Greg and Molly sat next to Mary, sharing looks of unadulterated amusement with each other.
"Don't be ridiculous, John. It's ME Bailey loves best. She's the smartest infant I've known since Rosie. Those two girls are exceptionally brilliant, in spite of their genetic heritage." Sherlock fairly sniffed down his nose at John.
"Rein it in, Sherlock," Mary warned. "Remember, I know how to kill you discreetly and Molly knows how to cover it up."
"Well, I maintain still that it's ME she favours. Look at her, so content," John retorted.
"That's because you sang her a lullaby, John," Greg said lightly. "She loves the sound of your voice when you sing. You've had plenty of practice with Rosie after all."
"She settled perfectly fine earlier with ME," Sherlock protested with a huff. "I've never seen her doze off so quickly, in fact."
Molly sighed. "That's because you told her a bedtime story, Sherlock. She loves the sound of YOUR voice when you speak. I can hardly blame her though. You've a baritone rumble that could settle any female into contentment. Mary and myself excepted, of course," she said, giggling to herself and glancing at Greg and John.
"She may have a point," John confessed. "I maintain she loves me best, but I SUPPOSE, we ALL know how fickle females can be."
