A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews, favourites etc. I know this is a bit short, but at least I've managed two consecutive days! :)
"Oh, you all look fantastic!" Mrs Hudson gushed, "I must get a photo!" Sherlock went to protest, but Molly gave him a sharp dig with her elbow. It was seven in the evening, and Sherlock, Molly, Mary and John were gathered at 221B, ready to depart for the party at Scotland Yard. Sherlock wasn't keen on social events of any sort, but this one was particularly bad. It was a fancy dress party.
When Greg had invited them, Sherlock had flat-out refused, but then when Greg had forwarded the invite to Molly, she had decided that it would be fun, and had set about planning a group theme with Mary, much to Sherlock's disgust - John having long ago accepted that there was no arguing with Mary when she set her mind to something.
As a result, the five of them (John and Mary were taking Emma) now resembled the Scooby Doo gang. Mary was dressed as Daphne, John as Shaggy, Molly as Velma and Sherlock as a (very reluctant) Fred. Emma, who now almost 18 months old, was dressed in a onesie that resembled Scooby Doo, which had been declared "adorable" by Molly and "ridiculous" by Sherlock.
Once a photo had been taken, the group stepped outside to where one of Mycroft's cars was waiting for them. It wasn't long before they arrived at the Yard, with Sherlock still whining petulantly.
Before they could step into the function room were the party was being held, they were blinded by a flash of light. When they regained their vision, Greg Lestrade was standing in front of them dressed as Inspector Clouseau and holding a camera, the source of the light. "One for the blog, eh, John?" he said with a grin as Sherlock scowled.
"Yeah, Sherlock in fancy dress certainly isn't something you see every day," John laughed. Whilst the men got into conversation about John's blog, and a recent case, Mary passed John their daughter, and headed towards the dance floor with Molly.
After chatting for about ten minutes, John noticed that his and Sherlock's other halves had left them, and scanned the room for them. Spotting Mary dancing and talking to a young, attractive police officer, he turned to Sherlock. "Is it ok if I leave Emma with you and go and stop my wife chatting up that bloke?" he half-joked, knowing that Mary wouldn't be flirting with anyone else, but unsure whether Sherlock would want to be left with a baby.
"I suppose so," Sherlock sighed dramatically, although he was secretly pleased to have an excuse not to have to dance.
Once John had left, Sherlock found himself gazing at Emma, and imagining what his own child would be like. Obviously it would be intelligent, with Sherlock and Molly for parents, and ideally would have Molly's kind brown eyes and patience, although he rather hoped it would have his curls. Suddenly becoming aware of what he was considering, he became startled, as he had never before even entertained the possibility of children. "Sentiment," he murmured to Emma, rocking her slightly as she stirred.
His contemplation was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious voice. "They let you near the little brat then? Or did you take this one?" Sally Donovan sneered, arms folded, eyebrows raised at the sight of Sherlock holding a baby. She was dressed oddly appropriately, as the Wicked Witch from 'The Wizard of Oz.' Taking a deep breath, Sherlock restrained from replying, simply humming a nursery rhyme under his breath to stop Emma waking.
Meanwhile, Mary, John and Molly were standing chatting across the room. John was just telling the women a story about the time he found Sherlock doing karaoke in the living room 'for a case' when he looked up and saw Donovan confronting Sherlock. "Oh for God's sake!" he exclaimed, Mary and Molly falling quiet as they looked at where he had been looking. "Can she not leave him alone? At least Anderson seems to regret what he did!"
As Mary, Molly and John made their way over to support Sherlock, Donovan's verbal abuse continued. "Someone told me that you were made the Godfather – bet she turns out to be a freak like you," Donovan said spitefully. At this, Sherlock found he was unable to contain himself any longer. He could ignore her insulting him, but Emma was not a freak. His deep baritone voice cut through what Donovan was saying. "Don't speak like that about her. What kind of pathetic person takes out their frustration at their sad life on a baby? I won't hit you, as you're a woman, but –"
"I will," Molly interrupted, having overheard the end of their conversation as she approached, and with that slapped Donovan across the face. Then, with impeccable timing, Emma emptied the contents of her stomach by projectile vomiting all over Donovan, managing to avoid getting any on herself or Sherlock.
The room fell silent, then someone began to clap, and the various police officers who had witnessed Donovan's constant bullying of Sherlock and Molly filled the room with applause. Donovan scowled at Molly, before leaving the room. Once the applause died down and the party continued minus Donovan, Sherlock beamed at Molly, and Mary clapped her on the back, whilst John took Emma back, proclaiming loudly, "That's my girl!"
Greg came over, and Molly suddenly realised that hitting someone in a room full of police may not have been the best plan. "I know I should be arresting you, or at least giving you a reprimand, but that was absolutely brilliant!" he said, grinning, to Molly's relief. Then, turning to Emma, he said "Who's a clever girl, eh?"
The only thing that managed to top the evening was the next day, when Molly received a text during a postmortem. It simply read:
Donovan fired. SH
A/N: I know in the BBC canon, Sherlock likes to dance, but I didn't think he'd be comfortable dancing in front of people he didn't know well.
