Sherlock! You're going to throw us both three feet deep into the sand! " John reprimanded, but put a hand on the other man's thigh, anyway.
"Do I look like I care? I am Sherlock Holmes, I work with cadavers, what can a bit of sand do to me?" Sherlock shrugged. "I came here to congratulate my man on the good job he made today, even though he hurt his back a little."
"You put me through it!" John whined.
"That's why you deserve a kiss. Come on, give me a kiss." Sherlock pleaded, moving his face closer to John's, so that their noses touched.
The shorter man inadvertently blushed so much that his face turned crimson red. "Sherlock, we're in public!" he let out a shameful whisper.
"Why do you care? People already know about us. Well, not officially, but everyone's suspecting it. And, besides, who knows us, here, in Brighton?" the curly haired man made his point. John, however, was still hesitating.
"But what about Rosie?" he asked, eyeing her. "She's too young to see this."
"She's seen us kiss many times. The worst that could happen is her throwing a tantrum for not being at the centre of attention. Come on, don't be shy, Watson. You went to war, for Christ's sake." the detective insisted.
With a sigh of defeat, the war veteran nodded his head in approval.
Happy to have won, Sherlock put his lips on his man's, giving him a loving kiss.
John smiled into it. It was the first time they were showing any sort of PDA and it wasn't as bad as he'd imagined.
"See? Nobody is bugging us. Homophobia is dying down." Sherlock breathed after breaking the kiss.
"You always want to risk it, eh?" said John, shaking his head while grinning.
"You too, or you wouldn't be my boyfriend." Sherlock said as he went in for another kiss.
John hummed contentedly, but their bliss was suddenly shattered by a tiny girl who had quite violently jumped on her dad's lap in jealousy.
"My daddy!" she screamed in a high pitched voice. She then slapped Sherlock's chest in order to move him away, so that she could hold her father by the neck, possessively.
Sherlock and John looked at each other then burst out laughing. No one could touch Rosie's daddy, without her consent. She was going to grow into a tough one.

"I can't believe you manipulated a little girl into going to the beach just because you wanted a coupon." said John, the day after, as he shook a piece of paper in his hand that said "Breakfast For Three".
It was 8 in the morning and the family had just woken up.
After a beautiful night at the hotel, sitting by the pool and enjoying the breathtaking sunset, the three of them had gone to bed exhausted.
"At least I got us free breakfast." Sherlock shrugged as he shifted in bed. "And it's room service so we're not obliged to socialise with random strangers."
He was naked from the waist up, too hot to wear any undershirt.
Plus, sleeping next to John's super warm body had made it impossible for him to keep his pyjama on.
"Well, get some clothes on. You don't want the room service person to see you in this state." John ordered while rolling his eyes.
"I will, don't be a nazi soldier." said Sherlock, obviously still tired from the night before. "You killed me last night. Give me time to recover." he murmured, looking sore.
"Sherlock, Rosie!" John whispered in embarrassment. "Don't scandalise her!"
"Eh, she's still sleeping. And even if she weren't, I doubt she could make two and two. At worst, she might assume you actually killed me or something. "
Just in time, a knock came on the door.
"Room service!" said a slightly familiar voice, but John didn't give it too much thought. As fast as lighting, Sherlock took his robe and put it on.
John opened the door.
The room service guy looked like someone he'd already seen, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he'd seen him.
He only had a big, silver plate in his hand containing sausages, fruits, teas and drinks.
"Your breakfast as you asked. I just need the coupon... Thanks, mate. Now, together with your food, I leave you this insert,"the man took a pamphlet from his pocket and placed it on an empty spot, at the far left of the tray. "It's about ice caps melting in Antarctica. Something needs to be done to stop this environmental crisis."
"Thanks, good man," said John, politely. "We'll do what we can. Sure, it's obvious we can't just randomly take a plane to Antarctica to go and save the icebergs."John said as he laughed wholeheartedly.
Sherlock and the stranger looked at each other as if they knew something. That was not a good sign.
As soon as he noticed the exchange of glances between the two men, John became dead serious.
" Sherlock, don't tell me that -" he tried to say, but he was interrupted by the loud sound a helicopter engine.
"We're taking a Helicopter to Antarctica." said Sherlock, acting innocent.
"You're not really serious!" John shouted in shock.
"Never been more serious in my life before. Come on, John, gather your things, we're going now!" his boyfriend said.
"Are you out of your mind?! " John cried out, his hands in his hair.
"Good luck." said the tray guy, revealing himself to be Inspector Lestrade with a mask on.
A mission was in the air for the most famous crime solving couple and,
never before that moment, John had wished he hadn't chosen such a reckless man as life partner.
But he loved him anyway.