{I really like the idea of the consultants knowing a load of logical facts and being utterly clueless about females... Thanks to Vidgealz C Valvatore for making this chapter possible... More coming, obviously!}
Sherlock was seriously considering borrowing some of Mrs Hudson's "herbal relaxant".
It was 3:45 am.
That wouldn't have been a problem normally for the insomniac detective, if not for the baby that had been screaming for the last five hours.
He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes as best he could with his shoulder as he exasperatedly half rocked, half shook his shrieking daughter.
This was not working.
Not in the slightest.
He thought about calling for John, before remembering that he had made an unwise decision to reject his blogger's help. John had stormed off in a huff, so Sherlock supposed that it was not done to call your friend an "ordinary idiot who couldn't even dress himself, let alone a baby". The sweaters weren't that bad, really... Okay, yes they were. They were awful.
Now was not the time to be sulking about John's despicable behaviour!
Sherlock began to form a strategic list of things that could be upsetting Aeryn... This was difficult. He didn't actually remember how it was to be a baby, so he decided just to add things that made him uncomfortable to the list.
1. Boredom.
Was Aeryn, the three week old baby, bored? She was a genius, after all... He tried jiggling the coloured lights she liked in front of her face... Her dark blue eyes immediately shot towards the colours, though she carried on crying.
2. Lack of a case.
No... He didn't think that was it, though he would, of course, have to bring her along, one of these days...
3. Mycroft.
Sherlock stiffened.
He lifted his head up and took a long sniff of the air. The flat appeared clear... He could not detect the tell tale smell of smugness and leaf mulch...
Oh, damn, he was Uncle Mycroft to Aeryn, wasn't he? Urgh, god...
4. Enthusiasm from fans.
He looked quickly out of the window. No, nothing. Just a hobo or two, and people milling about.
5. Anderson.
Definitely not. The room's stupidity level had been abnormally low since Aeryn's birth, he would obviously have noticed such a dramatic change.
6. A naked Adler.
Sherlock immediately shielded his daughter's eyes. No one wanted to see that, especially not his little girl...
7. Public displays of affection.
Well, there was one way to test that... Sherlock peered at the discomfort on his daughter's face. He studied the change before and after he kissed her forehead. No change. She was indifferent.
8. Mrs Hudson fangirling.
"Mrs Hudson? I require your services for a minute."
Oh, yes... It was 4 am...
9. Molly Hooper.
This was getting slightly ridiculous.
10. He hated being tickled.
Only Moriarty knew of this fact, of course. The circumstances in which this information was discovered were not suitable for a three week old, he mused.
He felt his cheeks burning.
11. An unsolved mystery.
Well, that was what this was, wasn't it?
The detective sighed, torn between waking up Moriarty and attempting to further solve this case. After a further hour of pacing and Aeryn screaming, he decided just to wake up his lover. He tied the baby to his chest with his scarf, similar to the way he'd seen mothers in the city do, pushing open the door not quite gently. To his annoyance, the consulting criminal was sitting up on his side of the bed, smirking roguishly. "Let me guess, darling. You rocked her?" Sherlock looked like he had been force fed 17.85 lemons.
"Well, what was I supposed to do?" He sulked. Moriarty simply smiled sweetly at him. "Let me have her..." He held out his arms expectantly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and carefully dumped Aeryn into his lover's waiting arms. To his surprise, Aeryn immediately stopped crying, snuggling into Moriarty's bare chest. "James! Do you have to run around naked all the time?" He complained, a blush beginning to spread over his face.
"I do not 'run around' naked! Aeryn likes the body heat. Plus, I know you like it, too..."
He winked as the last sentence was delivered. Sherlock groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "James... Stop it..."
In an effort to end his oh so very human embarrassment, Sherlock scowled down at the baby in Moriarty's arms.
To his utter shock, he saw that she was fast asleep.
"How did you do that?!" He demanded. "Do what?" Moriarty giggled coyly. "You know what! Aeryn!" The criminal looked down in mock surprise at the sleeping child in his arms. "Oh my word, I have no idea!" He gasped in mock horror. "Perhaps it's just because she likes me more." "You?" Sherlock retorted. "Oh, thanks very much. Of course she likes me better, Mr Grumpypants." Moriarty pouted. "Does not." "Does too." "Does not." "Does too!" Moriarty straighted up, gingerly plonking the sleeping baby into the cot John had (enthusiastically, yuck) built. "We will settle this fight like men!" He cried, yanking at the scarf still around Sherlock's waist, toppling him into the bed. Sherlock struggled for a grip on something - anything - that would enable him to gain the upper hand.
They decided to spend the rest of the morning "fighting" - though there was an awful lot of giggling involved that John decided to ignore when he finally returned at eight.