"Do you suppose he gets it?" John asked Greg, curiously, as he cradled Bailey. The young girl wiggled happily in his arms, and John smiled at her warmly, as any self-respecting uncle-figure.
Greg himself held Rosie, only a bit older than his own daughter. "Sherlock?" he finally replied, after tearing his eyes away from Rosie's intense blue-eyed gaze. "I think he just might. He may not ever be a father in the biological sense, but he's not entirely hopeless."
"No, I suppose not," John admitted. "Mary happens to agree with you, by the way. And Molly. Some people are happy to be parents, and others are content to be the uncles and aunts."
Greg nodded, as he sighed, sitting back and settling John and Mary's little girl against his chest. Rosie clutched at his shirt before nodding off, recognizing his scent as one of her happy trusted places.
"Sherlock is a very good uncle, I reckon. I think he likes the fact that he can spoil our girls then hand them back when it's time to change their nappies or settle their hissy fits," Greg pointed out.
"Still, he'll be their guardian and staunchest advocate. He's taken in. Hook line and sinker," John said, as Bailey caught him with her deep brown eyes. "Like us…"
Greg grinned broadly, laughing. "Poor bloke!"